Old Bailey Proceedings.
20th November 1876
Reference Number: t18761120

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Old Bailey Proceedings front matter.
20th November 1876
Reference Numberf18761120

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Sessions Paper.








Short-hand Writers to the Court,












On the Queen's Commission of



The City of London,





Pursuant to an Order in Council of 23rd October, 1876, issued under the Winter Assize Act.

Held on Monday, November 20th, 1876, and following days

BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. Sir THOMAS WHITE , Knt., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; The Hon. GEORGE, DENMAN, one of the Justices of Her Majesty's Court of Common Pleas; The Hon. HENRY HAWKINS , one of the Barons of Her Majesty's Court of Exchequer; Sir ROBERT WALTER CARDEN , Knt., JOHN CARTER , Esq., Sir THOMAS GABRIEL , Bart., Sir THOMAS DAKIN , Knt., Aldermen of the said City; The Right Hon. RUSSELL GURNEY , Q.C., M.P., Recorder of the said City; THOMAS SCAMBLER OWDEN, Esq., Sir CHARLES WHETHAM, Knt., John WHITTAKER ELLIS, Esq., JAMES FIGGINS , Esq., GEORGE SWAN NOTTAGE , Esq., and HENRY; EDMUND KNIGHT , Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt. Q.C., M.P., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERB, Esq., Judge of the Sheriff's Court; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery of Newgate, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.









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


OLD COURT.—Monday, November 20th 1876.

Before Mr. Recorder:

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-1
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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1. JOHN JAMES PARLAND (22), was indicted for unlawfully obtain-ing by false pretences from Thomas Pain and others, four horses, value 186l. with intent to defraud; and for obtaining certain monies by false pretences. MR. POLAND; conducted the Prosecution; MR. STRAIGHT and MR. J. P. GRAIN

the Defence.

THOMAS PAIN . I am a member of the firm of Tattersall's—we are auc tioneers, and carry on business at Knightsbridge—we are largely engaged. I in selling horses by auction—on Monday, 12th July, we had a sale—catalogues were issued in the ordinary way and the horses lotted—at that sale I saw the prisoner; he bid for some of the lots—lots 31 and 48, I believe were the first two horses he bought, and afterwards lots 105 and 122—a clerk, Mr. Evans, checked the lots as they were sold; he was by my side—it is 9 the practice afterwards for the customer to arrange with one of the clerks I for payment, and then a memorandum. is given so that he may get the horses—as auctioneers we sell for ready money—we got a cheque for 186l. the price of the four horses—I think I saw the cheque—it was on plain paper on Barker & Company, and signed "John James Parland "—that was paid into my bankers in the ordinary way, and afterwards on the Wednesday it was returned unpaid and marked "signature not correct"—upon that I wrote to the bankers, and in answer got the letter produced, dated 20th July—I saw the prisoner afterwards on the Thursday—we had a sale on then—I called him into my private office and told him that his cheque had been returned, and he said "Oh! yes, it's all right; I have given another in place of it"—he said "It was very stupid of my bankers to put. me in this position, and I assure you upon my honour it will be all right—I said it was very unpleasant for a gentleman to be placed in that position, and "I hope for your own sake it will be all right"—he said "It will, and the amount will be placed with my bankers"—he said he used to sign "John James," and now he signs "John Parland" only—I called his attention to the letter from Messrs. Barker. (Letter of 20th July, Barker & Co., to Tattersall's, read stating" The only reason. we have for refusing payment of Mr. Parland's cheque is that the signature differs."

Also a second letter of the same date." Dear Sirs,—Your favour of this day's date to hand; having received orders from the gentleman you mention to pay no cheques, we should not have been able to pay yours even if the signature had been correct.") The second cheque was paid into my account in the ordinary way and was returned marked "Orders not to pay "—on the day of the conversation with the prisoner about the first cheque, when he gave a second he bought two more horses at the auction—I consulted ray solicitors, and on the 14th August, I took out a summons at the Westminster police-court—before I took it I had not seen the prisoner, except I think in the street—he did not appear in answer to the summons—I then obtained a warrant on the 21st, which was put into the hands of a police-officer—in the meantime I had received notice of bankruptcy, dated 28th July—I was not aware what had become of the horses.

Cross-examined. Before 28th July, I do not remember seeing the prisoner at all,. he might have been there—I cannot say that I know from personal observation that the defendant had been a frequent attendant at Tattersall's, but I have here a statement of what he had done at Tattersall's—on the 22nd May, 1875, he sent three horses to be sold—he. purchased horses from us at Sir Thomas Lennard's sale, on October 7th, one horse; on the 20th September, two horses were bought by him, but he having no account with us, Mr. Ward sent for the horses and paid for them, because we would not trust Mr. Parland—he bought two horses on October 18th, 1875, which he paid for—those are all the transactions—he sold horses through us on three occasions—I may have seen him driving four-in-hand, but not those four horses he bought from us—I believe he drove four-in-hand—he was driving with them afterwards—I saw him on the Thursday, about 3 o'clock—he did not tell me he would go to his bankers at once when. he left me—the second cheque was returned, I think on the Friday afternoon—they passed through our bankers on Thursday night—our clerk wrote to Mr. Parland to tell him of it—I placed the matter in the hands of the solicitors, I think the following week; I cannot say exactly what date; not so early as 21st—I saw Mr. Parland in the street through my office window trying the horses—that was the day after he purchased them—I think it was Tuesday or Wednesday—I am not aware after the Thursday, that I saw him again—I did not know that he went to Russia upon the Tuesday with his solicitor—I know we had notice of bankruptcy—I instructed our solicitors to find him, the same week or the following Tuesday—I did not consult them with reference to the first cheque—I think my solicitors were not instructed as early as the Friday, I have no recollection of a letter of Mr. Bradford, the prisoner's solicitor, nor of writing back to Mr. Bradford, saying that the matter was in the hands of my solicitor, I do not know that on the Saturday my solicitors were in communication with the prisoner's solicitor—I think it was on the following Monday—we had a communication after that, but I cannot say as to that day; I do not know that it was on the Friday—I have no doubt Of the communication from my solicitors, but I do not recollect the exact day—I did not decline to take the money until we had issued a warrant—I did at one time refuse to receive the money—upon the Saturday, it was communicated to me that the solicitor for Mr. Parland, was prepared to have this money paid, and that my solicitors had declined to take it—I believe no offer for payment of money was made before the warrant was appplied for, or that on Monday 24th, the day before he went to Russia, my solicitors declined to take the

180l. because criminal proceedings were going to be instituted—I cannot charge my memory about it—the bankruptcy notice came to me after we had issued a summons against him.

Re-examined. My solicitors are Bailey, Shaw, & Co—the proceedings were put in the hands of Mr. Humphreys—I do not know the prisoner's writing—I received the two letters produced—I have seen the cheques, and believe the letters to be in the same writing. (Letters read, dated Thursday, 20th and Friday, 21st July:"Lansdowne Chambers, Thursday. 20th July. Dear Mr. Pain,—I was unable to get to my bankers until they were closed, it being after 4 o'clock; I think, however, you must be mistaken in what you have said. You shall have it to-morrow before 12 o'clock, as I will either come with it or send it. Yours truly, John Parland." "21st July, Grosvenor Hotel. Dear Sir,—In answer to your letter, which has just been handed to me, the cheque was returned because I signed it wrongly. However, it will be met to-morrow, Saturday, for certain, and I will send the money to your office. Yours truly, John Parland.") The money was not sent to my office—I cannot give the date exactly; but it was very soon after the cheque was returned that I sent for the lawyers—the offer made to them was not made to me personally.

JOSEPH EVANS . I live at 180, Victoria Road, Brompton—I am clerk to Messrs. Tattersall's—I was present at the sale on 17th July, the prisoner bought two horses, lots 31 and 48—he afterwards came into the office and asked me how much the first two lots came to—I told him, and he asked if I would take his cheque—I said "I will take it, if it will be all right"—" Oh, yes," he said "It will be all right"—I said, "Very well then"—he said "I am going to try and buy some more horses, and then I will give you a cheque for the lot altogether"—he afterwards bought two other horses, the four coming to 186l—he came to my office again, and then wrote out on a. half sheet of paper a cheque for the 186l—I thought he was a long time doing it, and I did not like, the way he did it—I said "I suppose they will pay this"—he said "Oh, yes. It will be all right"—it was a cheque on Barker & Co., and signed "John James Parland"—I gave him the memorandum so that the man might deliver the horses, and they were taken away that day—I was not present when the second cheque was given.

Cross-examined. The prisoner is a fair writer—I don't know what you mean by a good writer—he did not write the cheque badly, but I did not like his. manner, he was so long about it—I have taken a cheque from him before—I took one from him at Sir Thomas Lennard's sale, twelve months before—I think the horse was 195 guineas, something like that, about 204l. Was paid—he did not pay me the 80l. on the Thursday when he bought the third horse—he paid my fellow clerk—I know Mr. Ward, he keeps a large livery stable—I have seen him at Tattersall's with Mr. Parland—I did not' see Mr. Ward pay for the horse defendant bought on the Thursday, but I understood from the books he had done so—we have sold something like twelve or fifteen horses for defendant, value about 900l.

Re-examined. They were sold by auction, in one lot—we received the money and handed part over to a lawyer in Buckingham Street, and the balance to Messrs. Barker & Co.

GEORGE KELLY . I have been in the service of the prisoner since February last—on Monday, 17th July I was with him at Tattersall's when he bought the four horses—I took them from Tattersall's to No. 10, Phipps'-Mews, Ebury Street, a private stable belonging to Mr. Parland—I put them in

the stable—sometime afterwards Mr. Calisher came and told me to take them to Gooch's livery stable, Jermyn Street, I do not know the day; it was about a fortnight after—besides the four horses there was a fifth horse, which had been bought on the Thursday; they were all five taken to Gooch's—Mr. Parland drove them occasionally after the 17th, as a team, five or six times—I saw him last after the 17th July, on the Tuesday of the Goodwood races, the 25th, he was going to Russia with his solicitor.

Cross-examined. The prisoner said he was going to Russia with his solicitor—he told me that if Mr. Calisher came he was to have the horses—I have been with the defendant from February, 1876—he was very fond of horses—he had one sale of about seventeen horses in March—those were horses which he had hunted, during the hunting season—I know he is an officer of the West Kent Militia.

BENJAMIN JAMES CALISHEB . I live at 16, Sackville Street, Piccadilly—I have known the prisoner six or seven years—I have had many transactions with him, I have lent him money—on 17th July he owed me about 360l.—I did not learn from him he had got horses from Tattersall's—I took some horses from him as collateral security, but did not buy them—the two documents produced are signed by the prisoner: "July 25th, 1.876. Sold to Mr. Calisher this day the five horses now standing in my stables, in Ebury Street, for 100l., receipt of which I hereby acknowledge and which I authorise my groom to deliver to him or his order John Parland." "July 25th Ealeigh Club. Deliver to Mr. Calisher or his order, my five horses. Send with them clothing. John Parland"—I had seen the prisoner about those horses, I think the day before the 24th—he told me he had five horses in his stables at Ebury Street—I think that was all he said then—on the 25th I had been trying to induce him to go to Russia with his solicitor, to raise money to pay his creditors—he has property there, and he wanted some more money to pay his hotel bill and other things, and asked me to make him further advances—I did so on consideration that he made those horses over to me—I advanced altogether I think 60l., partly that day and partly the day before—besides that I had to pay his groom during his absence—I simply promised I would not sell the horses until his return—I wrote out the memorandum "Sold"—I did it to protect myself in case he should not come back—I did sell them about three weeks or a month afterwards—I could give you the date from my book—I think 130l. I sold them for—the livery man deducted for keep 17l. odd, leaving about 112l. for my benefit.

Cross-examined. I had never seen the horses until the 25th—I myself wrote out the two documents "Sold"—I did so in my own protection—as a matter of fact, the horses were left with me as ollateralsecurity—there was a promise from me to him that they were not to be dealt with until the prisoner's return from Russia—prior to the 25th I was aware that the prisoner had property in Russia—I had pressed upon him to realise it—I gave him money to go with Mr. Bradford, and he did go—I do not remember the prisoner making any statement on the afternoon of the 25th, about a cheque due to Tattersall's—Mr. Bradford was present, I cannot swear, but I know there was a cheque that had not been met—he said he would not go to Russia unless it was previously arranged that I should settle with the cheque—the property in Russia is worth about 12,000l.—when the subject was mentioned as to providing for Tattersall's cheque, it was then I said "Well, but if I do that I must have some tangible security," or something

of that sort—I intended to pay Tattersall's cheque, only I heard something afterwards—on that Tuesday when he left to go to Russia I did convey to him that I would provide for the cheque—I did not look upon the horses as security for that; they were—he having this property in Russia I was my way to a tangible security, and ventured to promise to do that for him, and such was my intention on the Tuesday, but I heard of the notice in bankruptcy, and then I would not pay—I offered to let Tattersall's have the horses back, when I found out that these horses were the subject matter of the cheque, I at once instructed Messrs. Tattersall to offer the horses back, and to pay expenses, which was refused.

By THE COURT. That was after Parland had returned from Russia—I had no idea that the horses were from Tattersall's when I took them.

By MR. STRAIGHT. The horses went to Gooch's. on 10th August; the prisoner is entitled to a reversion of 20,000l.

Re-examined. As to the property in Russia, I knew from what prisoner and his solicitor told me—I received notice in bankruptcy, but could not tell the date—when the memorandum was made on 25th July I knew a cheque had been given by the prisoner to Tattergall's,. the prisoner did not tell me—I heard it in the conversation between him and his solicitor—I knew there was a dishonoured cheque for 180l. which prisoner had given to Tattersall's—I did not know that memorandum related to the horses—I had heard it was for one of the horses—I did not know it was for five horses—I did not advise the prisoner, he promised he would go to Russia—I could not personally say whether he went there or not, I was not there to see—the date of sale was 25th August—I received them on 10th August; he had come back from Russia, I think he had—I sold them because they were in livery, at Mr. Gooch's, and were eating their heads off, and Mr. Gooch advised me to sell them or I should have to pay him money besides—I paid Tattersall's cheque out of my own money—I consider the prisoner perfectly good for the money at the time, and do so now—I think I know there is a large surplus after paying his creditors—I was prepared to advance further monies—I thought the security perfectly good—I advanced 60l. or 70l. altogether; that was a separate account, I did not charge any interest—I offered to send the horses back to Tattersall's—I made the offer to the prisoner's solicitor—when I found out the horses were from Tattersall's, I instructed Mr. Bradford to offer them back to them—I could not say the date when the warrant was out—I have not received a dividend under the bankruptcy.

GEORGE PEACHEY . I am a clerk at Tattersall's—on 20th July, the prisoner called and said he was very sorry the cheque had been returned, it was simply because he signed it in a different manner to what he usually did, that he generally signed "John Parland," and in this case he had signed "John James Parland."

ROBERT WILLOUGHBY OLLIVIER . I am a music publisher, at 38, Old' Bond Street; I know the prisoner—he has bought boxes at my stalls—he owed me 39l. 18s.—it had been owing about four months—the last transaction was I think about two months before—on 26th May, he called to pay his account—he said he was aware I had written a great many times for it, but had been hard up and unable to pay—he said "I now come to pay you the account, give me a piece of paper and I will write you a cheque"—I saw the cheque produced, but did not see it written, but directly afterwards—I received it from him before it was dry—he said he wanted some loose cash, would I let him have 10l.—I looked at the cheque, the amount

was 49l.—the 18s. he paid me in cash—I gave him ten sovereigns, and he paid me 18s. by giving me a sovereign, and I gave him 2s. change, that made the payment of my bill 39l. 18s.; I paid it into my bankers in the ordinary way, and it was returned marked "Orders not to pay "—he did not call upon me again—I have heard of the bankruptcy, but have received no notice—I went to the bankers myself, Messrs. Barkers—the day after I received it back from them I saw the manager and tried to get payment and could not.

Cross-examined. I received the cheque back after I placed the matter in the hands of my solicitors—they did not issue a writ—my solicitors are Messrs. Carr, Fulton, & Cany Vigo Street—(the writ was produced)—I was not aware they had issued a writ—I took no criminal proceedings against him—I had nothing to do with the prosecution—the account extended over about four months.

Re-examined. I have received no money from the prisoner except the 18s.

WILLIAM PAGE . I am head coachman to the Duke of Devonshire—I was formerly in the prisoner's service, from 13th September, 1875, to 10th June, 1876—I received from the prisoner the cheque dated 10th May, 1876, produced for 15l.; it was for payment of expenses of horses by rail—a portion of the money was owing to me—I gave it to a publican to pass it; it was afterwards returned to me marked "R. D."—on 26th May I received from the prisoner a cheque (produced) for 50l. with "Cash on the 11th" written on the top of it—there was about 90l. odd owing to me by the prisoner—this was given on account; I took it myself to the bankers—I waited about two hours and was not able to get payment of the money—they wrote on it "Orders not to pay "—on 18th June he gave me the cheque produced—I told him about the previous cheque—I saw him at Maidstone about it after I received the cheque from the bankers; that was the second cheque; I spoke to him about its being returned to me and I could not get the money—he said he had had a row with the bankers, but he would give me some of the money shortly—he was at Maidstone at the time and he came to London and gave me 10l. and 25l.—I am not aware that at that time anything was said about the first cheque—afterwards I received the cheque produced, dated 8th June for 50l., the same amount as previously given—he said I should have cash at 11.30; no, I am mistaken, it was the same cheque, the last one he gave me, and I passed it through a banker—at that time I do not think there was more than 50l. owing to me—it was returned from the bank in the state in which it is—I saw him about it and he made an appointment to give me the cash—I told him it had been returned—I had been to the bank and presented it myself and it had been returned—he said he would pay me next day, he did not pay me—I received a notice of the bankruptcy.

Cross-examined. I have proved as a creditor and carried in my account in the ordinary way—the balance due to me is 44l.—I entered the employ of Parland in September, 1875—I had to pay the understrappers and undermen—the prisoner went down to Maidstone about the end of February—he was there in March training with his regiment when I went down to him—he did not complain to me of my taking commissions—there was the very best understanding between us—there was no complaint by the men under me—the prisoner never mentioned to me anything of the kind—I did know that Kelly complained he had not been paid—I remember that Kelly went down

himself to Maidstone after some money—I did not settle with Kelly—I received 10l. and 25l. in respect of the 50l. cheque—I did not tear up a 15l. cheque—the prisoner tore up a cheque, but I cannot tell what it was for—he gave me the money for it and tore up the cheque—when I left his service I did not make a claim of 27l. from him—my claim,; through my solicitor, was for wages, 44l. 0s. 8d., I think—I heard from my: solicitor that he disputed a portion of it—I know that Messrs. Maddox & Green are acting as solicitors on his behalf—while I was in his service he had a large number of horses; he was very fond of horses and fond of driv-ing four-in-hand—I was called before the Magistrate.

Re-examined. I live at Chatsworth with the Duke of Devonshire.

By THE COURT. I think 25l. was about the amount received between February and May, 1876.

FRANK ALNER HADLAND . I am chief clerk of George Barker & Co., bankers, Mark Lane—the prisoner had an account with them; it was opened 19th August, 1875 with 3,000l.—on the 10th May last it was 135l. 1s. 8d. overdrawn; on 25th May, at the close of the day, he had a. balance of 17l. 13s. 6l. in his favour; in the morning it was 62l. 3s. 6d. in his favour, and on the 26th May 17l. 2s. 6d—after that 10l. was paid in up to 17th July—on 17th July it was 43l. 14s. 11d. overdrawn; it has remained overdrawn to the present time—the letter of 25th May, 1876, signed "John Parland," produced is in his writing—his usual signature was "John Parland,'" not "John James Parland "—he signed our stock-book "John Parland," and ever since that cheques we have honoured were signed "John Parland ". John James Parland would be incorrect—all the cheques produced were all presented—he had a pass-book in the ordinary way and a cheque-book—he had passed a considerable sum of money through his account from August, 1875—I do not know that he came of age in 1875—after May 25th we paid four cheques of his—I knew an application had been made as to an advance upon his Russian property, and that they were considering it; I never saw it in writing—I knew the prisoner and Mr. Bradford left for Russia about the 25th.

By THE COURT.—They were going to Russia with the knowledge of my principals.

By MR. STRAIGHT. messrs. Bradford act for Messrs. Barker—the prisoner is a grandson of Messrs. Crawshay, the great ironmasters in Wales, and was lieutenant in the West Kent Militia—to the best of my belief the prisoner's solicitor guaranteed Barker & Co. against an overdraft of 600l., but I am-not aware of any document in writing.

By MR. POLAND. Mr. Bradford always saw the principals.

By MR. STRAIGHT. I paid cheques—if the order stopping the cheques had not been given when Tattersall's cheque was presented I think in all, probability it would have been paid—he had in the bank on the 25th, 26l. 2s. 6d.; on the morning of the 25th, there was 62l. 3s. 6d. overdrawn.

Re-examined. If the stop had not come I should have referred to my principals, and judging from what had been already done we should have seen Mr. Bradford, and in all probability if he had so recommended we should have paid it on the faith of what he said—I did not return this cheque—it does not appear on the face of it to have been presented—after' the 25th May, four cheques were presented, amounting to 25l.—I believe there was a special request made in each instance.

Cross-examined. I could tell from the book whether & cheque for 15l.

was actually stopped by telegram from heprisoner—(boohproduced) it does, not appear to be entered here.

By THE COURT. The cheque was payable to self—(cheque produced to witness) it was presented on 16th May.

By Mr. Straight. There is nothing in this book about a telegram telling us not to pay it—it would not appear anywhere.

ALFRED LOVE . I am a clerk in the Court of Bankruptcy, London district—I produce a file of proceedings relating to the petition of John James Parland, it is a petition for liquidation by arrangement; it is dated 25th July and filed on the 28th—there is a statement of the debts and liabilities, the debts unsecured are put down at 4,357l. 14s. 3d.; creditors fully secured 9,720l.; leaving a surplus of 1,180l.; creditors partly secured 149l. 16s. 4d.; estimated value of securities 20l.; the assets are estimated at 1,100l.—there is no value put on the property in Russia, the 1,100l. is quite independent of that.

THOMAS WILLIAM GILBERT . I am the trustee in the liquidation of John James Parland—I was appointed on 25th August—up to the present time we have realised about 260l.—no dividend has been paid at present.

Cross-examined. I have a promise in writing to convey on behalf of the creditors, the property in Russia—I have no doubt it will be carried out—I have heard the property in Russia estimated at something like 10,000l.; I have reason to believe it is something approaching to that; that is besides the 1,100/. mentioned as the assets; I have only heard it from the prisoner's solicitor—I find from the agent in Russia, that it brings in over 500l. a year.

THOMAS ROOTS (Policeman). On 21st August, I received a warrant for the prisoner's arrest—I was at the police-court the, day the summons was returnable, the prisoner did not appear and the warrant was issued—he was not at the police-court on the 21st when the warrant was issued—on 20th September, I went to Newcastle and found him there in custody—I told him he would be charged on a warrant with defrauding Messrs. Tattersall, and I read the warrant to him, of four horses to the value of 150l., and on that charge I should take him to London—he said "I had the horses and I paid for them by cheque. I knew at the time I bought them that I had no. money at the bank, but I did not intend to defraud Messrs. Tattersall's, and in proof of that I subsequently bought a horse there for 80 guineas, for which I paid ready money.

Cross-examined. He also said that he expected two friends who owed him money would have paid in the money.

Witness for the Defence.

MILTON BRADFORD . I am a solicitor, practising in partnership with Mr. Riley, at 17, Fenchurch Street—In July, 1875, I acted professionally for Mr. Parland—he came of age in June previously—at that time he was entitled to a reversion of 20,000l. and a reversion of 3,500l. under the will of his grandfather, Willam Crawshay—this is an office copy of the will—these two reversions are treated in the bankruptcy proceedings as security to creditors holding security; they are charged to the extent of about 9,000l.—there is a policy of 7,000l. on his life, that is valuable as well—the surplus would be perhaps about 1,100l., it might be less—that is taking the question whether the reversion of 20,000l. was an absolute reversion or not—counsel have been consulted and three counsel say it is, one says it is not—I believe myself that it is an absolute reversion; if so, it is worth a great deal more—taking it with the debts on it, in round numbers, it would

be a little over 10,000l.; that is with the policy—I introduced Mr. Parland to Messrs. Barker, the bankers—I was aware of his opening an account there with 3,000l.—in December, 1875, I guaranteed him against an overdraft of 500l.; that was in writing, I produce it. (This was dated llth October, 1875.) On 19th April I gave another guarantee myself, personally—I have a copy of the letter in my book—I also saw Messrs. Barker on the subject—it was understood that I was to be responsible to the extent of 500l. in accordance with the first guarantee; that is in existence now, it has never been revoked by me—In July I was aware that Mr. Parland was negotiating with Messrs. Barker an advance of 2,000l.—I was in communication with him and Messrs. Barker—I was acting for Messrs. Barker—that advance was proposed on the Russian property, subject to my report to them as to the title—I advised them that I did not think he could execute a legal Russian mortgage in this country; and, further, I knew that he had not perfected his title, because, according to the Russian law he must be put in possession personally—it was arranged that I was to go out with him—those arrangements were pending at the time this very cheque was given—it was on Friday, 21st July that Mr. Parland first communicated to me with reference to this cheque for 186l., and on that day I wrote to Messrs. Bailey, Shaw, & Stewart—in their letter they threatened criminal proceedings against him, and I then wrote to them that letter. (Bead:"Dear Sirs,—I understand you hold a dishonoured cheque of Mr. J. J. Parland, for 186l., on behalf of Messrs. Tattersall's. If you will favour me with a call before 12 to-morrow, I think I can satisfy you that the cheque will be paid" They did not call on me, so I called on them at the West End—I saw Mr. Bailey and told him that Mr. Parland was well able to pay, that the cheque. had not been returned, that there was no fraud at all, that he had ample means, and I told him what the means were, and I told him not to take criminal proceedings, and offered to pay—they said they would see their client, but they could not act without instructions—that was on the Saturday afternoon—I received no telegram or any communication from them till next day, Tuesday the 25th, then I answered it with this letter, and they replied that they were instructed to take proceeding., (Letter read:"25th July. Dear Sirs,—I am sorry you Should have taken steps 'in this matter; I have arranged that the, amount of Mr. Parland's dishonoured cheque; shall be taken up tomorrow. I trust in the meantime you will not proceed further.") I had arranged with Mr. Parland on the Monday to leave for St. Petersburg on the Tuesday night—I was present at the interview with Mr. Calisher on the Tuesday—I have heard Mr. Calisher's account of the transaction; it is correct—Mr. Parland said he would not leave England unless he was assured that provision would be secured for Messrs. Tattersall's cheque, he repeated that several times, in fact, Mr. Parland was very reluctant to go to St. Petersburg until that had been settled—Calisher was simply to have a lien upon the horses for the money he was to pay for Tattersall's, because we did not know what the amount was; there was a question of costs—I was prepared to settle whatever costs Tattersall's had been put to—he was not to part with them—I was not aware that he had the document that was produced to-day—we left on the Tuesday night by the tidal train and travelled to St. Petersburg, and got. there on Saturday night—on the Monday I set about inquiring into this property, it is in the centre of St. Petersburg, in the best part of the city, and it consists of a very large piece of land, on which there are wooden

baths at the present time; of course they are not very valuable, still they bring in a large revenue; there are houses, and there is a large stoneyard, and also a large timber yard; the property is surrounded by two canals and a road on each side, Mr. Shoubrikoff is Mr. Parland's agent there, and was for his father—Mr. Parland has been drawing his income from that source—the income produced varies, it depends upon the repairs to the property, it is between 700l. and 800l.; he received one quarter's income when I was over there—Mr. Shoubrikoff is a man not likely to give more than it is worth, he is a Russian, and to my knowledge he would give 12,000l. for it irrespective of the buildings, simply as a building site—it is a fact that Mr. Parland has expressed his wish to make over that property to the trustee for the benefit of his crditors, the deed has been drawn, and is awaiting his signature; he has also signed an agreement to do it—I came back I think on 10th August, on a Saturday—I believe I saw one of the members of Messrs. Barker's in reference to the non-payment of the 186l.,. cheque, but then it was in other hands—I know this, that if it had been presented again and the stop had been taken oft, Messrs. Barker would have paid it.

Cross-examined. I returned from Russia on 10th August by myself, Mr. Parland went one way and I another—I left on the Sunday morning, and he on the Sunday night—I came through Poland, by way of Warsaw, and he arrived I think the night before I did—I heard of the summons about five or six days after my arrival—I did not hear it from the defendant—I knew that there was a summons returnable on the Saturday, at the Westminster police-court; he did not tell me why he did not appear, he was in Scotland at the time—I was present when the application was made for the warrant, and I offered to pay the debt—I did not attend, I was simply there, because I heard of the summons—I was not there for the defendant, I was there of my own accord—I heard that it was returnable on that day—I did not know where the defendant was, it was either in Glasgow or Edinburgh—I asked Messrs. Bailey to present the cheque again, but they said they could not, they considered it a fraud—that was on the 22nd. July—on the 25th I arrauged it to be-taken up to-morrow, that was an arrangement with Mr. Calisher—I left on the 25th, the day I wrote that: letter—I had arranged to go to Russia with the defendant either on the Friday or Saturday before I started on the Tuesday—I had been considering a journey to Russia before that, in. the December previous—I did not know of the other cheques that were outstanding—I knew nothing of Mr. Olivier's cheque, or the other cheques for 15l. and 10l.—I was not aware they were outstanding till I was at the Westminster police-court—I think the defendant owes me about 700l.; I paid 450l. cash to him—I have no-security for that—the prisoner's mother and sister are interested in the Russian property; according to the Russian law his share is 11-14ths of the 1 whole amount, the mother's 2-14ths, and the sister's 1-14ths.

Re-examined I have lent him more than 700l.—I always found him an honourable man, be has always repaid me—I was at the meeting of his creditors on 25th August, he was not there, I represented him—the warrant was applied for in my presence, and at the time of the application I offered, to pay the money—I was asked if I would give a guarantee for the costs—I thought those costs might be rather fabulous, and I said I would not—I am aware that there was a question in dispute between Mr. Parland and Mr. Page.

By MR. POLAND. I think it was to Mr. Pain that I made the offer to

pay the 186l.—I did make the offer, it was either to Mr. Pain or Mr. Humphreys, whoever was present, I made the offer, it was simply a question with regard to costs; I mean at the police-court.


20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-2
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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2. EDWIN TARRANT (32), PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously forging and uttering a bill of exchange, with intent to defraud. (See last Session page 601). The prisoner received a good character— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment .

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-3
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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3. JAMES YOUNG (53) , Unlawfully and indecently assaulting Ebenezer Butler, with intent, &c.

MR. AUSTIN METCALFE conducted the Prosecution; and Mr. Montagu Williams the Defence.


NEW COURT.—Monday, November 20th, 1876.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-4
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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4. ROBERT CHUBB (60) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin. Mb. Cbaufurd conducted the Prosecution; and Mb. Frith the Defence.

JAMES WILLIAM OXLEY . I am counter clerk at the Vere Street post-office—on Wednesday, 25th October, about 2.50 or 2.45 the prisoner came in and asked me for a half-crown's worth of Id. stamps—he put down a good shilling, a good sixpence, and a bad shilling, which I noticed, and went round to the other side of the counter and stopped him—I told him why I stopped him—he said he hoped I would not give him in custody, he would give me a good one—I said "This is the second time you have been here, you came here last Saturday and passed a counterfeit florin and I shall give you in custody "—he made no answer—he had asked for 5s. worth of stamps on Saturday, the 21st, about 2.45, and put down a good florin, a good shilling, and a bad florin, which I noticed at the time, and he gave me two good shillings in return for it and I let him go—on the last occasion I submitted the matter to my superior officer and the prisoner was given in charge with, the coin.'

Cross-examined. I have four assistants—it is common for four or five peo ple to be waiting at each department, but we are very slack on Saturday afternoons—I sell a great many stamps in a day, and it is not uncommon for people to come to the wrong counter and ask me questions, and yet I can tell a person who has been there only once before under special circumstances—I have had many bad coins offered to me and I may have taken them and offered them at a shop—no one was there on the 21st but the prisoner, and on the 25th the prisoner and another person, but others came in while they were there—I have a good knowledge of coin, but there is a possibility of my taking a bad one.

ALEXANDER BLOMFIELD (Police Sergeant D 9). On 25th October Mr. Oxley gave the prisoner into my custody with this bad Is—I found no bad money on him—I told him he was charged with uttering a counterfeit Is. and also on the previous Saturday a bad florin—he said that he was not aware the Is. was bad, he said nothing about the florin—Mr. Oxley handed me the prisoner's purse with two half-crowns and four good shillings in it.

Cross-examined. I found nothing on him but the stamps he had bought.

JOHN GILES . I am barman at the Laurie Arms, Marylebone—I have seen the prisoner there several times—the first time was in June last when

he had a glass of ale and gave me a bad Is.; I bent it with my teeth easily, handed it back to him, and told him that his wife had tendered a bad sixpence before—he has been there with his wife three or four times a day—he took it away and paid me with good money—about 8th July he came again for a glass of ale and tendered a bad Is.; I handed it to the landlord, who told him it was the third time, and if he brought another he should give him in charge, and he broke the coin and put it on the counter the prisoner did not pay for the ale.

Cross-examined. I knew where he lived as I had followed his wife home—I cannot tell you any other person who was in the house on or about 8th July.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . This shilling is bad.

The prisoner received a good character.


20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-5
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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5. WALTER SMITH (51) , Unlawfully having counterfeit, coin in his possession with intent to utter it.

MESSRS. CRAUFURD and LLOYD conducted the Prosecution.

JOHN SHORE (Detective Inspector). On 25th October, about 5 p.m., I was on duty with Urban in St. Martin's Lane, and saw the prisoner, who I knew before, walking very fast to the corner of St. Martin's Lane, where he spoke to a man, and they went into a public-house, the Essex Arms, I believe—I told Urban to go in—he went in and almost immediately came to the door and beckoned me in—I went in and saw the prisoner and another man standing with two glasses of liquor and some change on the counter—I took hold of the prisoner and pushed him to one end of the bar, and Urban pushed the other man to the other end, and the prisoner dropped this packet from his left hand; it fell about a foot from the counter; Urban picked it up; it contained ten counterfeit coins wrapped up separately—I said "This is what this man dropped "—the prisoner said "I never had it"—he resisted being searched, but I found on him a lion shilling gilded, a good shilling, 2 1/2 d., and a brush wrapped in a black bag, which is used for colouring coins to make them look dirty—the other man was not known, and was net charged—the prisoner said in the cell at Bow Street "I will entirely wash my hands of this; if I get out of this mess, I will never touch any of the stuff again." '—

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I was struggling with you when Urban picked up the coins—I have since found out that the other man has been an utterer of count erfeit coin; that you met him there and gave him drink, and that you went there to sell counterfeit coin to a man and woman—I saw you throw the packet down.

GEORGE URBAN (Detective Sergeant). I went with Shore to the Essex Arms, Long Acre, and saw the prisoner and another man in conversation at the bar in a very low tone—I called for something to drink, and saw four females going out—the prisoner had something in his left hand—Shore took hold of him, told him we were two officers and took him to the end of the bar—as I was searching the other man I saw something between me and Shore, 2 or 3 feet from me—I picked it up and said "What is this "—Shore said "My man has just dropped that, I thought you had picked it up before "—the other man could not have thrown it down, because I held his arms.

Cross-examined. The females left before I got to the door—I saw somehing rather large in your left hand—I did not search you—I never left my

man, and he could not have dropped it—I am sure that packet was not on the floor when we went in, the parcel in your hand might have been tobacco done up in newspaper. '

Re-examined. No tobacco was found on either of you—I went back after you were put in a cab and there was nothing on the floor but a piece of a pipe light.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . These ten coins are bad, and this shilling is gilt to represent a sovereign.

Prisoner's Defence. The other man had plenty of time to throw them down. I know nothing of them; they were never in my possession.

GUILTY *— Five Years' Penal Servitude .

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-6
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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6. LEONARD FREDERICK CRIPPEN (31), PLEADED GUILTY to stealing, whilst employed in the Post-office, two letters, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-7
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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7. WILLIAM GROVE (47) , to stealing whilst employed in the Post-office, a. letter containing a 20l. note and a 10l. note of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General ( The prisoner had been convicted of a like offence in July, 1872, and sentenced to Five Years' Penal Servitude, after which the present offence, which had been committed previously, was discovered)— Fifteen Months' Imprisonment, concurrent with his former sentence. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]And

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-8
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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8. EDWIN GEORGE KIMBER (26) , to stealing a post-letter, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General. He received an excellent character— Two Years' Imprisonment . [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

OLD COURT.—Tuesday, November 21st, 1876.

Before Mr. Recorder.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-9
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty; Not Guilty > unknown

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9. CHARLES JOSEPH HUBBARD (31), and ELIZABETH HUBBARD (39), were indicted for unlawfully obtaining by false pretences 125l. from John Peter Romney.

MR. SERJEANT ROBINSON with MR. FRANCIS TURNER conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.

After the case had commenced, the prisoner Charles Joseph Hubbard staled that he desired to withdraw his plea of


The Jury accordingly found that verdict. Mr. Serjeant Robinson then withdrew from the case as to Elizabeth Hubbard, who was acquitted on this charge, and also on another for making a false declaration.

C. J. HUBBARD Three Months' Imprisonment .

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-10
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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10. WILLIAM ARTHUR EVAMEY (25) , Burglarly in. the dwelling, house of James Wanner, and stealing a clock, his property.

MR. H. GIFFARD conducted the Prosecution.

JOHN PEARSON (Policeman E 94). On 25th October, 12.15 a.m., I was. in Charles Street, Middlesex Hospital; I heard a crash like something breaking—I saw a man standing by the door of No. 24, and the prisoner was getting over the area railings—they ran towards me, I got back in a doorway, and when they passed I followed them—the prisoner was stopped' by another constable in Wells Street, in my view, I had not lost sight of him—I took him back to. 24, Charles Street, I found the parlour window open—I had seen it about twenty minutes before, it was then shut, I roused the prosecutor and went into the room—I found a candle and matches on a chair—the clock was found broken in the area—I took the prisoner to the station—he said "I am not the man, you have got the wrong one, I was out having a lark with some of my pals."

OWEN MCGEEHAN (Policeman E 22). I was in Union Street, on 25th October, I heard a cry of "Stop thief! and saw the prisoner running from Charles Street, I stopped him in Wells Street"—Pearson was following him, I asked what he was running for—he said "It is all right, me and my pals are having a lark "—we took him back to No. 24, Charles Street, and found the window open.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. There were very few persons about, a few boys and girls were running following the policeman.

JAMES WANNER . I am a merchant, living at 24, Charles Street—on the night of 25th, about 10 o'clock, I saw that my parlour window was shut—about 12 o'clock I was roused by the police, I found the window open—the clock produced is mine, and was on the mantelpiece the night before—the prisoner had worked under his father at my place, I believe he bears a good character—I could not believe he would do such a thing.

Prisoner's Defence. It is a case of mistaken identity on the constables part; if I had wished to rob the place I had every opportunity without committing a burglary as I have worked in the house, and in many houses in the neighbourhood.


20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-11
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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11. WILLIAM BRANSFIELD (19) , Feloniously assaulting Charles Eagle, with intent to rob him.

MR. CBOOME conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.

CHAELES EAGLE . I live at 85, Queen's Head Street, Essex Road, about 12.30 in the morning of 2nd November, I was going out to get some supper, as I went along I opened my purse to get a shilling ready to pay for it, a piece of money fell to the ground, and while looking for it the prisoner came up and said "What have you lost governor "—I said "Nothing "—he asked me a second time and I said the same—two or three parties round asked the same question and the prisoner answered "Oh, it is only a penny," that took me off my guard; I still kept looking about till the few persons that were round disappeared, there was only the prisoner there and another man who I could not swear to—the prisoner said "Are you sure it is only a penny "—I pulled out my purse, I said I did not know whether it was a sovereign or a shilling—in doing so the interior of my purse was open and showed four sovereigns in gold—the prisoner was near enough to see it, the lamp was reflecting on the purse as I opened it—the prisoner made a snatch at it and threw me down at the same time—I did not leave go of the purse, I was struggling, holding it in the struggle—he tore my hands, the scratches are there now—I shouted police as loudly as I could, the prisoner said to the other man "hold his mouth," and the other man placed his hand over my mouth—they bumped by head on the ground two or three times, I was very near losing my senses, the prisoner let go, and the police came up and ran after him 500 or 600 yards before they caught him—I went after them; I lost sight of him, and then saw him in the. policeman's hands—he is the person that took hold of my purse.

Cross-examined. I lost sight of him as he went round the corner, I did not identify another man, he was taken and discharged before the Magistrate, I could not swear to him.

JAMES MALLET (Police Sergeant N 10). I was with Mitchell 475 N, about 12.30 on the morning of the 2nd, in the Essex Road—I heard cries of police; I ran towards the sound and saw the prosecutor lying on the ground

and two men on the top of him; the prisoner is one—on seeing me they left the prosecutor—I followed him 300 or 400 yards—I, only lost sight of him in turning two corners—he turned and came towards me as if nothing had occurred—I took hold of him and said I should detain him for an assault on the prosecutor—he was out of breath and could not speak for some few seconds, when he did speak he said he was not the man, he had done nothing—the prosecutor came up and identified him.

GUILTY Eighteen Months' Imprisonment .

NEW COURT.—Tuesday, November 21st, 1876.

Before Mr. Common Sergeant.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-12
VerdictNot Guilty > no evidence

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12. HENRY SIMPSON (32) , Unlawfully obtaining from Hermann Loog, a sewing machine, with intent to defraud, upon which Mr. F. H. Lewis for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.


20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-13
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment; Imprisonment; Imprisonment; Imprisonment

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13. GEORGE SEABORN (49), THOMAS SAMBRIDGE (20), HENRY GARLICK (26), and WILLIAM EDDINGTON (50) , Unlawfully conspiring to obtain 50l., of Samuel Wickens, by false pretences.

MR. BESLEY, conducted the Prosecution; MR. METOALFE, Q.C., appeared for Seaborn, Mr. Horace Avory for Sambridge, Mr. Straight for Garlick, and MR. M. WILLIAMS for Eddington.

WALTER ANDREWS (Detective Sergeant). I have been in the service between seven and eight years—I was directed by my superiors to watch. Mr. Wicken's premises, in Glaucus Street, Bow Common, a glue and size dealer, and bone boiler, and on 6th October I was stationed with Sergeant Roots in the laboratory, where there was some green baize before the window—this sketch correctly describes the relative "positions of the window and the scale—I went there about 3.30 a.m. and remained till 10.30 p.m.—the window is 12 or 13 ft. from the ground, and the upright of the, scale is 9 or 10 ft. from the wall—business commenced about 6 a.m.—I received a signal when Seaborn and Sambridge came to the scale, and made these notes at the time—at about 6.5 Sambridge and Seaborn came to the scale together, bones were brought in, Seaborn weighed them, and they called out the weights, and Sambridge and Garlick made notes—two baskets were weighed at a time, and sometimes three—there were twelve weighings that day—Mr. Wickens was there, he left directly Sambridge and Seaborn came with their loads—he gave us the information, and then left the premises by my direction before the weighing took place—on 13th October I placed myself in the same room with Manton—we went about 3.30 a.m. and remained there till the close of the afternoon—they commenced weighing at 6 a.m.—Seaborn, Sambridge and Garlick were present—there were twenty-five weighings, which were called out by Seaborn—I could not distinctly hear the" weights as the laboratory window was shut; I could see everything, but could not bear—we made a report of the number of weigh-. ings before we saw Seaborn's book—on the Saturday Roots and I went to the Tenterden Arms to watch Eddington, that is opposite Glaucus Street, and we saw Seaborn and Eddington in Glaucus Street, walking from the factory towards the public-house, and as they entered Seaborn said "It is all right now, it is level this time," or "it is. eleven this time," I do not know which, as he speakes in a peculiar way—they had some drink, which Eddington paid for—Seaborn said "When it was put on the scale he was up and down all the time," and he made a motion with hishand—another

man then joined them, and they went outside, where they stopped talkin under Eddington's umbrella for five or six minutes, and then parted—befor leaving, Eddington gave the landlady money for a glass of ale for somebody—they went into the Widow's Son public-house for about three minutes, then to the Bank in the Bow Road, and then to the railway station, and I lost sight of them for about half an hour—on Friday, the 20th I was in the counting-house, but not all day; Garlick and Sambridge came in, I had seen that they were unloading bones—Sinclair said to Garlick "Harry, what do you make yours?"—he said "27-2-4 marrows," and I think he said "15 cwt. of waste "—he then called to Sambridge and said "What do you make your weights?"—he called out his weights but I do not remember what they all were—Sinclair called to Seaborne who had brought his weighing book with him, and Sinclair compared the weights and the weighing book and then wrote them each out, these two tickets, one is "27-2-4 marrow," and the other "15 waste"—warrants were afterwards delivered to me against the four prisoners and on 26th October I took Seaborne and read the warrant to him, which was for conspiring to obtain 16l. from Samuel Wickens by false pretences—he said "You seem to know more about it than I do, I have never robbed Mr. Wickens, I have always acted fairly by him, and I think he must say so "—I then took Garlick and Sambridge, who were there, and read the warrant to them; they both said "I know nothing at all about it"—Garlick said to me "How can this have been done then?"—I said "You have been charging for more bones than came in, by increasing the number of weighings "—he said "I know nothing about it, I never had a pound off Seaborne and I never robbed Wickens, only when I put a bit of meat in the basket"—four or five hours afterwards I went to Eddington's house—he opened the door—I said "Can I see Mr. Eddington?"—he said "I am he, what have you got my two men for?"—I told him they were in custody for robbing Mr. Wickens and that I had a warrant for his arrest—he said "Good God! you don't say so, who can have done this; Mr. Wickens?"—I said "Yes"—I read the warrant to him—he said "Well, I cannot be responsible for what my men do, I thought I had two of the most honest fellows in the trade "—I asked if he kept any books—he said "No "—I asked him if he supplied the carmen with books to go on their rounds—he said "No, I give them so much money in the morning, they go round and collect the bones and stuff and take it to Mr. Wickens. and bring me back a ticket of the total weight and give me the change, if there is any, that is the only record I have "—I said "Don't you reckon up with your men in, the morning or the change they give you?"—he said "No, I make up my, account every night and I trust to my men as to the amount—I searched his place and found these books and memoranda (produced)—here are entries in the books of the transactions of the 6th, 13th, and 20th October—on the 6th here is "Harry, 24-1-7, 21-1-0, and cash 10l. 18s. 10d. and 4l. 15s. 7d., making 15l. 14s. 5d.; also Tom, 17-2-4 marrows, 6-2-10 waste, 9l. 17s. 6d."—on 13th October here is "Harry, 34-0-2 and 26-2-4,15l. 6s. 2d. and 6l. 0s. 3s., total 21l. 6s. 5d.; Tom, 19-10-25 and 10-3-15, total 11l. 4s. 2d."—on 20th here is "Harry 27-2-4 and 15-0-0, carried out, total 15l. 15s. 14d.,"and Torn, 20-0-24 and 10 cwt, carried out 14l. 0s. 10s."—those are the only entries referring to those dates—there is no entry of money by Eddington to the men, but here are entries of balances which I donot understand—there is no entry with regard to Wickens—there is an entry on Wednesday, 10th October, "Seaborne & Sons," as if he was doing

business with them—I take it that this other. book is his account with Wickens, this is cast up every week—on the way to the station he said "I think Mr. Wickens has got this up for me to injure me in any business, I had thought of taking my stock away from him and thought I had succeeded until yesterday, when I received a letter; thereas on is, I believe, he saw me in a place three weeks ago offering it for sale, and we have not been very pleasant to each other since then "—I find here two tickets relating to 13th October and two to 20th October, which were given out by Sinclair; also tickets of 21st September, 26th September, and 9th October.

Cross-examined by MR. METCALFE. The tickets would be rightly in his possession, there was no harm in that, supposing the weighings were correct—this is where Eddington's load commences and it goes on at the back—I do not remember seeing three baskets in one weighing, the baskets came in generally two by two—I have noted where there are two and where there are three—I have not counted the number of baskets, but there were a good many, more than 12—when I thought I understood the weight* I put it down, but I could not hear distinctly—Seaborn, who was weighing, took a note of each weighing and called out to Garlick and Sambridge, who made entries in their books—at some of the weighings, they both made notes and at others only one of them did—two baskets were weighed together, but the weight was only called once—I have no notion why Harry and Torn, both entered them—the green baize over the window was very thick, but I had two holes made through it as big as a sixpence, or larger, one for me, and one for Roots—I told the Magistrate that there was nothing between me and the window, we were looking from the dark into the light—I could not bring both eyes to bear, one eye relieved guard with the other—we were there from 3.30 a.m., we had something to eat and drink—the copper was in use on the 13th, but not on the 6th; when it is boiling a great deal of effluvia and vapour rises when the lid is up and it was up many times, in a day; the vapour then came up pretty freely and I could not see at all; there was no vapour while the load on the 13th was being weighed; I made arrangements for that—Wickens' men brought the baskets in, I know them by sight, but not their names—if it had struck me to get them in afterwards to tally the baskets from the cart I should not have done it—this is my note (produced)—this "3-3 "means 3 cwt. 3 qrs., which was the weight I understood to be called out by Seaborn—I have never added up the weights to. see how far they agreed with the tickets, we took them down to make ourselves more positive as to the weighings—I think the two glasses of ale at the public-house would only come to 4d.—I will not swear that Eddington did not put down 6d—Seaborn did not take out a sixpence, nor did Eddington say. "Put your money back, this makes it even "—he stutters.

Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. I had Garlick under my observation, all day—the distance from the van to the scale was as far as to the end of this Court, or it may be further—the two men go to their vans and back to the scale; the vans remain outside in the road—I did not see the, vans arrive, but they were both delivering together—I saw Garlick with a book or paper of the size of a book—when he came into his office he called out the total and looked at something which he had in his hand.

Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. I find an entry "Seaborn & Sons by cheque, 147l. 3s. 5d." and 26l. 10s. 11d. is carried out—at the bottom of the opposite page here is."Seaborn & Sons, by cheque 27l. 0s. 10d."—I heard from Wickens that he takes all the bones, except the heads, which

Seaborn & Sons take—I wag occupied about the premises three whole days; in three weeks—I was there on two occasions from eighteen to twenty-hours—Roots was with me at the Teuterden Arms, we were in the private) bar, and Eddington and the other man were in the next compartment; there; was a partition between us, but I could see them both plainly—I am not certain whether Eddington could see me, but I think he could see Roots.

Re-examined. I went twice at 3.30 a.m.; I was not there early on 20th October, I did not go till evening—I made these notes as each weighing" took place and am positive they are correct—I took the number of the weighings, but should not like to swear that I heard distinctly what weights were called out.

SAMUEL WICKENS . I am the prosecutor—the business formerly belonged to the defendant Seaborn and a person named Frith; 'I bought it of their trustees in August, 1874, and employed Seaborn as manager, and about twelve months ago I made him weigher, he was earning 3l. a week—besides, collecting bones by my own servants, I buy bones of bone collectors—Eddington was a person selling to me for eighteen months—we occasionally bought heads as well as marrows—Seaborn and Garlick were known as Tom and Harry, they were in his employment—the value of the marrows was about 9s. a cwt., and the heads about 3s. 6d. the bone collectors buy them of the butchers and sell them to me, so as to realise a profit—I employ accountants—in consequence of something, I addressed my mind to detect fraud at my establishment, and on 21st September I paid attention to the weighing of a delivery by Garlick only—I counted, and there were seven weighings of marrows and four of waste—Seaborn has entered nine weighings of marrows and four of waste, the weight was 33-7-9 marrows and 33-2 waste—this ticket found at Eddington's exactly corresponds with the weighing on 21st September—the figures and money are carried out by Eddington—the two top amounts-are perfectly correct, but "fat" has nothing to do with me—the two amounts are carried out 18l. 2s. 5d.—on the 23rd I gave him. this cheque for 100l. produced which included that; the account went on and was balanced afterwards—I have all the amounts here; but not the cheques—on 26th September I again watched the weighing of what was delivered from Eddington by Garlick—there were six weighings of marrow and three of waste, and Seaborn has entered in a book seven of marrow and four of waste, the weights correspond with those on this ticket, and I have given cheques on account to cover it—on 9th October, Sambridge came and delivered three weighings of marrows and three of waste, and according to Seaborn there were four of marrows and three of waste—the ticket found at Eddington's is quite correct, and I paid upon seven weighings instead of six—Seaborn was at the scale, Sambridge always looked at the scale, and the other men had paper to put it down—it was Eddington's custom to come on Saturdays for a cheque on account, and on Tuesdays his account was presented—a weighing of marrows is worth about 2l., and of waste 1l. or a little under—I knew of the men being put in the laboratory—this sketch is correct, I have measured it—the distance from the window to the platform of the scale is 19 ft—there is nothing between the window and the scale—I can see plainly what occurs at the scale—I left the place on the arrival of Garlick and Sambridge—these entries in Seaborn's book on 6th October, are in his writing—" Harry, seven weighings of marrow and seven of waste; Tom, five weighings of marrow and two of waste," that makes twenty-one weighings altogether—I have not got the ticket found at Eddington's on

6th October—the tickets in Mr. Sinclair's writing for 6th October are here—I have two tickets, one for Harry and one for Tom—on one of them is a total of marrows and waste corresponding with those twenty-one entries—even if the twenty-one weighing were, all waste, that would be 9l. on that day—on 13th October he enters "Tom, six weighings of marrows and three of waste; Harry, ten of marrows and eight of waste "—in Tom's book the entry is 19-1-20 marrows, and the book is 19-1-22—here is a delivery on that day "Marrows, 24 cwt; waste, 22cwt.;" that is a large load—Harry is supposed to have brought it in, and on the same day Tom is supposed to have brought in a ton and a half—Harry drove a pair horse four-wheeled Tan, and Tom generally a cart, but sometimes a van—I was there on 13th October all day—there are stairs to my private counting-house—in Seaborn's book I find on 20th October an entry of eight weighings of marrows and five of waste to Harry, and six of marrows, and three of waste and five of treads to Tom—by the tickets found at Eddington's of 20th October the totals exactly correspond with Seaborn's entries.

Cross-examined by MR. METGALFE. The ticket ought to correspond with Seaborne's book, and it does—I complain that more are charged than were weighed, they charged me with too many bones—my counting-house is by the side of the scale, with a glass window towards the scale; it is on the ground floor in the general counting-house—I could see them and they me, they came in and out close to the scale, and I was noticing what they did—I came out of my little room into the warehouse, and I could see the baskets pass by carried by my own men, but they are sometimes carried by the carmen—I have not got the memorandum I made at the time—I made a tick for each weighing, and there were seven—I kept the marrows and the waste on different sides—I made one mark for two baskets which is one weighing, sometimes" there were three baskets in one weighing, but never four—no difference would be made whether there were three or two—the two baskets would be brought from one cart—I cannot tell you of any instance where it would be necessary for Tom and Harry both to make an entry—if Tom's load was: finished and Harry's begun he would not weigh the two and the one together—it never could be that Tom's and Harry's baskets were in the scale at the same time—on 26th September and 9th October I was in the counting-house, going backwards and forwards to the warehouse—I have small customers as well as large, and it might happen, though it very seldom did, that a small customer came with a small lot which was weighed intermediately with a large lot—Seaborn has been a long time in the business—I. had not been in the bone trade before I took it, I kept the St. John's Gate, Clerkenwell—I kept on all the men—Seaborn's brother carries on business in the same trade.

Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. We give our men money to go out and buy bones and pay for them and they hand us back the balance in cash, and no doubt Eddington's course of business with his men was the same, hut his men would bring the bones straight to me and take him back the tickets and account to him for the balance—my transactions with Eddington were large, about 100l. is due to him now.

Cross-examined by MR. GILL. PIECES, of meat or fat came sometimes in the baskets with the bones, fat is an advantage, but meat is not.

Re-examined. All this was on the Thursday before he came for his money—I owed him for, four days—whether it was two or three baskets. there would be no separate mark in the weighing—the weight would—indicate

whether it was two or three baskets—this book (produced) is kept by our clerk, he enters what money they take out and what they bring home, and they sign for the balance—I charge myself with the price my servants give for bones to the butcher.

THOMAS ROOTS (Police Sergeant). On 6th October I was watching in the laboratory with Andrews—these (produced) are my notes—the first weighing was two baskets of bones—Seaborn called out 3 1/2 for the first, for the second I have no weight, for the third I have 3-2-22—there were twelve weighings, not twenty-one—I was also there on 20th October, and these are my notes—there were twenty-six weighings, I am sure there were not twenty-seven—Robson was with me—Mr. Wickens, in my presence, compared the weighings of other bone dealers and Seaborn's book and they were correct—on Saturday, 14th, I went with Andrews to the Ten-terden Arms, and saw Seaborn and Eddington—on coming in Seaborn said "Well, that is all right now, it is level this time," or "eleven," I think it was eleven—they had some drink and Seaborn said that while it was on the scale he was up and down all the time—Eddington then left 2d. for a glass of beer for another of the men, and they left.

Cross-examined by Mr. Metcalfe. I cannot say whether it was a sixpence that Eddington put down, I could see plainly, but I was listening rather than looking—two glasses of ale were drunk, I am sure it was ale—the words "That will make it level," or "even," were said before they had the beer, as they were coming in—they came in at the same door as we did, but we went into another compartment—we went in just before them, we saw them coming—I could not see Eddington where he stood at the bar—Andrews cut the holes in the baize and we both looked through and saw the weighing—he said "There is two more," and I put down two more—the time between the weighings gave us time to do that—I consulted him about everything—I put down and read it as I wrote it—the whole of this is my writing, but it has nothing to do with those weighings—there is something in this memorandum in Andrews' writing, but the generality of it is mine, the whole of it as far as October 6th is concerned—Sergeant Robson was my companion on 20th October—we went to the same chinks then and I wrote the whole of this, calling out to him "There are two more baskets "in the same way. '

Cross-examined by Mr. Gill. I could not see the place where the carts were—I could not see whether Garlick chalked the weights on the trucks.

Cross-examined by Mr. Williams. Eddington spoke in a low tone in the public-house, and I think there was a little more conversation, but Eddington spoke in a low tone—they could see us, we were standing at the bar—I will not undertake to say that when he said "He has been up and down the whole morning," it was not as to where Wickens was.

Re-examined. On 20th October, the weighing of Eddington's lot commenced at 2.25, two baskets of bones—(reading his memorandum) here are some memoranda on 6th October, with regard to other dealers who brought in bones on that day—these are the weighings which were compared with Seaborn's returns in my presence—these notes of 6th October, are made some by Andrews and some by me—I took a note of everything that came in arid went out—I have seen Seaborn's book—the returns of the weighings of other persons, except Eddington's men, correspond with my notes.

JOHN MANTON (Police Sergeant). On 13th October, I was with, Andrews

in the laboratory in Glaneus Street—Andrews took notes of the weighings on that occasion in toy presence, and they are correct—there were twentyfive weighings.

Cross-examined by MR. METOALFE, he looked through one eyelet hole, and I through another—I made entries at another part of the day—I checked it with him and he called out what he had seen.

Re-examined. I wrote with regard to a number of transactions on 13th October, but not with regard to Eddington—a portion of these notes is in my writing—I handed them to Mr. Wickens.

GEORGE ROBSON (Detective Sergeant). On 20th October, I was concealed in the laboratory in Glaucus Street all day, to see the weighings—I saw 'Garlick and Seaborn bring in their loads—there were twenty-six weighings—the sergeant made notes accurately in my presence.

OSBORNE SINCLAIR . I am MR. WICKENS' clerk—the carmen come to me and report the total weight of their loads—I know Garlick and Sambridge as Harry and Tom—I supplied them with prices of paper to put their weights down—I have got nine papers here, I gave them to them to take the weights and they came back to me—I used to say "What do you make your marrows," and they gave me the net-weight; I then cast up the net weights to see if it agreed with what they told me, and when they agreed—I delivered a ticket, not before—these nine tickets are all in my writing, they were delivered out on the dates they bear, and before I gave them out I compared them with Seaborn's book and saw that they corresponded—the amounts were entered to Eddington's credit at the same time in this book.

Cross-examined by MR. AVORY. I gave the men paper as a rule, there were exceptions, but they always gave me the weights, and they chalked it down if they had not paper.

Cross-examined by MR. GILL. They came to me "after they had delivered their load—I used to ask them what they made the marrows and then what they made the waste. Cross-examined by Mr. Williams. I said before the Magistrate "The men took the bones straight to the prosecutor's without taking them to the—yard of their master."

SAMUEL WICKENS (re-examined). I compared the 6cwt 13lbs. on 20th October with the officers' entries who were watching, and they corresponded.

Seaborne, Sambridge, and Garlick received good characters.


SEABORN— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment . SAMBRIDGE—. Twelve Months' Imprisonment . GARLICK— Twelve Months' Imprisonment . EDDINGTON*— Two Years' Imprisonment .

FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday November 21st, 1876.

Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-14
VerdictNot Guilty > directed

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14. JEREMIAH DACEY (27), and HENRY YATES (20) , Feloniously assaulting Daniel Denney, with intent to rob him.

MR. CHARLES MATHEWS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. WARNER SLEIGH the Defence. The prosecutor not appearing, THE COURT directed a verdict of


20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-15
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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15. JEREMIAH DACEY , and HENRY YATES were again indicted for feloniously assaulting a man, whose name is unknown, with intent to rob.

JAMBS MANNING (Policeman E. 317). At about 1.45 on the morning of

the 7th October, I was in High Street, Bloomsbury, where I met a man whose name I afterwards discovered to be Denney—he made a communica-tion to me, in consequence of which I went after the two prisoners, they were standing at the corner of New Compton Street, against a lamp post—Dacey had, hold of an old man's wrists and was shoving him against the post—he said to Yates "Now then, I am ready, have him "—Yates then went up to him and put his hand in his trouser's pocket—the old man said "If you touch me again I will call' Police'—he put his hands up his waistcoat, and he called "Police "—I took hold of them, and we all struggled together—Riley, 358 came up, and I told them they were charged with an assault—Dacey said "I have not assaulted anyone"—Yates said "Nor have I"—Dacey said "No, nor tried to pick anyone's pocket," and Dacey said "Nor have I"—he had not mentioned about pocket-picking at the time—the other constable took hold of Dacey, who was very violent—I held Yates, but constable 120 came up, and we took them to the station—I am quite sure I saw Yates put his hand in his pocket—Dacey said at the time he had no money, so had not robbed anyone—he was searched, and 6 1/2 d. was found on him; nothing was found on Yates—in answer to the charge at the station, they said they knew nothing about it.

Cross-examined. I have not seen the man unknown since, he was drunk—one of the prisoners at the police-court asked whether the man would be. called as a witness—he was not told that he could not be called, because he was too drunk—the inspector told him they could not compel a man to come as a witness; we could not find him—the prisoner did not say if a man robbed or struck another he should run away, and he was standing still at the spot—Yates might have been drinking, but was not drunk—his breath smelt of rum—the other prisoner was violent—the man was not hugging the lamp-post, his back was to it.

JOHN RILEY (Policeman E 358). In consequence of something told me I went to the corner of St. Andrew's Street, High Street, Bloomsbury, where I found the last witness holding the prisoners—they were struggling, and Dacey said he should not go to the station; he had picked no pockets—nothing had been mentioned about picking pockets—the other constable, 320, is not here.

Cross-examined. I met them at the corner of St. Andrew's Street, about 40 or 50 yards from the corner of Compton Street.


20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-16
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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16. JEREMIAH DACEY and HENRY YATES were again indicted for unlawfully assaulting Daniel Denney and thereby occasioning to him actual bodily harm. The indictment also charged them with an assault, and occasioning actual bodily harm to a person unknown.

The evidence given on the last indictment was repeated.


20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-17
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence

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17. JOHN ROBINSON (23) , Feloniously wounding George Woodgate with intent to do him some grevious bodily harm.

MR. CUNNINGHAM conducted the Prosecution.

GEORGE WOODGATE (Policeman C 293). I was on duty on Sunday morning the 29th October last in Little Pultney Street, Westminster, when I saw fifteen or twenty persons quarrelling—I requested them to go away—the prisoner was standing close to me, he was one of those quarreling—he turned round to me and said "You b——, I will put a blade into you "—I seized him by the left wrist, feeling the prick of the knife in my left groin—he thrust his left hand against my left groin in this way (describing)—I

held his hand and took away his knife with the two blades open—he held it very tight and was very violent—I was examined by the surgeon, and was laid up for a week.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You said "You b——, I will put a blade into you," and turned round and deliberately thurst your knife into my groin, through my tunic and great coat. A friend of the prisoner's attempted to rescue him—two more constables came up and his friend was taken to the station and charged with the attempt to rescue him, and was fined 40s., or a month.

THOMAS LANKESTER (Policeman C 279). I went to the assistance of the last witness—I saw the knife in the prisoner's hand when the constable took it from him; two blades were open as they are now—I assisted in taking him to the station, he was violent all the way—the last witness said he had a wound through his coat—he had not taken the knife from the prisoner's hand before I came up; he had it in his hand when I came up.

JOHN HENRY WATERS . I am surgeon to the C division of police—I examined Woodgate on the 25th November and found a wound on the left groin about a quarter of. an inch from the cord of the testicles, not a very deep wound, and after three or four days it healed quite kindly; it was a double incised wound such as might be inflicted by the two blades of that knife produced—there were two holes through the overcoat, tunic, trowsers, and drawers.

Prisoner's Defence. I didn't intend to stab the constable or make any attempt. It was quite by accident. They twisted my arm behind my back. I did not use violence after they took the knife put of my hand. If they had told me to give up the knife.I should have done. so. I am very sorry for any harm that is done. It is my first offence and I will take care it is my last.

GEORGE WOODGATE (re-catted). I do not think he took the knife out with the intention of stabbing me, as he had not time to take it out and open the two blades.

GUILTY of unlawfully woundingEighteen Months' Imprisonment .

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-18
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty; Guilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude; Imprisonment > penal servitude

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18. GEORGE PROSS (21), and THOMAS SAUNDERS (23), Stealing a watch from the person of Horace Bates, to which

PROSS PLEADED GUILTY . Mr. Platt conducted the Prosecution; and Mr. Ribton defended Squnders.

WILLIAM INWARD (City Policeman L 70). At 1.30 on the 9th November I was in King William Street in company with Downes in private clothes, where I saw the two prisoners talking together—I had watched them for about ten minutes previously—I saw Mr. Bates standing on the west side of King William Street, near Sherborno Lane—he was looking at the Lord Mayor's procession coming towards him, towards the Bank—I saw Pross place himself at the right hand side of the prosecutor, take hold of his silver chain with his left hand, catch the watch in his right hand, and break it off—Saunders was partly covering Pross and partly the prosecutor—I stood right by the side of Saunders, covering the other half of Pross—I instantly seized Pross's hand and took the watch from his hand—I took him into custody, and Saunders was instantly seized by the other constable close behind me—on going down Sherborne Lane Pross said "Let me go, you don't know that I stole the watch, you don't look like a policeman, you are more like a dustman."

Cross-examined. There was a crowd in front of the prisoners; there was

a line of people right along King William Street from one end to the other, they might have been three deep—I saw all that took place, I am confident—the procession had not passed at that time, it was coming up—I saw them in conversation, as also many others in conversation—I did not hear the conversation—I had been on duty since 10 o'clock that morning—I had. another case before this—I followed the procession round; I saw all that took place—I was touching the prisoners—I took the watch out of Pross' hand—as soon as I heard the click I seized his hand—I watched them for ten minutes.

FREDERICK DOWNES (City Policeman 102). I was out with Inward on the day in question, and saw the two prisoners talking together—I watched them for about a quarter of an hour—Pross placed himself at the corner of Sher-borne Lane and Saunders went up half behind the prosecutor, and Icward went behind—Pross and I went behind Saunders—Saunders put his right hand on Pross' right shoulder and his left hand underneath Pross' left arm, bringing it immediately under Pross' hand—Pross raised the gentleman's watch then from "his pocket and I heard a click, and Inward immediately seized hold of Pross and I caught hold of Saunders—Saunders said "What do you want with me?"—I said "You will be charged with being concerned with this man in stealing this gentleman's watch "—he said "You have made a great mistake, I shan't go "—I said "You will," and pulled him back into a doorway, and one of the uniform men came to my assistance—I was in private clothes—I said "l am a policeman, and you know I am "—it was only by threats that he would go to the station.

Cross-examined. I distinctly saw Saunders put his right hand on Pross' right shoulder—I said before the Magistrate he put his hand round Pross' waist underneath his hands—I have heard many clicks—it is perhaps a source of gratification.

HORACE BATES . I live at 41, North End, Croydon, and am a stockbroker's clerk—the silver watch and chain were my property on Lord Mayor's Day, when I was wearing them in King William Street—the chain was hanging—I knew nothing of the robbery till my attention was called by the police.

Cross-examined. The chain was right across—nobody could tell which side the watch was in.


PLEADED GUILTY to a former conviction in 1874, and others were proved against both prisoners.

PROSS— Five Years' Penal Servitude . SAUNDERS— Seven Years' Penal Servitude .

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-19
VerdictGuilty > unknown; Not Guilty > unknown

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19. CHARLES HUDSON (18), and EDMUND LORD (26) , Stealing a truck and 500 lbs. weight of gum, the goods of John Wyman.

MR. LILLY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. C. MATHEWS defended Lord

CHARLES BROWN (City Detective). At about 7 o'clock, on the morning of the 18th October, I went with another detective to No. 3, Coleman Street, Bunhill Row, where Hudson lodged, and charged him with stealing about 500 lbs. weight of gum, and a truck on Saturday, the 14th October, the property of his master John Wyman, a wholesale chemist—we took him to the police-station and searched him, and we found an enlistment paper on him showing he had enlisted in the Royal Horse Artillery—he was taken before the police Magistrate, and after the remand I was in company with Hester, and from what he said to me I apprehended Lord and charged him

with stealing, in company with another, 500 lbs. weight of gum and a truck from the same place, his late master's—he said "I know nothing about it" I found 1s. 3d. on him, but nothing relating to the charge.

Cross-examined. Lord gave a correct address.

CHARLES HESTER . I live at West Street, Mile End, and am a cooper, employed by Walton & Turner, of 15, Lower Whitecross Street—I know Hudson as working for Mr. Wyman, and have seen him several times during his employment there—on Saturday, the 14th—October, I saw him go up the step 3 and open the door of the warehouse with a key—he was alone.

Cross-examined by Hudson. You had nothing else in your hand when you opened the door that I saw; I knew it was you because I knew you as working for Mr. Wyman; I was grinding my tools in the yard, and saw you before you opened the door.'.

AGNES MCVICAR . I am the wife of David McVicar, a printer, and live at 15, Lower Whitecross Street—Mr. Wyman's. store-room is in the yard—we live on the premises of Messrs. Walton & Turner—on the evening of the 14th October, Hudson came to me at the street door and asked me not to shut the gate as he was going to take some stuff to the shop—he took the truck away—I told him I had nothing to do with shutting the gates and that they, would be shut at 6 o'clock—I saw him take the truck away down the yard; he was alone—there was nothing in the truck at that time—he was going towards the gate of Mr. Wyman's warehouse—I did not see—him on the doorstep.

BENJAMIN BARNES . I am a packer to Messrs. Walton & Turner—on Saturday, 14th October, at about 5.40 I saw both the prisoners taking down a truck from Wyman's warehouse, coming through our gates going down the yard—there were some bags on the truck—I could not tell how many or what they were.

Cross-examined by Hudson. I cannot say how many bags there were; I daresay you could put more than eight or nine bags on the truck if you were to try.

Re-examined. They left the yard with the truck and the bags upon it.

HENRY JOHN WADDINGTON . I am acting as manager to Mr. John Wyman who has warehouses at 15, Lower Whitecross Street—Hudson was, in his employ, but left about a week before this happened—neither of the prisoners had any authority to remove anything from the premises—I saw the truck belonging to Mr. Wyman outside the police-court, it had previously to that been missing from the warehouse—we missed a quantity of gum, about 500 lbs. weight or a little more, on the Tuesday morning following the Saturday, the 17th—the truck had pieces of gum sticking to it, the same sort as that which we missed, only it had been a rainy night and it had got soft—Lord was in the employ of Mr. Wyman, but ceased to be so a fortnight before the 14th October—I saw the remains of some bales on the floor, partly cut open, and gum strewed down the warehouse steps.

Cross-examined by Hudson. I could not say whether there were or were not Borne bags in the warehouse.

Cross-examined by Mr. C. Mathews. When, Lord left the employ Hudson remained in it—we gave Hudson notice to leave the day that Lord left—. Hudson was in the service as a porter; Hudson left on the 7th October and Lord the week previous.

Re-examined. Both had left on the 14th October when this removal took place'—

JOSEPH SWAILE . I am a packer in the employ of Mr. Wyman—I know both the prisoners by working there with them—I saw the truck at Guildhall, which I fetched from the Greenyard, it was Mr. Wyman's, I last saw it safe on Friday-night, the 13th October—when I fetched it from the Green-yard there was some gum sticking to it—I went on Tuesday morning and found some gum strewed along the floor of the warehouse and two bales cut open and gum taken out—I had not been to the warehouse on Monday—I locked the premises up on Friday night and did not go till Tuesday morning—I saw some gum lying on the steps.

THOMAS SOMERS (Policeman N 540). On-Sunday morning, 15th October, at 1.30, I found a truck in Salisbury Street, New North Road, Hoxton, and and took it to the station—I noticed the bottom of the truck was strewed with gum—the truck was owned by Mr. Wyman.

RICHARD POTTBELL (City Detective). On the morning of 19th October I conveyed Lord to the justice-room, Guildhall—on the way he told me that Hudson went to his house on the Saturday previous, and asked him to go and get the gum, as it was a gift to him. Cross-examined by Mb. C. Mathews. He said nothing about a morning! job till afterwards—he spoke of the. gum as a gift—I told it to the clerk at the police-court—I said "Lord said Hudson came to my house on Saturday afternoon and asked me to go with him and get the gum' and 1 said I would not go," and I also said about the gift.

HENRY JOHN WADDINGTON (re-examined). The prisoner Lord came to! me with a five years' character.

Witnesses for the Defence of Hudson.

MRS. KEIGHLKY The prisoner lives next door to me with his mother—I was there on Saturday, 14th October; I fix the date because I had a parcel in the pawn-shop and I borrowed the money to takeit out—I went in about six times, because their father had not come home, and the prisoner was at home.

Cross-examined. 15, Lower Whitecross Street is not very far from where I live—I don't think I was about so long as ten minutes at a time—it was 5 o'clock when I first went—my little girl went across the road to get a pint of beer and brought the time in with her; she does not go across the road very often to get a pint of beer—I do not very often go the pawnshops to get parcels out other days.

MRS. HUDSON. I am the mother of the prisoner—he was at home on Saturday afternoon, 14th October and went out about 6.45, or 7.15, I cannot say which, as near as possible within a few moments.

Cross-examined. I have a clock, which goes, in my room; I did not look at the clock—the only reason I have for knowing the time, was on account of Mrs. Keighley sending her little girl, and she came and handed my son a pail of water over the wall.

HUDSON— GUILTY Six Month's Imprisonment .


OLD COURT.—Wednesday, November 22nd, 1876.

Before Mr. Justice Denman.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-20
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation

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20. WILLIAM ZACHER (25), was indicted for feloniously killing and slaying John Lofberg, on the High Seas, within the jurisdiction of the Admiralty.

MESSRS. POLAND and BEASLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.

ABRAHAM NICOLHAUSEN (interpreted). I am a Swede—I was a seaman on board the Reindeer—I joined her at Shields, she came from Dundee; she sailed under the English flag—the prisoner was a seaman on board, he is a German; we were altogether ten in crew—on 15th August we were on the High Seas, I can't say at what part—the prisoner, the deceased and I were taking tea in the forecastle; the prisoner was sitting in his bunk, and the deceased was sitting on his chest—they were friends then—a seaman, named Harry came into the forecastle and said to the deceased "You have taken too much tea "—the prisoner showed his pannikin to Harry and said "This is the tea I got"—the deceased said to prisoner "You have drank too much tea before"—the prisoner said "You tell a lie "—the deceased said "You are another liar"—they called, each other liars several times—Harry said to them "Sit down, and be quiet "—they were quiet for a moment—Harry went out from the forcastle, the deceased then got up and demanded the prisoner out on deck to fight—the prisoner said "I won't have no fight with you "—the deceased demanded him out a second time, and said "I will fight you"—he then went on deck, the prisoner stopped in the forecastle and said "I don't want to fight"—previous to this the deceased had struck the prisoner several blows in the presence of Harry, they were not hard blows—the deceased remained on deck four or five minutes, he then came down into the forecastle again and sat down on his chest—he said to the prisoner "You called me a liar," and the prisoner repeated the same—they, called each other liars—the deceased got up from his chest and rushed across and struck the prisoner again with his clenched fist, across the chest and face, they were not very hard blows, there were a good many, but not very hard—the prisoner told him to be careful, various times—he said "Mind yourself"—the deceased said "I see you have got a knife in your hand, but I am not frightened of that"—I saw that he had a knife in his hand; the deceased had a knife on him, but it was in its sheath—this (produced) is the prisoner's knife—the prisoner warned the deceased various times." Mind yourself, go away from me, I don't want to fight, I want nothing to do with you"—the prisoner had the knife in his right hand, the deceased was very close to him—I looked downwards for half a minute, and when I looked up I saw the deceased step back from the prisoner towards the forecastle door, and he said "Oh, oh "—the prisoner stood close to his own bunk, between 4 and 5 ft. from the deceased, with the knife in his hand—they were face to face—the deceased stopped at the forecastle door and undid his belt, and then unbuttoned his trousers and pulled up his shirt, and I saw blood come from his left side, there was very little blood, he attempted to get up the steps and fell down—the prisoner put his knife in his bunk and went on deck—I did not see the deceased after that; he went on deck, and I went and finished my tea—some of the men came and conveyed the deceased into the cabin—this took place at 5.30 in the day—I saw the deceased dead next morning at 8 o'clock—there was some plaister on the side where the wound was inflicted—he was buried at sea the same morning—the prisoner went into the forecastle, took the knife and gave it to the captain—he told me afterwards that he got a needle and helped the captain sew the wound up—after this we went on our voyage to Tarrogona—I was there examined by the British Consul, and also the captain and Harry, and the boatswain—the prisoner was not present, he was kept on

board—he was afterwards sent to Barcelona by the British Consul, and we came to England together in the same ship—on the way back we were talking about what had been done, the mate asked the prisoner who done this murder—the prisoner said "It was done through me, but it was not wilfully done; I could not help it"—the deceased was twenty-two years of age, he was a little bigger and stouter than the prisoner—the ship was going quietly at this time; it was rolling a little.

Cross-examined. Before the deceased fell and cried "Oh," he went towards the prisoner as if to strike him again, he was very close—I can't remember whether the prisoner had the knife in his hand cutting his meat at his tea, that is the knife that he had to cut his meat with—the bunk is about a foot and half wide and between 5 and 6 ft. long—there was a chest and a bench standing there—the prisoner and deceased were good friends on the voyage; all the crew were like brothers.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate." I have to say that my conscience is entirely free and clear of what I am charged with; what has happened has been by a sad and unfortunate accident caused by the anger of the deceased. I was standing by my bunk, the deceased, jumped at me and I was quite frightened, I had neither time nor presence of mind to drop my knife or take another situation; the vessel gave a roll when the deceased rushed at me and the knife went into his side; for several moments I stood! as I stood before the deceased came on me."

ABRAHAM NICOLHAUSEN (re-examined). The weather was not very rough—I don't know how long the prisoner had been to sea, I think he is an old sailor, he is an A B—I can hardly believe there was a sufficient lurch of the ship to account for the knife getting into the man's stomach accidentally; it was rolling a little, not very much.— GUILTY .

Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury under the strong provocation he had received— Three Months' Imprisonment .

For the remainder of. the cases tried this day and following days see the County cases at the end of the book.

THIRD COURT.—Wednesday 22nd, and Thursday 23rd, 1876.

Before Mr. Recorder.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-21
VerdictsGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentencesImprisonment; Miscellaneous > sureties

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21. PHILIP NEWBERRY ENGLAND , was indicted for that he having been duly adjudicated a bankrupt, did unlawfully not discover certain bills of sale to his trustees, and HENRY CHARLES WINSTON ENGLAND for unlawfully aiding and abetting him. In numerous other counts, the said offence was varied.

MR. F. CAMPBELL FOSTER , Q.C., Messrs. Beslry, Turner, and SIMS conducted the Prosecution; MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS, SAFFORD, MCCALL, STRAIGHT, and CHARLES MATHEWS appeared for the prisoner.

After the case had proceeded for some time, the defendants stated their desire to withdraw their pleas of

NOT GUILTY and PLEADED GUILTY , upon which, the fury found a verdict of


PHILIP NEWBERRY ENGLAND— Two Years' Imprisonment .

HENRY CHARLES WINSTON ENGLAND To enter into recognizances to appear and receive judgment when called upon.

FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, November 22nd, 1876.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-22
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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22. JOHN MANNING (22) Stealing an over coat of George Young husband.

MR. PURCELL conducted the Prosecution.

SOLOMON VAN DODGE . I am a tailor—I work for Mr. George Young husband—I was in the shop on the 4th November between 5 o'clock and 5.30—the coat produced was hanging up at the front door—I had noticed it, and had to make one like it—the prisoner took it away and I ran after him and caught it—he said nothing—he had got 20 or 30 yards from the door—he tried to fit the coat on himself—I gave him in custody.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not speak to you—I did not know you before—I thought you were a respectable fellow—I did not say "Give me the coat"—you said you had picked up the coat—it was on the hook, and as I caught you, you fell down in the struggle—I either knocked you down, or you fell down.

TIMOTHY CARRELL (City Policeman 627). I produce the coat—Van Dodge had hold of the prisoner by the back of the neck when I came up; he handed me the coat—the loop was broken.

Prisoner's Defence. The coat was lying on the ground in the street 2. feet from the doorway, I picked it up, not with the intention of stealing it and walked away towards the station.

GUILTY He also

PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction of felony on 18th April— Nine Months' Imprisonment .

FOURTH COURT.—Thursday, November 23rd, 1876.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant..

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-23
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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23. JOHN DAVIS (31), PLEADED GUILTY to stealing one pair of boots of Joseph Leckie, having been previously convicted of felony on. 30th March, 1874— Six Months' Imprisonment

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-24
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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24. ALFRED NORTON (24) , to stealing a wooden box and other articles, the goods of William Nollen, having been previously convicted of felony— Seven Years Penal Servitude , and [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-25
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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25. THOMAS EDWIN DEATH (27) , to felonously marrying Laura Elizabeth Becketh, his wife being alive— Six Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-26
VerdictNot Guilty > non compos mentis
SentenceImprisonment > insanity

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26. ROWLES PATTISON (37) , unlawfully obtaining by false pretences from James Hudson and another, the sum of 1l. 9s., with intent to defraud, and for attempting to obtain, by false pretences, other sums of money and other goods.—

MR. TICKELL conducted the Prosecution; and Mr. Besley the Defence.

GEORGE DINGLE . I am clerk to James Hudson & Co., 52, Ludgate Hill, cheesemongers—the prisoner has been a customer at our shop some time—I remember his coming there on 23rd September last, to pay an account, amounting to 4l. lls.—he tendered me this check for 6l., which he had written in my presence, drawn upon the Imperial Bank, payable to bearer—I took the cheque to the cashier's desk and prisoner received 1l. 9s. change—I thought the cheque genuine—it has been returned to us.

Cross-examined. He was an old customer of ours—I do not know where he was carrying on his profession as a solicitor—I heard he was a solicitor—I had seen him often in the last four years—not often during the last twelve months, but often during the first twelve months—I saw very little of him in

the 3 years following—I did not know he had been absent from business by reason of ill health—the 4l. 11s. was an old account we had made several applications for, extending over about eighteen months—I knew nothing of his private affairs—I attended at the Guildhall—on 7th October, he was reported too ill to be brought to Court—I did not hear that three medical men had been sitting up all night, and that he was not expected to recover.

JAMES HUDSON . I carry on business at 52, Ludgate Hill with a partner—I did not see the prisoner at our place on 10th October—I saw him when in custody—he did not call on me at all—a woman called on 10th October with this letter (produced)—I do not know the handwriting—Mr. Dingle does, I think.

GEORGE DINGLE (re-called), I know the prisoner's handwriting, that is it—the list of goods upon it is, I should say, in prisoner's handwriting. (Read: "1, Regent Street, 10th October, 1876. Dear Sirs,—I have only just received your note. Your cheque should have been marked 'Westminster Branch.' I send you another in exchange and with an apology for the trouble you have had. My club is closed for repairs and that may account for the delay in my receipt of your letter, which otherwise I cannot understand. I send a small order which the bearer can take. I am, Dear Sirs, yours truly, R. Pattison. To Messrs. Hudson Brs. By hand." Here follows a list of articles.) The bearer has cheque for 10l. to cover the above sales, the former cheque shall go back to change."

JAMES HUDSON (re-examined). The cheque produced was enclosed in the envelope—I gave the woman into custody—the next morning the cheque was returned to me marked "No effects."

Cross-examined. The woman was acting with another woman with whom prisoner was cohabiting—we have known the prisoner for ten years, he was a solicitor; he was four or five years ago in extensive practice; his father is head of the firm of Wake, Pattison, Gurney, & Co.—I have heard he had an extensive practice of 3,000l. a year—I do not know that he has been afflicted with English leprosy, nor that he actually went out of his mind—before we gave the girl into custody we made inquiries after receiving the first cheque—from those inquiries we thought it our duty to give the prisoner into custody—we have heard that his wife obtained a judicial separation from him—I did not know that had affected his mental powers—I do not know where the woman is with whom he was living, nor whom she was—the cheque is dated 4th October—during the ten years he dealt with us, up to the time of his going abroad, his account was always paid punctually, I cannot tell whether by cheques; it was a very good account, I think about 2l. or 3l. a month, not a large account—he was a regular customer for some years—I did not know of his going to Aix-la-Chapelle for his health—the 4l. 11s. was an old account that had been standing back some time.

FRANCIS WHITTLE . I am clerk to the Imperial Bank, 6, Lothbury; that is the head office—the prisoner never had an account there—these two cheques were presented there for payment; they had the answers placed on them—he has drawn several other cheques upon our office; they have, of course, been dishonoured, we had no account: eighteen altogether have been returned—I have none of the cheques here, the payees retain them—the cheque produced is one, it is dated 2nd September last, it is marked "No account, try Westminster branch."

Cross-examined. I know the prisoner had an account at the Westminster branch, but I cannot give particulars—I never knew he paid into the Lothbury

branch any accounts to the credit of the Westminster branch, he might have done so.

WALTER BORWICK . I am a cashier of the Westminster branch of the Imperial Bank, Limited—the prisoner had an account there for seven or eight years, it was opened about eight years ago, I cannot give the exact date—in 1874 it was overdrawn about 150l., it has been in the same state since—the letter produced is in the prisoner's handwriting—this cheque for 10l. was presented at our office'; the other was not—he had no right to draw cheques upon the Westminster branch.—

Cross-examined. Mr. Smith is the manager of the branch—Mr. Brown is the manager of the head branch—neither of them are here—the prisoner was carrying on business as a solicitor when the account was in existence at the Westminster branch; his offices were at 7, Westminster Chambers, Victoria Street—he kept two accounts, one for business and the other private—I should think the business account would amount to 20,000l. in a half-year, that was always kept perfectly straight—the firm's account was a good one—the private account was a small one with frequent overdraughts honoured by the bank—I do not know that there was any limit—I did not know about the prisoner's affliction with skin disease—I had not-seen him at the bank for some years—I do not know Mr. Wright, solicitor—I know nothing of the prisoner's private or domestic affairs, nor of his going abroad—until I heard of it at the police-court I did not know anything of his illness.

Re-examined. The firm's account was a good one previous to 1874—since then it has ceased altogether—his private account is indebted to the bank about 150l., that has remained in the same state ever since.

SALEM STIMPSON " (City Policeman 47l). I took the prisoner in custody on 11th October at No. 1, St. Mary's Square, Paddington—he was in the house when I first saw him—I called him "Colonel Scudamore "—he said "Yes"—I said "l am a police-officer of the City of London police "—he said. "Well! and what do you want?"—I said I should take him in custody for obtaining goods by false pretences at Hudson's, Ludgate Hill, on the 23rd September—he said "It is a mistake "—I asked him. if he knew a person named Ann Scott—he said he did not—a woman standing by his side said "Yes; it is Ann Scott, my dressmaker"—I asked him if he was aware that he had sent her with a note the day previous to Messrs. Hudson Brothers, 52, Ludgate Hill—he said "Yes, to rectify the former 6l. cheque "—I told him I would take him into custody—he said "You cannot take me without a warrant"—I said I had the power to take him without a warrant, and he resisted—I sent' for assistance, and when assistance came he walked quietly into the cab—I searched him, and found on him a bundle of letters and blank cheques (produced)—the cheques were all drawn on the Imperial Bank—I found three upon him, one filled up and two blanks; two dated 3rd October and one 4th October—I found all these letters in—his possession. (Amongst these was a letter, dated 4th October, 1876, from Mr. Smith, Manager of the Westminster Branch of the Imperial Bank, expressing surprise that the prisoner was still drawing cheques on the head office, and reminding him that if more were presented it would be necessary to proceed; also several letters from diferent persons complaining of the return of dishonoured cheques and threatening proceedings. And the following letter, dated October 3rd, 1876, from Hudson Brothers: " Mr. Pattison. Sir,—We are in receipt of yours of this morning, and cannot but express our great indignation at the remarks therein

contained. We have only to add that unless the amount be paid within twenty-four hours we shall put the matter in the hands of the police." And a letter from John Hawes and Sons, stating that an interview had been had with his father, who, in consequence of his conduct, gave his "hearty consent" to proceedings being taken against him.)

Cross-examined. The letters were not in envelopes—they were folded separately, not rolled up, but all in a packet without envelopes—I am quite sure of that—I have not got any envelope—there were none of them enclosed in envelopes—I do not know where the woman is who spoke of Miss Scott as her dress maker.

The following Witnesses were called for the Defence.

SAMUEL; Behrexd I am a solicitor of Bucklersbury—I knew the prisoner intimately in business when I was an articledclerk—my engage ment necessitated my seeing him from day to day—I was admitted in 1812 from May, 1868, to July,1870, I saw him continually—when I first joined him—his practice was small. but he developed it by his own efforts and energy, and when our connection terminated it was an exceed ingly good one—possibly over 2000l. a year—he was remarkably fond of his children—he used to bring them to the office on satruday mornings continualy, and frequently took them out with his wife on the satruday afternoon after business hours—up to the time of his going abroad I belive he lived on the best trems with his wife—in those days my experience of him was eminently favourable—I ceased to see him in july 1870, and hardly saw him again till the spring of 1874—I cannot say I noticed then any tokens of his indulgence in situlants—Inoticed a very great change indeed, and was very much grive to observe it—I was staying with him in the country for a couple of days in the spring of 1874 and noticed a very great change—I do not know that I saw him tipsy, but there was something strange about him—he was not what he used to be—his mental capacity was very much inferior to what it had been—at the time of his wife's judicial separation he asked me to look after his interests, which I thought had been much neglected by him—I did so—after the decree had been pronounced he called upon me occasionally—he continually referred to his children—whenever they were spoken of he seemed to get into a state of frenzy, and in conversion on other subjects he seemed unable to pursue a correct train of thought and said all sorts of extra-ordinary things not at all likely to be true—I do not think he was capable of understanding matters of business—as to the particular act for which he is charged I cannot say very much.

Cross-examined. I knew him intimately from 1868 to 1870 daily—his intellect was then perfectly right-he—must have been elever to develop his business—I do not recollect in 1874 how often I saw him;. in the Spring I saw him for a short time, about a month, frequently; he was altogether changed—he did not seem to be as acute" or clever——altogether a changed man; changed in his notions on morality for one thing—when I knew him before in 1868, I considered him. a particularly moral man—his ideas on morality seemed to have changed—to some extent, he understood matters of business—I believe he was doing business; he was in-partnership with another gentleman; he perfectly understood what I said to him and also, I should say, what he read——if in 1874 he read a letter from the manager of a bank telling him to draw no—more cheques he could have understood that—in the condition he called at my office shortly before

being arrested he could not have understood anything—shortly before his arrest he used to come to me in the evenings——I never had' occasion: to discuss with him matters of right and wrong—I am quite aware he did not understand the difference between moral right and: moral wrong—he did not seem in his right mind, within a week of his apprehension—he called several times, within three weeks of his apprehension—I have heard the case to-day; I should hardly like to say he was not aware he was doing wrong at the. particular time of the offence, but I am quite sure that at the interviews he had with me about that time he was not capable of understanding, the difference between moral right and moral wrong.

JABEZ SPENCER BALFOUR I first knew the prisoner in business matters about nine years ago—I was manager of two large joint stock undertaking to which he acted as solicitor—he was therefore under my personal super-vision as to his ability, and in direct communication with me almost hourly—his business as solicitor was highly profitable to himself and satisfactory to his clients—he was a srticly honourable man; a man who was scrupulous on matters apperataining to his personal honour—his business comprised matters of hundreds of thousand of pounds—instead of being 20,000l. a half year it would probably be 50,000l., I distinctly remember the affliction which befell him; I have been told it was English leprosy, I belive it was—up to the time of that affliction I always noticed he was particulary fond of his Children both then and since, especially fond of them, he was a doting father; I think he thought a good deal of his personal appearence before his affliction—the disease affected his personal appearance very painfully—it produced depression of spirits and affected him mentally; he seemed to feel it most acutely—I noticed from that time a change in him—about May or April 1874, when we were all busy I began to notice considerable inattention to business on his part—I had to complain to his father and brother-in-law and others, but I could never get him for two mintutes to the same point—he woulds come into my room to see me upon matters pending; I would commence, sometimes, a very long list and in about five minutes I observed it was hopeless, I could not get, him to attend consecutively—I suggested to him that the least he could do was to get a competent solicitor to act as his clerk—Mr. Barrow was that gentleman—I think it was my instance that subsequently in consequence of the state of his health, an arrangement was made by which Mr. Wright,. a solicitor, undertook the solicitor's department bad to worse, till it was impossible to talk to him on matters of business; to run counter to him caused him to get considerably excited—a change of air was recommended, and he went to Aix-la-Chapelle, and I thought he would never return—I thought he was a dying "man—I heard, subsequently that his wife had taken away the children and had proceeded in the Divorce Court—two or three weeks after his wife had left him, he came to my room after office hours and I was glad when I got him out of the room; he was in such a state of frenzy, I thought he would have a fit or do something violent—I. did all in my power to soothe him, and offered to do anything I could to make up matters with his wife; and to restore him, if possible, to his previous position—he continued to exclaim "They have taken my children from me "—I have known generally of his falling under the influence of a female at that time—I have never seen the person and do not know anything about her—from that time he certainly was not in my judgment,

capable of exercising discretion as to right and wrong in reference to commercial affairs—that would he in March, 1876—I have had correspondence with him since but do not think I have seen him—his correspondence was most incoherent—he made appointments to meet me at places he knew I never went to, and which he knew I could not keep—at considerable inconvenience I have been to meet him at places, and he never kept the appointments he had made, and when I have mentioned it to him he seemed to have forgotten it—I offered to pay the expense of sending him out to New Zealand and of bringing him back, for the purpose of restoring him to health—I persuaded his wife's friends to agree to suspend the Divorce proceedings during his absence—when I made this offer to 'him he appeared deeply affected, and I hoped it would have had the effect we wished—he led me so to understand and I told his wife—when I saw him again, in two or three days he appeared to have forgotten that I had ever made the offer and I had to recall it to him——for more than twelve months I never could get him to a decision on any subject—I saw him in Newgate once, after he had been under the care of the doctors.

Cross-examined. Before then I saw him probably two or three months previously—at the time he was drawing these cheques I was in correspondence. with him, but did not see him—I have heard the trial and have heard the letters read—I have heard the letter he wrote about the 6l. cheque—it is intelligible—I should say if I had not known the man it was the letter of a man who knew what he was about—I think he has not been responsible for his actions—my judgment is that he was not aware he was doing wrong, and that in the many similar instances that have come to my knowledge he has had no consciousness a few hours afterwards of acts he has performed—in May, 1874, I insisted he should have a managing clerk with full control—in October, 1874 I thought that not a desirable arrangment; because bis name appeared—in May, 1874, I thought he was no longer capable of conducting business and I insisted on having a clerk—in October I sent for him and endeavoured, knowing a solicitor of eminence in his profession, to get him to make some arrangement; but it was absolutely impossible to get him to any terms or to discuss terms—I' therefore, upon my own responsibility asked a solicitor to act as his representative—he did so until February, 1876, when I found that the prisoner had got into such a state he was no longer a credit to anybody, and I then desired him to cease his connection with us altogether, which he did—I must have seen him about April or May, 1876, and had one very long interview—I did not see Mm frequently since we corresponded—two years ago, October, 1874,1 went to his father and begged him to put him under restraint—I have seen in the papers that he has passed in the name of "Colonel Scudamore "—I did not know it in any other way.

By THE COURT. My distrust of him was the result of my own personal experience of his gradually increasing incompetence, entirely of his intellectual powers failing—I approached him of course, on terms of great respect.

NOT GUILTY on the ground of insanity —Ordered to be detained until Her Majesty's pleasure be known.

NEW COURT—Thursday, November 23rd, 1876.

Before Mr. Baron Hawkins.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-27
VerdictGuilty > unknown

Related Material

27. CHARLES O' DONNELL (57) , for the wilful murder of Elizabeth O'Donnell. He was also charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with the like offence.

MESSRS. POLAND and BEASLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.

ANN WHEELER . I am a widow and live at 46, Rawlins Street, Chelsea—I occupy the two parlours—I have been there rather more than three years—the prisoner and his wife occupied the front kitchen, and nobody but them—they came in on 14th October together—I showed them the place, and they resided there up to the time of her death—I last saw her alive on Thursday, 26th October, about 9.40—I was sitting reading in my room, and heard her call two or three times loudly "Mrs. Wheeler "—I went to the top of the kitchen stairs, and Mrs. O'Donnell was standing at the foot of the stairs in her nightshirt—she gave me a small parcel pinned up in a piece of calico, and this card (produced) was on the outside of it—she said "For the honour of God take care of this for me"—I took it, and she made a motion for me to run, and we heard the area gate shut together—that gate leads down into the Kitchen—I heard him come in and shut the door leading to his own room—his wife had got. back into her room before that, and I had got back to mine—I put the parcel-in paper, tied a string round it, and put it into a drawer in my room—I gave it just as it was to Inspector Marsh—I heard no more of them that night after I supposed he had come in—I then went to bed—on that same Thursday I had heard them differing and having angry words—I heard both their voices there was no one else there—I heard that two or three times during that day at different intervals—I had heard it about 7 o'clock in the evening—it was not to call it a quarrel; they were jangling and quarrelling between themselves, but anybody outside the house could not have heard it—at a little before 11 o'clock next morning I knocked at the prisoner's door—he came out, and I asked him if he would do a little job for me to the coal cellar—he said he would when he got his hat, and went back again into the room—he did not come to do the job, and I did not see him again after that at all, but between then and Sunday I heard him walking about downstairs—I did not see him on Friday or Saturday, but I heard him go out of his room—he had his own key, and could get in and out by the area—he was walking in the passage and in and out of his room, and he appeared to me as though he was talking to his wife—I heard him talking, and I fancied so—I heard no other voice than his—next saw him on Sunday afternoon at a little before 3 o'clock—the bells were going for church—he was in the hack passage—I said "How is your wife; I have not seen her these two or three days?"—he said "Oh, no; she is right enough, but she is delicate,. very delicate; she never goes about the house much, and I think' I shall get a doctor this afternoon "—I said "Pray do if she is not well—he then went into his room, and I never saw him afterwards—they only had one room—I do not know what he did to get a living or whether his wife did anything—I think I" am right in saying that 14th October was the day they came there—they had been there one week before this occurrence; it was the second week they were in the house that this occurrence took place—the house belongs to Mr. Grant, and Mr. Hardy collects the rents.

Cross-examined. During the week they were there I saw very little of. them indeed—I saw to the fastening of the top part of the house, but not the bottom—the prisoner lodged in the front kitchen; that is in the basement—I heard him walking about and talking, several times on the Friday

in the passage and in and out of the yard—I did not see anyone who he was talking to—I heard him on Friday afternoon several times—I did not hear him go to his room on Friday night—I did not see him on the Saturday morning, but I heard him about middle day, walking about the same as before, as though he was speaking to some one—I did not hear or see him on the Saturday evening—when I knocked at his door on Friday morning and asked him to do something, and he came out, he was dressed—I went into his room on Sunday with the police-inspector—I had never been in the room before—it appeared very disorderly—the pictures round the room were broken, and umbrellas were partially burnt—I cannot say whether the bed appeared as if some other person had been lying there—everything was in extreme disorder.

CHARLES CHRISTIAN SHERRABD . I am a watch-maker, of 28, Lower, George Street, Chelsea—the prisoner lodged with me from 1st May to 1st October this year—he had one furnished room to himself, for which he paid 3s. a week; he lived there alone—I knew that he was a pensioner, and that he used to work for a man named Lang; he used to wheel Bath chairs about—when he left me he said that his wife sent for him, and I saw the note when it came—he left me to live with his wife—I saw her twice; she called at my office as soon as she came out of prison; that was some time in the present year—I had not seen her before he left—I did not see him again after he left until Sunday night, the 29th October, 'when he called on me at 4.30 or 4.45; he was outside and I called him in—I said "You had better come in and have a cup of tea with us," and he came in—he asked us how we were, and whether. we were busy—I asked him how his Mrs. was—he said" I hope she is in Heaven by this"—I told him he was talking nonsense; that was after tea—he was not as he usually was; he was not so clean as he usually was; he. was always a very clean man—he was not altogether sober—I talked to him the same as usual during tea and after tea—I went upstairs, as a young men came in and the prisoner was in the kitchen by himself, abou twenty minutes—when I went down again he said "Will you do a kindness for me? Fetch me a bit of paper and I will write it down for you "—I fetched him this bit of paper (produced) which was in the room—he did not say anything but he wrote on it—I saw him write what is on it—while he was writing it, he said "I want to make you my executory"—I said "You are talking'; rubbish, Mr. O'Donnell; did you have a fall out with your mistress?"—he did not reply—he then gave it to me—I said "I cannot read it; it is such bad writing "—he generally writes very nicely, so he read it for me, and I said that I would not do it; I would do nothing of the sort—he said "Then throw it in the fire I "—I threw another piece of paper in the fire and put the one that he wrote in' my pocket and preserved it—I then went upstairs, he followed me and sat for a few minutes in the parlour—he asked if the Canteen was open—it was just a little before 6 o'clook, and I said "it will be—in a minute"—we went out Boon after 6 o'clock and' had two glasses of grog each, at a public-house close by, which he paid for; we then went outside—he shook hands with me and said "You won't see me alive again?" and then went away. (Paper read:"To Mrs. Sherrard, 28, Church Street, Chelsea. I trust you will see us buried as soon as you can. Pay yourself and give my respects to your wife and child. C. D.") I am married and have four children—he did not tell me where he was going—I lost sight of him—on the same evening I went to 46, Rawlings Street, where he' had

told me that he lodged—I had said"I do not know where you live," and he said "46, Rawlings-Street, Chelsea"—I got there about 6.30 or 6.45, and saw Mrs. Wheeler—I had some conversation with her, and from what she said I went to Walton Street, police-station, where I saw. Inspector Marsh, who returned with me to 46, Rawlings Street—it was then about 7.30——we went into the front kitchen; I saw the looking-glasses were broken, but did not see who was in the bed, that night—I left the inspector to examine the room—I went into the room next morning and saw the body; that was the woman who I had known as his wife—I had a friend with me on the Sunday, evening when I left the inspector in the room, and after I had returned home, the prisoner drove up to my, house in, a cab about 9.30—I got up outside the cab and directed the cabman to drive to the Brompton policestation—I did not speak to the prisoner at all; he, was taken in custody at the station he was drunk——he called me there and shook hands with me, twice, but only said" how are you, Mr. sherrard?"—atthe time he wrote this piece of paper, he told me that he had left some writing at home on the table for me and Mr. Hardy—I was shown this book (produce) before the magistrate, and to the best of my belife it is in the prisoner's writing—I have turned over the pages.

Cross-exmained by Mr. Williams When he said "I expect she is in Heaven by this time"he appeared very strange in his manner—I had known him four or five months—it was in consequence of what I observed in" his manner and demeanour through the interview, that I kept that paper—I never had conversations with him about his wife before her death—she called at my place twice, four or five weeks after he lodged with me—she said that she did not think he was in his right mind and he was not safe to be in any house—he was a sober man when he was loding with me.

WILLIAM MARSH (Police Inspector) I belong to walton street station—on sunday evening, 9th October, Sherrard came there, and in consequence of what he said we went together to 46 Rawlings street, Chelsea—we left the station about 11.30 and got to rawlings street about ten minutes afterwards——We went down into the front kitchen—I tried the outside door first and found it locked, and we went down from the staircase from the front door from the street—the kitchen door was unlocked and I opened it and went in—I found a small table by the side of the bed, upon which was a paraffin lamp and a small candlesstick, a knife, and a newspaper—the lamp was not alight—I lifted the bedding and coverlid, and the pillw and bolster and under them I found the body of a woman, in her night clothes, lying on her left side—I noticed a large wound on the right temple, and the head was partially decomposed, it had turned black—the bedclothes were in great confusion; I did not minutely exmanine them; I put them back in their places and sent for Dr. Water—When he came I went into the room with him and he minutely, in my presence, examined the condition of the body—the room was in very grat confusion—several pictures which hung round the room and two mirrors were smashed, and the broken glass was lying about the room, and between the different articles of bedding and between the sheet and blanket-On the table near the, window I found this book with some Writing, and in the corner of the room I found this pair of tongs, the upper-part of which is stained, with blood, and in the bend of the tongs. was a light hair which resembled that of the deceased—I produce some articles which, were found on the, prisoner at the station—I Was present when these letters produced were found in a box—this pair of scissors and this

clean razor were found in the bed near the body, in the bedclothes—they were between the tipper and 'the under sheet—I saw Mrs. Wheeler, she handed me a parcel while I was waiting for the surgeon; I do not produce it; it has been handed over by order of the Magistrate; it contained a muslin dress, two small pieces of calico, nine 5l. Bank of England notes, and a savings' bank book, showing a deposit of 30l. in the name of E. O'Donnell, from Wandsworth Road—this card was attached to the parcel "Mrs. Fletcher, Stoke Pogis, Slough. Please to take care of this money for me. Mrs. O'Donnell"—I went back to the station and saw the prisoner sitting' on a seat in a drowsy state, sleepy—he was roused up and stood on his legs—my. impression is that he was not then sober—I called Dr. Waters to him—he was not absolutely drunk—I said "I charge you with the wilful murder of your wife, Elizabeth, at 46, Rawlings Street, Chelsea "—he did not reply at the moment, but when I commenced to search him he-said "Let me alone, let me have peace, this is cruelty to animals "—that was all the conversation that passed—I found on him three keys, one of which unlocked the front door of 46, Rawlings Street, another the area door, and another the area gate; also a purse containing 2s. 9d. and a tobacco box.

Cross-examined by Mb. M. Williams. The body appeared to me as if very great violence had been used—the nose was quit flattened—there were several injuries to the skull, but I could only judge from the outward—wounds—there were marks of decomposition on the groin and on the upper part—I saw two umbrellas quite burnt, except the frame work.

JOHN HENRY WATERS , M.D. I live at 30, Walton Street, Chelsea—a little after 9 o'clock on Sunday evening, 29th October, I was sent for to Rawlings Street and went into the kitchen; the room was in very great disorder—I removed the clothes from the bed and under them found the body of a woman in her night clothes—on removing the counterpane there were some broken pieces of sheet glass—I then removed some woman's clothes and a little jacket) and the body was then exposed—there was a bolster over the head, which I removed, and then a pillow, and then the head was exposed—lying beside the head I found a closed razor, clean, and under the head a half-sucked lemon and a pocket handkerchief, they were not beside the razor—I could not see any part of the body until I removed the bed clothes—the bed was quite close to the wall, and the glass of the pictures on the wall was smashed—the glass in the bed would have come from the picture which was over the bed, it was sheet glass—I examined the body and afterwards made a post-mortem examination—the body was lying on the left side, there were no signs of struggling, the head was leaning to the left side and pressing upon the chest—on the body was an old night jacket tied properly—at the neck, a night chemise, and a flannel vest, not torn, stained with blood at the neck only—the extremities were lying in a natural position without any bruises; there was a slight discolouration on the right groin, probably due to decomposition—on the trunk there were no signs of violence—there were faces in the bed—the head was lying on the left side with the right cheek upwards, on which were three wounds; the whole of the head was discoloured, the face very much so and bruised—the wounds were all contused, incised, and reaching down to the bone, fracturing it severely—there was a wound on the frontal bone on the arch of the orbit; the bone was destroyed and was penetrating into the cavity of the orbit, destroying the eye—there was a wound under the right eye breaking the outer plate of the superior maxellary, entering the antrine, destroying the nasal bones, and

fracturing the superior maxellary on the left side—there was a wound in front of the right ear over the centre of the zigonia, destroying that bone, fracturing the temporal bone and the right wing of the spheroid, which was pressed inwards upon the brain—the lower jaw was fractured at the junction of the second incisor, and the canine teeth and the whole of the features and the nose especially flattened——the ceiling of the room just over the head of the bed was marked with drops of blood—two blows might have caused all those injuries—the first blow, no doubt, caused insensibility and death—I saw this pair of tongs in the room, with the upper part of which the injuries might have been inflicted—I looked at them at the time, there was blood on the upper part of them and one or two hairs which were similar to the woman's hair—from the state in which I found the body I judge that she had been dead three days at least, it is very difficult to fix the exact time, but certain surroundings enabled me to come to that conclusion—her age was over forty, but I cannot tell exactly, because of the face being injured—afterwards on that Sunday night I saw the prisoner at the police-station—he was not sober, he was under the effects of drink, but he seemed to be more imitating the effects of drink than under the effects of it; he opposed all he could what the policeman was doing in taking things out of his pocket, and he would not stand up when told—he was not sober.

WILLIAM RILEY . I am a cab-driver, of 31, George Street, Chelsea—on Sunday evening, 29th October, about 7.30, I was on the rank and was called by some one to the Clarence public-house, Sloane Square—I drew up there and the prisoner got in—he told me to drive over Battersea, and I drove over the bridge—I then asked him again where I was to drive—he said "The first turning to the right, and pull up at the public-house on the left"—he had a quartern of gin there and he got in* again and told me to drive to 153, on. the right—there was no 153 on the right, and I went on to the Wands-worth Distillery and stopped, by his orders, at a public-house opposite, where he had half a quartern of whiskey—I had nothing—I then told him that he had better pay me and let me go about my business, I did not want to stop with him all night—he said "If you drive me home I will pay you "—I said "Where am I to drive you to?"—he said "To 153, opposite the York Road station"—I went there, that was another public-house—he got out of the cab there—I asked him to pay me and let me go—he said that if I would take him home he would pay me—he had nothing to drink there—he told me to drive from there to 28, George Street—I know now that it is Mr. Sherrard's—I got there about 9.20—Mr. Sherrard and a friend of his Were on the steps—Mr. Sherrard told me to drive the prisoner to the police-station and I did so—he was a little the worse for drink—all the while he was in my cab he was sitting with his elbows on his knees and his head. in his hands.

Cross-examined. I said before the Magistrate "When he got into the cab I noticed that he seemed rather curious in his mind."

Re-examined. By curious I mean that he did not seem to know where he wanted to go to—it was 7.30 when he first got into the cab—he told me to drive over Battersea—I passed the remark "Which bridge do you want?"—he said "The one by Chelsea Barracks," and I went over the bridge—he told me the right number in George Street, 28—he seemed as if he had been drinking.

RICHARD LEE . I live with my father and mother at—107, Marlborough Road, Chelsea—I go out with milk for Mr. Humphreys—I used to take the

milk to 46, Rawlings Street, Chelsea——I served the prisoner and his' wife there—I knew Mrs. O'Donnell—they occupied the kitchen; down below the basement—I heard of her death on the Monday——I went there on the previous Thursday with the milk about 3 o'clock in the afternoon, and the prisoner opened the window and took it in, as he always did, and paid me for it—on Friday I took the milk again—I could not make any one hear and I left it—on the Saturday I took the milk again at 3 o'clock and saw the prisoner—he opened the kitchen window and took it in and paid for it, it was a halfpenny worth, that was the usual quantity—on the Sunday I went agam soon after 3 o'clock; the kitchen window was partly open—I could not make him hear at first; he Was asleep in a chair against the window—I opened the window and awoke him and said" Here is the milk sir" and He gave me a jug in which there was some sour milk—I gave that back to him and he gave me a cup and said" Here is 2d. for you,1 1/2 d. for yourself and 1/2 d. for the milk—he told me to get some milk for him—I went to my master's and got the usual quantity and brought it brought it back, and he paid me—when he was asleep in the chair he was dressed. (The letters were here read: "To Mr. Hardy. Sir—I trust your will get us buried as quick as you can Allow no person to interfere with your business people or Persons may come and claim us as friends; I never knew them when a man is dead he will have friends, but living he has nothing but enemies. I married a villian called Mrs.——; her constant theme was a dead husband.I had them at breakfast, dinner, and supper. I could do nothing right. Oh! if she had her two husbands she would be attended to. The only misfortune a man can have is to marry a villain of a——I shall not write the world signed, Jack Firelock sir—You will find in our boxes money sufficient to see us decently buried. Allow no visitors you sell all the things in the place and pay yourself for your trouble. You will find a good silver watch, sell that. also Good bye. Oh 'God! have mercy on me oh God! what I have suffered with this wife, oh I cannot write, drive to madness—"To Mr. Sherrard, 28, George street, chelsea I hope you will be so kind as to see Us buried. You know what a villain that woman has been to me. Search our boxes and you will find money enough to bury us. Do this and I will be thankful.C.D)

JANE TAYLOR . I am a widow, and live at 297. king's Road, Chelsea—I Know the prisoner—he married Elizabeth Sullivan, on 22nd December 1874—this (produce) is the certificate of their marriage, she was a widow—before she married sullivan, he married Mr. Longden, my brother in 1843—her marriage to sullivan, was about 1857—she was 54 years of age—she was a lady's nurse—the prisoner is a pensioner discharged from the Army—I know that for a time the prisoner and his wife lived apart—he was part of that time in colney Hatch, he first ceased to live with her when he went there—he returned to her when he came out, and they lived together and afterwards he had six months imprisonment for ill-using her—that was on 1st of 2nd November—after he came out they did out live together for some time, but I afterwards brought them together again—they went to live together, just before 7th October, and they had not been together quite three weeks before her death—the last place she had lived at was Wandsworth Road—she had furniture of her own, and some pictures and mirrors—In ever went into their room at 46, Rawlings Street, till after this occured, I did then and saw the furniture and things there, and knew that they were hear.

WILLIAM SMILES , I am surgeon to the House of correction, Middlesex I know the prisoner, he was a prisoner there for six months from. 2nd November last year, until the beginning of May, and I saw him from time to time—he was during "that" period quite of sound mind—I am also Surgeon to the Souse of Detention—I remember His being detained there on. this charge—I first saw him on the 30th, he came in on Monday 30th and went out on 9th November, when he was transferred to Newgate—I saw him from time to time, he is a man of sound mind and understanding, he always talked quite collectedly and showed no symptoms of insanity whatever—I remember him as the man who was in the House of correction.

Cross-examined. I have had a great deal of practice in case of instanity; I have to give evidence constantly about it, and see a great many cases—I know that he attempted to commit sucide, and that he has been in Colney Hatch for three months—I have frequently known cases where a man has been in a Lunatic Asylum, and has left cured, and the mania has broken out again—in a man who has suffered from sunstroke in India and after wards become insane, and who has been confined the fit of instantly would no doubt be likely to recur again.

Re-examined. The prisoner never told me that he had suffered from sun stroke, but he told me during his short imprisonment in the House of Detention, that he ought to be in coleny Hatch and not in prison—I noticed his manner and demeanour but found no trace whatever of instanity.

JOHN ROLAND GIBSON . I have been surgeon to Her Majesty's goal of Newgate, more than twenty one years and have had large experience in cases of instanity—I first saw the prisoner on 9th November, and daily since then up to yesterday, and during that time I saw nothing to lead me to the belief that he was anything but a man of sound mind and understands ing; I have discovered nothing to the contrary.

Cross-examined. I agree with Mr. Smiles in his answers to the questions You put to him—in a man who has suffered from sunstroke and who has been insane, madness may very likely be brought on again in my opinion by drinking and excitement it would be very likely to bring it on—during the months he was in prison, the quiet of the prison and the absence from stimulants would have a salutory effect upon the state of his mind.

Re-examined. If a man was insane from drink, drink would bring it on again—he did not complain to me of sunstroke—I have talked to him about it but he was not aware of having had it.

By THE COURT my knowledge of him is confirmed entirely from the 9th to the present period.

INSPECTOR MARSH. (re-examined) there was a silver watch on the prisoner, and I found one in a box at the loding in Rawlings street.

ABRAHAM HARDY I live at 136, kings Road, and collect the rents at 46, Rawlings street, it is my daughter's house—I knew the prisoner as living there; I let him the rooms—I saw him about three days before this occurrence—I never received any letters from him; he Knew my name.

Witnesses for the Defence.

DOVER F.O.C.S I Live at brompton, and for almost twenty years have devoted my time entirely to cases of instanly—I have acted for many years past as medical and certified officer for the removal of paper lanatics—in may,1875,—I examined the prisoner he was then in a very melancholy desponding state; a state of wild despair he came into the Mount Street

workhouse with a self-inflicted wound on his arm, and we had great trouble to restrain him from pulling off the bandages—I came to the conclusion that he was unfit to be at large, and that he was suicidal; he was sent to Colney Hatch under the joint certificate of Dr. Simes, the medical officer of the workhouse and myself—I have looked at the book, which is the duplicate certificate; Dr. Simes is medical officer of the workhouse, and I may mention that the order admitted the prisoner to the workhouse—he came in with a certificate, signed by Dr. Webb, one of the outdoor medical officers;—I heard that he had suffered from sunstroke in India; I won't be certain, but I think that he told me so himself—the madness that he was suffering from was such as he would be likely to recover from, but he had been addicted to intemperate habits, and supposing he had become intemperate again and was labouring under great excitement, the madness would be very likely to occur again—it constantly happens that a patient is discharged from a lunatic asylum as sane and yet subsequently madness occurs from drink and excitement.

Cross-examined by Mr. Poland. I do not practice generally—to the, best of my knowledge the prisoner was in the workhouse three or four days—I do not know whether he had been a pensioner at Chelsea Hospital—I always look at the order. which describes what they are—I have certified the cause of insanity, and I certified intemperate habits, but that is no part of my duty—I certify the cause to the best of my ability, but I do not think I certified it in this case—the cause of insanity was filled up by the relieving offieer—I formed the opinion that the cause of insanity was intemperate habits and sunstroke—I have not been to, see him in prison—there is a clause in the certificate which is filled up by the relieving officer I do not mean to say that if a person inserted that, he was insane by reason of intemperate habits that I should sign that—we are not called upon to give the cause, but I form the opinion that the cause of insanity was intemperate habits—I have no doubt that a person so suffering would recover, under proper treatment and absence from drink—I say that the drink and excitement would have a teridency to cause the insanity to recur—I should certainly call it insanity if he had been suffering from insanity for a time, and then have led on ordinary life, and broken out into violence again and committed a crime—he might be insane two or three hours or two or three days—whether I should call it passion is a very difficult question to answer—if a man only broke out and committed an act of violence I should not consider that a sufficient cause to send him to the asylum—I should want some strong evidence; but looking at the man's antecedents,' and knowing what I do know, that would guide me—I should not judge from the act alone that it was, an insane act; I should look at his antecedents and his general course of life to see whether he was a sane or an insane man.

Re-examined. When I answered your question just now I had the prisoner's antecedents in my mind and what I knew of him.

By THE COURT. He was in a depressed state in May, 187-5, and very melancholy—he had a self-inflicted wound on his arm and was suicidal—those things and the sunstroke led me to the conclusion that he was unfit to be at large—I do not distinctly recollect where I got the information from about the sunstroke, but I understood that he had had it in India—I saw him almost every day and conversed with him—at times he was wandering and incoherent, and at other times, he was rational—the self-inflicted

wound, coupled with the melancholy and despair he "was in led me to call it a suicidal mania—it was feared that if he had the opportunity he would commit suicide—the period in which I should anticipate, his recovery, would depend upon what took place in the asylum—he would perhaps recover in three or four months, or less—from what I saw when he went to the asylum, I believe three or four months quiet there, with proper treatment, would restore him—I have not seen him since that period—if a man was in the habit of getting intoxicated and losing all control over his actions I should not consider that temporary. insanity—I confine my evidence to the insanity which is produced by the constant habit of drink—that species of insanity would be intermittent.

FREDERICK THOMAS COATES , M.R.C.S. I live at 1, Westbourne. Street—on 8th May, 1875, I attended the prisoner—he was very desponding, and had a tendency to commit suicide—he was suffering from disease of the brain, and in my judgment he was unfit to be at large, and I directed them to get the parish surgeon to see him and send him off to the work-house, and I believe Mr. Webb,. the parish surgeon, saw him. and sent him to Mount Street workhouse—I saw the wound on his arm and. put the ligatures in' and took out the blood vessel it was in the fore arm—it was a large incised wound about four inches long—I. had some conversation with him about it,; he said that he wished to die, and he wanted to go to heaven, and that some spirit came down and told him to do it, pointing to the ceiling as far as I recollect, but it is so long ago.

Cross-examined by MR. POLAND. I did nor form the opinion that it was Delirium tremens, his tongue was clean—I enquired into the came of it, and Had, a conversation with his wife—I formed the opinion that it was partially Caused by excessive drinking, but not wholly—I am informed by the wife That he had sun stroke—I did not learn that he continued in the Army After that for his full term—it was a case of insanity from which, in my Judgement he might recover for a time hut I should not say that he Would be safe—he would most decidedly be a dangerous man if he got Drunk—I only saw him on that one occasion—i have not seen him on this Case to see his present state. Re-examined. His wife told me that he had gone on in a very exraordinary manner, called her very bad names, and said she was a very Bad woman, and that she thought he was mad. The Jury after having consulted for an hour, sent a letter to MR. BARON HAWKINS, who sent for them and said, "Gentlemen, I have had a communication from you and I understand your question, to be this that having no evidence of the actual state of mind of the prisoner at the time he committed the act, you wish to know whether you may entertain a presumption of insanity: it is my duty to tell you that, the law presumes that every man is responsible for his action, and if you have no evidence at all as to the state of mind of the prisoner at the time he caused this catastrophe, you are bound to say he is guilty, if you believe that he caused the act of death. A man who wants to shift from himself the responsibility he incurs by causing the death of another, is bound by affirmative evidence to satisfy the Jury that, at the time he committed the acct, he did not know the character of the act he was doing, and did not lnow he was doing a wrong act; it is for him to prove it, and if he fails to prove it to your satisfaction, you have no alsernative but to find him guilty of the offence, that is the law on the subject." THE JURY. "Failing the evidence of the actual state of his mind, we follow your Lordship's ruling, and find him.



NEW COURT Friday, November 24th, 1876

Before Mr. Baron Hawkins

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-28
VerdictNot Guilty > no evidence

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28. FANNY DAMON (29) , was charged on the Coroner's Inquisition only, with feloniously killing and slaying Mary Ann Whitnell , upon which Mr. A. Metcalfe offered no evidence, the Grand Jury having ignored the Bill


20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-29
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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29. MYRA CASTREE (22) , unlawfully concealing the. birth", of her child.

MR. RIBTON conducted the Prosecution.


20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-30
VerdictNot Guilty > no evidence

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30. MYRA CASTREE was again charged upon the Coroners Inquisition with felonionsly Killing and slaying her new born child, upon which, Mr. Ribton offered no evidence


THIRD COURT—Friday, November 24th 1876

Before Mr. Recorder.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-31
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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31. WILLIAM CLARKE (30) , Unlawfully obtaining by false pretences, a pair of lanterns, thirty six portfolios, and other goods of Edward George Wood.

MR. A. METCALFE Conducted the prosecution; and MR. FULTON the Defence.

JOSEPH CHUCK . I know the prisioner and am acqutained with his writing—these letters produced are in his writing without doubt.

JOSEPH ALFRED I live at 74 cheapaide, City, and am buyer to Edward George Wood, of the same place an option—I has not seen the prisioner to my knowledge until he was arresed—on 14th August, I received this letter by post. (This inquired the price of magic lanterns, and the terms for hiring slides, and was signed William Clarke master of the British School at ware and honorary secretary to the managers) I replied to that letter and on 16th september I received this letter from the prisioner (This oredered a pair of lanterns and other articles and two coureses of slides for hire) I replied, and I then received a further letter from the prisioner dated 19th september, and also a further one dated 25th September—the first parcel of goods was sent off to the prisoner on 22nd September, a second lot on the best of my recollection the lanterns and screen forming part of the present charge, and the third lot a screw frame and slides, not included in the indictment—the goods were sent under the belief that they were ordered with thier uasual business transactions—the value of the goods in the indictment is about 12l. or 13l.; the value of the whole about 35l—an invoice was sent with the goods presumed to be sold, and a loan ticket with those hired—the illustrations which we expected to receive back have been recovered—those sent as sold are in the hands of the police—on the Monday subsequently shut up and the porisoner nowhere.

Cross-exmained. Some of the goods are now in our possession, and the others are in the hands of the police; none are missing—when I went down to ware, I did not ascertained where the prisioner had gone, or the reason he had left—a portion of the goods we has sent were found at the railway station "To be left till called for"—I came up to town and obtained the assistance of an officer, and I ultimately ascertained that the prisoner had gone to Bury.

St. Edmund's, and opened another school—we applied at the mansion House, for a warrant for his apprehension, and obtained one before I heard where he was—no steps were taken Withdraw the warrant.

Re-examined. I did not ask for the money from him because I did not know where he was until he was arrested.

By THE COURT If we had known that he was only the manager of the school we most assured should not have sent the things ordered on the faith of those letters—if we received an application from a schoolmaster we should firt make enquiries as to his ability to pay and whether he was a straightforward person.

JOSEPH CHUCK (re-examined) I am a malster at ware, and am one of the trustees of the British School there—I first became acquainted with the prisoner about a year and half ago—he replied to an advertisement and as he produced some very satisfactory testimonial, as we considered the school was let to him as a private school—we had nothing whatever to do with the carrying on of the school—the British School broke down some time before the committee ceased to exist altogether in 1874 and we determined to let the school as a private speculation—I have heard the letters read to day—the prisoner's statement that he was secretary to the managers is quite untrue—the trustees did not give him the slightest authority to get lanterns or anything else—he left ware about a month age suddenly, without giving any notice—it may be two months ago—I really do not know when he left—he simply shut up the place and left.

Cross-examined. I and others had the lefting of the school—we did not enquire into his character before letting it unfortunately—he presented certain certificates to us—the school had previously been in the hands of a committee.

WILLIAM OLDHAMSTEAD (City policeman 409) I apprenhended the prisoner on a warrant on 2nd October at Bury St. Edmunds—I was about to read the warrant to him when he said" That will do, I don't was to hear it; it is quite right"—I told him he would have to come back to London with me, and that he was charged with obtianing goods under false pretences—at that time I did not know there were any other charges against him—he said"If they had given me more time I should have sent them back"—I asked him where the things were, and he said "I don't see why I should tell you if you are going to take me and look me up—he afterwards told me where they were, and I went to his loadings and found a portion of them there, and others left at the railway station till called for—he told me they were there—the articles relating to the scholastic Trading Company were detained there with the others—a number of book slates, pencils, penholders, and different kinds of scholastic books corresponding with the list produced—through that list I made enquiries when I got home.

Cross-examined. when he told me he did not want the warrant read he was in custody on the charge—part of messrs. Thompson's goods have been sold—Mr. Wood's were all found.

PETER THOMPSON . I am manager to the London scholastic Trading Company, Bridewell Place, New Bridge street—I know nothing of the prisoner except by the correspondence—we received this letter dated 27th June:"Sir—I am directed by the mangers of this school to ask whether You will allow them to open a quarterly account,"&c—to that letter I replied, and on 8th July I received this letter (Read" Dear sir,—In

answer to yours of the 3rd Last, I enclose following order, and beg to assure you that your confidence shall not be misplaced. I sincerely trust that the business will be advantageous to both parties.") The goods were sent to the British School at Ware, with an invoice of which this is a copy (produced)—they were sent under the belief that they were ordered for the managers of the school, and to be paid for by them—if we had known that the prisoner was the master, and was conducting the school on his own responsibility, we should not have trusted him without making the usual enquiries.

Cross-examined. The goods were sent within a reasonable time—I sent in the account" To goods "at the end of the quarter, which would be about 29th September or immediately after in the ordinary course of business—I found out that he had left Ware when the detective officer waited upon me in consequence of Mr. Wood's charge—I gave the detective information and a warrant to stop the goods.

Re-examined, Part of the goods have been sold—a portion are in the hands of the police—I have not personally compared the goods in the hands of the police with those sent; one of my assistants has—he is not here—

EBENEZER MARSHALL . I am a seller and lender of magic lanterns and slides, and other articles, at 8, Queen Victoria Street—I received a letter dated 16th October, 1876, ordering a lantern and slides for hire, in the name of the Committee of the British School, Ware, and letters on the 18th, 20th, and 26th October. He did not call on me, nor did any of the committee—I sent the goods to the British School, Ware—I believed I was trusting the manager on behalf of the committee of the school, otherwise, I should not have sent them—I never send goods to a man managing a school on his own account.

Cross-examined. I found out that the prisoner had left Ware by the return of this post card, marked "Left no address," it is dated "November 1st, Ware." I heard he had left in debt all round, that he had bolted.

GUILTY Nine Months' Imprisonment

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-32
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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32. SARAH JAMES (35) stealing a muffler and 5s. 7d. in money, of Francisco Avitabili.

MR. PURCELL conducted the Prosecution; and Mr. Lilley the Defence.

FRANCISCO AVITABILI (through an Interpreter). I am a sailor—on the night of 16th November, I met the prisoner in St. George's Street, I gave her something to drink and went home with her—I gave her is. in the house, I undressed, and put my. clothes on the chair—she told me to wait and I gave her a shilling for the missus of the house to send for some beer—we drank together, and she told me to go to bed, I did so; she undressed herself but never came to bed—she came close to me and kissed me twice—the lamp was turned off, and she took my clothes and went out; I got up, but it was dark and I could not see anything—I was quite undressed, only a flannel on when the missus came with a light—my clothes were all round the room, and my purse underneath the table with 4d. or 5d. in it—there had been 9s. 7d. altogether—the missus called the police and I gave the prisoner in charge.

Cross-examined. I am an Italian, I met the prisoner at 9 o'clock—we went to two public houses—I don't know the name's of spirits—there was some kind of red liquor had—I paid altogether 9d.—I paid a 1s. afterwards in

the house for her to fetch a pot of beer—I do not speak English at all, I spoke to the prisoner by saying "sleep," I talked by signs—the money part of the matter was settled by the fingers, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5—she say "five "and I say "no—four "—I did not give her 5s. for herself and 3s. for the room.

EDWARD COOPER (Policeman H 99). I did not know there was any charge against her—I heard some one say about 10 o'clock, "you robbed that man," I stopped her and seeing she had 9s. 1d. in her left hand, I took her back to the house—the prisoner said "he gave me 4s. for the night and I was willing to sleep with him," I then showed the Italian the purse lying on a table, and the remainder of the money, and he shook his head as if to say it was not the womae's purse—the prisoner said, "It is my purse and my money "—I said, "if it your purse and money take, it," and the Italian shook his head—I then made motions as to whether he wanted her locked up, and I then told her she would be charged with stealing the money—she said "You have a spite against me—you slept with me last night, and I have got a child by you, and that you know," There is no truth in that.

Cross-examined. I had never seen the woman before—I saw the prisoner coming out of the house and I spoke to her and told her she had better go back with me—she stood out at first, and I told her I should take her back—she did not appear intoxicated—I took her upstairs—the Italian was standing up, putting his coat on in the room—he did not speak English. The prisoner did not say that he had given her 5s. to sleep with her and 3s. for the expenses of the room, but that he gave her 4s. to sleep with her for the night, and she had w——d for the other 5s., I said that before the police Magistrate—it is down in writing—it was read over to me. I persist in saying I sew no sighs of drunkeness about her—I took her to the station, about a third of a mile off.

The prisoners statement before a Magistrate: The prosecutor said he would give me 9s.—he gave me 9s."—he wanted to take indecent liberties, and I could not allow at, and I got out of bed—he went to his clothes for a knife, and I ran out and screamed."


She was further charged with a previous conviction in July, 1874, to which she

PLEAED GUILTY seven year's penal seritude

FOURTH COURT—Friday, November 24th, 1876.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-33
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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33. GEORGE LANNING (32), PLEADED GUILTY to stealing 2 lbs. of tea and other goods, of the goods of the South Eastern Railway Company, his masters, and also to stealing two rings and other goods of the same Company— Months' Imprisonment .

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-34
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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34. FREDERICK YOUNG (28), and JOHN SULLIVAN (25) , to stealing a watch and chain of John Sorr, from his person, both having been previously convicted of felony— Ten years' Penal Servitude each . [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-35
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment; Imprisonment > other institution

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35. THOMAS WILSON (16) to stealing one purse, one key, and 2l. 12s. 6d. of Ruth Bowie, from her person, having been previously convicted— Three years' Imprisonment and Five Years in a—Reformatory . [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-36
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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36. JOHN FULLER (32) , to stealing seven umbrellas, the goods of James Smith, also to stealing three shirts, six pairs of socks, and—one ring, the goods of Edmund Manuel Paul , after a previous conviction in May, 1875— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment . [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]And

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-37
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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37. ANN HARRIET SAVILLE (42) , to feloniously marrying Walter Humphrey, her husband. being then alive; having been convicted of felony in October, 1857— Twelve Months' Imprisonment . [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-38
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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38. EDWIN ROBERTSON (27) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Charles Masters and stealing therein, ten spoons and other articles, his property.

MR. MEAD conducted the Prosecution; and MR. HARRIS the Defence.

JULIA MASTERS . I am the wife of Charles Masters, of Hertford House, Acton—on 12th October on going to rest I saw the house properly secure—the kitchen window was fastened—I went to bed at 9.30—at 2.30 I went downstairs and missed from the kitchen dresser a cruet-stand, gravyspoon, two dessertspoons, two tablespoons, six teaspoons, one saltspoon, a pair of nut crackers, four knife rests, a pair of silver solitaires, and a patent lever corkscrew—I went down in the dark and found the kitchen window open—I missed a pier glass from the parlour mantelpiece, a shawl from the sofa in the parlour, and two coats from behind the door—they were there the night before—the articles produced were handed to me by the police—I recognise all the plate.

Cross-examined. This tobacco pouch produced is not mine—the things produced have my marks upon them—they are not' all marked with my name—some I had given me—they are all plated except the teaspoons, and saltspoon, and one fork, which are silver—there are only five tea spoons here, there ought to be six—the goods I lost I value at 10l.—the opera glass was a small one and had no mark on it except the maker's name—the shawl was worth about 10s.; that was not marked—the dress coat was not marked—I think it had Samuel Brothers' name upon it—one silver teaspoon is missing, and the top of the pepper castor, the corkscrew, and a silver solitaire.

Re-examined. Most of the plate was marked "M," and one or two were marked "Jones."

JEFFERY ARNOLD . I belong to the South Devon constabulary—I was on duty in North Row and North Audley Street—about 10.15 or 10.20 on 21st October I saw the prisoner there with a man named. Joyce—as I passed I heard Joyce say to prisoner "All right, go over the way "—the prisoner then went down North Row towards George Street, crossed over the road to the other, side and came back again, then crossed over North Audley Street and went into a public-house at the opposite corner—he was carrying this bag—Joyce lingered at the same corner about a minute and then followed the prisoner into the public-house—I waited about five minutes and the prisoner came out alone with the bag and went to Oxford Street—I then doubled round North Row, a block of buildings between George Street and North Audley Street, and met him—I asked him what he had got in the bag—he took out the cruet stand and I said "Where did you get it from V—he said "I found it in the park "—I said "That won't do for me; I must take you to the station "—at the station I found the articles produced; I found the gravyspoon in the bag—I found other property, but not in the bag—these two spoons were in his undercoat pocket—he did not say where he got them from—he said he should like to have a glass of brandy and water on the road—I afterwards ran back and took Joyce; the bill against him has been thrown out.

The prisoner received a good character.


OLD COURT.—Saturday, November 25th, 1876.

Before Mr. Justice Denman.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-39
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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39. JOHN SMITH (44) , Feloniously setting fire to the dwelling-house of George Willis, the said George Willis and others being therein, with intent to injure.

MR. FRITH conducted the Prosecution.

DANIEL MCCARTHY . I live at 2, Mar Buildings, Drury Lane, and am a lodging-house keeper—on Wednesday night, 25th October, the prisoner came to my place and inquired for a room, accompanied by Annie Thompson, who he said was his wife—I told he could not have a bed there, but I could put him in another house, No. 6, Parker Street, and sent Cochran, the deputy, there with him—about half an hour afterwards, in consequence of information, I went to No. 6, Parker Street, and found the second floor back room full of smoke; I could not see the blaze on account of the smoke—I went in twice and was nearly suffocated with the smoke; I had to go in on my hands and knees at last—I found the bedding on the floor, the sheets were burning; the mattrass was on the bedstead, that was blazing, and the bedstead was blazing—I sent for the police, and the fire was extinguished—the prisoner was not there, he had gone—a number of persons were sleeping in the house, two families and two sisters—there are four rooms in the house—the prisoner was not smoking.

MARY ANN COCHRAN . I am single, and am the deputy at No. 6, Parker Street—about 12 o'clock on the night of 25th October the prisoner and Thompson came and asked for a room—I showed them the second floor back and left them there—about 12.30 I received information, in consequence of which I went to the room with Mr. McCarthy—when the prisoner and the woman went up into the room she asked him for some money to get some food and he said if she was gone more than five minutes he would set fire to the place—he was not sober, he had had a little drink, he did not seem very drunk; I did not think he meant it at the time—I was in the room with them about ten minutes, when he said that, the woman-went out—I went out with her, and she went in one direction and I in another—I saw nothing more of her until she came and told us; she was sober—when they came the prisoner asked for the room for himself and his wife—he paid 1s., in advance—he gave her 6d. in silver and 8d. in copper to go and get some food—I did not know the woman, he did not call her by any name.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I left you sitting on the edge of the bed and you said you would go to bed—the other lodgers were in bed and asleep—I did not see you leave the house—when you said you would set the place on fire I said "For God's sake, don't say you will do such a thing, as the other lodgers are all asleep hours ago and then you said you would go to bed—you were not smoking.

ANNIE THOMPSON . I am a single woman, and live at 48, Parker Street—on the night of 25th October I went with the prisoner to Mr. McCarthy's and inquired for a room—he said he could not give us there, but sent the deputy with us to 6, Parker Street—after we had been there a little while I said I wanted to go out and get something to eat—the prisoner gave me something and said if I was gone more than five minutes he would set fire to the room—I was gone fifteen minutes, and when I came back the room was all of a blaze, I could not say about the bedstead, I was so upset—I went to the landlord to let him know what had occurred—the prisoner was gone—I first met him in King Street and went to a public-house and had something to drink—he was not sober, but he seemed to know what he was about perfectly well.

Cross-examined. He was in company with a man named Kimley when I met him and he received half a crown and 2s. from Kimley.

By THE COURT. I have known the prisoner for years—I heard him Bay I was his wife—I had not lived with him as his wife—I was going with him and passing as his wife that night—I have not seen Kimley here to-day—I' joined the prisoner between 8 and 9 o'clock that evening—Kimley was with him then—we went as far as Cecil Court with him and went into a public-house, and he left us there—I had never been in this Parker Street before—years ago I had been sleeping with the prisoner, but not since—I did not think he was in earnest in saying he would set fire to the room—I said "Don't think of such a thing as that," and he said "Go on, I will go to bed"—I thought he was in joke—he had been drinking, but was not very much intoxicated—he had no pipe or cigar at this time, he had been smoking in the evening.

STEPHEN BOWDEN (Policeman E 428). At 12.45 on Wednesday morning, 26th, I was called to No. 6, Parker Street—I looked into the room and found it full of smoke; the fire was all put out when I got there; all the bedding was burnt and strewed in little pieces about the floor; the mattrass was about three parts burnt; there was no fire in the grate—I took the prisoner into custody about 12 o'clock that same day at 26, Wardour Street—he said he did not recollect anything about—I found on him this discharge note from the Army. (This certified that he had been twenty years in the Fusileer Guards; that he had been discharged on the termination of his second engagement, and was a good and efficient soldier, trustworthy, and sober.)

Cross-examined. I asked you if you had been at a lodging-house with a female; you did not deny it—you bad two or three scars on your face as if you had been fighting—you were sober then.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate:" I have a good discharge from the Army; I was discharged from the Scotch Fusileers on the Tuesday. I. got a little on the spree, and on Wednesday night I met the woman Thompson; we had something to drink, and I accompanied her to the house. We went upstairs, and all at once I got confused and remember nothing more, but as to setting fire to the house with intent I did not."

The prisoner put in a written defence, stating that after the witness Thompson had left,—a man came into the room and ordered him out; that they had a struggle in which he received injuries to his face; that he got into the street and found that he had lost his money; that he went in a cab to the Tower, and not being able to pay his fare was detained at the station.

STEPHEN BOWDEN (re-examined). I know both these lodging-houses, they are respectable, licensed lodging-houses—the street door is left open, it is a very low neighbourhood—the prisoner said nothing to me about a man having come into the room—his friend Kimley told me where I should be likely to find him.

CHARLES SCAMMELL (City Policeman 737). The prisoner came to the Tower Street station in a cab on 25th, about 1.50 in the morning—he could not pay his fare; he offered to give the cabman his name and address—the inspector locked him up for being drunk till 8 o'clock the same morning—he said he had been robbed somewhere in the Haymarket—he had a scar on his nose and one on his cheek, and blood on his hands and face and clothes.


20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-40
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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40. CHARLES PLANNER (45) , Feloniously setting fire to the dwelling-house of Ward Barrett, he and others being therein.

MR. FRITH conducted the prosecution.

FREDERICK STEVENSON (Policeman E 175). At 6.10 on Tuesday Morning, November 21st, I saw a light flashing through the cellar window of 257, Whiteclpel Road—it is a boot shop—I looked through a hole in the window and saw a glimmering light—I stood there a second or two, the flames seemed to enlarge very much, and I at once sent for the engines and fire escape, but I succeeded in putting out the fire before they arrived—after it was put out I went in—I saw an old stocking soaked in paraffin, some small portions of newspaper and some portions of a paper called "Bow Bells," also soaked in paraffin—the stocking was about half burnt—it was lying on the window sill in the cellar—the sill and window frame were burnt—that appeared to have caught fire from the burning stocking.

WARD BARRETT . I live at 257, Whitechapel Road, and am an engineer's apprentice—the house is occupied by my father, William Barrett, who-is a bootmaker—I sleep in the house—I was sleeping there last Tuesday, the 21st; I was awoke about 6.15 a.m. by a loud knocking at the door and a shout of "fire "—I went downstairs, went to the front of the house and saw that the cellar window was in flames; it appeared as if the Whole window was in flames—I went back into the house and by the time I had opened the two doors the fire was out—I called Hiron the foreman and went down into the cellar with him and the policeman—I found this stocking soaked in paraffin and these numbers of "Bow Bells"—the stocking was on the edge of a basket filled with leather, just under the window sill, it had been blazing, it appeared to have been burnt—the prisoner has been in-our service, he was discharged on Monday night, the 20th, by my father—Hiron lives in the house—I afterwards saw the prisoner in custody at the police-station, in Leman Street—he said he would not hurt a hair of my head, but that fellow Hiron he would be the death of him—Hiron had nothing to do with discharging the men, my father does that himself—no paraffin was kept in the cellar.

WILLIAM HIRON ; I am foreman to Mr. Barrett, and live at 257, Whitechapel Road—last Wednesday or Thursday week the prisoner said to me when he was tipsy "Hiron, I mean to do for you if I can before long"—he had threatened me scores "of times before—he knew that I had been sleeping in the house five weeks.

GEORGE CHECKLET (Police Sergeant HR 15). On the—night of 21st November the prisoner came to the Leman Street station and said "I wish to give myself up for a fire "—I asked him when it was and where—he said "Mr. Barrett's boot shop in Whitechapel Road, at 6 o'clock this morning "—he said that he bought a pint of paraffin with a number of" Bow Bella," broke the window, and put the paper in alight—he said "I intended to do it last night, but I got some beer and went to sleep"—he said, he had worked eighteen years, and he was discharged last night, and the foreman, had been an enemy of his for many years—Mr. Barrett came in just afterwards, and when the prisoner saw him he said he would not hurt a hair of his head.

FREDERICK MOORHOSSE (Police Sergeant HR 10). The prisoner was brought into the station by Checkley—when the prosecutor came in the prisoner said "Hallo, you seem to know all about it, you heard about it very soon, I shan't say any more "—I said "Will you sign the statement I have taken down in writing?"—he said "I did not make any statement"—he said to Mr. Barrett" I would not injure you, but I would Hiron, I

would do it effectually next time "—I said "Do you know anything about the stocking?"—he said "No, I know nothing about it."

Prisoner's Defence. I have nothing to say. I don't admit the stocking, because I know nothing about it nor do I admit going to do anybody an injury.

GUILTY Seven Years' Penal Servitude

THIRD COURT—Saturday, November 28th, 1876.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-41
VerdictsGuilty > unknown
SentencesImprisonment; Imprisonment

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41. CHARLES BRIGHT (28) , Stealing three pieces of leather, the property of John Downing Carter and others, his masters, and JAMES HART (45) , Feloniously receiving the same.

MR. RAVEN conducted the Prosecution; Mr. M. Williams appeared for Bright, and Mr. T. Cole for Hart.

JOHN WOLSEY (City Detective). On the afternoon of the 2nd November I was on duty in Brushfield Street about 2 p.m. with Wright, another detective—we saw the prisoner Hart, and followed him to the Nag's Head public-house, Houndsditch—he had this bag with him, empty apparently—when he had been in there about five minutes Bright came along and entered the same compartment, carrying a parcel—he remained about five minutes, and came out without the parcel—I followed him into St. Mary Axe, stopped him, and asked him what he had done with the parcel he took into the public-house—he said he gave it to a friend of his—I said "What is your friend's name?"—he said "I don't know"—I said "What is his address?"—he said "I don't know—I told him I should take him to the station, and he would be charged with stealing from his employer—I asked him where he worked—he said "At Messrs. Teep's, Aidgate"—I took him to the station, and went back to Houndsditch and saw Wright, who had had observation on the house in my absence—we waited until Hart came out—he was carrying the same bag, apparently containing the small parcel that Bright took in—I had seen the bag before in the barroom when he went into the public-house—we stopped him, and asked him what he had got in the bag—he said "I have some leather "—Wright asked him where he got it from—he said "I bought it of a man in the public-house "—we took him to the station—we there found a small parcel in the bag containing this leather, done up in brown paper, apparently the same as Bright took in—Wright asked Bright what he had to say respecting the leather, and he said "I took it from Messrs. Teep, 10, Aldgate "—Wiggins & Teep is the name of the firm; they carry on business in the name of Downing Carter"—Hart gave his address, 76, Prescott Street, and said he carried on the trade of a bookbinder at Ford Street, Spitalfields—I afterwards went with Wright to Ford Street, and found a quantity of leather cut up for use, apparently for bookbinding—it resembles the kind of leather found in the parcel—I found four and half reams of paper in his room in Prescott Street—Bright's address was correct.

Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. I did not tell Bright who I was when I stopped him—he never asked me—he may have seen me before—I did not caution him—I will swear I said at the police-court that he said he took the leather from Wiggins & Teep's—my depositions were read over to me—to the best of my belief it is in the depositions—I should be rather surprised to hear that it is not—I heard Wright examined—to the best

of my belief I heard him say that Bright said he took it from Wiggins & Teep—he was examined after me—to the best of my belief I said "I heard that before I heard Wright say it"—I will not swear I did.

Cross-examined by Mr. Cole. I think Hart was in the public-house about five minutes before Bright went in—I followed Bright when he came out—it was about a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes after that that Hart came out—the Nag's Head is a large public-house—it is well known.

Re-examined. I was present when Wright asked Bright where he got the leather.

GEORGE WRIGHT (Detective Officer). I was on duty with Wolsey—I saw Hart going along Brushfield Street, carrying the bag produced under his arm—I followed him into Houndsditch—I saw him go into the Nag's Head public-house—shortly after I saw Bright go in with this brown paper parcel he came out again in a few minutes without the parcel—Wolsey followed Bright—I went into the public-house, and saw the parcel lying by the side of Hart—I came out again and saw Hart come out, carrying a bag—I said to him "We are police-officers; what have you in this bag? "—he said "Leather "—I said "Where did you get it from? "—he said "I bought it of a man"—"I said "What man?"—he said "I don't know "—I took him to the station and took the leather out of the parcel—I said to Bright, who was in custody, "How do you account for this?"—he said "I took it from my employers, Messrs. Wiggins & Co, 10, Aldgate "—Wolsey was present when he said that and the inspector in the room—Hart was at the station when that was said—the address he gave at Prescott Street was correct—I said to Hart "Don't you go by the name of Skid-more" is not your right name Skidmore?"—Ke said "Yes, I cany on business at 6, Ford Street, Spitalfields, as a bookbinder"—I found some more leather there corresponding with this produced—the other constable—searched the other place.

Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. I made no note of the conversation—I heard Bright say he was employed at Messrs. Wiggins & Co's at the station—I was not present when Bright was taken—he used the words "My employers, No. 10, Aldgate"—I am positive he said 10, Aldgate, Messrs. Wiggins & Co.

Cross-examined by MR. COLE. At the address Hart gave 6, Ford Street, I found certain materials used in the bookbinding trade, 76, Prescott Street is where he lives—I believe he has been living for many years past with a—woman named Hart—I had a glass of ale in the public-house; Hart was sitting on a seat, and the parcel was lying by his side; when I went out I waited about ten minutes before Hart came out—he did not volunteer the information about the name of Skidmore; I asked him.

GEORGE CLAYTON . I live at 26, Laurence Road, Bow, and' am in the employ of Messrs. Wiggins, of 10,—Aldgate—Mr. John Downing Carter is one of the members of the firm—Bright was our packer and porter, and—had been so for nearly seventeen years—he bore a very good character to the end—I do not identify the skins—we have similar ones in stock, but I cannot say they are ours.

Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. His character was so good that he is the last man I should have suspected.

Cross-examined by MR. COLE. The skins are worth about 2s. each—it is called Skiver.

Re-examined. He had access to, and could have taken away whatever he liked, and we should not have known it.


BRIGHT—Strongly recommended to mercy— Six Months' Imprisonment . HART— Twelve Months' Imprisonment .

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-42
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation

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42. ALFRED GOODWIN (41), was indicted for wilful and corrupt perjury.

MR. MOODY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MCCOLL the Defence.

JOSEPH TORE . I am a solicitor, and have been Deputy Registrar of Marylebone County Court, for the last twenty years—I am also a Commissioner to Administer Oaths in Her Majesty's High Court of Justice—the prisoner swore this affidavit on 30th August, 1867—I also have the other papers in the action of Goodwin v. Gill—the plaint was for 44l. 9s.; 10l. 9s. 1d. for the first sale, 52l. 10d. for 35,000 bricks, alleged reserved price, and they gave credit for 19l.—the action first came on for hearing on 26th September, and then adjourned, and the jury discharged for an account to be furnished—it eventually came on again without a jury on the 17th October, when the judgment was in favour of the defendant Gill—I have it here; I was present during the trial and took the verdict—I cannot say that I recollect the details of the prisoner's examination.

CHARLES CLEMENTS . I am one of the bailiffs of Marylebone County Court, and occasionally act as usher and administer oaths—I was in Court a portion of the day during the trial in question—I was on the plaintiffs side of the Court, where I was engaged in administering oaths to the witnesses called on that side of the Court—I cannot positively say whether I administered the oath to the prisoner, but to the best of my belief I did.

EDWIN GILL . I am an auctioneer at 1, Cambridge Terrace, and 2, Cambridge Road, Kilburn—I first made the prisoner's acquaintance about December last when he came to me and delivered to me some iron work and building materials for sale, which were included in my December sale—they realised about two guineas—I had advanced him 2l. 2s. 6d., so I had a charge of 6d., I think, against him on the first transaction—he came to me again in January and told me he had 40,000 bricks, a lot of timber, coal, a cattle trough, ehaff-cutting machines, and other things, making up a sale of about 400l.—some place was mentioned for storing the goods and I introduced him to Mr. Richards, a gentleman in the neighbourhood, who had some land to let, which land he ultimately took, I becoming responsible for the rent—nothing of the prisoner's but the bricks was put on the land—he began to put the bricks on the ground the first few days in January—on 11th January, I think, he came to me and asked me to advance him 20l.—I said "I do not think there is sufficient on the ground "—I ultimately advanced him 10l. on the 13th, and he wrote out this receipt in my presence (produced)—the next day I advanced him another 7l.—at that time nothing whatever had been said to me about a reserve price at which I was to sell—I prepared a catalogue and posted one to the prisoner—he was examined at the County Court, and I think he said he had received a catalogue, but not a marked one—the sale took place on 31st January—I sold all the bricks, 21,800, they realised about 32l.—my charges for commission and advertising were 3l. 1s., leaving a balance due to the prisoner of 4l. 9s. 6d—I heard him examined in the County Court, he was represented by a gentleman named Liggins—he said he had given me special instructions not to sell these bricks under 35s. per 1,000—he was cross-examined by my solicitor on that statement

—this receipt was put into his hands "when he still abided by the same answer. (Bead:"Received of Mr. E. Gill, the sum of. 10l. on account of goods for unreserved sale by auction on ground situated in Cambridge Road, Klburn. January 13th, 1876. A. Goodwin,.80, Chippenham Road.") He said that he could not swear that the word "sale "was in his writing—the Judge said that it was clear that "sale "was in the same hand writing, and called his attention to that receipt—he still continued in his former statement without giving the slightest explanation—he said that he received 28,000 bricks from Mr. Newell, of Southall, and the rest he had from Waring Brothers, of Southall—he produced an invoice with no heading to it—the Judge said "I cannot tell where they came from, where is the heading to it?"—he said "They came from Waring Brothers, of Southall "—the Judge called his attention to a date in the invoice showing the bricks delivered to me under this transaction with me and the transaction to be subsequent to the delivery to me—he was asked whether he had paid for Waring Brothers' bricks—he said "Yes, I have the receipt at home on the file "—he was asked what he paid for them, and he said 44l. 15s. 8d. in gold and notes, which he paid to Messrs.' Waring's clerk, I think he said in the former part of August—the Judge said "Will you swear that you paid the sum of 44l. 15s. 8d. for these bricks?" and he said "I will "—the questions were put by the Judge himself, not by the solicitor—I had had no application for the 4l. 9s. 6d. and no application had been made to me by or on behalf of the prisoner before I was served with the summons in the County Court, nor did I receive any communication from him at alt—the reason I had not paid over the 4l. 9s. 6d. before' I was sued was that a day or two after I got the money I took up the paper and found he was gazetted brankrupt.

Cross-examined. This was not the first of the periodical sales that I had had—I gave him notice of the sale by advertising in the papers and so on, besides posting the catalogue—he lived within thirteen doors of me—it is always usual to post a circular—there were bills posted up all over the place—I never delivered to him any particulars of the sale, or to any one else until the action was brought—I was examined at the police-court—I said at the County Court that about 22nd October I received a letter from Mr. Liggins; I gave an answer to it—I communicated with the trustees in bankruptcy after that—the reason why I did not pay the 4l. 9s. 6d. was because I had application in writing by post for the judgment creditor, Mr. Newell, asking me to pay over to him or to give notice of any money of his I had in hand, I havenot got it here—I did not tell Mr. Liggins that that was the reason I had not paid Goodwin—I was not aware that on 28th June he had been six weeks discharged, I have heard so now—I heard that he paid a composition to his creditors—it was pursuant to the Judge's order that I delivered particulars of this sale; I had given them to my solicitor—Mr. Liggins represented the prisoner at the trial—before the action commenced I, gave my solicitor all the documents in my possession relating to this matter, and amongst them this receipt—I heard Mr. Liggins open the plaintiff's case, I think he made some such observation as that after having seen this receipt, under an order of inspection, his client's claim as far as 52l. 10s. was concerned could not be sustained—in opening the case Mr. Liggins stated that he had a tantamount difficulty to get over which was that the defendant held in his possession a receipt to sell these goods unreserved, whereas Mr. Goodwin had made an affidavit quite contrary to the fact—I cannot remember

everything that he said—I don't think such a proposition as a verdict for 16l. 6s. 8d. took place—the Judge pressed the prisoner as to whether he had given me directions not to sell at less than 35s.—the Judge was very indignant.

Re-examined. After the sale I saw that the prisoner was bankrupt, and I expected an application for the money in my hands from the trustees—I never heard of the bankruptcy being annulled—I took the usual means of ascertaining whether I could pay the money over safely, and I was referred to Mr. Newell, the judgment creditor—the questions about payment were put by the judge—he said "You see there is 'unreserved' on the outside of the catalogue."

JOHN LEONARD . I am managing clerk to Messrs. Waring Brothers, brick merchants, of Southall, our chief office is at Westminster, but the brick business is confined to Southall—I have had the management of it about eight years—the prisoner purchased some bricks of me in February of this year—he had had no dealings with us before—there was another transaction in March—he has never paid us anything whatever in respect of either transactions—my firm had to sue him.

JOHN COYLE . I and the last witness, are the only two clerks who manage the brick business for Messrs. Waring—the prisoner has never paid us any money in respect of bricks from our firm.

JOHN NEWELL . I am a brickmaker of Southall, I supplied some bricks to the prisoner in December and January last—they were delivered at what they call "Shepherd's Hut "—I delivered 28,000—I have not been paid a shilling. (The affidavit stated:"I said that before I delivered the said bricks to the defendant I gave him specific and peremptory instructions not to sell the said bricks or any of them at a less price than 1l. 10s. per one thousand bricks."

J. TORE (re-examined). I was acting for the registrar as deputy by authority of the Judge.

Witness for the Defence.

HENRY JOSEPH LIGGINS . I am a solicitor, I have a considerable practice in the Marylebone County Court—I was the solicitor for the prisoner in the case of Goodwin v. Gill—before the plaint was issued, I wrote a letter to the defendant asking for payment, I received the letter before you from the the present prosecutor, stating "I have no balance in hand in the above bankruptcy case;" dated 24th June, signed by the prosecutor—I obtained an order for inspection, and inspected the documents in Mr. Simpson's possession, where I, for the first time, saw this receipt containing the word* "unreserved sale "—that was a day or two before the action came on to be heard, and having seen that I gave up claim for 52l. 10s. and asked for a verdict for 16l. 6s. 8d.—I opened the case and said that, I had that difficulty to get over, viz., the receipt for "unreserved sale "—I had no receipts and Mr. Serjeant Wheeler said the defendant had behaved very badly in not giving us receipts, and the case must be adjourned for receipts as an auctioner should give receipts for goods received for sale—I asked in respect of the bricks for 16l. 6s. 8d.—21l. 19s. 2d. altogether, in the plaintiff's presence and it was adjourned for the usual auctioneer's accounts, and when it came on on the adjourned hearing it proceeded on that footing, and when I only pressed for a verdict for 16l. odd the 52l. claim was struck out so far as I know—I admitted the mistake in the affidavit, I distinctly referred the Judge to it—you know Serjeant Wheeler—he was very angry—it was after

the Judge had addressed the prisoner, and after I had produced the receipt that, he was pressed whether he had given those directions for a reserved sale, for 35s.—Mr. Serjeant Wheeler lost his temper—when he pressed the prisoner on this he still abided by what he had said—the prisoner was at that time very much excited—he had Mr. Serjeant Wheeler pitching into him, and Mr. Simpson too—he appeared extremely frightened and nervous like a witness who had rarely, or never been in a witness box, what he was doing—I was present at the police-court when Mr. Simpson made an application for a warrant, the. day after the trial, when it was refused by Mr. D'Eyncourt—he subsequently made an application to the Judge of the County Court, Mr. Serjeant Wheeler, in ray presence, to direct a prosecution and Mr. Serjeant Wheeler said—"Mr. Simpson, if you have that amount of experience which I credit you with, you will drop this matter. I have sat for fourteen years as the judge of a County Court, and I have never directed a prosecution, and I hope I never may do so, and I do not consider this a case," and he advised Mr. Simpson to go no further in the matter but to drop it—the summons was obtained the day after that before Mr. Mansfield.

Cross-examined. A warrant was asked for first and refused—there were two hearings before Mr. Mansfield, before the prisoner was committed.

JOSEPH TORR (re-examined). I have the plaint' note in—the action—no portion of the claim was struck out by the Judge, during the proceedings—there was no formal act of abandonment.—


Recommended to mercy by the Jury on the ground of his being excited at the time he committed he offence— One Month's Imprisonment .

FOURTH COURT—Saturday, Novmember 25th, 1876.

Before Mr. Recorder

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-43
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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43. GEORGE ROBINSON BOWMAN (27) , Embezzling the sum of 387l. 9s. 1d. of " Nehemiah Learoyd and another, his masters.

MR. DALTON conducted the Prosecution; and MR. BESLEY the Defence.

NEHEMLAH LEAROYD . I am a solicitor, of Albion Chambers, Moorgate—the prisoner entered my service as clerk in-January this year, and was employed in the conveyance department—he believed—with very great propriety—we acted for the vendors in a sale of property at Hackney last August—I entrusted him with the management of it—the vendors were a corporation—we have a general authority to receive their purchase monies—the settlement was on 28th September—that is the date of the deed—the prisoner told me that the purchase had been completed—Mr.'Oldshaw is solicitor for the purchasers—I cannot say whether his clerk attended—I produce a copy of the. assignment, it contains in the fold particulars of the amount received—it is in the prisoner's writing—it is our usual practice to enter all the particulars of sums received in the fold of the draft—that is the apportionment of the income and outgoings up to the day of completion according to the. conditions—it should be paid to my cashier—on 12th October I received in Ireland a telegram in consequence of which I returned home on the Friday night.

Cross-examined. The 2nd October would no doubt as appears from the memorandum be the day of actual completion—the deed no doubt would have been executed in anticipation, of an earlier completion—when he told me of the complesion of the purchase I understood by

that that the money had been received—I left town before 12th October—the prisoner was—engaged also about this time in other matters—Mr. Bridgman will be better able to give particulars—no charge is made with regard to the deeds—they have not been tampered with—we are vendors, therefore they would be handed over—there is no charge with respect to the deeds found at his house—I remember bis telling me that the client who had to receive the 400l. purchase money in the matter of Godson's sale of Wiltshaw and his mortgagee, had given us some authorities to pay creditors out of the purchase-money, and that he had given certain undertakings to do so—I expressed my disappointment of our giving any such undertakings—as a general rule all monies received by any one in our offices are paid over to the cashier, but it often happens that we receive odd sums, not for ourselves, as on the completion of a purchase or mortgage deed, when large sums for a moment pass through our hands and go into the hands of the mortgagor or vendor—in such case it would not pass through the books at all—in that case, as in the case of this company, the costs would be deducted in the first instance—the prisoner was then I believe a total abstainer—he promised me when he entered my service that he would be, and I believe he was for a long time—he may have had to devote extra time to business during the absence of another clerk on his holidays—I have seen him there myself—I left early—before I went for my holidays something led me to suspect he was not keeping his pledge—when in Ireland I learned that he was not at the office and I returned at once—I telegraphed to his father that his son had disappeared—he telegraphed in reply that his son was in Liverpool, and that he (the father) would come up immediately and see me—he came that night—that was after the warrant Teas out—when I saw the prisoner he said evidently I did not know all the facts and wished me at once to send to his house and I should find my property there—he might have—meant the money, but I did not understand it—I wrote this letter to Mr. Howard,—the solicitor in this matter. This expressed a hope that the prisoner had not added to intemperance the greater crime of dishonesty, and stated that he wished to put the best construction on his conduct. This was Mr. Howard's reply. This was dated 28th October and stated that he had had an interview with Mr. Bowman, who gave a more favourable explanation of the matter; thai after, completing the Holderness purchase the prisoner had another to settle at Bolton, and having missed the train and Mr. Learoyd being away in Ireland, he went to Newmarket and was robbed of some money and his watch and chain and was detained in trying to recover them. I am still desirous of putting before the Court the best view that I can on his conduct—I think it was greatly attributable to his intemperance and to his going to Newmarket—the money found is in possession of the police.

WILLIAM GREEN (City Detective Sergeant). On 16th October I went to Liverpool and found the prisoner in custody at the Bridewell—I told him I was an officer from London and held a warrant for his arrest, and charged him with embezzling nearly 400l., and said he would have to return with me to London—he said "Yes, I went to Newmarket, I got drunk and was robbed of five fifties, one twenty, one ten, and one five pound Bank of England notes, and one ten pound National Bank note," and that he had given information the police there of the robbery, and after doing so had returned to his hotel, went to sleep and was robbed of his watch and chain—I said "There is a deed found at your house, is that Mr. Learoyd's?"—he said "Yes"—I brought him to London.

By THE COURT. He was sober, he had been in prison—we had. on Satur say, the 14th, wired the authorities, and on the Sunday, I received information that he was in custody—I left on the Monday.

Re-examined. I went to his house at Greenwich, on 18th October—I saw his wife—she showed me a trunk—she opened it with a key and I found nine deeds; a 300l. bank note, and 89l. in gold the money was in a envelope with Mr. Learoyd's name upon it.


20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-44
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude; Imprisonment

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44. GEORGE SMITH (23), and WILLIAM FISHER (22) , Feloniously assaulting one George Anderson, with intent to rob him.

MR. ATTENBOROUGH conducted the Prosecution.

GEORGE ANDERSON . I live" at 135, Homerton Street—on the evening of 17th October, I was at the Albion public-house, at about 11.50 or 11.55—the prisoners were in the same compartment—I took a sovereign out of my pocket in mistake for a shilling to pay for some ale—they could see it——I put it back into my pocket, pulled out a shilling, paid for the ale, drank it and came outside—I no sooner got outside them I received a blow in the eye, and one under the ear, and another in the mouth, and was knocked down' into the gutter—the knocked me about and kicked me—Burnam, a policeman, came up" and pulled Smith off me, and took him to the station—I went with him; I saw Fisher there—he was not taken at the same time—I charged Smith with assaulting me, and then I returned with a policeman—the public-house was closed; we were turning home and were in the Caledonian Road, and saw Fisher talking to a wench—I noticed that he had my hat on—it is a coal hat full of coal dust—I had Fisher's hat on—in the struggle I suppose he picked up mine and I his—I gave him in custody.

Cross-examined by Smith. I cannot remember whether you were lying on the form in the public-house—no words passed between us—I did not ask you to treat me—I did not say I would fight you for half a sovereign—I do not know who pulled you away—I was on the ground when the policeman police. man pulled your off—I did not strike you first.

WILLIAM BURNAM (Policeman Y 48). On the evening of 17th October I was in Albion Street, Caledonian Road, about 12 o'clock—I saw the prisoners come outside the Albion public-house and stand one on each side of the doorway—Anderson came out directly after—I was about 3 yards away—Smith then struck Anderson and knocked him down, and Fisher also struck him and fell on him—Smith then threw himself across Fisher, on top of both of them—I took hold of Smith and tried to pull him off, and found his left hand in Anderson's right-hand trousers pocket-while on the ground Anderson said "You b———thieves, you are trying to rob me "—I did not hear any reply—I took Smith into custody—he said to Fisher "Harry; you bolt; I'm caught"—Anderson then took out his purse and said "This is what you were after; this is my master's money," and shook it up in his face—I took Smith to the station and charged him—on returning with Anderson I found Fisher, with Anderson's hat on, standing talking to one of Smith's friends—I asked him how he became possessed of the hat—he said "Well, he has got my hat and I have got his"—I took hold of him—he said "I never tried to rob him; I only took hold of him by the whiskers."

Cross-examined by Smith. I was in Albion Street—you came out at the entre door, the Albion Street side—when I took you in custody you were

not by the wall talking, with your father holding you by one arm and a young woman by the other—you were on the top of Anderson and Fisher—I pulled you off.

The prisoners' statements before the Magistrate. Smith says:"On 17th October, between 11.30 and 12 o'clock at night, me, my father, my young woman, and the prisoner Fisher, went into the Albion to have some beer. I I had not been there long, and was lying on the form, when prosecutor came in and said "Are you going to treat me?"I said "No." He said "I will toss you for a pint." We had a few words and then he struck me first and went outside and said he would fight me for a sovereign. My father and young woman pulled me away and put me against the wall Then prosecutor turned round and struck Fisher and knocked him down, and was atop of him, and the policeman came up and took me in custody, This is an old spite he has against me. They will not let me get an honest living. Because I will not go out watching for the detective of the Y division he has put constables to watch against us." Fislier says: I was with this young man Smith. He had words with the man. He said he would fight him for half a sovereign, and both went outside. He knocked me down, and while he was over me I held him by his whiskers. As I got up some young man gave me the wrong hat, and as for attempting to rob prosecutor it was no such thing."

WILLIAM BURNAM (re-examined). Smith was sober—I did hot see any mark of blows on either of the* prisoners—Anderson was marked.

GUILTY . SMITH was further charged with a previous conviction in 1874, to which he PLEADED GUILTY**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude . FISHER— Six Months' Imprisonment .

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-45
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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45. JOHN MURPHY (22) , Feloniously killing and slaying Mary Ann Murphy.

MR. MEAD conducted the Prosecution.

CATHERINE BBOWN . I live at 1, Holloway Court, Whitechapel—on Sun day night, 12th November, I went to the door of prisoner's room, it was locked—I was talking to the deceased at the window—I went in by the door—she was alone—the prisoner went in at the same time—his brother-in-law and a man named Boyce were with him—he asked the deceased several times to go back to the christening from where they came—she refused, she said she was going to bed and would not go; she put her hand to take off her boot and the prisoner struck her in her mouth; she fell with her head on the floor, and the prisoner walked to the door—I picked her up in my arms and placed her head in my lap, and asked for a jug of water—tho prisoner got the water and gave it me—I gave her a drink and bathed her face and gave the jug back to the prisoner—I then stood her up on her feet—she said "Oh! Kitty, Kitty, Kitty," and dropped her head on my shoulder—then I found, her getting so heavy I was forced to let her go and her head struck the bedstead—the prisoner then said "Kitty, she is too heavy for you, let me get hold of her by the shoulders and you take her by the legs," and he helped me to put her in the bed—I said "For God's sake, go for a doctor"—he and Mary Ann Barry went, no doctor came whilst I was there—the woman died before I left the room, about half an hour after the blow was given—I cannot say whether it was before the prisoner went to the doctor—when she got so weighty in my arms I thought death was drawing nigh—she became weighty in my arms before her head struck the bedpost, she

seemed as if in a faint—when I stood her up and she exclaimed "Oh! Kitty, Kitty, Kitty" and dropped her head on my shoulder I looked at her face and she seemed all right, only her eyes were fixed at me—I could not hold her longer and I let her fall, and her head struct the bedstead, I did not see what part; it was a wooden bedstead; I heard the sound of the blow on the bedstead; she fell very heavy—when I let her fall and her head struck the bedstead the prisoner said "Oh, good God!"—she was a big, heavy woman rather, not so-tall as myself, but bigger.

By THE JURY. Prisoner struck her in the mouth when she was taking off her boot; he only gave her the one blow; whether she raised her head or not I cannot say; it was an open-handed smack; I could not say whether it was with the back or the front of his hand; her head struck the floor; she was just by the bed side; there was no carpet.

MARY ANN BARRY . I live at Garden Court, Whitechapel, on the first floor—the prisoner and his wife lived on the second floor—last Sunday week I went into the prisoner's room about 10 o'clock—Catherine Brown, Sarah Withers, and the prisoner and his wife were there—I heard a few angry words between the prisoner, and his wife and I came downstairs; the quarrel was something about the christening—she came home and he wanted her to go back; she said she would not—she was going to take off her boots—she was standing up near the bed—he struck her on the face with his fist and she fell backwards on the ground and laid there a few minutes—Brown and the prisoner picked her up and she seemed to turn all sorts of colours—Brown then said to him "You had better run for a doctor"—the prisoner helped to pick her up—that was before she was put into bed—he and I went for a doctor—I did not see her put into bed—I was not in the room when they lifted her and did not hear her fall with her head against the bedstead—when I came back they had her in bed, and she was dead—I was only away a few minutes—I said "Polly, I think she is dead"—she seemed to turn all manner of colours—I was there when she died; it was about ten or twenty minutes after the blow.

Cross-examined. I was there when she died—you and I went to Dr. Lomes—when I came back I thought she had life in her—the doctor, said that he could not come—we went to the corner of Wall Street and told a constable—he said "If he won't come for you, he won't for me"—you said you were going to state your case at the police-station, and when we came back she was dead.

By THE JURY. I am sure the prisoner struck her with his first, not his open hand—she was on the floor about five minutes before I went out—the prisoner said "Mary, won't you speak to me?" and she was-leaning on. Brown's shoulder—I said "Johnny, I'll run for your sister directly."

SARAH WITHERS . I live at 6, Garden Court, Whitechapel—I went into the prisoner's room about 10 o'clock last Sunday week, October 12th—the deceased was alone, but when I brought the key we all went in—she was sitting by the window—afterwards I returned with the prisoner, and Boyce and Brown—when I went into the the room the deoeased was sitting on the stool, and the prisoner said "Why don't you come up to the christening? come up and have a share of what's going on"—she said that she would not—he said "We have been up all the day, come"—she said she would not go up any more and began to unloose her boot sitting on the stool, and then he struck her on her mouth—his hand was shut I think; I did not exactly take notice—she fell backwards with the blow—we went out for a

jug of water, and he showed me where to get it, and he and Kitty Brown put her in bed because she was too heavy for Kitty, and Kitty let her fall, and her head got a great bash up against the bedpost—I stopped in the room; she died about ten minutes afterwards—he went to the doctor and when he returned she was dead.

Cross-examined. I don't know what she was sitting on at the time of the blow.

HENRY PAIN (Policeman H 184). I took the prisoner on the Monday about 8 o'clock p.m.—I charged him with causing the death of his wife—he said "I will tell you all about it; I struck her across the mouth and knocked her down," that they had been to a christening and she came home first and he followed after, that they had a few words; he wanted her to go back with him; she insisted on not going, and he struck her and she fell, and went for a doctor with the witness Barry—he said nothing to me about her knocking her head against the bedpost.

JAMES JOHN Ilott, M.R.C.S. I am medical officer to the "Whitechapel Union Infirmary—I examined the body of the deceased, about 10 o'clock on the Monday morning, about twelve hours after death—I found no bruise or mark of violence whatever—I made a post-mortem examination and found the vessels of the brain and of the scalp congested and an effusion of blood on the surface of the brain, the lungs and heart were both diseased, the cavity of the chest contained a large quantity of dropsical fluid, the lungs were bound down with fleurisy—the mark on the head may have been caused by a blow or a fall, or by a violent blow against the bedpost; she might survive five minutes or have died very soon—her heart was in a very diseased state.

By THE COURT. I have been in Court during the evidence—supposing she had a blow first with the hand, causing her to fall backwards and then appeared faint and changed colour; that afterwards she was lifted up and then fell violently against the bedpost; I should imagine it was the first occurrence that caused death; it might have been either, or from the first blow and the shock, when lifted up she was particularly feint; she was unable to speak—I cannot undertake to say that death may not have been caused by the subsequent blow.—


20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-46
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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46. MARY TYE (33) , felonously killing and slaying Samuel Groome.

MR. ST. AUBYN conducted the Prosecution.

JAMES STAMFORD (Police Inspector 7). I produce the deposition of Samuel Groome, deceased—I was present when they were taken—the prisoner was present, and had. an opportunity of cross-examining the deceased and he did so. Read, dated Great Northern Hospital, 5th November. Samuel Groome says:"On October 17th, I went home to bed, the prisoner came in afterwards and took hold of my trowsers to take some money, and began to hit me on the head and private parts, and blew the light out. I could not see if she hit me with any instrument, and I bled—I was in bed and it was after I got out that she struck me. The prisoner has threatened me before: Cross-examined by the Prisoner. When she came in I was in bed. I did not get out of bed with a broom to strike her. Some halfpence dropped out of my trowsers when she took hold of them. I did not use a rake to strike her; I did not knock her teeth out; I had had a quarrel with her in the course of the day."

MARY GENTRY . I live at 11, Milton Grove, Holloway—the prisoner and

and the deceased occupied two rooms in my house—we are lodgers altogether—on night of 17th October, the deceased came home and went to bed a little after 7 o'clock—the prisoner went up sometime after—she did not come down—I heard a scuffle on the landing and heard her use bad language—she said "You old sod you don't know me from man or woman for a month, look at the blood on your shirt"—she ran downstairs—the deceased came down and stood at the end of the bannister and groaned twice, and went down to shut the door—I heard nothing more till next morning, when I heard a conversation between the prisoner and a neighbour—the prisoner said that she was sorry he did not have it worse—I said "What a shame of Mrs. Tye, an old woman like her, to use such bad language"—she heard what I said and turned round—to me and said "If you say that again I'll knock both your b——eyes into one"—I said "I've got a child in my arms, don't do that"—some days afterwards, on the Friday, a little-boy came with a note—I was in the kitchen washing—I said to the little girl "Take that note up to Mrs. Tye for I am afraid Groome is in a very low state"—the prisoner came down and went to the hospital, and when she came back she said "My poor old man is dying"—I said "We are all old, we can't live for ever."

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The stains on his shirt were not from his teeth—my husband and my daughter, and a young woman were with me—you were only a few weeks in the house—my husband forbid me to speak to you.

SARAH JONES . I am the daughter of the last witness—I was in my mother's house on 17th October, when the prisoner went upstairs—I heard a scuffle near the landing—I did not hear her say anything while upstairs—I heard her use disgraceful language downstairs—she said "Look at the blood on your shirt."

DAVID LEWIS (Detective Officer Y). I took the prisoner on a warrant, on the evening of 4th November—I charged her with violently assulting Samuel Groome, who was then in the Great Northern Hospital—I read the warrant to her—she said "It's quite right"—she also said "I went to take his trowsers from the bed, some money fell out, he got out of bed and caught hold of them and followed me into the back room and hit me with a broom, and I caught hold of a rake and struck him"—I produce two rakes—she said "I don't know which it was of the two, but I believe it was the small one."

FREDERICK HEALES CARTER . I am house-surgeon at the Great Northern Hospital—on 17th October, a little before midnight the deceased was admitted—I examined him and found a large lacerated wound of the scrotum—it was not deep, but the skin was torn deeply—there was a large flap of the skin hanging down by a piece—it was torn right off from the purse, but not completely separated—it might have been done by an instrument like the rake produced—considerable violence must have been used—he got in flammation of the lungs, and died on 9th November—I made a post-mortem examination—I found the brain and membranes of the heart healthy—the cause of death was inflammation of the lungs—that would have been accelerated by the wounds he received—an old man with such wounds has to lie in bed a long time, and that in old people often causes a low state of inflammation of the lungs—in my opinion death was accelerated by the wound, and inflammation was the result of the weak state into which he, was brought by that wound.

Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate:"At dinner time I met father, and we had a pint of beer together. I told him I should be done early and be home early. I was at the street door when he came in. I said "How late you are." He went upstairs and got into bed. I went up into the back room and poured out a cup of tea. I went to pour myself out a cup of tea and then went into the front room and took up his trousers, and five penny pieces fell out of his trousers. I said "Is that all?" At that he was wild and got up and sat on the bed and beat me with the broom. I struck him with the rake. The teeth part was turned towards his stomach."

The prisoner, in her defence, stated that he knocked her teeth out and knocked her down at the least provocation and was very cruel in his passion, that he was stronger than her, and that she tried to lock him in, and the accident happened with the rake, but she did not know there had been an accident; that when he went downstairs she went and bolted herself in the closet, and a man afterwards said he had gone to the hospital; that she found the rake on the landing, and that she was all over bruises.

MARY GENTRY (re-called). There were no marks of violence on the prisoner when she came down—she got half drunk the next day.

GUILTY Twelve Months' Imprisonment .

NEW COURT—Monday, November 27th, 1876.

Before Mr. Baron Hawkins.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-47
VerdictNot Guilty > no evidence

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47. FRANCES REYNOLDS (35), was indicted for unlawfully publishing a false, scandalous, and malicious libel upon John Henry Stewart Reed . Upon the. prisoner undertaking not to repeat the offence, Mr. Harris, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.


THIRD COURT—Monday, November 27th, 1876.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-48
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation
SentenceNo Punishment > sentence respited

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48. WILLIAM BAILEY (29) (a policeman), was indicted for wilful and corrupt perjury.

MESSRS. BESLEY and HORACE AVORY conducted the Prosecution; and MESSRS. HARRIS and THORNE COLE the Defence.

SARAH BROWN . I am single, and live with my father at 18, Hinton Street, Pimlico—I have for some little time past been engaged to be married to a Mr. Henry Newman, who assists his brother in a hosier's shop in Chapel Street, about opposite to the Castle public-house—no female lives in the house, and on that account I am in the habit of walking outside the shop and meeting him—this is with my father's knowledge and Mr. Newman's parents' too—on Wednesday, 18th October, I went to meet Mr. Newman as usual—it was 9.35 when I left home—I got into an omnibus at Victoria Station and rode to the Marylebone Road—I went to the end of the Marylebone Road into the Edgware Road, and walked to the corner of Chapel Street, where I stood quite still—I was standing on the path, near the Castle public-house, which is in Chapel Street—I had turned the corner, and was waiting for Mr. Newman—I had been standing there for about two minutes, and had not spoken to anyone since I left home—the prisoner came up in uniform and said "What do you want?" or "Move on;" I am not certain of the words—I told him I was waiting for a friend—he said "What are you? you are only a common prostitute"—I told him that he

was mistaken; that I was no such thing—I walked away in the direction of the Marylebone Road, the same way I had come—I caught sight of Mr. Schwenck and Mr. Bramhall before I went away, a few yards off, behind me—no disturbance of any sort had taken place up to that time in Chapel Street that I saw, nor had I been engaged in any—the policeman came behind me and took hold of the back of my neck with both hands—I began to scream and struggled to get away from him—my shawl was torn off and my hat knocked off—I did not know who it was when he first seized, me—I was not aware of his being behind-me—some other constables came up, and one of them took me to the station—I think I said "I have done nothing"—they were in uniform—I did not see anything of Mr. Schwenck at that time, but Mr. Bramhall put my hat on my head—I saw it was the same young man I had seen with Mr. Schwenck—I did not notice anything about the prisoner's helmet—at the police-station Inspector Scriven was on duty—I was put in the police-yard, and was then put into the dock with Mr. Schwenck—I never knew Mr. Schwenck before, nor had I seen him to my knowledge, or Mr. Bramhall—the prisoner then charged me with being a disorderly person and fighting with a woman in Chapel Street that was in answer to the inspector I believe—the inspector then read the charge over—I did not say anything—I did not know I might speak—I was very frightened—the inspector-asked—the prisoner where the other woman was, and he said she had gone away or he could not find her, I don't know which—I think the inspector said "Why did you bring her here then?" meaning me, and he said "Because she would not go away—I saw Mr. Bramhall there—I believe he spoke to the inspector, and the inspector told him to sit down—I was then locked up in a cell—when I got to the cell door I told the inspector I had done nothing, and he said "You should have told me that when I charged you; you must tell that before the Magistrate in the morning"—I believe he asked me if the address 1 had given him was correct—subsequently my father came and bailed me out, about 12.45 in the morning—on the following morning I surrendered at the police-court, when I was charged with being a disorderly person and creating a disturbance in Chapel Street—Mr. Schwenck was charged with me—he was charged with assaulting the police in the execution of duty—we were both put in the dock together, and the two charges were heard together—the prisoner was called and sworn as a witness—I believe I saw him sworn on the Testament by the usher—I heard him give his ervidence on this charge—he said that I was fighting with another woman in Chapel Street, and "When I told her to go away she said she would bring a better man than me to fight me," and, speaking of Schwenck, he said he struck him on the back of the head and "knocked my helmet off," I think—Bramhill was afterwards examined as a witness—the Magistrate said "Was she fighting?" and the prisoner said "Yes, she was"—I gave my account of the occurrence and was discharged—I was not riotous or disorderly in Chapel Street, or quarelling or fighting with any other woman, nor did I say to the prisoner I would bring a better man than him to fight him—I do not know anything about what Mr. Schwenck did.

Cross-examined by Mr. Harris. When I first got to. Chapel Street I should say it was about 10.10—I believe it is a bad neighbourhood and a crowded place—it was not near the railway-station where I was standing, I was quite alone, standing perfectly still, and had been so for. about two minutes when the prisoner came up—I had not seen what took place just

before I came up—he said "What do you want?" or "Movo on," I cannot say which—I told him I was waiting for a friend, and intended walking away—he then said "Why, what are you? you are only a common prostitute"—he did not say "Although you are waiting for a friend, you must move on"—I did not call him a "thing"—I did not say "I will not move on for a thing like you "—I was not excited until he insulted me; when he called me a prostitute I was not excited—I told him he was mistaken—I did not refuse to move on or threaten to slap his face, I am quite sure of that—I did not say "I shall go no further, and I will smack your face if you do not go away," or anything of the sort—he did not then say "I must take you into custody"—when I was walking away several persons came along passing by—he did not take hold of my left arm—he did not touch me until I turned into the Marylebone Road and then he caught me by the neck—I did not then drop down—I did not see Schwenck in the crowd, not till I was put in the dock at the station—I saw him with Bramhall when the policeman first spoke to me—I did not see Schwenck strike him on the back of his head and knock his helmet off; I do not know whether his helmet was knocked off—I did not complain at the station or make any charge against the prisoner of having assaulted me—I heard another policeman say that he saw Schwenck strike the prisoner—I was not dressed the same as now, I had a gray cross-over on—I have seen an advertisement in "The Daily Telegraph," which my father put into my hands—I believe the society authorised it to be put in. (Bead:"The charge against a policeman at Marylebone. The two young men and. young woman who were spoken to by a policeman at the corner of Lisson Street on Wednesday, 18th October, about 10 p.m., when one made use of the expression 'I don't like such nasty snacks as that,' are earnestly requested to communicate with the Associate Institution for the Protection of Women, 30, Cockspur Street, Charing Cross. H. J. Newman, secretary."

Re-examined. I heard the solicitor to the defendant at the police-court say he had a man as a witness who used the expression "I do not like such nasty snacks as that," and that his name was Bowditch, but when called he did not appear—then the advertisement was put in—when the other policeman came up in the road I did not hear the prisoner say anything to them I did not make a charge of assault at the station, because I did not know I should be allowed to speak—I did not telegraph to my father; I am indebted to Inspector Scriven for that.

HENRY SCHWENCK . I am a baker, of 75, Crauford Street, and work for my brother—I am twenty-one years of age—about 10 o'clock on Wednesday night, 18th October, I was with my friend, William Arthur Bramhall, passing down Chapel Street towards home and the Marylebone Road—I saw a policeman in uniform and I also noticed two young men and a young woman on the Lisson Street side of the railway-station—Lisson Street intersects Chapel Street and goes into the Marylebone Road—there was no fighting between women going on at that time—I afterwards ascertained that the prisoner was the man my attention was directed to—the persons I noticed were standing still—I heard one of the young men say to the prisoner that he did not like such nasty snacks as that and they walked away on the opposite side of Lisson Street; the station end, away from the Marylebone Road—the prisoner went on the opposite side, following them down Lisson Street—in consequence of what I had observed I watched him narrowly from that moment—he returned on the opposite side into Chapel

Street, towards the Marylebone Road—he had to cross the road—he walked on the pavement on the same side as the Castle public house, at the corner of the junction between Chapel Street and the Marylebone Road—there was no disturbance of any kind going on in the street at that time—up to that time, as far as I know, I had never seen Miss Brown in my life—I first noticed her standing on the kerb opposite the Castle, going the opposite side of the road on which Mr. Newman's shop is—there—were no women near her—the prisoner went up to her and began talking to her, and presently I heard her say "I will let you know who I am "—I did not hear what he said to her—she spoke in a very indignant manner—two or three people began to get round and some young man advised her to go away, and she was doing so—she had just turned into the Marylebone Road when the prisoner went behind her and caught her by the back of the neck forcing her along for about 10 yards with his hands—she screamed very loudly and I went up to the policeman and said "Don't handle the girl so roughly as that"—he would not let go so T. took hold of bis arm and pulled it off her neck—I did not notice her hat and shawl—more constables off duty came across the road and the prisoner said "Hold that man; he has struck me on the back of the neck"—I did not strike a blow from first to last—I was carried off to the police-station leaving Miss Brown in. the constable's hands—she was kept in the yard—nearly a quarter of an hour before she was put in the dock with me—Inspector Soriven was engaged with some other parties in the yard at the time—when I was in the dock with her I heard the Inspector ask the prisoner whose charge it was—he said that it was his—that she had been disorderly and fighting with another woman in Chapel Street, and that I had struck him on the back of the neck, knocking his helmet off—I was" locked up and was let out on bail ten minutes or a quarter of an hour after—I surrended the following morning before Mr. Mansfield and was put in the dock on the case coming on—I saw the prisoner go "into the witness box—he was sworn—he said that Miss Brown was disorderly and fighting another woman in Chapel Street, and that when he told her to move on she said she would bring a better man than him to do for him, or some such words as that, and that I had struck him on the back of the neck—I made my statement and Miss Brown hers—Mr. Bramhall was then called as a witness—I think Mr. Mansfield asked the prisoner where the other woman was—I was discharged—his statements that Miss Brown was disorderly and quarrelling or fighting with another woman and that I struck him were all untrue.

Cross-examined by Mr. T. Cole. I have known Bramhall, ever since I was a child—I was going with him towards my home from the Edgware Road, and had been to have a glass of ale at the Red Lion, where I had been for about a quarter of an hour—before that I had been to the swimming baths—when he came to the corner of Chapel Street, and Lisson Street, we saw the prisoner and two young men and a young woman; I have seen the advertisement in "The Daily Telegraph" for the two young men and young woman—I do know them—I have not seen them before or since; I saw the prisoner talking to them for three or five minutes; I saw them walk away together' down Lisson Street, and the prisoner followed—he came back and went down Chapel Street, and Bramhall and I followed him, and were about 20 yards off at that point, when we saw the prisoner come up—after something had taken place we saw Miss Brown turn round indignantly—I could distinctly hear her say "I will let you know who I am "—I did not

hear the constable use the word "prostitute," several people collected; some one advised her to go away, and she said "What have I done?—I am waiting for someone;" she subsequently went away and the people walked along by her side—I stated that upon oath—I pulled the constable's hand from the young woman's neck; I did not see his helmet fall off, or see it off at all—I will not swear that it was not off—my mother came to the station to bail me out—I did not leave in Bramhall's company; I did not hear Bramhall say to the inspector, alluding to me, "All he did was to give him a shove"—I recollect my cross-examination at the police-court—I remember saying "In consequence of her refusal to move a crowd of from ten to twelve persons collected "—and also "I did not hear him tell her to move on "—I did not hear him—I said "I heard her say she was waiting for someone; she did not move; she stood there, having a few words with the constable "—I know that neighbourhood tolerably well; Chapel Street is not quite so bad as some of the streets about there—the houses in Suffolk Street, Hertford Street, and so on, are amongst the worst in London, for persons of ill-fame, prostitutes, and so on—I do not know that the inhabitants of Chapel Street and the neighbourhood are constantly complaining to the police of the' disturbances and prostitutes on the spot, or that the railway company have over and over again complained.

Re-examined. I was 20 yards off when I first saw the prisoner speaking to the young woman—there was no one else near her then—she went away when advised to do so—I did not hear her refuse to move—when I said "In consequence of her refusal," at the police-court, it was in cross-examination, and I afterwards explained that I meant she stood still—they put the word "refusal" to me in cross-examintation—she did actually move and he followed her, and seized her in the way described.

WILLIAM ARTHUR BRAMHALL . I am a time keeper, in the employ of the Great Western Railway Company—on the evenings in question I was with the last witness in Chapel Street, returning homeward, we had previously been to the Red Lion public-house, and to the swimming baths—on going down Chapel Street, I saw the prisoner at the corner of Lisson Street with two young men and a young woman, I heard one of the young men say he did not like such nasty snacks as that—he walked across the road up Lisson Street, and the prisoner followed them—he then crossed the road again into Chapel Street, and went down towards the Marylebone Road—we were walking behind him then—we stood on the opposite side of the road before that—he went up to Miss Brown standing at the corner by the Castle public-house—no one was near her at that time—the street was clear, only a few passers by on the opposite side of the way—as we walked by I heard Miss Brown say she would let him know who she was—he was standing quite close to Miss Brown—we went a few yards further on—we turned round to see what he was going to do, seeing he was interfering—Miss Brown must have walked on, because she passed us again by the Marylebone Road—some one advised her to go away—she was just at the corner of the Marylebone Road, and he walked quickly behind her—she was in the middle of the road when he caught her by the throat, like that (describing), she screamed a good deal but did not struggle—her hat was hanging by the elastic—I went up to her and told her not to scream so, that everything would be right—Schwenck walked up to the prisoner and told him not to use the girl so roughly as that, as she had done nothing—I did not see what he did then—I was telling Miss Brown not to scream so—a few passers by came into the middle of the

road—I did not see Schwenck strike the constable—I should say he did not—the prisoner's helmet was on at that time—I saw some one pick it up some time after and give it him—I did not see it come off—I saw Schwenck taken into custody—I heard the prisoner say "Hold that man, he has struck me "Miss Brown kept on saying "I have done nothing; I have done nothing!" I went to the police-station with them—the inspector asked me what I wanted, in the prisoner's hearing, and I said "I have come to see my friend righted "—he pointed to a chair and told me to sit down, in a very surly manner—I sat down as he told me—I had never seen Miss Brown before—I went to the police-court the next day and I gave my evidence as I have given it to-day, and the charge was dismissed—I heard the prisoner say in his evidence at the police-court that, Miss Brown was fighting and riotous and disorderly, with another woman, and that she said she would find a better man than him to fight him, and that Schwenck had struck him on. the back of the neck—none of which was true—I was not near enough to hear her say she would "find a better man "—I was under the impression then, that she said something about smacking his face as we walked by her—I do not know exactly what she said.

Cross-examined by Mr. Harris. I did swear at the police-court the next day that I heard Miss Brown say she would smack the prisoner's face—I bad no doubt then that I swore the truth—I did not hear the prisoner say he was put there to prevent people collecting—I did not see Schwenck catch hold of the prisoner—I swore the next morning "I believe Schwenck caught hold of the constable by the hand "—he told me that he did, but I did not see him—the helmet was off—I said before the Magistrate the next morning that it got knocked off on Miss Brown trying to adjust her shawl and hat—I did not see her knock—it off—Schwenck told me that he never struck the constable, and because of that I swore I believed the girl knocked it off—I remember Schwenck's mother came to bail him out at the police-station—I said to Inspector Scriven that the policeman had been drinking—I did not say that all that Schwenck had done was to shove the constable—, I swear that.

Re-examined. The helmet was off and—someone trod on it—he put it on again—Miss Brown appeared to be fainting—her shawl was hanging just a little bit on one shoulder—I believed the next morning that I heard her use the expression that she would smack his face, my belief now is that she did not say that—Miss Brown has said so herself—I was at the police-court when Miss Brown and all the witnesses were there—I was called in after Miss Brown—I did not hear her give evidence.

WILFRED TATE . I am the chief clerk at the Marylebone police-court, and was on duty on Thursday, 19th October—I took notes of the night charges in the usual way—(charge-sheet produced and read), I do not take word for word notes of the night charges, but short notes—I saw the prisoner sworn and I took down "At 10 o'clock last night I saw the defendant Brown quarrelling with another woman, I told her to go away, she refused, and I took her into custody. On the way to the station Schwenck came behind me and struck me a blow on the back of the neck "—That is all the note I have of Bailey's evidence—after Bramhall gave his evidence, Mr. Mansfield said to the prisoner "Do I understand you to say she was fighting?" and he said "Yes"—I have no doubt of that.

Cross-examined by Mr. Harris. It occupied a very short time—I suppose the Magistrate cross-examined him into saying "fighting," instead of "quarrelling"

—I think one of the witnesses said something about it, and Mr. Mansfield said "Do I understand you that she was fighting?" and then it was he said this.

Re-examined. I am not prepared to say positively that he did not use the word "fighting" before Mr. Mansfield put any question on the subject—I do not think I heard it or I should have put it down—I do not think it was said.

FREDERICK ENGLEDOW . I live at Holme Street, Marylebone, with my father—on the night in question I heard a scream and ran up the street, and I saw the prisoner had hold of Miss Brown; he had his hands on her shoulders—he had his helmet on then—I saw Schwenck taken into custody by policeman D 141—I had not seen him do anything—I heard Miss Brown say "I have done nothing; I have done nothing."

THOMAS SCRIVEN (Police Inspector D). On the evening in question I was on duty at the Marlborough Street police-station—at 10.20 Sarah Brown and Henry Schwenck were brought in by defendant, D 171, and D 141—he said he charged her with being disorderly and creating a disturbance in Chapel Street, and fighting with another woman—I asked him where the other woman was and he said she had got away. (The witness deposition was read to him, and confirmed.)

Cross-examined by MR. HARRIS. Not a single word of complaint was made by either Miss Brown, Schwenck, or his friend Bramhall, of any ill-treatment on the part of the constable—I remember Schwenck's mother coming to bail him out; Bramhall was in my office—I said to him "It is a great pity that young men should go and get themselves into these disgraceful quarrels?"—he said "We have done nothing"—I said "What do you mean, done nothing? "and he said "The young woman did nothing, only threatened to slap the constable's face, and all Schwenck did was to give him a bit of a shove "—Chapel Street and all the neighbourhood is the worst part of London, infested with thieves and prostitutes—we have had numerous complaints from the railway people—the superintendent has gone there himself to see what is going on—I should say where this took place is about 60 yards from the railway-station, it may be more, but I question whether it is—we have also many complaints from the respectable inhabitants of the neighbourhood as to disorderly persons assembling—it was not the prisoner's duty alone to prevent persons assembling, but every man's and they would have special instructions to do so—the clock struck 10 o'clock as I marched the seventy-five men out for relief—the prisoner was perfectly sober when he came into the station—a few minutes after 11 o'clock, after Schwenck had been released from custody on bail I went to see him again to satisfy myself that I was not mistaken; he had been nearly five years in the force and was a very quiet, harmless, and inoffensive, good-tempered man—the duties of a constable in that neighbourhood are very onerous and arduous to perform.

Re-examined. The prisoner said "She tried to slap my face," so that Bramhall would have heard his statement before he said "All she had done was to threaten to slap the constable's face"—I have a knowledge of Ratcliffe Highway and Fleur-de-Lis Street, and the Dusthole, Woolwich; I should say the whole neighbourhood was not worse than Fleur-de-Lis Street—I did not take Miss Brown for a disorderly prostitute, I never made that mistake—it is a shortened beat near the railway-station—he had no special instructions beyond what they all had doing duty in that particular street.

By THE COURT. There are many persons charged at my police-station; I

have taken as many as twenty charges during the twelve hours I have been on duty, not only prostitutes, but many respectable persons, for disorderly conduct, particularly on a Sunday evening.

WILLIAM CHARLES BROWN . I am a trunkmaker, of 18, Hinton Street—my daughter, who is nineteen years of age, lives with me—her acquaintance with Mr. Henry Newman is known to her family and to his, it is with my permission.

The following Witnesses were called for the Defence.

CLEMENT SENIOR . I am a tailor, of 127, Seymour Place—on the night in question I was coming flown Chapel Street' from the Edgware Road about 9.50 or 9.49—I saw some women at the corner of Lisson Street apparently quarrelling with each other, pushing or striking each other, and using angry language; it was a street row—the prisoner went to the women and separated them; he then followed one towards the Edgware Road, and then returned, when I saw Miss Brown standing at the other side of the street—he went up to her and said "Now, miss, you must move on," pointing towards the Marylebone Road, desiring her to go the reverse way to the other woman—she said "I am waiting for a friend "—he said "I can't help that, I am placed here to prevent women from loitering about"—she went on a little further and then turned round and said "I shan't go "—then she went a little further and gradually went on towards the bottom of the street and said "I shan't go, I am waiting for a better man-than you, who would soon make you take yourself off," and then she proceeded a little further towards the bottom of the street by a public-house there, I don't know the name—previously to her getting to the bottom of the street a young man said "You had better go, you will get into trouble, miss"—when she got to the bottom of the street opposite to the public-house she turned round and said "I shan't go any further for a thing of a policeman like you; I shall smack your face for you "—there were a number of persons about, twenty or thirty; I should call it a crowd—the prisoner then said "I must take you into custody," and he took hold of her left arm with his left hand and placed his right hand upon her shoulder—she screamed then—she attempted to fall down; she looked as though she was falling down—her hat slipped off, but what became of it I don't know—more people approached, hearing the screams—Mr. Schwenck then came up and said "Leave her alone; let her go "in a quick manner—the prisoner still kept hold of her and Schwenck struck the prisoner behind about here (at the back of the head), which caused his helmet to fall off—another policeman came up and took Schwenck in custody—the police used no violence whatever.

Cross-examined by Mr. Besley. I could not have acted more gently myself—he could not have spoken more quietly or nicely to her—from the time he said "Now, miss, you must move," I heard all—I swear I did not hear him say "You are a common prostitute "—I was not examined at the police-court—I read of this case last Sunday week—I am a voluntary witness—I sent to Mr. Berkeley, the solicitor, last Friday week—I know Schwenck—I read in the paper of Schwenck being charged on the 19th October—I saw him taken into custody—Mr. Berkeley is the first person to whom I stated I would give evidence—I hare not got a beer-shop—it is a beer-shop where I carry on business—sometimes policemen come into the beer-shop in uniform and have what they want—sometimes I see them—Miss Brown was in Chapel Street, the Edgware Road side of" Lisson Street, when the occurrence first took place—I cannot swear to Miss Brown individually

—I did not take sufficient notice then—the woman I have been talking about is the one that was taken into custody—I mean Miss Brown—the person who was taken into custody on the Edgware Road side of Lisson Street was very much like Miss Brown, but I cannot swear to her being the same—she was in the crowd when she objected to move on—he separated the two women—I supposed it was Miss Brown I afterwards saw taken into custody—she had moved to the opposite corner when he said "Now, miss, you must move on"—he divided the women and followed one up the Edgware Road, and when he came back one of them (I suppose it was one of the same) was standing at the corner of Lisson Street—there are two corners to the street, and she moved to the opposite side—there is a wall this side and a tailor's the other, the name of Bishop—I swear that at the corner of Lisson Street, on the public-house side, there was a woman to whom he said "Now, miss, move on," and I kept her under observation; following within a few yards—I swear it was the same person who was taken into custody in Chapel Street—it might have been a dozen yards away from the corner of the Marylebone Road, or a yard or two more—it was opposite the public-house—I do not swear that Schwenck did not say "Don't treat the girl so roughly; she has done nothing"—I heard her say "Let me go; I have done nothing "—I did not see two young men and a young woman to whom the prisoner spoke, or hear one of them say to him in return "I don't like such nasty snacks as that," or see them go down Lisson Street and the prisoner following within a few yards—the police-court is in Seymour Place, three turnings off the beer-shop, perhaps 250 yards—the beer shop is not just opposite—it was kept by my wife's father, but he is dead—it was left to my wife by the executors, but the affairs are not settled yet—I had been to the City that night, and I came home by the underground railway to Chapel Street—I got in at King's Cross—I tried to find a friend of mine who lived in the neighbourhood—I went to see a friend in Gracechurch Street, an omnibus driver who I knew from a lad; one of Mr. Ball's omnibuses from Brixton—I went into one public-house at the corner of Eastcheap with this bus driver, just before six o'clock—from there I went to Finsbury to try and find a friend—I proceeded through the City and called to see a friend of mine who lives in some large buildings I forget the name of, an umbrella maker—I went in there and spoke to him—I then went to King's Cross station and there saw another friend and had another glass of ale.

Re-examined. I daresay the beer-house will come to me—it was after the row that I saw the young woman at the opposite corner of the street—I saw an account in the paper of Schwenck being taken in custody and being brought before the Magistrate, and Mr. Berkeley's name who is well known in the Marylebone Road, upon which I sent to him—I was not got by any advertisement.

By THE COURT. I do not know a draper's shop in Chapel Street of the name of Newman—I only know of Johnson's at the Edgware Road end.

MARGARET BROWN . I am married and live at 5, Eyeworth Street, Marylebone—my husband works for the parish—I was in Chapel Street at about 9.45 or 9.50 on the night in question—I saw a mob of twenty or thirty people at the corner of Lisson Street and went up to see what was the matter, and I saw two women fighting, or in the act of fighting, and saw a constable, who I believe is the prisoner—I stopped there for a bit before he came up—he came up and separated them, and followed one towards the Edgware Road,

and the other went another way—he came back and I stood to listen to the conversation, and he told me to move on as well, and I went towards my own home—I am a stranger to all parties in this case—when. I got as far as the bridge that the railway passes over I heard a scream as from a female—I should have given evidence before the Magistrate, but was laid on a sick bed and could not go—my husband read the case to me in the news-paper and I communicated with Mr. Berkeley the solicitor—that is how I came to know about it.

Cross-examined by Mr. Besley. That was Friday week—I have not received a penny front the prisoner, I never spoke to him last Wednesday—I had two half-crowns from Mr. Berkeley, which the prisoner gave me—my husband is a scavenger—I was coming from Notting Hill, and walked down Chapel Street to Lisson Street—I did not see two young men and a young woman, or hear one young man say" I don't like such nasty snacks as that"—to the best of my knowledge both the women I saw. bad hats on—I did not notice whether they had shawls—I did not hear the prisoner speak to the person who was afterwards taken into custody.

Re-examined. Mr. Berkeley called on me at my house and gave me a subpoena and the conduct money to bring me here—I had no money of my own to spend.

JOSEPH RUTHERFORTH . I live at 107, Prince's Street, Edgware Road, and am a butcher's assistant—I was in Chapel Street on the night in ques tion at about 9.50, and saw five or six young women assembled at the corner of Lisson Street and Chapel Street, in the middle of the road, talking together—the prisoner came up and requested them to move on—one moved on towards Edgware Road, and he followed on behind—he came back, and there were about four standing there together again, and he again requested them to move on—he said he was placed there to request people to move on away from Chapel Street and the Edgware Road—one moved on towards the Marylebone Road, and he followed behind, and she said she would not move on for such a thing of a policeman as him—I cannot swear to the person—I think I should know her if I saw her again—(looking at Miss Brown) she was very much like her—she said "I will let you know who I am," and went on down Chapel Street, and turned round-about twice and said "I will let you know who I am," and she followed on towards Marylebone Road—the prisoner came behind her; and caught hold of her by the left arm, with his right hand in the middle of her back, and when they went towards the station she went down on her knees and he caught hold of her with his right hand under her arm and lifted her on her legs—I saw Schwenck in the Marylebone Road strike the prisoner on the back of neck—I did not see his helmet knocked off.

Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. That was at the time and at the place that the prisoner was holding the young woman—I did not hear anyone say "Don't handle her so roughly"—I should think he handled her very nicely—I was in the employ of Mr. Webber, a butcher, of Edgware Road—I have not been employed there for six months—I have been jobbing now and then—if I have seen anything wanting to be done I have put myself forward to help the police—I don't know that they call me the amateur detective—it was one out of the five or six women that said "I shan't go away for a thing of a policeman like you "—Miss Brown was dressed in a light overcoat or Ulster at the police-court—on the night in question she was dressed in black—I heard a young man say "I don't like such nasty

snacks as that"—I was asked at the police-court and I said I did not hear it—I have not said just now that I did hear it—I was at the police-court three or four times—I was told that the prisoner was summoned—I did not say at the police-court that I did not know the name or number of the constable who asked me to go as a witness—I did not know his number—I cannot recollect the number of him now—I cannot think of his name—I should know him by sight if I saw him—the prisoner and another constable never came to my house every day—I went up to the police court—I am sure the prisoner did not speak to me when I went—Mr. Berkeley was the first who asked me to come—this is my signature to my depositions (Read:" A constable, whose name and number I do not know, asked me to come here. I met that constable accidentally in the Edgware Road on Thursday last week. I did not know the policeman was summoned before that time. I was told he was summoned on the Thursday. I should think it was a Thursday when I met the constable. I think he was on duty at the cab rank.")

Re-examined. I was cross-examined by Mr. Besley at the police-court for about three-quarters of an hour—he tried to puzzle me as much as he could, something in the same style he has been doing to day—I am subject to fits and unable to be in constant employ—I suppose altogether. I have been six years in the employ of Mr. Webber off and on.

JAMES SELLER (Policeman 141). I was on duty in the Marylebone Road on the night in question and I saw a crowd in Chapel. Street, I went to see what was the matter and saw 171 D (the prisoner) with Sarah Brown in custody—he had hold of her by the arm and I saw Schwenck strike him at the back of the head with his right fist, which knocked his helmet off—he sprawled forward and his hand touched the ground I don't know who picked his helmet up.

Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I was present before Mr. Mansfield when the charge was made by the prisoner, and Miss Brown and Mr. Schwenck were in the dock—I said then that he was pretty near knocked down—I swear his hand actually came on the road—I swore that I never heard fighting mentioned—I went on duty at 6 o'clock.

By THE COURT. I was coming off at 10 o'clock.

JAMES HARVEY . I live at 10, Harrow Street, and am a dealer in horse flesh—I was in Chapel Street about 9.45 on that night, and went to the corner of Lisson Street, where I saw a disorderly mob—the prisoner came up and dispersed them—some went one way and he drove some towards the Edgware Road, and after two or three minutes he came back where some others were standing, and I heard one man say he did'nt like such nasty snacks as that—I did not notice them before—when the prisoner came up towards the Marylebone Road, there were several ladies there dressed very much alike—I won't positively swear to Miss Brown specifically—I heard the prisoner tell one of the women there to go on or he would take her in custody—she said she should'nt move on for such a thing of a constable as him, and if he laid his hand on her, she would let him know who she was—she said she was waiting for a friend of hers, and as she stood there other people kept stopping—he said "You must move on, I am put here to do my duty and do it I must"—she said she should not move on for such a thing as him, and if he touched her she would smack his face, or some such thing as that—he laid hold of her by the right arm when I saw him, and a mob of people got round directly then—I then left.

Cross-examined by Mr. Besley. She was standing quite still in Chapel Street when taken into custody—I told Mr. Mansfield the same at the police court—I was instructed by Mr. Berkeley to tell my own story, without any question being put to me—I don't think I left out any allusion to the expression "I shan't move on for such a thing as you "—I was not asked about smacking his face—I omitted that—I am not intimate with police officers—three constables do not come to my house constantly, nor do we have a glass of ale together once or twice a month; not always—I invited myself to come as a witness of my own free will—a policeman called at my house about a fortnight before I was examined at the police-court, and I told him what I had seen—I think I mentioned about the "nasty snacks" at the police-court——it was cross-examined from me—the young man who said it went along Lisson Street—I am not aware that the prisoner followed him—I believe Miss Brown was dressed in black—I said she is very like the person—I cannot swear that the shawl produced is the one she wore—I cannot swear it was dark—I do not deny it is the shawl. The witnesses deposition stated that three constables came to his house once or twice a month, and they sometimes had a glass of ale together.


Strongly recommended to mercy on account of his previous good character— Judgment respited .

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-49
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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49. ALFRED DAVIS (22), PLEADED GUILTY before the Common Serjeant on Monday, to a burglary in the dwelling-house of Charles Argent, after a previous conviction— Two years' Imprisonment. '


Before Mr. Justice Denman.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-50
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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50. THOMAS PARK (30) , Feloniously setting fire to four stacks of corn and a stack of straw, the property "of Daniel Tampion.

MR. C. E. JONES conducted the Prosecution; and MR. ST. AUBYN defended the prisoner at the request of the Court.

DANIEL TAMPION . I am a farmer, and live at Markstay—on the 6th September last, I was awoke up early in the morning and found my stacks were all on fire; they consisted of two barley stacks, two wheat stacks, and a straw stack, and there were also two waggons or vans which stood between the stacks just as they had done harvesting, and some ladders, ropes, and all kinds of things—the stacks stood about a quarter of a mile from my house, and about 4 or 5 yards from the road—the straw stack stood nearest the road and the others stood all in a row—when I got there they were all on fire—I was insured, the damage done we considered to be between 400l. and 500l.—I did not see anything of the prisoner; I think the fire began at a straw stack—it was 12.20 when I was called, and the stacks had been on fire for sometime.

WILLIAM EDWARD FORD . I am a sergeant in the Colchester borough police—on Wednesday, the 6th September, a few minutes after two in the morning, I saw the prisoner outside the police-station; that would be somewhere about 5 miles from the fire—he said "Sergeant, I have met with an accident"—I asked him "What kind of an accident?"—he said "I have accidentally set fire to a haystack; I sat down on the bank by the side of the road to light my pipe and threw the lucifer over my shoulder "—I took him into the police-station, and in about an hour an inspector came in—I then

took him to the county police-station—on going there he said "I never knew that the stack was on fire until I felt the warmth at my back "—he was sober; I was in uniform—I handed him over to the superintendent of the County police, and stated the case to the superintendent in his presence—he then said that he saw someone come out of the house not dressed, and that he then left and came on to Colchester—he said that he attempted to put the fire out, but the wind was too strong and the fire ran all over the stacks—he looked very wild and very frightened—the night was windy and wet.

WILLIAM NORFOLK . I live at Markstay—on the evening of the 5th September, about 7.40 or 7.45 p.m., I saw the prisoner—he was in the same jacket that he has on now—it was a soldier like him—it was dark when I met him, and it was about 150 yards from the fire.

Cross-examined. It was a man dressed the same as the prisoner is now, but I cannot swear to the man.

GEORGE CHURCH . I am a fanner at Markstay, I was out late on Tuesday night, 5th September, and was near the scene of this fire about 12 o'clock—I did not see any fire then, nor did I see anyone in the road—it was very light; I must have seen anyone if they had been in the road.

WILLIAM RAVEN . I am a police sergeant, stationed at Great Cogglesshall, Essex—that is about five miles from Markstay—I was on duty on the night of the 5th September—my attention was drawn to a light in the sky—I looked for a second or two and saw it was a fire—I then looked at my watch and it was 12.25—I went to the fire—there was a great blaze then, and it must have been blazing for some time before—one side of the stack may get very hot before there is a very great blaze.

MR. JONES proposed to give evidence of a previous fire with which the prisoner was connected, for the purpose of shewing that the present fire was not so likely to have been accidental, and cited the case of the "Queen v. Anthony," Sessions papers, vol. 64, page 543; also the case of the "Queen v. Balls," 40th Law Journal, Magistrates Cases, page 150; Mr. St. Aubyn objected to the evidennce as not relevant to the present issue; but Mr. Justice Denman considered the matter of sufficient importance to admit the evidence, and would reserve it if necessary.

WILLIAM WALKER . I am superintendent of the Kent constabulary, stationed at Canterbury—I know the prisoner—about 11.15 on the night of the 22nd August last I was called to a fire in Hollow Lane, near Canterbury—I proceeded there and found a straw stack burning and also part of another—there were two or three engines there—the stack belonged to Mr. Collard—with the aid of the engines and plenty of water the fire was prevented from spreading further—I went to the city police-station at Canterbury and there found the prisoner—an inspector informed me in bis presence that he saw the prisoner standing outside the police-station door and took him in thinking that he was a deserter; that he searched him and found a discharge upon him; that he then told him to go, but after he got outside the prisoner turned round and said "I may as well tell you that I set fire to the straw stack, but that I did it accidently when lighting my pipe "—I enquired of the inspector whether he found any lucifer matches or a pipe upon him—he said "No; but the prisoner stated that he had only one match, and that he threw that away "—I told him I should detain him and charge him with having wilfully set fire to the straw stack—he again said that he did it accidentally—I took him before the Magistrate next day; he was remanded until the following Saturday, and ultimately discharged.


20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-51
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation

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51. EMILY CHURCH (24), was indicted for the wilful murder of Caroline Beatrice Church; she was also charged on the coroner's inquisition with the like offence.

MESSRS. CROOME and HORACE AVORY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. TINDAL ATKINSON the Defence.

ABRAHAM JOHN THORNS . I am a surveyor and auctioneer at Brentwood—I have prepared this plan produced of the neighbourhood round Southall Bridge—it is a correct plan and according to scale—the distance from Rainham to Southall Bridge is about a mile.

Cross-examined. I have not measured the height from the crown of the the bridge to the water, but I should think it was somewhere about 5 feet—it is a brick bridge with one arch, and posts and rails over the top from the top of the posts and rails down to the, water I should think would be about 4 feet more—that would make it about 9 feet altogether.

JEMIMA BULL . I am the wife of John Bull, a bricklayer at East Ham—the prisoner is my neice, my sister's daughter—on Whit-Monday last year she came to me at East Ham, bringing with her her child, a little girl—she said she had come from the union at. Henley-on-Thames, and-that she had been there about fifteen months—she said that the child was about fifteen months old—she lodged with me with the child from Whitsuntide till the Christmas following—she worked at a jute factory whilst she was with me—about Christmas she left, taking, the child with her, to go to Barking—in Easter this year she brought the child back to me and left it with me—she said the person gave it up to her because she could not keep it any longer—she was not at work then—the child remained in my care until the 18th July, the prisoner still continuing at Barking—I had spoken to her About the child twice before the 18th July—I asked her to do something for the maintenance of it; she had not done anything for its maintenance—on the 18th July I took the child to Mrs. Brittain's, where she was lodging at Barking—it was dressed in a red plaid frock, a black petticoat, and a flannel chemise—I did not see the prisoner when I got to Mrs. Brittain's—these produced are the clothes which the child had on—when she left me she had on two odd boots—these produced are not the boots—I left the child with Mrs. Brittain and never saw it alive after-that—I did not see the prisoner between that time and the 28th, when I again saw-these clothes at Mr. Edward's, the policeman—they were in his charge—these are the same clothes.

Cross-examined. I sent for the prisoner to come to me from Henley-on-Thames—my mother had been applied to by the prisoner to take her out of the Union—my mother communicated with me and I asked the prisoner to come and stay at my house with the child, and see if she could get some work, so as to keep herself and the child—she did not get any work at first—the first few weeks when she started at the factory she gave me 5s. a week for the two—I cannot exactly say how long she continued to do that—she continued it up to Christmas—she was still in the factory after that—I cannot exactly say when she left; it was between Christmas and Easter—I think she did a little; mending sacks or making sacks—she lost the factory work by being late in the morning; not on account of health—they would not keep her because she was late—afterwards she came' back at Easter and lef the child with me—she made me no further allowance, and I kept the child for nothing—I do not know whether she was out of

work—she was kind to the child and fond of it, and the child was fond of her—it used to run up to her directly she came in.

ISABELLA. BRITTAIN . I am the wife of James Brittain, of Prince Regent's Court, Barking—on Tuesday, 18th July, the prisoner was lodging with me—she had been with me three weeks and a day come Tuesday—on that day Mrs. Bull came to me just before 6 o'clock in the evening, and brought a child with her—the prisoner was out at the time—Mrs. Bull left the child with me and went away—the prisoner returned just after 6 o'clock—I asked her if she knew anything—she did not say anything—the child ran up to her, and she took it in her arms—I think the child could speak—the prisoner left my house that evening about 7 o'clock, or it may have been a little after, and took the child with her—she said that she was going up to the top of the town to look for someone to mind the child—she then went into the front room, and afterwards left with the child in her arms—she returned next morning, Wednesday, 19th, after breakfast, and the child with her—she stopped at my house until about 3 o'clock in the afternoon—she then said that she was going to Stratford to get work—she went away, and took the child with her—she said she should be back on the Saturday or Sunday or Saturday week—the child had on a black and scarlet frock—I have seen the clothes produced, but I cannot awear to them; only to the socks and boots—they were clothes of this sort—the socks and boots belonged to my little girl—the child had on two odd boots when it first came, like these produced, and I gave it some old ones belonging to my own child, with the socks—I know the socks because I darned one of them with violet wool—on the Sunday following, 23rd, the prisoner came back alone—I asked her where the young one was—she said she had got a woman down in Rainham to mind her—I asked her how the child took? and she said "All right!"—she asked if I would lend her a cloth to fetch some bread in, which I did—she left, and did not return that night—she came to my house just before breakfast on the Monday morning and said that she had slept up street all night—she asked me to wash a polonaise for her—I said I would—she took it off, and I hung it up on the door—she went away shortly after, and I did not see her again until she was in custody.

Cross-examined. She was with me three weeks and one day—she was at work pea-picking—she paid me 1s. 6d. for lodging and 6d. for tea and sugar—I do not know whether she was in constant work or not—she was not in work the day her aunt brought the child to me—she was in work up to the Saturday I think, but not on the Monday—I did not tell her I could not keep the child—I said nothing to her—she said that she was going off to get someone to mind it, and she asked me if the child could stop until she came back—my husband said "No;" she was to take the child with her—afterwards I asked her if she was ashamed of the child—she said "No," and I said "The child is a credit to you"—I meant that, it was a nice-looking child—I said to her "Emily, you ought to look to your aunt for the child before now; are you ashamed of it?"and she said "No, I am not ashamed of it"—I said "You ought not to be so; the child ought to be a credit to you "—the child ran up to her very affectionately, and she took it up in her'arms—she seemed very fond of it—she went into the front room and looked at the child's head, and I gave her a cup of tea and some bread and butter.

SARAH COPLIN . I am the wife of George Coplin, and live at Barking—

the prisoner lodged with me from Easter, and left me about three weeks before 18th July—she came to me on the evening of 18th between 6 and 7 o'clock, bringing the child with her, and she and the child slept there that night—next morning she had some breakfast with me, and after breakfast they left—she washed and dressed the baby before she left, and combed the baby's head, as it was in a very bad condition—as she was washing it she said "I will make my aunt remember this"—she said she was going to Stratford to try and get some work, and that she was very unfortunate for work—I said "On your way call at your aunt's and see if she will take your baby again"—she said" I will, mother"—she always called me mother—she then left, taking the child with her—I did not see her again until the following Sunday, when she came to my house about 12.30 the same as usual to have her dinner—the child was not with her then—I said "Emily, how is the baby?"—she said "It is quite well, mother; I have left it at Rainbam, where I lodge"—she then had her dinner with me, and after dinner left—she came back again to tea about 5 o'clock, and left again that evening—I saw her again late in the evening—she asked me if she could stop there to sleep"—I said "Yes, Emily, you can come; there Is your bed"—she did not sleep there—she came in about 6.30 next morning, and got breakfast ready for me—after breakfast she again left—she said she was going to Rainham—my husband was going harvesting by the same train, and they both went away together—I did not see the child after she left with it on the Wednesday.

Cross-examined. She complained very much about the state of the child and was very much grieved; it was in a dirty state; she complained about her aunt having let it get into that condition—I recommended her to try and get her aunt to take care of it again, and she said she would do so—during the time she was with me she had had very great difficulty indeed in getting work—I used to take sacks home for her to work at, she could earn very little by that, not enough for himself and the child, not being used to it, poor girl—she was very fond indeed of the child and the child was very fond indeed of her.

WILLIAM JACOBS . I am a labourer, living at Rainham-on Wednesday, 19th July, I was at the Angel public-house at Rainham in the evening—I saw the prisoner between 8 and 9 o'clock come by the Angel with a child—I—was looking out at the window—she came and looked in the Angel and went up towards the post-office in the direction of Wennington—I lost sight of her going by the post-office; there is a bend in the road there—I had her in view altogether about two or three minutes.

Cross-examined. She went and looked in at the Angel and went out directly, she came in at the door; the door was half way open—I was looking out at the window—I saw her coming up towards the Angel; I saw her whilst she was inside the door; there is a passage from the door into the street; I only saw her for about a minute; she was about 3 or 4 yards off; I saw her face—she was carrying a baby—I saw her when she went in and when she went out; I did not see her inside, only outside—it was a flat window where I was, in the same wall as the door; I could see right up to the door; I had my head out of the window—she was coming along on the same side of the road as the window, and she passed by the window—when I first saw her she was only 3 or 4 yards from me—the room I was in was on the ground floor; I was looking out a long time before she passed—I had my arms on the window.

GEORGE COOK . I am a labourer, living at Rainham—on Wednesday 19th July, I was at the Angel, about 8 o'clock, or a little after—I was sitting outside on a stool which is there in the summer time—I saw the prisoner with a child in her arms walk up to the door and go away again; she came close alongside the stool I was sitting on, it might be a yard or two off—she went towards the door and looked inside—she then went up towards the Phoenix, in the direction of Wennington—I saw her altogether for about two or three minutes.

Cross-examined. That is about a mile from South all Bridge—it was about 8 o'clock or a little after—I was sitting about 3 yards from the door.

SARAH LEE . I am a widow, living at Wennington—my house is on the road between Rainham and Wennington, past Southall Bridge and about 200 yards from it—on Thursday morning, 20th July, about 3.20, I got up and was opening my shutters and I saw the prisoner coming from the bridge—she was at the end of my garden, about 50 yards from the house; she was walking nearly on the same side as my house, coming towards my house from the bridge—she had nothing with her, she was alone—I went in, and whilst I was lighting my fire there came a tap at the door; I opened it, and the prisoner asked me for a drop of water—I gave her a glass of water—I did not notice anything about her at the time, only she was very much excited and all of a tremble—after giving her the water she went towards Mr. Earp's, at East Hill, along the road—I saw her from that time walking up and down from my house to East Hill Lane up to 5.10 in the morning; she did not pass my house—when I last saw her she was going in the direction of East Hill, close by the lane leading from Mr. Earp's farm.

Cross-examined. It was quite light when I was opening my shutters, I could see down the road—I had never seen the prisoner before and knew nothing of her.

CHARLES WILLIAM ADAMS . I live at Wennington, in a cottage there; there are several between mine and the last witness' in the same row; one is called Ling's Cottage, that is between mine and her's—on the morning of 20th July I was out at 4 o'clock going into the Marshes to look after some horses—I saw the prisoner on the road, she was then about 50 yards from me, and was going towards Wennington Church; she had passed my cottage—I went into the Marshes and returned in about two hours—I then saw the prisoner sitting on the opposite of the road, that is on the left hand side going towards Wennington; she might be about 200 or 300 yards from East Hill Lane—I then passed her as close as I am to this gentleman (the foreman of the Jury)—I did not speak to her—she had no child with her.

Cross-eamined. When I first saw her she was walking ahead of me; her back was to wards me; I saw her face the second time, as I passed close to her.

WILLIAM LING . I am a labourer at Wennington—my cottage is between Mrs. Lee's and Mr. Adams'—on the morning of 20th July I left home about 4.30 and went towards Wennington Church—I saw the prisoner on the road, sitting on a round piece of grass at the corner of Mr. Earp's lane—I got within about 40 yards of her, that was the nearest I was to her at that time; she was facing me—there were three men and a woman there at the time, they were not with her, they were on the other side of the road—I went on into the Marsh and I returned in about a quarter of an hour—I then saw the prisoner sitting on the opposite side of the road opposite Earp's Lane—I went within about the same distence of her as I did before, but I got as

near to her as I am to this gentleman (The foreman of the Jury), but not then—I went on to East Hill and had my breakfast—I returned in about an hour and I saw the prisoner again sitting on the road towards Wennington Church—I then went close to her and spoke to her—I said "Good morning, young woman," and she replied "Good morning" to me, nothing else—I then left her.

Cross-examined. I had never seen her before and knew nothing of her—the next time I saw her was with the police-constable Edwards, a week or ten days after.

ALFRED TAYLOR . I did lire at Wennington—on Monday evening, 24th July, about 6.30 I was going with some other lads to Southall Brook—I saw a bundle in the brook about 10 yards from the bridge—Walter Clarke came up while the bundle was in the water—I saw him pull it out and place it on the bank—I waited there till the policeman came and opened it; I saw it opened—Mr. Harp's groom went and fetched the policeman.

Cross-examined. When Clarke pulled the bundle out he put it on the bank about 2 yards from the water—there are reeds and rushes there—he did not put it amongst the rushes; he laid it on the grass—I think it was about 10 yards from the bridge; I am not quite sure; it might have been nearer, it might have been five yards—when the policeman came up the bundle was in the same position as where Clarke had placed it.

By THE COURT. Q. Was the bundle floating in the water, or resting partly on the bottom, or in the rushes? A. It was resting on the reeds—the reeds were underneath.

WALTER CLARKE . I am a labourer at Wennington—on Monday,.24th July, about 6.30 I was coming home* from my work when George Elliott called my attention to a bundle in the water and told me to pull it out—I did pull it out and laid it on the grass—Edwards, the constable, afterwards came up and opened it—I do not know how deep the water was where I first saw the bundle—it was floating about—there were rushes there—I had not to get into the water to get it out, I stood on the side; I got it out with my arm.

JESSE EDWARDS (Police-constable, Essex constabulary). On the evening of the 24th July, I was fetched to Southall Bridge—I got there a little before 7 o'clock—I saw a bundle lying on the grass by the side of the road, near the bridge about 30 feet from the bridge—I opened it and found the body of a female child; it was naked—it was tied up in what appeared to be the clothes of the child, which were torn down behind—they were the things that have been produced to-day, including the socks and shoes which were on the feet—I removed the bundle to the Leonard Arms public-house—as I noticed it I found that the legs were up on its chest, all close together, so that the legs actually rested on the chest—I had the child washed that night; I noticed that the left arm was very black—I showed the body to Mr. Bott, the surgeon, the same night, between 9 and 10 o'clock, and on the following Wednesday, the 25th, I showed it to Mrs. Brittain, and on the 28th to Mrs. Bull—at the sametime they saw the clothes that have been produced—on the 26th, I apprehended the prisoner, I found her picking peas in a field in. the parish of Aveling, belonging to Mr. Woodthorpe—that would be about two miles or two and a quarter miles from Southall Bridge, past Wennington—it is the

next parish to Wennington—after I got her to Rainham, I charged her with destroying the child—she said "I did not do it."

Cross-examined. When I saw the bundle it was about thirty feet from the bridge; I measured the distance the next day—the bundle had been removed then, but I could see very plainly where it had been; I measured it with a chain—constable Cresswell was with me and measured it with me.

By THE COURT. The bottom of the ditch was black mud, and the bundle was covered with black mud, and when the body was lying on the grass! there was the print of the mud upon the grass where it had been; I could see where it had been taken out of the water, because the reeds were pulled on one side.

WALTER CRESSWELL , (police constable, Essex Constabulary). On Tuesday, the 25th July, I went to look for the prisoner to take her to the inquest, to produce her as a witness—I found her in Mr. Earp's potato field—Sergeant Odam was with me—he is not here; I do not know that he is ill—he spoke to her first, and said "Young woman, we are given to understand you had a child in Kainham, on Wednesday last"—the prisoner replied "I never had a child"—I then said "It appears to be wrong what we understand about your having a child in Rainham"—the prisoner said "I never had a b——kid"—we then left the field to go towards the Leonard Arms public-house, where the inquest was held—on the way I said "It appears to be wrong what we understand about your having a child in Rainham"—she said "I brought a child through Barking on Wednesday"—I asked her if it was a boy or a girl, and how it was dressed—she said it was a girl, that it was dressed in a black hat, a black and red frock, a flannel petticoat, and a white chemise; and she also stated that she had the child on the Wennington Road on the Thursday morning, and gave it to a woman to take care of, and she was to meet her on the following Wednesday night—that was all that was said.

Cross-examined. I am prepared to pledge my oath that every word 1 have uttered was what passed between me and the prisoner, exactly as I have said it—I am prepared to swear that she said she had not had a child—I do not know where Sergeant Odam is—he is stationed at Harlow—he is still in the police force—I did not give the prisoner any caution before I put these questions—I was going to produce her as a witness—we had not the slightest suspicion at that time—she was produced as a witness and was examined before the coroner.

Re-examined. She did not give evidence under the name she is now charged in—she then gave the name of Sarah Hicks.

CHARLES GLENN BOTT . I am a surgeon, practising at Aveling—I saw the body of the deceased child on the evening of the 24th July, somewhere between 9 and 10 o'clock, at the Leonard Arms, Wennington—it had then been taken out of the" wrapping that it had been in, and was lying naked on some straw, stretched out—the legs were not then doubled up—I made an external examination of it—it was a female child about two or two and a half years old—it was exceedingly decomposed and very much discolored—I made a post-mortem examination on the 25th, before I was examined at the inquest—on removing the scalp there was an appearance of some effusion of blood, under the eyebrow, under the region of both eyes—that might have occurred before death, but I should not like to give a positive opinion upon that point; it might have been a post-mortem appearance—the brain was healthy though too much decomposed to say anything about it—there was a certain quantity of dark blood—the vessels of the skull were filled with

dark blood—I do not think that conld have been a post-mortem occurrence—it would rather tend to shew that there had been some asphyxia—it might have been the result of suffocation, but I do not think it was, that appearance was not consistent with its having occurred after death—in death from suffocation I should expect to find the vessels and the brain gorged—the veins of the skull are generally more or less filled with blood, but they were rather more so on this occasion—I found no injury to the skull itself—on opening the chest I found that the organs were very much decomposed, and judging from the condition of her I was of opinion, and I still am of opinion that the death was from fainting, because the heart was empty—that is sometimes called syncope—the heart was very pale, but I have since found it is quite possible that the emptyness of the heart, although not the paleness might have been caused by post-mortem changes, not from immersion in water but simply by accumulation of gases in the cavities of the heart distending it, forcing out the blood before it had coagulated—I do not think that that would affect the color, this heart was markedly pale—the stomach was full of semi digested food—I found no water in the stomach—I should generally expect to find that in a case of death from drowning, and I should also expect to find frothy mucus, I found none—as far as I could judge, the other viscera were healthy—the right arm was broken about the middle—the bone was splintered very much—the appearance on the outside of the left arm was much blacker and darker than any other part of the body; I mean the external mark—the right arm was also broken about the same place, and the bone was very much splintered—there was a large effusion of blood, and the whole of the tissues were infiltrated with black blood—I could not trace the opening where the blood came from, but from the condition of the parts I considered that it came from one or more of the chief veins of the arm—I imagine that was caused by the veins being lacerated by the broken splinters of the bone—I formed the opinion that the child had died, from syncope and from loss of blood from the veins in the arm.

By THE COURT. The appearances I saw about the arm and the blood were quite inconsistent with post-mortem appearances—they must have happened from injuries inflicted during life—at the time I considered that the child had been put into the water after death, and judging from all the collateral circumstances I think so still—I have since discovered from my reading that the heart will empty itself after death, but my opinion is still strong that the child did not die from drowning—the effusion of blood under the eyebrow might have been caused by a blow or it might not.

Cross-examined. The body was in a very advanced state of decomposition—that generally makes it more difficult to ascertain whether wounds are post mortem or not—I do not make any exception in this case; it is a general rule—both arms were broken; I am not prepared to say that might not have been a post-mortem injury—the right arm might have been broken before or after death—a fall of nine feet might have broken it—I say that the wound on the other arm was before death, because of the condition of the tissues; they were so thoroughly infiltrated with blood; it seemed to have Boaked through into the system—after death copious bleeding will not as a rule toke place, and it does not soak into the tissues in the manner this had done; it had infiltrated into the minute interstices of the tissues.

Re-examined. That is partly the reason why I say this wound say

occasioned before death, and also because the tissues were so thoroughly infiltrated with blood—it had soaked into it and into the tissues itself, and into the true skin—the child was not suffering from any disease that 1 could discover—there was a slight red patch in the colon, that might have been the result of diarrhoea after measles, but it was most probably post-mortem—the liver was very much decomposed, but as far as I could tell it was healthy—I did not see the legs bent up—it would not be a matter of any very great difficulty to bend a child's legs.

By THE COURT. Q. Supposing the child was wrapped up tightly and put into as small a compass as possible, and had its legs so thoroughly doubled up as to be against the chest, could that be done without leaving any appearance, at the stage at which you saw it? A. I think it could; as far as the bending up of the legs goes it might be done without breaking them—it would depend upon the flexibility to a considerable extent—the limbs of children at that age are very flexible;


Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury upon two grounds: first, for the desperate poverty-stricken condition in which she was placed; and secondly, for her youth. The Jury also expressed a hope that it would be consistent with his Lordship's duty to join 'in the recommendation— DEATH .

Before Mr. Baron Hawkins.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-52
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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MR. ATTENBOROUGH conducted the Prosecution.


20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-53
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence

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53. THOMAS TUGBY (26) , Feloniously cutting and wounding Silvanus Barker with intent to murder him. Second Count—to do him some greivous bodily barm. Third Count—to disable him. Fourth Count—to prevent his lawful apprehension.

MR. POLAND and MR. ODGER conducted the Prosecution; and MR. BESLEY the Defence.

SILVANUS BARKER . I am one of the under gamekeepers in the employ of Lord Braybrooke, and live in one of his lodges—Alfred Chandler is the head game keeper—I went to his house on 17th October about 7 o'clock, and he gave me orders in consequence of which I went on to Warner's field—I went down Windmill Road and across the cottage allottments—there is a gate at Warner's field, but not a public footpath—we went into Warner's field and into Cockbush Lane and then came back into Warner's field where we saw the prisoner, but I did not know that it was Thomas Tugby till I got close to him—he had two large lurcher dogs with him—we first saw him between 7.30 and 7.45—the sun had set, but I cannot say how long—it was not dark nor yet light; it was dusk—he was in Warner's field with the two dogs, walking to meet us—I spoke first and asked him where he was going to that way; he said "What has that to do with you," and swore at us and blackguarded us—we asked him his name and he gave a wrong name; I cannot say what it was—I looked at him and said "No, that is not your name, your name is Tom Tugby"—he said "Your name is Bean Barker"—that is short for Silvanus—I got hold of him by his collar, and Last who was with me caught hold of him on the other side—he said that he would not go to Chandler's, and he blackguarded us and called us everything—he got down on the ground and I pulled him up—he slid down two or three times—after some time he said that he would go to the station

—I said "Come on then"—he then put both his hands into his pockets' and I saw a knife in his hand; I gave a grab at it with my left hand—we still had hold of him—he gave a rush, got away from Last, and twisted me round—I kept hold of his collar, but he got away from me also, and came back and stabbed me with the knife—he struck at me back handed—he was at liberty then on my left side—I had this thick coat and waistcoat on (produced)—my wife has washed the waistcoat since, because of the blood, but this coat was cut at the time—I felt a stab, blood ran down my side, and I felt very weak—I saw the knife in his hand—I put my hand to my side and said "I must go to the doctor; I feel blood running down me"—I said to. Last "Knock him down;* he has stabbed me with that knife," and Last knocked him down with a stick—when he was on the ground he kept swearing and said "He would kill both we b——y b——s" Last helped me to Dr. Steal's, whose assistant attended to my side—I have been under his care five weeks yesterday and am still—I suffered considerable pain and am very weak now—I next saw the prisoner a week ago to-day.

Cross-examined. I have been a watcher over seventeen years—all that time my duty has been to be out at night looking after poachers—I have not taken very many poachers to Mr. Chandler's in the seventeen years, but I have caught hold of a good many in the time—I do not play rough when I get hold of a poacher—I had a thickish stick—I do not always carry it—I like a stick in the day as well as in the night—I have brought the stick which I had with me that night—this is it (produced)—it is not loaded—you can give a tremendous blow with it if you hold it down low—I do not know whether Last's stick is heavier still—there is no footpath where I met the prisoner—whether it would be a "near cut through Warner's field to Cockbush Lane would depend upon where he was going—it is not a nearer way to the top of the town than by the road; it is a near way to the bottom of the town—he had no business there at all—people have no business to go that way, but it is a way that people habitually go to save distance—when we saw the prisoner we halted and then walked on—instead of halting he walked straight down to meet us, and as he came near I asked him where he was going that way?—I said "What do you do here" and "Where are you going?"—he said What has that to do with you V—that did not put my blood up at all—I have known him by sight and by name a great many years, but did not know where he lived—I cannot say whether he was born and bred in Saffron Walden, and I do not think he lived there—I asked his name because I did not know it just for the moment—I did not know who he was till I looked at him hard, and then I said "Your name is Thomas Tugby;"he said "I know it is; and your name is Bean Barker"—I did not much mind that—I cannot tell whether I clasped the stick a little tighter or whether I did not, but I did not hit him—Last took hold of him by the left side and I by the right directly he said "I know it is; and your name is Bean Barker"—the dogs did nothing in my presence; they kept with the man; I did not see them or feel them—it was when he slipped down on the ground that I said he would have to go to Chandler's—Chandler's was a little over a mile off, and the police-station was very little over a quarter of a mile—he said that he would go to the police-station—he only slipped down once that I know of while we had hold of him—he did not slip down three or four times that I know of—I saw him all the while—we did not haul him up from the ground four times at least; once

is all that I can remember—when we hauled him up off his feet he gave a jerk, and by that means got rid of Last—his coat was then torn; that was not the coat ha is wearing now—it was a dullish night; I have described it as not very light and not very dark—this was all done in a second—as soon as he got away from both of us he came back within a minute and stabbed me—I had not got hold of my stick then; he knocked it out of my hand—I had got him with one hand and I grabbed at the knife with my left, and he knocked the stick out of my hand—I did not call out to Last to knock him down, till after I was stabbed, as far as I remember—I did not as far as I remember tell Last to strike him, directly I saw the knife—I did not say "Knock him down" before he stabbed me—I knew that I was stabbed because I felt the blood—I did not call out "Knock him down; he has got a knife;" but after he stabbed me I said "Knock him down"—it was the very instant after he had put the knife into me—I did not see him strike Last across the breast; I saw Last knock him down, but only once—I saw Last turn him over and search his outside pockets—I did not see him take 4s. from him; I did not see any money in Last's hands—Last has not told me that he spent the money; he did not take any—I saw the prisoner lying on the ground; when Last and I walked away I did not see him bleeding—I believe Last hit him on the head with a walking-stick—I was not at Hudson's public-house many minutes that afternoon; I did not go there more than once that day—I had had a little beer.

Re-examined. I was sober and so was Last; we were not at all the worse for drink—when I grabbed at the knife with my left hand, my stick was in the other hand—before he stabbed me neither of us had struck him either with our sticks or with our fists—I bled very much after this wound; Last had to assist me to the doctor—Last did not take any money out of the prisoner's pooket—he felt his pockets—we found no game on him—besides his sliding down on the ground there was a little struggle; he wanted to get away but I kept hold of him, and then he slid down as I have described.

JAMES LAST . I live at North End, Saffron. Walden, and am a game-watcher in the service of Lord Braybrooke—on 7th October I saw the head keeper Chandler, and Barker and I afterwards went to the Allotment Gardens and into Warner's field—it was about 7.30 after we came back out of the lane—we then returned into Warner's. field and saw the prisoner at the bottom of the field meeting us—he had two lurchers with him, or something of that species—Barker spoke first; he asked him what he did there with those two dogs—the prisoner said that he was going that way—Barker said "No, you will have to go with us to Chandlers"—the prisoner slid himself down on the ground and said he would not—Barker asked him his name and he gave him a wrong name; I do not know what name it was, but it was not Tugby—Barker then said "Your name is Tom Tugby"—he said "I know it is, your name is b——y Bean Barker"—we both took hold of him and pulled him up on his feet as well as we could and he slid himself jown three different times, he getting down and we pulling him up—Barker asked him where he would go—he said he would go to the police-station—we pulled him and he stood up and then he gave a chuck away, got himself away from me, and twisted round with Barker, and his back was against Barker's back, I think, and I heard a blow struck against Barker, but did not see it; it was like this (striking a book)—Barker then said "Oh! I'm stabbed with that knife, Last, knock him down;" I saw no knife—as soon as he cleared himself from Barker he struck at me and something touched

me across the breast; I do not know what it was, but it was either his hand or something in his hand; there was no cut on my clothes—I knocked him down at that instant with my stick; I hit him by the side of the head—I then turned back and picked up Barker's stick, which was on the ground, and gave it to him—the prisoner was rising from the ground when I turned back and he said "I will kill both of you b———y b———s "—I then hit him again on the side of the head with the same stick; I have not brought the stick here; I set it down at the station and left it there; I am not quite sure whether it was as big as this stick, but it had no nob; it was ash wood—I hit the prisoner a second blow as he was rising; he was not rightly on his feet—he then laid still, and I turned him over to search for the knife—I felt about where he fell and about his things, but I did not find any knife—I took nothing out of his pockets—I took Barker to the surgery, he was bleeding so that he could not stand up; he was bent down on one side like this; I assisted him to Mr. Stear's surgery in Saffron—Walden; he was attended there by the assistant and was afterwards seen by Mr. Stear—it was about 8 o'clock when we left Warner's field—I went back to the field that same night and Creffield came there after I was there—I pointed out to him the spot where that had taken place—we searched. for the knife for a little while, but could not find it—it was neither dark nor light, it was very dull—the field is meadow land.

Cross-examined. I was examined before the Magistrate—a gentleman took down my examination and read it over to me; I have not been reading it over since; I did not read it yesterday or the day. before; I cannot say that I have not read any of it; I read some a day or two after it was printed—my stick is not so very heavy or. so very light—I do not know whether it is the same sort of wood that they make axe handles of—we have heavier wood in our part of the country—I left it at the raflway. station—they did not object to my bringing it away, nor charge, me any extra for it—I will swear that Barker said something about the dogs; I did not forget it until to-day—I read very little of the case in print—I will, swear that Barker said "What are you doing here with those two dogs?"—the prisoner aaid he would go in spite of us and the next words were "No, you will have to go with us to Chandler's "—I did not know the prisoner until that night—I am not a native of Saffron Walden—I do not measure 6 feet out of my boots—when Barker said "You will have to go with us to Chandler's "the prisoner laid himself on the ground; I have said that before; he did not lay himself down before we touched him; he slipped himself down, he did so three times; I am not certain whether it was three or four times,' and we two hauled him up, both' of us holding sticks, of which you have a specimen—I am positive that he slid down three or four times—he gave a chuck and I heard a strike against Barker, and he said "Knock him down, Last," and then a blow was struck and immediately I knocked him down; I do not know whether I made his head bleed—when he was getting up I knocked him down again—I only felt in his outside pockets; I did not take three or four shillings in money, I never picked up any money—I swear that I never put my hands in his pockets, I felt his pockets; I did not feel anything in them; I only felt the outside of his pockets—I had to turn him over and I felt under him and over him—I do not know whether he was bleeding—I then walked away with Barker and left him—I did not send a medical man to him.

Re-examined. After he had said "I will kill you," I knocked him down

again—his coat was torn—neither I nor Barker hit him until after he had stabbed Barker.

DANIEL CREFFIELD . I am a policeman, of Saffron Walden—on Tuesday evening, 17th October, about 8.50, in consequence of information, I went to Mr. Stear's surgery, and found Barker and Last—in consequence of what they said I went to Warner's field—Last was there when I got there—he pointed out to me one place in the stubble and another in the furrow—the stubble was broken down—I looked about" for a knife—I could not find it that night—on the morning of 18th I went there again, about 5.40—I could not find it then because it was not light, but at 6.15 I saw this knife sticking about an inch in the ground, in a slanting position, 18 feet from the place where the grass was trampled down, the other places forming as nearly as possible a triangle—it was open, and the point was sticking in the ground, with the handle pointing towards the place where the stubble was broken down.

Cross-examined. There were marks of a struggle—the ploughed ground was trodden down, and the stubble was broken down.

CHARLES OSBORNE . I am a lime-burner, of Little Walden—on Tuesday night, 17th October, about 8 o'clock, I was near the kiln, and I saw the prisoner going up the lime-kiln road, which is about a quarter of a mile from Warner's field—he had two greyhounds with him—I knew him by sight when he got into the light—I knew him as Tugby, and have known him ten years—I do not know where he lived or whether he is a Saffron Walden man—I saw his coat; it was torn to pieces, and he had some bruises on his head—I did not see any blood—he had no hat—he said that he had been having a turn with the keepers, and they had taken four hares from him—he asked my master for an old coat and an old hat, and the master told him that he had not got an old coat, but he would give him an old straw hat, and he did so—he asked me if I would go and tell his wife that he had been having a turn with the keepers and they had cut him—I said I would have nothing to do with it—he did not say where his wife lived—he said he wanted to get into the Ashton Road—he went across the Allotment, and that is all I saw of him.

Cross-examined. My master was present at all the conversation—he is not here—the prisoner showed me his wounds—I did not count them—there were more than one—they were not bleeding—my master had a lantern to see by—the glass was not very dark—I did not hold up the lantern to examine the prisoner's head—he held down his head a little to shew me his wounds—he did not tell me that the men had been beating him with sticks—he said that he had been having a turn with She keepers—I am sure he did not say that it was 4s. that was taken from him—I am not certain that he mentioned four hares—I am a Saffron Walden man—they do not call shillings "tares "in that part of the world.

Re-examined. I saw no blood, but I saw more than one bruise on his head.

ROBERT MACKENZIE (Policeman H). On Saturday, 20th October, about noon, I went to 28, Wentworth Street, Whitechapel, and found the prisoner in the garden—I told him I should take him in custody on suspicion of a murder at Saffron Walden on 17th October—that was my information—He said "I know nothing about it"—I took him to the station, searched him, and found on him a piece of paper with "Thomas Tugby" on it—he was detained there, and about two hours after I took him he said that he should

lite to make a statement—he went into the office, where Inspector Abel took it down, and the prisoner signed it and I witnessed it—it was read over to him—the inspector wrote it in my presence. (Read:"Commercial Street station, 20th October, 1876. I acknowledge that I am Thomas Tugby, the man who is wanted at Saffron Walden, in Essex, for oausing the death of a man on Monday night last—I was passing along a field under a hedge when I was pounced upon by two men and knocked down, and in Self-defence I struck them with a piece of rail, which I pulled from the fence, with a long nail sticking out—they then left me lying on the ground for dead, one saying to the other That will do for him.' I have nothing else to say."

HENRY STEAR . I am a surgeon, practising at Saffron Walden—on Tuesday night, 17th October, I saw Sylvanus Barker at his own house between 11 and 12 o'clock—he was in a state of collapse from loss of blood and from the shock of the injury—I found a clean cut wound on his left side, penetrating into the chest—I could put my finger into the cavity of the ohest—it was about 2£ inches long, and was very dangerous—he had lost a very great deal of blood—I stayed with him the whole of the night—I considered him in so much danger that I sent for a Magistrate to take what I thought was his dying deposition, and I sent for another surgeon—I continued to attend him—he is out of danger now—it was such a wound as might have been inflicted by a stab with this knife—it had gone through the coat and waistcoat, and considerable force must have been used—it could not have been inflicted by a nail sticking ont of a piece of wood or paling—it was a clean-cut wound.

Cross-examined. A piece of iron attached to the wood would make a clean cut if it was sharp enough—I haw seen hoop-iron—I said before the Magistrate that it was a penetrating wound—I do not think I was asked whether it was a clean cut—looking at this coat, I should say that it was not more probable to have been done by some sharp piece of iron attached to the wood than by a knife—it is a clean cut; it is not a straight cut, and the edges are perfectly clean—this waistcoat looks torn at the upper part—here is a partial cutting through, where you have put this pin—there is a trace of something not having gone through in another place—it has not gone through where the pin is—there is a mark where the lining has not been actually penetrated, and there are blood marks there—it has torn the coat and gone in at another part—I should say that it was not done with a nail attached to a stick—I will pledge my oath that it was not, after your calling my attention to that—this is not a clean cut on the waistcoat; it is a frayed edge—I have not got the deposition which the Magistrate took—he took it away with him.—.

By THE COURT. I saw the man's body that night—there was no indication of a jagged wound then—it was a clean cut wound.

JAMES LAST (re-examined). There is a low fence not far from where this matter took place—there is a gate a little way-off into the next field, but I never saw any paling—I was not at the place the following morning.

By MR. BESLEY. I do not know how many people occupy the Allotment, that is on the other side of Warner's field; you go from the road—I never saw any posts or rails in the quick set edge—the place where I knocked the man down is not more than 4 or 5 yards from the nearest fence; as far as from me to the lamp.

DANIEL CREFEIELD (re-examined). When I measured on the following

morning I saw no broken piece of a fence—it is a quick fence kept trim—I made enquiry as to whose knife this is.

THE COURT considered that there was no evidence upon the fourth Count, the prisoner was merely trespassing without any gun or net, and that although his apprehension was therefore unlawful, he was only justified mutiny reasonable means to free himself from custody.

GUILTY of unlawfully wounding .

Recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of the provocation he received— Nine Months' Imprisonment

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-54
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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54. JOHN BUSH (28) , robbery with violence on William Thomas, and stealing 4l. 7s. 6d. from his person.

MR. CROOMB conducted the Prosecution.

WILLIAM THOMAS . I am a labourer—I was at Marguretting in Essex, on 3rd September—I do not live there—I go all over the country after work—I slept in a loft—I saw the prisoner the day before at the Spread Eagle—I was with him on the Saturday in the taproom—I had a purse—I opened it in the taproom—it contained three sovereigns and two naif-sovereigns, and 7s. 6d. in silver; one half-sovereign had been run over by a cart wheel, and I had it in my possession about six months—I believe the prisoner was there when I opened the purse—I cannot swear it—at 10.15 I went to look after the cattle; on the return I met no one but the prisoner—I said "Good Night"—he asked me where I was going, I said "I am going to get to my bed "—I had not gone about three steps when I was struck on the right side of the head, under the ear, and a second blow on the chin—I was knocked down and was stupid for a couple of minutes, the prisoner fell on me with, all his weight—I saw it was him—I had no use in the left arm—he kept my hand away with his knee and put his hand in my right hand trowsers pocket—he took it out again and got up—he said "I've got your money right enough" he then ran away as hard as he could run—I rose up two minutes after and did'nt see him again—I went a short distance down the lane and saw a man and his wife coming up—I went to my bed that night and went next morning to police-constable Galigan—I did not know where he lived that night.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I said in the public-house that I had two of the beasts locked up for straying on the road between Brentwood and Eomford—I did not say I had only 5s. 7 1/2 d. towards 10s. to pay for them—there was no fence to keep cattle out; I could not help myself—I had to pay 15s.—I did tell them that I had only 5s., 7 1/2 d., and that they let me have the beast for 5s.—I had three sovereigns, two half-sovereigns, and 7s. 6d. in silver on Saturday—I gave Mrs. Hatridge a sovereign and then when the machine men were there, saying they could not get any beer or any change, I gave them half a sovereign—the missus gave me 20s. in silver and I gave them 10s. and they gave me half a sovereign—I had a sovereign in silver and changed half a sovereign for 10s. worth of silver—I changed the sovereign there was in the purse altogether, three sovereigns, two half-sovereigns, and 1s. 6d. silver—I did toss—one man tossed for a pint of beer; I tossed for another, than I said "I'll toss with you who shall pay the quart, and I lost the quart and you drank part of it—I did'nt toss a man called Germany for a quart—he did not snatch my purse—I made no bet with anybody—I did not make a bet that a man could not kick the ceiling.

GEORGE HATRIDGB . I am landlord of the Spread Eagle at Marguretting, the prisoner came and lodged there on the Thursday—he was working a threshing machine—he was there till Saturday 30th—about 4 o'clock, on that day he paid me for two pints of ale, and said that was all the money he had got: he could not pay for his bed—he stopped till we closed in the taproom from 4 o'clock, and then left.

Cross-examined. I remember the prosecutor talking in the tap-room about Mr. Preston locking the beast up—and also his making a bet with a man, that he could not kick the—ceiling; and be put, the chair on. the table and got upon it and kicked the ceiling—I heard the prosecutor make the bet—I do not remember the beast being locked up; I remember the man saying he had to pay 10s. before he could get them out—I do not know what he paid.

By THE JURY. There were about twelve men in the room—I heard them talking something about the ceiling.

Re-examined. The prisoner was to lodge with me that evening—he did not say anything but what he should lodge there'on Sunday evening—several machine men were there.

ISAAC RITTON ". I am landlord of the Queen's Head at Fifield—I have known the prisoner some years—on Sunday, 1st October, he was in the house aborit 7.30 in the "evening—he showed me half a sovereign; he asked me whether I thought it was a good one—I looked at it, and said "Well! it looks as if it has been carried in somebody's pocket, or been trod upon, or run over by a wheel, or something of that"—there was an impression upon the tail; it looked black—he purchased a bottle of gin and tendered a sovereign in payment—I gave him the change—he left me abdut 8.30 or 8.45, taking the gin with him.

Cross-examined. I should say it was a good half-sovereign you showed me—I said at the time, it looked black—you said plenty had seen it before, but would not take it—you had often changed money at my house, not taken drink away, to my knowledge; you might have done so—you had been harvesting near my house.

JAMES WHITBBBAD . I live at Fifield—I have not known prisoner long, I met him on Sunday 1st of October, at Fifield, near to Witney Green Gate, a little past 9 "o'clock—he asked me whether I would have a cigar—I said "I don't mind "and I had one—he asked me whether I would have any gin—I said "Yes, I don't mind "and I took some of that—he asked me whether I wanted any money—he pulled it out and showed me three sovereigns; two half-sovereigns and some silver—I said "No "—I did not take any.

Cross-examined. My young woman was with me—you asked her to have some gin—you asked me for a light and to have a Id. smoke—I have not known you long—I have seen you, but have not been in your company.

PATEIOK GALISAN (Policeman, Essex constabulary). On Sunday, 21st October, between 7 and 8 o'clock, I saw the prosecutor; he showed me-marks of the blows—his lips were very much swollen—his coat was covered with dirt—he complained of being robbed—on the following Tuesday, I went to a public-house at Willingate, and found the prisoner in the taproom—I said "Jack, I want to speak to you"—I walked him into a passage and said "You are suspected of knocking a drover down on the road on Saturday night, and robbing him of 4l. 1s. at Marguretting, near the Eagle "—he said "I know nothing of it"—I said "Have you any money about you?"—he said "A few pence "—I searched him and found one penny

and a halfpenny—I took him in custody to Chelmsford—on the road he said "Which of the three drovers is it; is it the old man that had his puree out in the house?"—I said "I believe so "—he said "Did he say that I robbed him?—I said "Yes," he said you knocked him down and took his money; he called out and followed you down the road towards Chelmsford"—the prisoner replied "I heard him call out; I turned round and he said 'You are the man that robbed me'; I said 'If you say that again I'll knock you down'; he said 'You are the man,' and I knocked him down and went off"—I took the prisoner to Chelmsford police-station.

Cross-examined. You did not ask me which man it was, and I did not say "It is the old drover "—you said "Which of the three drovers?"—I did not ask if you heard any halloing—you did not say you did hear halloing, and that there were fellows beating one another—you did not tell me that if the man told you you robbed him you should knock him down.

JOHN LENWIN (Superintendent of police, Chelmsford). I received the prisoner into my custody on the 3rd—he was in custody at the Shirehall, Chelmsford—on the following day I placed him with six other men in the Shire Hall, and took the prosecutor into the same room—he walked up to the prisoner and put his hand on his shoulder and said "That's the man that knocked me down and robbed me "—the prisoner made no reply.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate:"He said I showed him two sovereigns, and three half-sovereigns; how can that be if I changed a sovereign at Britten's I have nothing more to say."

Prisoner's Defence. "I have been harvesting at a farm house near Mr. Britten's; I had just settled for my harvesting, that came to 8l. within a shilling or two. I had got this money that night; I went down there the Sunday. The half-sovereign I had in my pocket for six months during the haytime. I gave a tobacco pouch for it; plenty of people had seen it before; the reason I went from Hatridge's on Saturday night, was I had some money and wanted some clean linen; the prosecutor said he came out at 10.15; I was shut out and gone at 10 o'clock, and never saw the man after he came out of the house. He is wrong in identifying me; he said there was a man coming along the road with a waggon. If I had knocked him down there were some cottages near, and people must have heard him; I have no witnesses."


He also Pleaded Guilty to a previous conviction of felony— Twelve Months' Imprisonment .

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-55
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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55. FREDERICK BURRELL CAWSTON (40) , Feloniously forging an endorsement upon a certain order for the payment of money, with intent to defraud.

MR. BESLEY conducted the Prosecution.

JABEZ BARNABD . I carry on business as an wholesale oil and colourman, at Winsley Street, Oxford Street, under the style of J. Barnard & Son—in the month of August last I advertised for a traveller—the prisoner applied for it in September; I engaged him—Mr. Bachelor was present—the terms were 2l. a week salary and 18s. a day for expenses—all cheques received were to be sent up every day; if by bearer he had no authority to cash them, and if by order he had no authority to sign the name of the firm—he was to obtain a guarantee from the Guarantee Society, but urged me to allow him to go on his journey at once—he said he was known in the eastern counties—it was arranged he should start on the following day, 7th. September—I gave

him twelve guineas, that was a fortnight's pay, by which time I expected he would return—he started on 7th September—if he wanted more money he was to send for it—he had no authority to deal with any monies or cheques he collected for me; he was to collect some accounts at Chelmsford—I got this letter from him on 9th September. (Read: "White Hart Hotel, Brent-wood, 9th September, 1876. I am unable to send your orders to-day, it being Saturday. I am very sorry not to have them forwarded Mr. Simcox, of Rumford, will give me an order at Chelmsford on Tuesday. He complains, however, that some time back he called at the office and gave an order for vitremaine which was never executed. He is the best man in the trade at Romford, the business having been in the family over 100 years. I hope to send you a good sheet on Monday.") I next received this—letter from him. (Dated llth September, 1876, from the same address, acknowledging theirs of 9th inst., and stating that some customers had paid, but he was disappointed in not receiving orders promised, owing to the trade holiday, ashing for advice notes, &c, stating that he should stop that night at Brentwood to see, Mr. Burrill, &c., and would be at Chelmsford next day, Tuesday, by first train.) I also received this letter. (Read:"Bell Hotel, Chelmsford, 12th September, 1876. Gentlemen,—Your statement of accounts has not arrived. I have waited till the last post previous to writing. I presume, however, it will be here in the morning when I will write you again. I have seen Mr. Tanner, and enclose cheque for amount he says is due.") There was a small cheque enclosed—Mr. Bachelor sent a telegram—I got that letter (produced) in reply; it would reach me on 14th September. (Read:"Clevedon, 13th September, 1876. Gentlemen,—At present I have not received any reply from letters. You have my address, Friday up to Saturday. I have a good list of orders, but not hearing from you I do not know what to do. Send me a telegram to Earlscombe tomorrow morning.") A telegram was sent on 13th September—I got the telegram produced, from Sudbury "Your telegram addressed to Halstead forwarded; reply will be sent by first post"—one letter besides came after—I think the letter of the 13th is the last; that is the day after I sent the telegram to suspend business and come home—from that time I got no intelligence of him—after we had a letter from the Bell Hotel, Chelmsford, I sent Mr. Baohelor to see where he was—we sent him to Chelmsford once and to Colchester once—we had a letter about his being at the hotel at Bury St. Edmunds—I got this letter (produced), dated 8th November, from the County Gaol, Essex, after his committal for trial (Read:"Messrs. Barnard & Son. 8th November, 1876. Gentlemen,—As I am informed my trial will take place at the Central Criminal Court, London, on the 20th November, I write to inform you, so as to prevent you going to any unnecessary expense with respect to your witnessss, that it is my intention to plead guilty of receiving the amounts you claim, but not with the intention of fraud. Yours obediently, F. B. Cawston.") I got this letter from him from Springfield Gaol, 20th October. (Read: " Since I have been here I have had time to remember some of the things I had wished to have told Mr. Batchelor at Colchester. The amount of cash, &c, received at your hands is, I think, about 23l., but having no book to make a statement, cannot exactly sayto a few shillings." (Then follow particulars of accounts received and list of articles ordered.) "I have many more, but at present do not think" of them.") He was ordered to come home; he had no authority to act after.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. When I engaged you you told me you

had a connection of your own; I might have asked you—I said you were to work mine as well as your own and I was to advise my customers and you were to advise your own—I do not know how many accounts there were at Chelmsford—I asked you whether you could thoroughly work the ground in three months—I asked you to send up cheques every night—I do not think that it was ever mentioned to you not to use any money in your possession should you have required any while you were out, but you were to send the money up as you got it, and all cheques in particular—you did ask for order-sheets and cash-sheets, they were not ready—I don't know whether you were instructed to do so. but you proposed drawing out the style of cash-sheet you required; I told you I had no objection—there was something said about your predecessor's bond for 200l. that he was never to call upon a customer of ours—I altered it for you, you thought it hardly fair, so that you would call on any customer of my own—a former traveller was re-called, only on one occasion, not several occasions—I do not know whether anything was said as to your returning within a fortnight—you were to thoroughly work Essex, Suffolk, and Norfolk, you went for that purpose—you received no salary—the twelve guineas had nothing to do with salary—there was no remark made as to notice of dismissal, I do not think you mentioned it, I do not recolleet anything being said about it—there was a letter written the day after the telegram, and we could not get at you—I forget about the notice of dismissal.

Re-examined. I never received any accouut at all from him with respect to the 23l.—I had no idea where he was, from 13th September, when he sent me a telegram—Mr. Rogers was not a customer of the prisoner's, but was a customer who owed us 16l.

ROBERT BATCHELOR . I am London manager of Barnard's, Winsley Street—I was present when the prisoner was engaged as traveller—I heard terms mentioned; salary 2l. per week, allowance 18s. per day—he was told to forward all cheques on the day of receipt, and monies also by way of half-notes—he had twelve guineas given him—that was to last him about a fortnight, and then, if he wanted more, if we did not see him he was to write for more—I sent him this telegram on 13th September, "Suspend business and return to town immediately, and let us see you here "—we had received a communication from the keeper of the Bell at Chelmsford—in his telegram received 15th September he said, he was going to write—we never got a letter after that—I went down on 18th September to make inquiries about him—at Colchester I called upon—the customers of the firm—I did not see him there—I went to Chelmsford next day, and did not find him there—I called upon the firm's customers there—from that day I heard nothing of him till we heard of his being at Bury Si Edmunds—we got no account after 13th September.

Cross-examined. Mention was made to you about sending up half-notes—I swear that—I was in the room all the time of the interview—I was in the room during the time of the engagement—I was not there when I took the case down stairs—I could not hear what was said then—there was something said about your writing up to me for more money—Mr. Barnard gave you your instructions—we do not send orders to suspend business unless we wish to see them on business.

Re-examined. That was sent out in consequence of a communication from the landlord of the inn at Chelmsford, and in consequence of what we had heard.

WILLIAM ROGERS . I am a customer of Mr. Barnard's, and on Saturday, 16th September, the prisoner called upon me as their traveller—I live at Colchester—I asked him for the account—he did not give it to me—he had my amount with others, and gave me the particulars by word of mouth, 18l. 17s. 9d. less 2l. 15s. 6d. discount—I gave him this cheque (produced)—it came back afterwards from my bankers, paid.

HENRY SEABROOK (Police-constable, Colchester). I went to Bury St. Edmunds on Saturday, 14th September, and received the prisoner from the inspector—I read the warrant to him—he made no reply—on the way to Colchester he asked me if I thought he should get committed for trial, and when the Sessions would take place—I said I did not know—he said "It is my name on the cheque, and that is the custom of all commercial travellers when short of money."

Cross-examined. He said "It is my name," and "I am sure they can't make a charge of forgery."

ROBERT BACHELOR (re-called). (Looking at endorsement on cheque) I do not see that there is any attempt to disguise" his handwriting or to imitate Mr. Barnard's.

By MR. BESLEY. The letter produced is the same handwriting—it is his writing undoubtedly—I do not know that there is any attempt to imitate Mr. Barnard's writing.

Prisoner's Defence. To be fraud it must be an act done for the purpose—of fraud, and that I solemnly say was very far from my thoughts, or I should not have been satisfied with taking one account in Colchester; I should have obtained all The only amount I took was for salary and expenses due to me in a day or two. There was not one word about sending for more money. I could not go in a district where I had accounts to collect without having money, and I did it therefore without thinking I was doing wrong. Mr. Barnard did not say I was to do it; at the same time he did not say I was not. At a previous situation I was allowed to do it, and have done it lots of times. Had I have cashed that cheque and written up to them for money, it would then have been a fraud whereas 16l. 12s. was due to me in a day or two, and this cheque was 16l. 2s. That was for salary and my expenses. Therefore I did not consider I was doing wrong. That was the total amount I had received, and there is still a balance due to me. I never had one idea of fraud in any shape or form.


20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-56
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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56. SAMUEL ROSE (25) , Feloniously ravishing and carnally knowing one Hannah Dorman.

MR. HORACE AVORY conducted the Prosecution.


Before Mr. Recorder.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-57
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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57. GEORGE WHITE (26) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of James Curley, and stealing therein a coat, sheet, and other articles.

MR. HORACE AVORY conducted the Prosecution.

JAMES CURLEY . I am a labourer, and live in Wood Street, Chelmsford—the prisoner lives in the same street—on 15th September, I went out from one beerhouse to another—I left my house a little after 10 o'clock, before I left I shut the doors—they fastened with a latch—the front door opens from the outside, and the back door from the inside—I left my wife in bed—there

was do light in the house—my overcoat was left hanging behind the front door—there was a whip lander; that is a whip thong, in the pocket—the policeman afterwards showed the coat to me and I identified it; and also the whip lander—the day after the prisoner's wife brought some groceries to my house to ray house to my wife—I am quite sure both doors were latched before I went out—that produced, is my coat and whip thong.

By THE COURT. He came to me on the 15th about 5.30.—the coat was hanging up when I went out at 10 o'clock.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not send you out for any donkeys—I did not take you to a public-house and give you some beer to fight a man—I went into a public-house for a bottle of gingerade, I saw you there and you asked me for a pint of beer.

WILLIAM DENNIE (Police-constable). I was in Wood Street on 15th September, opposite Curley's house—I heard the prisoner's voice in a public-house close by; soon after I saw him some out into the road—he then went up to his own house—he came down the street again with a woman—I believe it was his wife, and he went up into Curley's house—I could not see whether he went inside the door, it is at the end of the house—he went up the yard towards the door—I next saw a light in the house; it had been all dark, before—there was a light for two or three minutes and then three or four minutes after I heard the prisoner at his own door—I did not see him leave the house; he must have gone the back way—he could have done so without my seeing him—then I heard him at the door—he called his wife, who was still down the road near Curley's gate—he had left her behind—she then went up to their own house—they afterwards came down again and both went up Curley's yard—there was no light before in Curley's house; they went up the yard again towards the door, and there was a light again in a very short time, and then soon after I heard the latch of the front door drop; I saw the prisoner and his wife come from the door down the path into the road—when they got there I could see the wife was carrying something in her arms—she was a little in front—the prisoner stopped and fastened the gate of Curley's house—they went up the lane, the prisoner's wife got a few yards from the gate and said "Now then! look sharp," and set off running—she ran up on the left side, the prisoner crossed the road and ran up on the right side—I saw them go into their own cottage again—the door was shut and the light put out—I saw the prosecutor and told him what I had seen and we went to his cottage—he then missed his coat—in consequence of what he said I got the assistance of the inspector—I then went to one door of prisoner's house and the inspector to the other—the inspector knocked at the front door; the prisoner answered—the inspector said "I want to speak to you"—he said "What do you want me for? Who are you?"—he said "I am an inspector of police, open the door, I want to speak to you"—he said "What do you want me for?" "I want to speak to you about a coat that has been stolen "—he said "I shall not open the door;" I heard his footsteps going to the back door, and just as it was going to open I pushed myself in and found him about to open it—I found inside the house the coat produced—I searched the prisoner and found this whip thong in his right hand jacket pocket—I also produce a lot of groceries which I received from the prosecutor's wife next morning.

Cross-examined. I did not see anything about the prosecutor taking you to a public-house, or wanting you to fight a man—I heard you in the public-house hut did not know anything of the beer—you were not drunk.

SARAH CURLEY . I am the prosecutor's wife—I did not hear anything in the night of the 15th September—on the morning of the 16th I discovered I had lost a lot of shop goods, groceries—I missed a small parcel of linen drapery—I next saw them on the Saturday morning; the prisoner's wife brought them to me.

Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I am guilty of taking the coat, but not the other goods. I am very sorry. for it. I did not break into the house. I was in the house drinking with the man, and he gave me half a bottle of wine and some beer, and he sent me back with a pony he had bought at Chelmsford Market; and I took the pony and put it in a stable, and then went to take two donkeys home for him. He then took me to a public-house and gave me some beer to fight two men; but I did not do that as I had too much drink. I went into the house along with the man and took the coat off the door, but I did not break in; and the constable took me of I should have taken the coat back. I had been about his place before and never taken anything, and should not have done* it then only I was worse for drink, and should not have had it then but he gave it me. I should not have gone to the house if he had not taken me there. I did not know the other things were lost until I was taken for 'trial. The man was as bad as I was, for he wanted me to do things for him and he steer clear, but I would not My wife pleads guilty of taking the other things. I took the coat when I went after the donkeys, but did not break into the house."


He also PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction— Six Months'Imprisonment .


Before Mr. Justice Denman.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-58
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence

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58. JOSEPH TIDY (19), was indicted for a rape on Susan Munn . Mr. Gill conducted the Prosecution; and Mr. Cooperdefended the

Prisoner at the request of the Court.

GUILTY of the attempt — Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-59
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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59. JOHN MORAN (21), and ALFRED BIRCHALL (26) , Feloniously setting fire to a barn, two granaries, two sheds, and other property of Walter Stunt, with intent to injure him. Other counts—for setting fire to certain stacks and other things.

MR. HORACE AVORY conducted the Prosecution; and Mr. Gill the Defence.

ALFRED RIMMINGTON . I am clerk to Messrs. Essell, Knight, & Arnold, solicitors, of Maidstone, and am also clerk to the Justices there—I was present on 1st August when Mr. Walter Stunt was examined on this charge—I took down his deposition in writing and he signed it in the usual way—the prisoners were present the whole time and had an opportunity of cross-examination, of which they availed themselves—the deposition was was signed by the Justices before whom it was taken.

ALFRED HENRY HORLOCK . I live at Rochester—I knew the late Mr.' Walter Stunt; he is dead; I saw him in his coffin.

The deposition of Walter Stunt was put in and read as follows:"I am a farmer residing at Gillingham in this county; I occupy a farm called Crown Farm there near to Chatham, in the Rainham Road. About 3 o'clock on the afternoon of 27th July last I was on my farm there near the foot of a wheat stack which had been threshed out. The two prisoners came up to me; they were strangers to me; they asked me for a job of

work. I said I had no work that I thought would suit them. I then drove away in my pony cart and left the two prisoners standing there; I drove into the main road towards Chatham. In about four minutes I looked towards the farm, and I then saw that some straw was on fire just about where I had left the prisoners standing. I drove at. once to the fire and the prisoners were not there. From the time I left the straw until I got back it did not exceed more than four or five minutes. When I reached the stack I saw nobody there. I called for assistance, and James Barton, Wilkins, Dixon, and several others came in about seven or eight minutes. I observed the two prisoners helping putting out the fire; we were unable to put out the fire, from the loose straw that was burning. The fire then communicated to a straw stack and from thence to the barn, and burnt until the next, day. Altogether I had destroyed, the straw stack, barn, two vans, a cart house, a bullock house, a stack of clover, a stack trefoil, a stack of sanfoin, and about 50 quarters of wheat in the barn, and about 100 bushels of clover seed, and some farming implements. I estimate the whole damage at 2,020l. On the same day Richard Barton gave me the box of lucifers now produced, which I afterwards gave to policeman Gates.

Cross-examined by Moran. "I am quite sure you were on the straw when you asked me for work; if you were not on the straw you were very close to it; I think you were on it." Cross-examined by Birchall. "You might have followed me out of the gate, but I did not see you. I did not see you at the fire before it reached the straw stack."

WILLIAM ROBERT WILKINS . I am a labourer, residing on the Beacon at Chatham—on the afternoon of 27th July I was at Mr. Stunt's farm, at the stack-yard, about 2.30 or 2.45—I saw Mr. Stunt there and the two prisoners—I heard them ask Mr. Stunt for a job—they were then close to my elbow and close by the stack-bottom that caught fire first, and about a foot from the stack itself—the bottom of the stack is the rubbish that lies at the bottom after the stack has been threshed, to keep the corn from the ground—it had been a large wheat stack, and the loose straw had not been cleared up—I went away, leaving the prisoners there—I had seen them before that at the left hand of the fodder stack,' the trefoil, and one of them asked me if that was the master, pointing to Mr. Stunt, and I said "Yes"—when I left the yard I went out into the pea-field, which is towards Rainham—I was between 10 and 11 rods away when I saw the prisoners come between the two stacks and come into the pea-field and pick some peas to eat—that was about three or four minutes after I had seen them with Mr. Stunt—I then saw them go out into the main road, as if they were going to Rainham—I went further on to go to my work, and had got about 20 rods out in the field, when I turned round, and saw a body of smoke coming from the stack-bottom right up over the fodder stack—I ran at once and gave the alarm of fire—I got there in two or three minutes—I found the stack-bottom on fire between 2 and 3 yards from the fodder stack where I had been the prisoners standing.

By THE COURT. It was the loose straw that was left behind after the stack had been removed, that was on fire; there was no stack on fire when I got there Mr. Stunt was—there before me—the loose straw was about 4 yards from the fodder stack; that was the nearest—the next was the straw stack; that was close to it—there was grass between the stackbottom and the fodder stack, but there was litter of straw besides all the way between—I and Mr. Stunt assisted to put the fire out—I did not see

anyone leaving there, or in the vicinity—other men came up, but I did not see anyone there when I got there—I can't say which way the wind was—there was a wind; it was dry, hot weather.

MR. JUSTICE DENMAN expressed a doubt whether upon this evidence the prisoners could be convicted of setting fire to the stack; all that was done was to set fire to the loose straw, and although the fire ultimately spread and consumed the stacks, it required affirmative evidence to show that such a result was in-tended. Mr. Avoby submitted that the prisoners must be held to intend what was the natural and inevitable consequence of their act, viz., the catching fire of the stack from the straw (see "Queen v. Price," 9, Carrington & Payne, page 729). Mr. Gill contended that it was not a question whether the prisoners acted recklessly or with criminal negligence; there must be evidence of the letting fire to whatever was charged in the indictment. He referred to" Reg. v. Judd," 2 Term Reports, 255, and the case of "Beg. v. Child," I Law Reports, Crown Cases Reserved, page 307, was also referred to. In leaving the question to the Jury at the close of the case, Mr. Justice Denman said that if they were satisfied that the prisoners could not have fired the straw without the intention of further mischief, then they should find them guilty; the mere fact of setting fire to the straw would not of itself be sufficient, as the charge was setting fire to the stack, but if they were of opinion that they purposely fired the straw, utterly reckless whether the stack was burnt or not, in that case he should hold, for the purpose of the day, that that might be equivalent to an intentional setting fire to the stack, he would reserve the question if necessary.

WILUAM ROBERT WILKINS (continued). I did not myself see the stack threshed out—I saw the prisoners assisting, with others, to put the fire out—I should say that was about five minutes after I got there—I saw them both together, and spoke to them—I merely said "How are you?" no more—the fire was not put out; it spread to all the three stacks and farm buildings—the fodder stack was the first that caught after the stack-bottom, and the next was the olover—we call clover fodder in our part of the country—I have heard it called clover hay—a stack of straw was close to the clover, and as the flames ran it caught the straw—when I first saw the prisoners speaking to Mr. Stunt there was no one else in the yard so far as I could see.

Cross-examined. That was about 2.30 or 2.45—I had not been in the stack yard that morning before—I had been cutting peas with my family—a spot was afterwards pointed out to me by my son where he found a box of matches—I saw the prisoners go right by that spot as they walked from the stack yard to the pea field—it might be 2 yards or 1 1/2 yards—I can't tell how many labourers Mr. Stunt had in his employment that day—no one was working in the stack yard that day that I am aware of; no work was being done there—the stack had been threshed out on the Tuesday—the fire occurred on Thursday—I had been away from the stack yard all the morning, and only came there at 2.30—I went there to speak to Mr. Stunt, and then saw the two prisoners—I was between four and five minutes speaking to Mr. Stunt; I then left him and went across the pea field—the nearest men working to the stack yard were about 40 rods off—when I first saw the prisoners they were coming out of the main road towards the farm—I don't know which way they had come—they waited while I spoke to Mr. Stunt—they did not follow me into the pea field; they came in the same direction after they had spoken to Mr. Stunt—that would be the proper way to Rainbam—I had got between 10 and 11 rods before I'

looked back, and then I saw them picking peas in the field; they were hardly a minute doing that—there was a shed in the stack yard, a barn, a cow lodge, another lodge, and a stable—the stack were away from them; it might be 2 yards—I don't know whether there was anybody in the sheds when I was in the stack yard speaking to Mr. Stunt—Mr. Stunt was the first person that got into the stack yard after the fire—I did not see anybody else when I got there—I did not stand to look—assistance came almost immediately—Mr. Stunt told me to go and get a pail, which I did, and pumped the water, and by that time there were other persons there—I can't tell in what order they arrived—the prisoners stripped to their shirts and took of their things to assist—I did not see Mr. Stunt leave the stack yard—I can't say whether the prisoners walked out immediately behind him.

Re-examined. There is a footpath close alongside the pea field, not through it—there is no hedge to part it—they had no right to walk through the pea field or to be in it at all—I did not notice whether the sheds were open at this time—neither of the prisoners were smoking.

PETER JOHN WILKINS . I am the son of the last witness—on the afternoon of 27th July I went to the fire—after the fire I found a box of matches down by the side of the stack that was alight first, the clover stack on the side to the pea field—I afterwards showed my father where I had found it—I gave it to Mr. Lowdell—I saw the fire when my father did—I was not with him; he was then a long way before me.

Cross-examined. I was out in the pea field when I saw the fire, along with my mother—I had not been in the stack yard that morning; I did not see anyone there—it was after the fire was over that I found the box of matches, it was close down by the side of the stack—there is no hedge there; I did not say before the Magistrate that I found it by the side of the field—when I came up to the fire there were a great number of people there; I don't know how many—the matches were not on the side of the stack that was on fire.

ISAAC LOWDELL . I am a ropemaker at Chatham—on 27th July, I was at the fire, when I got there it was all on fire, barn and all—the boy Wilkins gave me a box of matches, and I gave it to Richard Barton.

Cross-examined. I was working in the pea field, there might be four or five men working there; that is the field next the stack yard.

JAMES BARTON . I was bailiff to the late Mr. Stunt—my house is about 100 yards from the pea field—on 27th July, I came out of my house from dinner, and saw some smoke in the stack yard—I ran with haste directly to. the stack yard, and saw it on fire—the foot of a wheat stack that had just been threshed was burning, the loose straw, nothing else was on fire then, it spread to the fodder stack, and from thence to the straw stack, it blew I across to the fodder stack from the straw, there was a breeze blowing at the time in the right direction for it to catch the others—the blaze was 2 or 3 yards high, the straw got loose and was blown across—when I got there Mr. Stunt was there, in fact we were there together, he was in the road in his pony cart, and I was in the field; he was a little before me—I did not see anyone leaving the stack yard—I did not see the prisoners till I went, and got the first pail of water from the stable—Wilkins and Dixon came! up before the prisoners.

Cross-examined. Dixou came at the same time with me—there were about a dozen labourers employed about the farm—some were working in

the pea field, they had their dinner out in the field, they would not come into the stack yard; they did not, I was past there not half an hour before I the fire, and there was no one near, I went into my own house to dinner.

HENRY DIXON . I am a labourer at Chatham—on this afternoon, I was in the stable having my dinner, that was about 3 rods from where the fire was—it does not open into the stack yard—the first burning I saw was the stack bottom—I went at once to it—there was nothing else on fire at that time—the fodder stack caught next, from the wind blowing the straw from the other whilst jit was all ablaze; I could not see into the the yard from the stable where I was at work—when I got there I saw Mr. Stunt, I heard him hallo and I ran out to see what was the matter, and the bailiff was coming towards it.

Cross-examined. Leaving the yard and going across the pea field you might go to Rainham, if you cater that way; there is no path, only across the peas.

RICHARD BARTON . I was lodging at Crown Farm—on the afternoon of 27th July, Lowdell gave me a box of matches; I gave them to Mr. Stunt.

ABRAHAM GATES (Kent Constabulary, No. 51). On the afternoon of 27th July, I apprehended the prisoners at Crown Farm, Gillingham, at the fire—I charged them on suspicion of setting fire to some hay stacks, and form buildings, the property of Mr. Stunt—I asked them "Where were you two men when you first saw the fire "—Moran said "We were in the road"—Birchall said "We came and asked the master for a job of work; he said he had nothing for us to do, he then went out into the road, and we went out with him, we went a little way along the road and in the other gate and commenced picking a few peas to eat; I looked up and saw the men turning towards us and I said 'Come on Jack, they are going to make a set out about our picking these few peas; we then went out into the road, I then saw the fire and we both went to help put it out"—I searched them, and on each of them I found a tobacco pipe, a few pence and a few halfpence—I then took them to Chatham police-station—I charged them on suspicion of setting fire to-some hay stacks and farm buildings, the property of Mr. Stunt—they both said "There was another man there in Mr. Stunt's employment, and he ought to be examined as well as us"—I received this lucifer-box from Mr. Stunt the same day—when I searched the prisoners I said" You don't appear to have a lucifer in your pocket," one of them, I don't which, said "If I have a lucifer it is more than I know of."

Cross-examined. I have not made any inquiries about Birchall; I made inquiries to find out what they told me about a man giving them a lucifer, but I could not find out.

The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Moran says:"I was working at Wateringbury on Monday and Tuesday last and started back from Wateringbury to Maidstone on Tuesday night We lodged at Maidstone on Tuesday night and went to the Potteries on Wednesday morning. There was no work there and a man in a boat sent us to Chatham to the water works; we stopped there on Wednesday night and went to the water works on Thursday at dinner time; they did not want anybody, and we then started on the road to Sbeerness, and in about a mile met a man who had been lodging with us, and we sat down for ten minntes, and then asked him for a match;" he said he had got one and picked up a bit of match box from under his foot in the road, and gave me a light from his match. We then went on to the farm bailiff's house and asked for a job. He said he had not got one. We

then went to the farm and stood against the gate picking a pea or two. The master drove into the stack yard; we went to the master and asked for a job. He said 'No, not at present,' so we came out of the gate with him; he was in his trap, and we went to the pea field and picked a few peas, and went down the road, where we saw the men looking at us. I do not wish to call any witnesses." Birchall says:" I will reserve mine. I don't want to call any witnesses."


BEFORE MR. Baron Hawkins.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-60
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

Related Material

60. JANE ASHMORE (16), PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously setting fire to a workshop with intent to injure John Beveridge, who gave her a good character and recommended her to mercy.— Nine Months' Imprisonment

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-61
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence

Related Material

61. JOHN SHEA (35) , for the wilful murder of John Budgen. He was also charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with the like offence.

MESSRS. F. J. SMITH and MR. J. SHARPS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. ST. AUBYN defeneded the Prisoner, at the request of the Court.

THOMAS BECKETT . I am a labourer, residing at Lingfield, Surrey, that is adjoining the parish of Edenbridge—on Tuesday, 8th August, about 6 o'clock, I was drinking outside the Wheat Sheaf—a man named Budgen was there, and a woman who lived with him as his wife—the prisoner came there from 7.30 to 8 o'clock with a bagging hook which he put under the seat outside the house and said "That is a mark on some one to-night"—he called for a pint of beer, the landlord served him; he got into conversation with John Budgen and Phillis Palmer—Budgen was sober when he came in, but Phillis Palmer was not—there was some singing—the conversation was principally between the prisoner and Budgen, it was in some tongue unknown to me; they did not call it Indian; the other people called it French—I heard no remark from Budgen to the prisoner or from the prisoner to Budgen about being in India; they talked in the unknown tongue for half an hour, it seemed familiar to them, but not to me—they all three left together at 9.57, because that is the time for closing; that is Budgen, the prisoner, and the woman—after they had gone about a minute I took up the bagging hook; the prisoner had only then got about 3 yards away from the house; it was bound with a small hay band as he had left it; the landlord ordered me to give it to John Hickey, and I did so; the hay band was then on it the same as before; I did not try it to see that it was tight, but it was apparently tight; the prisoner was so near to me that I saw Hickey give it to him—I stood" in front of the Wheat Sheaf talking to my two mates, I bade them good night and went on my way home, which was the same way that the prisoner and the others had gone; they went on up the road and I saw John Budgen and the prisoner at Grayberry Lane.

RICHARD DANCE (Police Sergeant). I know the whole of this ground and have measured it—this plan (produced) represents accurately the spot where this took place, the Wheat Sheaf, and Grayberry Lane and the place where the man was found—this is the first time I have seen the plan, but I understand it.

By THE COURT. Edenbridge is here, and this is the elm tree—there is a high road leading from Edenbridge to East Grinstead, starting from the elm tree—here is Marsh Green—the Wheat Sheaf is on the right hand side, and there is a sign post—this red line leads down to a point B, which is at the corner of Grayberry Lane—this is Dormau's Land Road, at that spot there

is a footpath leading along this blank dotted line across a stream towards Lingfield Lodge; that is just in Surrey, the stream divides the counties—from the Wheat Sheaf public-house to the corner of Grayberry Lane is 154 yards, I measured it, and it is 292 yards from this spot B, which is the corner of Grayberry Lane to the other side of the brook.

THOMAS BECKETT (continued). They stopped at the corner of Grayberry Lane—I saw them standing and talking together and could hear that they were talking, but was not close enough to hear their conversation—I got about 3 rods from them; I did not hear any quarrelling—I saw the prisoner take this bagging hook (produced) in his hand and strike John Budgen on the back of the left leg; they were standing facing each ether—it was a very moonlight night and I could see very clearly—I saw the bagging hook in the prisoner's hand before he raised it over his head; I cannot tell you in what position he was carrying it till he brought it over his head; I did not see it till it was over his head and I cannot say whather he stood with it on his arm or by his side—I was not looking at them all the while, but I had. seen nothing done by the prisoner until I saw the bagging hook over his head—when he had struck the blow Budgen fell down on his back at the end of the lane, and called "Murder!" three times—he said "Oh, my life is taken away, murder!" and I never heard him speak afterwards—the prisoner walked away a short distance and then he ran in the direction of Dorman's Land—he did not attempt to render any assistance, nor did he offer any explanation, so far as I heard he said nothing—I helped the deceased and called "John "two or three times, but he made no reply, and I believe he was dead—I knelt down by his side to see whether I could hear him breathe, but I could not—I then saw and heard blood flowing from his leg—i called Phillis Palmer—s in advance 6 or 7 rods up Grayberry Lane; she left them talking; she came back to me—I did not find the hay band by the deceased, nor did I see any more of the hook that night—Phillis Palmer followed the prisoner along Dorman's Land Road about 150 yards, and she ultimately came back to the 'dead man—this (produced) is the same description of hay band, but this is not the whole.

Cross-examined. I had not been drinking particularly at the Wheatsheaf—I got a drop of beer—the prisoner was under the influence of drink when he came in—the deceased was a little the worse for drink but not so bad as the woman—several other people were in the house besides the prisoner and the deceased and his wife and Hickey—during the whole time I was there there was not the slightest quarrel between anybody; and not only that but—they were all on particularly good terms and singing together—I did not hear any conversation between the prisoner and the deceased about their former military life—I know that the deceased had been a soldier—I heard no conversation about the sword exercise or about their having been in India together—I do not know whether the deceased had been in India—I knew that he was a hawker; he was not an intimate acquaintance of mine—I had never seen the prisoner before—the bagging hook is a very common thing, there are thousands of them down there in the harvest season—I picked it up when the prisoner left—the hay appeared to be tight but I did not examine the band—I cannot answer whether it may have been loose, it was twisted round—I only took hold of the handle and picked it up—he left it behind him, and when Hickey gave it to him I believe he said "Thank you," but I did not hear it—Phillis Palmer was 6 or 7 rods ahead when the blow took place, and I was some little way behind; when the prisoner raised

the hook they were facing each other, but their sides were towards me—I cannot swear v, hether the band was on the hook or not at the time he held it over his head—I have never been a soldier or a volunteer and I do not know anything about the sword exercise—he took the instrument like this (holding it over his head),

Re-examined, I am accustomed to work in the fields, and have worked with a bagging hook—it is usual to put a hay band round the hook while it is being carried, for the protection of the blade when travelling from one job to another; here is *a notch on the blade—when I saw the hay band round the blade it was right up to the handle, and this portion which has the notch was covered by the hay band—I did not take hold of the implement by the hay band, only by the handle—I did not notice when I had hold of the handle whether, in moving it about the hay band slipped at all—the two men stood in the road sideways to me, and about 3 or 4 feet from me, at near as I can tell.

By THE COURT. I merely took the hook up and said "This is 'that man's hook "—I cannot tell you whether there was a particle of hay round this little bit—I cannot say whether it was fastened or not.

By THE JUBT. When the prisoner raised his hand he was standing with his legs apart; I cannot say whether he moved his legs when he brought the hook down.

JAMES MILLS . On the evening of 8th August, I was in the Wheatsheaf when the prisoner came there; he had a bagging hook with a hay band round it—I did not handle it—he put it under the form between his legs, and I heard him say something but I cannot say what the words were—I did not understand what he said—I heard him speak but I don't know what.

JOHN HICKEY . I am a labourer, and work in Lingfield parish—on 8th August, I was at the Wheatsheaf, inside the house in front of the bar—I was not outside when Shea and Budgen were—I was there till about 10 o'clock—Beckett said "That man has left a hook here"—there had been a form there but it was moved—Beckett poked for it with a stick and found it and picked it up, and Longley, the landlord of the Wheatsheaf, handed it to me and I took it to the prisoner; it had got a hay-hand round the blade at the time I received it—I carried it by the handle till I got to the prisoner, and then I took hold of the blade and he took hold of the handle—I touched the hay band, it was not so tight as I have seen some; the hay-band did not move while I had got it, but it was not bound round very tight; I did not notice whether it was fastened in any way—when I gave the hook to Shea the hay-band was round it as it was when I received it, there was no difference—he was a very short distance from the house, near the sign post; when I gave it to him he said, very good humouredly "Thank you, give us your hand old boy "that is all he said—I heard no violent conversation between them, they were not quarrelling in any way.

Cross-examined. He put out his hand.

SARAH CHANDLER . I live at Edenbridge in the county of Kent—on 8th August I was at work at my sister's at the Wheat-Sheaf; I saw Phillis Palmer and the prisoner there; they left the house at about 9.57 and I followed in the same direction—I saw the prisoner and the diseased walking together, and as I passed them I heard Budgen say to the prisoner "I have lived with my old woman twenty years "—I heard a shout shortly afterwards, which I thought was "Mother "—I went back and saw a large

pool of blood in the road—when I passed Budgen and the prisoner the prisoner had a hook on his arm bound round with a hay band; they appeared to be talking very quietly.

PHILLIS PALMER . I have known the deceased John Budgen twenty-three years; I lived in company with him all that time—I never saw the prisoner till 8th August, nor do I know that Budgen knew him—so far as I know they were strangers—I went with Budgen to the Wheat Sheaf on 8th August, the day he met with his death—at 9.57 he left with Shea; they had been in company all the evening from about 7 o'clock—I went on forward, and when I got beyond the corner of Grayberry Lane I cannot swear whether I him call "Murder "or what, as I was turned inside out—I turned back and found Budgen lying on the ground on his back; he was dead—I never saw Shea again till next morning—I went down Dorman's Lane and holloaed "Murder "several times; that is towards East Grim-stead—I had had a little to drink; I was able to walk and to run after Shea—Budgen had been in the army before he kept company with me; his age was sixty-three.

By THE COURT. I used to talk to him about where he had been when in the Army; he had been in India—he sometimes talked in a language I could not understand, and he told me that that was the way in which they spoke in India—I heard him and the prisoner talking that night in a language I could not understand.

GEORGE MILLEN . I am in the Kent County Constabulary stationed at at Edenbridge—on 8th August from information I received I went to Marsh Green and at the end of the lane saw John Budgen lying quite dead—I examined him and found a wound behind his left knee cap, the same which the doctor afterwards examined—I removed the body with assistance to the Wheat Sheaf, and from what I heard went in pursuit of the prisoner, and gave information at the different police-stations round—I saw him next morning at 6.10 or 6.15 at Marsh Green in Inspector Manning's custody at the Wheat Sheaf, who handed him over to my custody and told me in the prisoner's presence that he charged him with. the wilful murder of John Budgen, and cautioned him in the usual way; the prisoner said "I was here drinking with the man and "went up the road with him, and that is all I know about it"—I had not the hook in my hand then; I afterwards received it from a man named Cramp in the presence of William Jenner, and then in company with Inspector Manning I went to the Edenbridge railway-station with the prisoner; we had to wait there a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes, and during that time I had the hook in my hand, looking at it with Inspector Manning, and the prisoner said "That is my hook "—I then took him to Tonbridge police-station and locked him up—at the time I saw him, at 6.15, he appeared to be suffering from the effects of hard drinking.

COURT to PHILLIS PALMER. Q. Was the deceased fond of taking about his soldiering life, did you ever hear him talk to other people about it? A. Sometimes; he appeared to enjoy talking about it if be met with an old soldier; I have never heard him talk about what weapons he used or how he used them—he was in the infantry.

GEORGE MANNING . I am an inspector of the Surrey Constabulary—on 9th August about 5.30 a.m. I received a communication, and about 12 o'clock I went to the Wheat Sheaf—I had heard of Budgen's death the night previous—the prisoner was there in the custody of a number of

private individuals—I cautioned him and told him he would be charged with the wilful murder of John Budgen; he said "I know nothing whatever of the matter, and never saw the man;" he made use of some very bad language—I was with Millen at Edenbridge station when the hook was produced; the prisoner said "That is my hook"—we were examining it' this is it.

Cross-examined. I do not think I have made any mistake, I will not be positively sure that the prisoner's words were not "I know nothing of the man, I have not seen him, I know nothing whatever of him"—I think I have the exact words in my pocket book, and I made a memorandum afterwards—I did not say before the Magistrate "The prisoner said I know nothing of it policeman, I have not seen him, I know nothing whatever of him" there is a mistake in one word, it should be "I know nothing of the matter"—he said "I have not seen the man—I have not got my pocket book here, but this is a copy I made—the prisoner was not drunk when I took him, bat 1 should imagine he had been drinking very heavily—this is my signature to my deposition—I was examined on oath; it was read over to me after it was written, and I was asked to listen to see if it was accurate, I said yes, and signed it.

THE COURT. I will read what you said, "I know nothing of the man, I have not see him, I know nothing whatever of him "—that is what you swore to and it was read over to you and you signed it, you may do down.

WILLIAM JENNER . I am a labourer of Marsh. Green, near Edenbridge on 8th August, I was drinking in front of the Wheat Sheaf; I saw the deceased and the prisoner there—I heard a cry of "Murder," got some information, and went to the spot where the man was felled—I got a light to see if he was really dead, and then went in search of the prisoner—I was at the Wheat Sheaf at 9.15, andlleftat a few minutesbefore 10 o'clock—I found the prisoner on the borders of Surrey, just over the stream, lying down by the side of the path; I was attracted by a sound—he appeared to be asleep—I called to him but got no answer and called again, and he said "What are you up to"—I went to him and took hold of him and told him he had caused the death of another man—he said "I know nothing about it—I told him I was sorry for him, one of the men with us asked him for his hook; he said "Hook, I have no hook "—Eddings was round on the other side of him and picked up the hook—I saw him pick it up—I told the prisoner he must go along with me, he said "All right, I will go "the hay band was not on the hook then—I took him to the Wheat Sheaf; he went very quietly while I had got hold of him—I was there when a man named Russell was there.

BARNABAS EDDINGS . I am a labourer of Lingfield—on 8th August I went with Jenner to search for Shea and found him just over the brook, Jenner said that he had caused another man's life to be taken away—I can hardly say what answer the prisoner made—I asked him where his hook was, he said he had not got ne'er a b——hook—I said "I think you are got a hook," and I searched and found this hook with a piece out of the blade, about 6 feet from him—there was no hay band on it—I assisted in taking him to the Wheat Sheaf—after we took him in custody I asked him how he came to do such a thing—that was when we were between the stile and the Wheat Sheaf inn—he said that he was vexed to do it—I am sure "vexed" was the word he used; that was the word I understood—he never spoke any more till he got to the Wheat Sheaf, he then said that if he had got his other

two mates be would clear the deck of us, he said nothing more about the 'death of the man that I could understand.

Cross-examined. I have mentioned that before to-day—I was examined before the Magistrate and put my cross to what was read over to me—what I said on that occasion was true—on my solemn oath I mentioned my saying how came you to do it, and the prisoner replying, that he was vexed to do it.

By THE COURT. I do, not think I made a mistake—the words I hare repeated he said to me the other day—I mentioned that* to the Magistrate of Tonbridge. (The deposition being referred to, did not contain the words "He said he was vexed to do if."

THOMAS TOWNSEND . I drive the mail cart at Edenbridge—on 8th August about 10.10 I was at Edenbridge, and went to the spot—where this unfortunate thing occurred, and as I stood over the blood I reached out and said "What is this?" and the answer was "A bit of hay out of the poor old fellow's hat"—it was about a yard or 1 long, twisted up tight—this (produced) is only a small part of it—I pulled it to pieces and threw it in the river; I never thought it would be wanted any more—you know if you twist a piece of hay up tight and let go, it will naturally curl up—it was twisted in knots.

RICHAED DANCE (Superintendent of Tonbridge Police). On 9th August about 3 a.m. I heard of this matter and went to the spot, and when I returned to Tonbridge at 8 o'clock I found the prisoner in the reception-room in the custody of Manning and two constables—I received him from. Millen and said "I suppose you know what you are charged with"—he said "Yes"—I said "You will have to remain here till I can take you before a Magistrate on this charge "—I then had him locked up and went to Edenbridge to the Wheat Sheaf inn, where I saw Budgen lying dead in an out-houite—on 10th August I visited the prisoner, he asked for some water which I supplied him with; he then said to me "That man must have fallen on the hook, I don't remember cutting him "—he was taken before the Magistrate and remanded till the 15th.'

Cross-examined. I do not know the sword exercise, but I know there used to be seven cuts, the third cut would hamstring a person—the first cut is so, the next is across the shoulder, and the third would cut a person lower down on the leg—it is a good many years since I did anything in it, but that is old fashioned drill thirty-six years ago.

Re-examined. The upper cut would bring it across a man?s neck, not down to the knee; that is the third cut; the upper cut would take a man's head off if it was done-hard enough.

CHARLES FOSTER GRBGON . I am a medical man practising at Edenbridge—on the night of 8th August, about 10.30,1 was called to Marsh Green, and there saw the body of John Budgen lying by the side of the road where Grayberry Lane branches off and Dorman's Lane joins it—he he was quite dead—I had known him some time, by meeting him—I was able to recognise him—I put my hand in the wound to see if it was bleeding, because there was hardly light enough to see the blood—there was no post-mortem examination—I examined him to see if there was more than one cut on the body, but only discovered one, and that was on the back of the left knee; it was 3 or 4 inches long and 3 or 4 inches deep, such as this implement would inflict; but it would require some considerable force—the wound extended to the bone; you could see the bone; it had separated

the main artery of the leg which would cause death in between two and four minutes—I have not the slightest doubt that that was the cause of death.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "The deceased wanted me to lay up for the night along with him; we went up the road Dorman'a Land way. The deceased asked me in Hindoostanee whether I could go through the seven cuts and points of the sword exercise. We had both been in the Army. I made the upper cut. Whether he fell on the hook or whether I cut him I don't know. We were very quiet, we had no words or nothing."

GUILTY of Manslaughter — One Week's Imprisonment.

Before Mr. Recorder.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-62
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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62. WILLIAM PICKETT (17), CHARLES OSBORNE (17), and HENRY ADAMS (17) , Robbery with violence on one James Saunders and stealing from him a basket, a handkerchief, and other articles.

MR. HARRIS conducted the Prosecution.

JAMES SAUNDERS . I live at Roxley, North Cray, Kent, and am a labourer—I remember going home to Roxley Farm on Saturday night, 12th August, at about 10 o'clock—I had a basket with me, containing a little piece of beef, a loaf of bread, and tea and sugar—I had 5 1/2 d. in my smock pocket—when I was going over the hill I met the three prisoners—I passed by and said "Good night, lads," and stepped on to the footpath running along the high road—I saw they followed me, and I had not got far before they all came on me at once—I felt their hands in my pocket robbing me—then they got me down and got atop of me, and knocked me about the head and arms, hurting me very much and making a wound across my eye—I heard a footstep along the bottom of the hill, and they got up and ran away—I got up and saw my basket was gone, and then my nose went off bleeding—my 5 1/2 d. was gone—I kept my hand where my shillings were—I saw a policeman, and made a complaint to him—I went home—I had lost my hat—next morning I went to the spot again at about 4 o'clock, daybreak—I looked for my hat, and looking down another road I saw three persons down by a shed—I know'd they were the same, and I hid myself under the hedge—they came on to the pitch of the hill, and I heard one say "How he stuck to his pocket," and another "He lost his things," and when they got 2 rods further on one said "I did hit him "—I goes on a little further into a shore—then I looked down to see if I could see any policeman down Foot's Cray, but no man or soul could I see about—I came back again, and I heard a footstep on the North Cray Road, and then I lost them all at once—then I took and shot right back to the police station—I afterwards went to the police-station at about 8 or 9 o'clock at night, and I went into the court where there were others, and I looked round and saw them, and I said "My lads, I must give you in charge for robbing me on the high road "—they said nothing.

Osborne. I am quite innocent.

Adams. I started away from London on Thursday, and got down to Foot's Cray on Friday. I asked for a job, and I started work at 6.30 and stopped till Saturday evening. We went into a public-house and had some tea, and came out about 7.30. I am quite innocent, and know nothing at all about it.

Archibald McDowell (Policeman R 371). On Saturday night, 12th August, at about 12.20, I met the prosecutor between Foots Cray and Roxley Hill—he was bleeding from several severe wounds on the face and seemed quite stunned—about an hour and a half after I saw the three prisoners and another man in a shed of Mr. King's, Foot's Cray, about half a mile from the hill—I went in and asked them what brought them there, and they told me that the foreman of the place had told them they might stop there that night—I saw them again in the morning, about 5.30, in Foot's Cray Road, just on the bridge; that was before the prosecutor had been to the station—I did not speak to them—afterwards some other information was brought to the station, and I went with Sergeant Dixon in search of them in private clothes, and saw them all three together on Foot's Cray Bridge at about 6 o'clock, Sunday afternoon—we told them we had suspicions of their being the persons who had violently assaulted and robbed the prosecutor the night before on Roxley Hill—they said nothing—we took them to the station, and the prosecutor was sent for, and he identified them by the side of six or eight others, one of whom was provided with a white smock like one of the prisoners—he had not the slightest difficulty in picking them out.

FREDERICK LONGHUTRST . I am a farm labourer, of Roxley—I saw the three prisoners together under a hedge on Sunday afternoon, 13th August, about half a mile from Roxley Hill—they had a basket with them—when I was coming over the stile one picks up the basket and puts it up behind—one says "What is the time?" and I say "4.55," and another said "What time are publics open?" and I said "6 o'clock"—I don't know what became of the basket.

THOMAS DIXON (Policeman AS 261).* I took the prisoners, in company with the other constable—I searched them, and found 5 1/2 d. on Adams and 1/2 d. on Pickett; nothing on the other.

JAMES SAUNDERS (re-examined). They all struck me alike with their hands; no weapon.

GUILTY Eighteen Months' Imprisonment each .

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-63
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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63. HENRY HOLMES, alias WILLIAM BROWN (26) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Daniel Barnard, and stealing therein the sum of 1l. 5s. and other articles.

MR. MARSHALL conducted the Prosecution.

ROBERT WHITTAKER . I am a superanuated rigger, of No. 3, Globe Lane, Chatham, and am in the employ of Daniel Barnard, licensed victualler, who keeps the Railway Tavern in High Street, Chatham; there is a music hall attached—it is my duty to lock up the premises at night—there is a wocden fence about 6 or 7 feet high enclosing the yard at the back, in which there is a gate which is always kept locked—the bar yard leads by a door down a passage into the concert-hall, it has a panel in it which is usually kept open—there is another door leading out of the concert room into the bar; there is an opening over it into the bar large enough for a man or three men to get in if they liked—I fastened up at about 11.5 on 4th October—I had nothing to do with the bar door, they lock that when they go to bed—on the 12th October I went in the yard at about 10.50 and discovered the prisoner in one corner with his hat slouched over his eyes and his arms folded—I asked what he was doing there, but what answer he made I don't know, being deaf—the performance was all over then—I took him to the

pothouse and delivered him up to a gentleman who was in the passage and asked him if he knew anything of him, and he said "No," and he brought him up to the bar, when he was given in charge of a constable.

JAMES WILLIAMS . I am in the employ of Mr. Barnard—on the morning of 5th October I got up at 5.20 and went downstairs and noticed one of the bar windows open, with a stick up under it; we always keep a stick under it when open, because there is no proper fastening—I turned round to make a report to the master and found the concert-room door was unbolted, and on searching over the place I found a large bundle of clothes behind the stage, done round with a handkerchief—the doors were all three unbolted, so that if a person were inside he could get out—there was a portmanteau there which looked as if the lock had been cut out.

LEWIS BARNARD . I am the son of Mr. Barnard, who keeps the Railway Tavern, and manage his business—I was called by Williams at about 5.30 on the morning of 5th October, when I went down and examined the till, from which I missed about 25s. in silver and copper; it was not open but shut to again; I am not certain whether it was locked, I fancy it was left locked up the night before; we always lock it up after business, and place the keys in a drawer—about 11.15 is the usual time for closing.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I have not seen you in the concert-hall since the robbery was committed, I have never seen you in my life before.

ALFRED RIVERS . I am a professional singer, of 151, Praed Street, Pad-dington—on the night of 4th October I was performing at Mr. Barnard's, Railway Tavern, Chatham—after the performance, according to my custom, I pnt some articles inmy portmanteau, a red silk handkerchief, a pair of white cotton gloves, and a wig were with them; I fastened the portmanteau and put the key in my pocket; these are the handkerchief and gloves (produced)—on the morning of the 5th I examined my portmanteau, which was in the same place, but the lock had been cut and all the clothes taken out and tied up with this scarf in the hall, ready to be carried off; the portmanteau was empty, except the wig and one or two other little things.

GEORGE WESTON (Kent Constable 171). On the night of 12th October I went to the prosecutor's premises when the prisoner was given into my charge—I told him Mr. Barnard had given him into my custody for being on his premises for an unlawful purpose—he said it was not for an unlawful purpose, but he got over the wall to go to the rear—I took him to the station and searched him, when I found this handkerchief and a pair of gloves in his right hand pocket—I charged him with stealing the 25s. and the other articles, and also with burglariously breaking out of the premises.

Prisoner's Defence. On the night of the 4th October I went to the hall. I don't know anything about the robbery. I picked the handkerchief and gloves up in the street, which I told the Magistrate. Of course any person might be walking along the street and pick up articles which might have been stolen. A good many evenings after the robbery I visited Mr. Barnard's music-hall, which several of his waiters know, and I daresay some of them saw me there five or six evenings. Do you think it probable that I should commit a robbery and go there every evening and be found on the premises a little more than a week afterwards if I actually committed the robbery, which I did not? The fence, instead of being 7 feet high, I should think, where I got over, is not more than 5 feet 6 inches; it is an old broken down, wooden fence.

GUILTY Eight Months' Imprisonment

BEFORE MR. Common Sergeant.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-64
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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64. EDWARD FRESHWATER (72), PLEADED GUILTY ** to stealing 4 cwts. of coals of William Rory in a barge on the Thames, having been before convicted of felony— Eight Years' Penal Servitude. .

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-65
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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65. JAMES HILLS (39) , to stealing, whilst employed in the post-office, two post letters containing 120 stamps of Her Majesty's Post Master General— Five Years' Penal Servitude . [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-66
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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66. ELIZABETH HOWLAND (17) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Rhoda Rackburn, and stealing therein the sum of 46l., a desk, and other articles— Twelve Months' Imprisonment [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-67
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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67. ELIZABETH WILLIAMS'(26) , to unlawfully concealing the birth of her child— One Month's Imprisonment [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-68
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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68. GEORGE LEE (42) , to burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Benjamin Stone and stealing therein two jackets and other articles— Four Months' Imprisonment [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-69
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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69. WILLIAM MURTHWAITE THOMPSON (49) , to feloniously marrying Emma King during the lifetime of his wife— Two Months' Imprisonment [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-70
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude; Imprisonment > penal servitude

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70. WALTER PRENDERGAST (18), and THOMAS JENNINGS (21) , Robbery on John Harvey, and stealing from his person a watch and chain, his property.

MR. MOSS conducted the Prosecution.

JOHN HARVEY . I am a civil engineer and am surveyor to the Borough of Dover—on Wednesday night, 11th October, I returned home about 9.30—I took the Castle Hill Road to Deal;' it is a rough rugged road with grooves caused by the action of the surface water—from the town town to the top of Dorrington Place would be about. half a mile—my house bears off to the left of this road—Fort Burgoyne is about half a mile—when I got about 30 or 40 yards from a lamp which is just on the top of Doriston, I heard persons coming behind me and in a very few seconds I was husselled by a number of soldiers—I was struck first on the back of my head; my hat (produced) has marks upon it—I received several blows with the hand and blows with a stick—I was knocked down; the bank there has some herbage upon it; it rises rapidly—the first blow I believe brought me down; then I was pulled about—I was down at least once or twice afterwards—I am satisfied there were four soldiers;, one of them ran at me and grasped hold of my watch and chain, and in getting the watch out tore my waistcoat (produced)—that pulled me down upon my knees—the men ran away—I got up immediately and ran across the road where I saw a soldier walking quickly; I grasped him and went up with him after his explanation to Fort Burgoyne; he gave me some information and I communicated the facts to the Sergeant of the Guard—the men were sent for whom this soldier told me he knew, and they were brought to the guard-room—as soon as I found. they were in custody in the guard-room I went down to the superintendent of police, about a mile and a quarter distant; he went up with me to Fort Bargoyne, and the men were brought down to the station—this (produced) is my watch, the chain is not here; I have never seen or heard of it since—the watch cost thirty-two guineas and the chain 13l. 10s.

Cross-examined by Prendergast. I cannot identify you—the man who took my watch did strike me—I did not identify any of you.

Cross-examined by Jennings. I cannot identify you—I was struck on on the back of the head—I was struck more than once.

THOMAS FORD . I am a private in the 2nd Battalion, 6th Royal Regiment

—we were quartered, on 11th October, at Fort Burgoyne, Dover—on that evening I was returning from town up by Doriston Place—I had been to several public-houses; the Saracen's Head, Beacon Street, was the last one; I saw several soldiers there, two of them were the prisoners; I left about nine o'clock; the two prisoners and others left at the same time; they went up the Old Castle Hill; I turned into an entry or passage to make water-while there I heard a shout towards the hill, I saw several soldiers round the prosecutor—the passage is about 30 yards from the lamp—the soldiers were beyond the lamp, going up the hill—I ran up to assist him and I saw something like a watch glitter on the prosecutor's waistcoat—I indentify the prisoners as two of the soldiers—I saw Prendergast struggling with the prosecutor—the men then ran down the hill towards me; I tried to stop them; they struck me against the wall and ran on towards the town—the prosecutor came running down and seized me; he said "I have been robbed, you are one of them and must come up to Fort Burgoyne "—I explained that I was not one of them, but was in the passage and tried to stop the men as they ran down the hill; I said if he would come with me to Fort Burgoyne I would give him the names of the prisoners—I have not the least doubt of their identity—one belongs to "F "and the other to "G "company; I belong to "J "company—at Fort Burgoyne I was brought face to face with the prisoners in the guardroom—I was detained there till the prisoners were brought in—the officer asked me if I could identify the men; I identified both of them, and Prendergast then made a kick at my thigh, and if one of the guards had not kept him off it would have hurt me seriously.

Cross-examined by Prendergast. I saw you snatch the watch from the prosecutor—you are the man I saw engaged with him—I could not say who struck him, but somebody did—I saw you stealing the watch—two men ran up the hill and the prisoners ran down.

Cross-examined by Jennings. I followed you both; you were with Prendergast—I saw four soldiers, you two running away from the prosecutor—it was dark—the other two soldiers ran up the hill—I was sober; if I had been drunk I should have been made a prisoner at the barracks—there is a wall there to the left—I could not see who struck me, I saw the blow struck—the backs of the soldiers were towards me—I saw you in Prendergast's company at the time I stated.

JOHN PURCELL . I am a sergeant in the 2nd Battalion, 6th Royal Regiment, quartered at Fort Burgoyne—on the night of 11th October I was ordered to take Prendergast to the guardroom; he belongs to "G "company, that is my company—I was orderly serjeant that night—on going to the guard-room I observed him in the act of throwing something away towards a small grass inclosure on his left, 5 or 6 yards from the guard-room—I was not present when he was identified—I told the superintendent of police the following morning; he went in the direction I pointed out; I went with him; I saw him find a gold watch; the glass was broken—I believe this (produced) to be the one.

THOMAS OSBORN SAUNDERS (Police Superintendent). The prosecutor came to me shortly before 11 o'clock, on the evening of Wednesday,11th October, perfectly sober—in consequence of the information he gave me I accompanied him to Fort Burgoyne, and after communicating with the acting adjutant I was shown the two prisoners, each in separate cells; Prendergast first—I said "You will be charged with other men with assaulting a gentleman on Old Castle Hill, and with stealing his purse and

watch and chain, value 46l—Prendergast said "Oh! is that all"—I repeated the same charge to Jennings—he said "I am as innocent as the coat I am wearing "—I did not see the witness Purcell there that night—the prisoners were sent down by an escort; I accompanied them to the station that night, the charge was read over to them, and they made no reply to it—next morning about 6 o'clock I went to Fort Burgoyne, and in consequence of what Sergeant Purcell told me, I searched a plot of grass at the back of the guard-room cells and found the watch produced—the glass was broken, and it had stopped at 10.2, as soon as I threw the broken glass out the watch went on again—the case was tarnished; it had been a wet night—this piece of chain (produced) was handed to me next day by one of the officers of the regiment.

ARTHUR LYNALL (Lance Corporal). On 12th October, I was a private in the 12th Regiment—I left Fort Burgoyne, about 9 o'clock to go to town, and on the way I found this bar and these links (produced) on the pathway, about 8 or 9 yards from the bottom of the pathway—it was about 30 yards from the last lamp as you go up the hill—I took the bar to the officer of my detachment.

The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Prendergast says: " I was going home about 9.20 last night, when I saw that gentleman and several soldiers; there was a woman in his company, and when I got to him he was lying on the ground. He was drunk and could not stand at all, and I saw the watch on the ground close to him, and I picked it up and put it in my pocket. I then went up to the Fort, and the sergeant of my company ordered two men to take me to the guard-room, and while I was going I threw the watch away." Jennings says:"Last night I was coming home to Fort Burgoyne, about 9.15; I had been in company with Prendergast. We were coming home and had got as far as the Plough. I asked if he would have anything to drink. He said * No.' I then went in and had something myself. Prendergast went in and I overtook him where this scuffle was, that gentleman was drunk with his hat on the back of his Bead shouting. There was a lot of more soldiers pushing him about. I said to rendergast' Come on home; it's no use staying here.' We started a few paces and came up the hill. I heard him shout 'Help! picket!' There were some few more men of ours coming up the hill, and when they heard the gentleman shout they cried 'Holloa! what's the matter here Pren-' dergast ran away and I followed him, and I heard that gentleman say 'I have lost a 46l. watch.' As soon as I heard that I went round to Fort Burgoyne. I got to bed and the sergeant of the guard and an escort, after I had been in bed a quarter of an hour, came and said 'Get up and dress.' I asked him what for. He said * I don't know. The adjutant has ordered you to be confined." When I got to the guard-room I saw Prendergast there. The adjutant and officer were talking to a gentleman like the prosecutor. I said to the sergeant 'Do you mind letting me speak to the officer to know what I have been confined for.' He said 'No, you will have to stop in the guard-room.' He took me into the cells and locked me up. At 12 o'clock, a policeman came and opened the door and said he should have to take me in custody with some more for robbing a man. I said 'I know nothing about it.' He locked me up."

THOMAS FORD (re-examined). I saw no one in the prosecutor's company but the soldiers—there was not a woman on the road.

JOHN HANVEY (re-examined). The site of the assault is about 30 to 40

yards from the lamp and the wall taking a straight line, and at right angles from that line is about 10 yards.

Prendergrast's Defence. On 11th October, there was a lot of us in company. Ford was with us and with us all the way home. I saw the scuffle; Ford was drunk. I saw a man lying on the floor, and a woman beside of him. To clear himself Ford says, we committed the robbery. He was with us all the night, and to clear himself he accuses me.

Jenning's Defence. When I left Prendergast I saw him with four or five others. We had been up to the Old Fort, to hare something to drink. I went into the Crown to have a glass of ale at the door; towards the hill I overtook him; I heard a gentleman shout "Holloa! picket!" I said "Come away; you will get confined; it's no use telling him." The gentleman shouted and the picket said "Holloa! what's here?" I heard the man shout "I am robbed," and when I heard that I went up to my bed. I am innocent.


Prendergast was further charged with having been twice previously convicted of larceny in 1869 and 1871, to which As


PRENDERGAST— Seven Years' Penal Servitude .

JENNINGS— Five Years' Penal Servitude

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-71
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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71. RICHARD DIVALL (10), ALFRED EVANS (12) GEORGE LAWRENCE (11), and ALFRED GEORGE PETERS (11) , feloniously breaking and entering Trinity Church, Tunbridge Wells, and stealing therein 11s. 3d. to which EVANS and PETERS PLEADED GUILTY.

MR. STONE conducted the Prosecution.

EDWARD RICHARD HICKMUT . I was the clerk at Trinity Church, Tun-bridge Wells, Kent, in October—there is morning service thereon Wednesdays at 11 o'clock—on Wednesday morning, October 4th, in consequence of a communication I went to the church and found that two boxes had been removed from the wall and laid on the chairs on either side—the right hand box was forced open and empty—the left hand box was empty but not forced open—the box at the south door was open and empty, but not removed—the the box at the east door that was also empty but not removed—I went into the vestry and found this stick on the heathrug—I had not seen it before—a pane was broken in the vestry windows—I examined with the policeman the wall outside and under the vestry window—I found several scratches on the stones as if some hard instrument had been drawn across them—the wall was scratched—the boxes were all right the day before, but I cannot say if the vestry window was fastened outside.

By THE COURT. The pane was not broken—the window was ajar the day before—it was closed, not fastened, but just put to—it rather hangs, so that it would require a good blow from the outside to put it open—the glass would have to be broken to put it open, because there are two bars outside, and it would require a hard blow to open it; it opens inside—force would be required because the window is heavy.

ROBERT FENN (Policeman). On 4th October, I went to Trinity Church, the vestry window was open, one pane of gloss was broken, about 3 inches in diameter—it was a lead frame—there were marks upon the wall under the window as if some persons had been trying to get in with nails in their boots—there were scratches on the stone—I never saw this stick until it was at the station—I went in search of the prisoners; I found Divall and charged him with breaking into Triuity Church; he said "I never broke in sir,

George Evans broke in and then he let us in; they broke the boxes open; but I only had 3d."—I afterwards saw Lawrence in the Baltic Road, and as soon he saw me he run away; I said "I want you "—he ran away and I followed him to his father's house—I told him I wanted him for breaking into Trinity Church—his father said "Now George, speak the truth "—he said "Yes, father I did "—I know the prisoners, they are frequently lurking about the streets.

GUILTY .— Four Days Imprisonment each .

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-72
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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72. ROBERT BRAY (25), JOHN MATTHEWS (23), and THOMAS BAILEY , unlawfully assaulting William Phillips and occasioning him actual bodily harm.

MR. FRITH conducted the Prosecution; and MR. ATTENBOROUGH appeared for Bray, MR. METCALFE for Matthews, and MR. STRAIGHT for Bailey.

WILLIAM PHILLIPS . I am a labourer, and live at Mill Lane, Deptford—on 5th October, about one hour after midnight, I was outside Mrs. Wood's window in Mill Lane, and talking to Mrs. Harrison—three men went by me and stood by me about half a minute, they then turned back—other men joined them, and one said "You are a mark for us "—the prisoners are three of the men—they knocked me up against the window and then knocked me down on the road—I got up and leaned against the wall and they knocked me down in the gutter—I called for assistance—they all three kicked me in the side while I was down—I know them all by sight—I had not said a word to them—I have never been in their company—I have seen them outside the Fountain; my father, brother, and my wife came to my assistance—Bray and Matthews were taken first, and afterwards Bailey—I was in the Seamen's Hospital a fortnight, in consequence of the injuries I received—I am quite sure the prisoners are the men; there is another man in Court now who part did it.

Cross-examined by MR. ATTENBOROUGH. It was 12.30 o'clock* at night—it was moonlight—Bray was brought to me at the hospital by himself—I was asked if he was one of the men; I said he was—I cannot say whether he was drunk or sober.

Cross-examined by MR. METCALFE. Matthews has a brother; I know him by sight—I have had no quarrel with Matthews.

Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. Bailey was one of the men who set upon me—I knew him before—I was talking to Mrs. Harrison—I had been standing outside Mr. Wood's door; the five men came along the road and three of them attacked me without any provocation, at all—I had not seen Bailey that day—I did not speak to him—I did not strike anybody that night; I can swear that—I went before the Magistrate on the following morning—Bray was not in charge then; he was the first person who was charged—I will not be sure of the day of the month when he was charged.

Re-examined. I had known Bray for over a year, and Matthews for eight or nine months—I knew one from the other apart to speak to—Bailey I had known over twelve months but have never spoken to him.

CATHERINE PHILLIPS . I am the prosecutors wife; I live at 7, Mill Lane, Deptford—about 12.30 on Wednesday night, 6th October, I was in bed and heard a scream of murder; I got out and saw my husband lying in the gutter and being kicked by five men—I went out and found him in the gutter—I did not see the faces of the men until they ran and the policeman after them—my husband's brother caught one of the men and gave him in

charge, the other four dragged him away; my husband got up and leaned against the wall—Bray punched him in the face—I went to save a blow and Bailey hit me—I went to call my husband's father and brother, and they came downstairs and ran; the men ran away then and the policeman after them—Bray was caught—I cannot swear to Matthews, I can swear to Bray and Bailey.

Cross-examined by MR. ATTENBOROUGH. I cannot say whether Bray was sober or not—I was near Bray, he was lying on the curb with no hat on.

Cross-examined by MR. METCALFE. I do not recognise Matthews—I had never seen any of them before.

Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. I first saw Bailey when ho was given in charge of the police—I saw him given in custody—my husband's brother took him first and he was let loose at the police-station—my husband undid his shoe and went on the doorstep to speak to a young woman—I had not been to the Crown and Sceptre—I do not know a man named Booker—I had Last seen my husband just before 12 o'clock—I was sitting up then; he had unlaced his boots at the doorstep but did not take them off—I cannot say whether he was quite sober—Bray was seized on the spot.

Cross-examined by MR. ATTENBOROUGH. Bray was not taken into custody at the time; he was stopped by the police, but they did not take him.

WILLIAM PHILLIPS (re-examined). I had not been at the Crown and Sceptre—I had not been at a public-house that night—I was quite sober—I had not met Booker; I do not know him—I do not think I saw him that night; I will not swear it—I know a man named Wood—I had not been with Wood that night; I swear it—I had seen him outside the door—I had not made an attack on him in company with Booker that night—I did not strike him—I do not know whether Wood struck him; he did not in my company—I did not kick him, nor did Wood in my presence—I saw him when I was standing cutside Wood's door when the assault was being made, at 12.30—I swear I had not seen him before—I did not go into the Eagle; I do not know it, nor whether it is near where I live—(Booker was here called into Court) I know that man—I did not assault him or knock him down on that night—I swear it.

ELLEN STRINGER I am the wife of James 'Maxwell Stringer, and was living at the time of the occurrence at 5, Mill Lane, Deptford—I know the prosecutor by sight—on Thursday morning, 6th October, about 12.30, I was sitting on the side of my bed, sewing my husband's trousers—I heard the disturbance, and put my head out at the window to see what they were doing—I had a light—opposite there was Mrs. Wood's large window, with four or five gaslights shining into the road, and the street was quite light, and it was moonlight—I could not see well; I was flurried—I saw William Phillips crossing the road—five men came up, and one of them fought with him—he ran up and hit Phillips first—both fell down, and the other man got Phillips under him, and then I saw them all run at the prosecutor and kick him—Matthews is one of them—he had a lighter coat then than what he has now—they then ran round the corner—when the prosecutor got up he said "Oh! Jack; father, father!" and his brother came—the men ran round the corner—I do not know anything about Bray—he may have, but I could not say so—I saw Matthews' face.

Cross-examined by Mr. Metcalfe. I was in my own house—the disturbance was in the middle of the road, opposite my window and Mrs. Wood's—I have not seen Matthews since nor before—I have only seen his brother since, but they are all strangers to me.

JOHN PHILLIPS . I am a labourer, living at 11, Mill Lane, Deptford—the prosecutor is my brother—I was in bed at 12.30 on the night of 6th October, and heard someone call out "Jack! your brother is being murdered down the lane "—I got up, dressed, and ran out—I caught Bray, and threw him down on the footpath—he was running away with four other men—I held him till the policeman came and then gave him in charge—I threw him down—I gave him in charge of Policeman 172—he was running with me behind—the other four men ran away—I got kicked two or three times in the back—I only recognise Bray—I had seen him before in the Militia; he belongs to the same corps as myself.

Cross-examined by Mr. Attenborough. I cannot tell whether Bray was sober—he ran straight enough—my impression is that he was sober.

WALTER WOOD . I live at 11, Mill Lane, Deptford, and am a labourer—on 6th October, about 12 o'clock, I had been talking to the prosecutor near Wood's lodging-house—T bade him "Good night," and was just going indoors—I heard some men come up the road and saw them—I could not swear to any of them until they went down the street—there were five men—one of them said "That's our mark "—the prosecutor then said "Go and fetch my brother "—I had not seen any striking then—I went to fetch him; then I went to call my brother—he got up and went up the street, and as we were returning I heard them kicking the prosecutor—I could see the men kicking, and could hear the prosecutor scream; he was on the ground—my brother ran round the next street, and then he caught one of these men, Bray, who was given in charge—the policeman let him go again and ran after the others—the policeman said it was not Bray, but the others—I only recognise Bray.

By THE COURT. I heard Bailey's name mentioned—his younger brother was there—I heard them cry out "Its not this man, its Bailey "—I knftw both the brothers apart—I saw Bailey's brother there; he was kicking—they were all together kicking—I could not see whether the other Bailey was there or not.

Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. I did not see Booker—I had been to the Crown with Phillips, and he came and drank out of my pot of beer—I was not with him; he came in after—this was about 11,30—he was with me in the Crown and-Sceptre, and had a portion of my beer—I say that the prosecutor was there.

JOHN DRAPER (Policeman R 172). On the morning of 5th October, a few minutes before 1 o'clock, I was on duty in the Broadway, Deptford—a woman came to me, and in consequence of what she told me I went to Mill Lane—I went down to Nelson Street, and saw several men together—the prisoner Bray was in his shirt sleeves, and with his hat off, standing in the middle of the road—I could not say whether there was blood or mud on his face—they said he had been fighting, and I said that he would have to go to the station—they said "It is not him; he is not the man," three times; "Its young Bailey we want"—when I got to the end of Nelson Street I saw Sergeant Detective Wood—we ran to the end of the street into New Cross Road—the sergeant asked him if he knew them, and he said "yes"—we let Bray go.

Cross-examined by MR. ATTENBOROTJGH. I am well acquainted with the inhabitants of that neighbourhood—I do not know that there is anybody like Bray—I said before the Magistrate that I would not be sure whether it was blood or mud on his face—I did mention mud whether it wag. put

down or not—I did say mud. (The vritness's depositions being read, stated,; "I think he was bleeding on the left side of the face.") I was examined on the following day, 6th; that is nearly six weeks ago.

GEORGE HEN BY MEEKINGS . I am house-surgeon at the Seamen's Hospital, Greenwich—the prosecutor was brought there on 5th October—I found him suffering from a very severe shock, and he had several contusions in his left side—his face was scratched a little—he had some marks about his nose—he was put to bed, and had his side done up—the contusions were such as might have been produced by a kick—next morning he was in a state of collapse, so that it was thought necessary to send for a Magistrate to take his deposition—he was in the hospital twelve days—he went on well afterwards—he he is still an out-patient—he is a very weakly man.

HENRY GOODWIN (Police Sergeant R 4). On Friday morning, 6th October about 2 o'clock, Bray was brought to the station by two men—I believe they made a charge, but I was not there when he was brought in—when I arrived at the station I saw Bray there—I looked at the warrant and his name was not on it; he was allowed to go—subsequently I took him to the Seamen's Hospital to the prosecutor's bedside, with a policeman in plain clothes—I put them on the right side of the bed as the prosecutor was lying and I asked him if he knew me—he said "I do, Mr. Goodwin;"he seemed very ill; he recognised me first—I asked him to look to the right and see if he could recognise anybody there—he did so and said "Yes, that man there," pointing out Bray—I asked him if he was quite sure—he said "Yea, I am "—he said Bray had kicked him in the side—Bray said "Are you quite sure, old fellow, it was me?"—he said "Yes "—Bray said he was not there at all at the place—I apprehended Bailey at 75, Argus Street, Deptford—I asked for him; they said he was not in, and then that he was; we stopped in the passage and he got out at the window; after a severe chase we caught him; I did not see him come out at the window, but he could not come out anywhere else—I told him I should apprehend him on suspicion of being concerned with two others now in custody, viz., Bray and Matthews, for an assault on a man named William Phillips, in Mill Lane, on 5th Occtober—he made no reply; he was very much out of breath—at the station the charge wab read over to him by the inspector and he said "I was not there and know nothing about it."

Cross-examined by Mr. Attenborough. Some five minutes after he was allowed to go—he was was walking quietly out of Greenwich into Deptford—he had a slight scratch by the side of his nose when brought to the station—I have heard there is some one about there like Bray; I have known Bray from his childhood; I am told people think the other man like him; I do not think so.

Cross-examined by Mr. Straight. I went to Argns Street, Deptford, with the other officers; they were posted round the house.

THOMAS FRANCIS (Policeman R 304). On Sunday, 8th October, about 2.30 a.m., I apprehended Matthews at the common lodging-house, Deptford Chambers, and charged him with being concerned with others in the assault at Mill Lane—he did not say anything—one of the men in the adjoining bed said "You had better go and clear yourself, Jack"—he said "I don't know anything about it"—I took him to the police-station—I saw the prosecutor's wife there, and Walter Wood and John Phillips; they were unable to identify him—we took him to the hospital at 6.30 in the morning—when

the prosecutor saw him he said "He is one of the men that kicked me "—Matthews said "Was I dressed the same as I am now?"—the prosecutor said "No, you had a lighter coat on."

Cross-examined by Mr. Metcalfe. I did not go and search for a lighter coat; it was a common lodging-house, and it is a question whether I should find one—he was in custody—when 1 took him to the prosecutor's bedside his brother was with him, the brother is like him; I took him on the 8th—I did not know that he was about Deptford during the interval between the 5th and 8th.

Witnesses for the Defence.

RICHABD WILLIAM BABTRAM . I keep the White Swan, Blackheath Road—I was in the Crown and Sceptre between 11 and 11.30 on the evening of the assault—I know Bray perfectly well; I saw him there on that occasion, he was beastly drunk, speechlessly drunk, lying down on a velvet plush seat 1 and two men were taking his boots off; he was not capable of getting up—I saw him again at 11.30 at my house, the White Swan, about 400 yards distant—he stayed about five minutes and was taken away in a bath chair—I believe there is a man in the neighbourhood resembling Bray, not quite so tall, I think, I do not know him personally.

Cross-examined. I know him by sight—I did not give this evidence at the police-court—I did not know at the first hearing of Bray that he was there, I did not know whilst he was at the police-court—this is my first appearance in this case—I did it on behalf of Mr. Bray; he has an uncle who sent one of his men to me to ask me; he did not suggest the date to me, I will swear it; it was on Wedneday I know for reasons I could state—I was not spoken to about it until last Monday—I should not have come then but for the uncle—I remember the exact. Hay because my father went to pay some money at the distillery—I met Bray in the public-house afterwards and saw him drunk—he is a regular customer, he makes a habit of using my house at dinner times—it was nothing unusual he should be there on 5th October; he may have been there on the 4th, 3rd, 2nd or any day in September—it was not my Bath chair—a man from the Heath came in with it.

Re-examined. I did not know of the row, I heard of it, and am quite sure it was 5th September—Bray does not get drunk every day he comes to my house, it was the fact of my knowing the day that he was drunk.

By THE COURT. He was helplessly drunk; he was rousing himself, and the men were endeavouring to take his boots off; he was prostrate, helpless, speechless almost—pulling his boots off roused him—he did not stagger out, they took him out in the Bath chair, or three-wheeled perambulator—I heard he was takenup and let go again, but I did not hear that he was apprehended again.

JAMES MACPHERSON . I keep the Fountain Inn, Broadway Junction—I heard of this assault the next day—that evening I saw Bray wheeled in a bath chair between 11 and 12 o'clock, I could not say to a few minutes; he was quite intoxicated—he asked me to draw him a pot—I said he had had quite enough—I ordered him out and stood at the door while they wheeled him out—I did not see him go in the fish-shop—I saw the machine go up to the door and stop there—my house is about 300 yards off—I stood at the door with the witness' father, Walter Wood, at about 12.30, and saw thirteen or fourteen men pass and turn up the lane about 12.45—I had shut the house up a few minutes before—I noticed several men I knew in the crowd—I did not see either of the prisoners—I know one or two very like Bray,

one a little shorter, but the other is as near as possible like him, except the moustache—that man Jike Bray was among the fourteen.

Cross-examined. I know the young man, but he has nothing to do with the case and I did not mention him; he was very much like Bray; you would mistake them if it was not very light; because there is a strong likeness one has a moustache a different colour; one is sandy—you would not know it if it was not light—I have known them some years—I do not suppose I should be deceived, but a stranger would—this my first appearance; I was not called upon to go to the police-court; I did not think it worth while going 'down unless called upon—Saturday was the first time I was called upon—I said at the time I heard of it that I knew Bray was intoxicated, and I thought he could not have done it—the solicitor asked me to come—I knew perfectly the date; I would not swear he did not suggest the date—I knew Bray as a customer of mine; he may have been in the house any one of the days previous; he calls for a pint or half a pint occasionally—I have not seen him drunk frequently—I would not say that he was too drunk to walk—he was in the perambulator—he said to me at the door "Old Mac, draw me a pint of half-and-half"—I said "You have had quite enough, get out of here "—it was the evening of the row—I have since seen the man like Bray, but I have not spoken to him—I did not know that the men who went up the lane had anything to do with it—I have seen the man, but he has not been near me; I have not seen him to speak to—I knew nothing of it till the next morning, so I could not form any idea of it—I saw the man here yesterday in court—the police knew nothing about it; if I had mentioned it they would not take any notice—my house is close to Mill Lane; it is not in the Broadway; the first house; it is 30 or 40 feet wide—the place in Mill Lane is some distance up; you cannot see it.

MARY MCCANN . I am a lodging-house keeper at No. 2, Broadway Passage—Bray is one of my lodgers—on the evening of the row, I stood at my doorstep, intending to shut the door at 12 o'clock—I saw Bray come round the corner with a piece of paper in his hand—I came before him and stood in the passage—this was about a minute or two before 12 o'clock—he came in—there was fried fish and potatoes in the paper—I asked him if he was going up to bed—he said "Yes, light me a candle "—he took the fried fish and—potatoes upstairs; he generally did so when he was drunk—I locked the door after him; I locked him in—I noticed him at 9 o'clock next morning—I sat up till 1 o'clock—nobody, to my knowledge, went in or out during that time—I locked the staircase—I lock every one in to get the money—I saw him in bed next morning at 9 o'clock—the fried fish was gone—the assault was on the evening before he was locked up; I know that because Goodwin came and asked if Bray was in.

Cross-examined. I think it was Wednesday; I cannot tell the day of the month—he always had his firied fish upstairs when he came home drunk—he had been drunk that week before—I remarked when he came in that he was before his time—he was nearly always drunk—I only thought he came in earlier—I heard he was remanded once or twice at Deptford; I knew he was in jail and committed for trial, and brought up last time for examination—I live about five minutes' walk from the police-court—I would not go there until I was obliged; I would not come only I was subpœnaed to-day.

Re-examined. I am sure he was locked in his bedroom at the time of the occurrence.

WALTER BYFIELD . I am a zinc worker of 2, Church Street, Deptford—

Matthews has lived there the last four years; I have lived there that time—I do not remember anything particular on the 5th October till after the assualt—I remember hearing of it and remember the day; I did not see Matthews till night; he came in about 11.56 or 11.57; he put his hat in the cupboard and wished me good night and went upstairs to bed—the door of the house is locked at night—I remained up half an hour after; he did not come down during that time—I am sure he has not got a lighter coat; I know what clothes he has.

Cross-examined. He went to bed about 11.56 or 11.57; be generally went about that time—except from hearing of this assault I had no particular reason for remembering the night—I heard of the assault the next morning—I did not go to the police-court; I was not asked till he was committed for trial; some one came to me and asked if I remembered tho night of 5th October and where Matthews was.

Re-examined. I am a working man; I could not afford to come up twice—I was not called upon or I should have been most happy to have come forward.

SARAH WATSON . I live at Wood's lodging-house, Deptford—I know Matthews—the disturbance was on the night of the first Wednesday in October—I was, going along the Greenwich Road about 11 o'clock; I I met John Matthews there, just outside the North Pole, not a quarter of an hour's walk from Mill Lane—I parted with him outside his door in Church Street, and bid him good-night just before twelve o'clock.

Cross-examined. I went into the fish shop to get some fish, and as I got out the clock struck twelve o'clock—it is three doors from where he lived—this is my first appearance as a witness.—

GUILTY Twelve Months' Imprisonment each .

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-73
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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73. RICHARD WINCH (21) , Stealing a quantity of flanges, clappers,' lead, and other articles, of the goods of the Biphosphated Guano Company, Limited.

MR. ST. AUBTN conducted the Prosecution.

GEORGE NASH . I live at 30, High Street, Deptford—I am superintendent of the Biphosphated Guano Company's wharf, Deptford—on 6th November I missed from the wharf some india-rubber canvas, flanges, clappers, 2£ cwt. sheet lead, fifty balls of twine, sixty pieces of copper piping, a quantity of stencil plates, a steam guage, and other articles, from, a store in a railway arch; it was secured by a padlock—there is a hoarding in front of the arch and a padlock on the door—they were safe on. the Wednesday, five days before—I completed taking stock on the Wednesday—the prisoner does not work at the wharf—I identify these stencil plates produced.

EDWARD DUTTON . Ilive at Deptford—I am a rag-sorter in the employ of Mx. Rough—one Thursday night the prisoner brought a lot of things to the shop, which he offered for sale—amongst other articles he brought some stencil plates—I would not take them in, and heleft them there that night—this is one I found among the articles, and the other I found on the Wednesday following—the articles are taken down in a heap as they are brought in, and I must have taken them out of the heap in the scale.

By THE COURT. I had known the prisoner before—he fetched some coal sacks from, our place, and had six months for it.

MARIA ROUGH . My husband is a marine store dealer—Dutton is-our sorter—the prisoner came on Friday morning, 3rd November, and took

a bag away which he had left the night before—he wanted to. sell some stencil plates; my husband refused to buy them because he thought they had been stolen—they were like these.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. Iam sure he offered the stencil plates—they were in the bottom of the bag.

THOMAS FRANCIS (Policeman R). Dutton gave me these stencil plates—I apprehended the prisoner, and charged him with stealing these things—he did not say anything.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. " I know nothing about the copper piping they have lost."

GEORGE NASH (re-examined). I last saw the things safe, five days before—I have seen none of the stolen property but this.

Prisoner's Defence. I am innocent.

EDWARD DUTTON (re-called). I refused to take the stencil plates, and advised the prisoner to leave the bag.


Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-74
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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74. WALTER SNOOK (14) , Feloniously wounding George Wray with intent to do grievous bodily harm.

MR. ATHERLEY JONES conducted the Prosecution.

GEORGE WRAY . I am the son of George Wray—I live at Woolwich, and am employed in the wire mills—I remember 8th October last, when I was standing at the door with my mother; I saw the prisoner, and my mother spoke to him about knocking my little brother about the Sunday before, and he began to cheek my mother and made faces at her, and I gave him a kind of knock with my fist—I do not know exactly where I hit him—he took up his knife and stabbed me with it—I saw the knife in his hands before he stabbed me—he struck me in the left side—he had the blade in his right hand—I think the blade was the downward side—I ran across the road to my mother, and hallooed out that I was stabbed—I then became insensible, and was carried off to the surgeon—the prisoner ran away, when my father ran after him—my father was not there at the time; he was washing himself, and my mother called to him.

Prisoner. I never cheeked his mother at all. We came from school, and I went for a walk down Chapel Street and bought some apples, and was going down the street and Mrs. Wray said something to me about knocking her boy about the Sunday before. I made a face, but never said a word to her. The boy ran across the road and struck me and knocked me down. I never knew how it was done. I went home. I heard him say he was stabbed. Witness. I did not knock him down; he did not fall down.

WILLIAM BROWN . I am a gunner in the C Field Battery of the Royal Artillery—on 8th October I was walking up Henry Street, and met the prisoner at the bar, paring his nails with a knife—the boy that was wounded was standing at the door, alongside of his mother—he ran across the street and struck the prisoner on the left shoulder, and the prisoner turned round and struck him here with a knife which he held in this way (describing—he then ran away, after a minute or two.

Prisoner. I never deliberately stabbed him with the knife.

MARY WRAY . I am the wife of George Wray—on 8th October last, when I was standing at the street door with my little son George and another little boy and girl, the prisoner came along, and I spoke to him about

striking my other little boy the Sunday before; he came home and fainted away—my little boy went across the road and gave him a kind of shove, and the prisoner had a knife in his hand paring his nails; and he took it that way and stuck it in that way—I said so at the police-court.

GEORGE WBAT . I am a furnace man—I merely took my son to the doctor and charged the boy—I have others in family besides him.

THOMAS JOHN HUGHES . I am a surgeon—the boy was brought to me between 6 and 7 o'clock on the evening of 8th October last—he was suffering from a punctured wound under the eighth rib on the left side—he was in a state of collapse, and I did not know whether it was a fatal wound at the time—it was a straight wound direct—it might be caused by a person falling on a knife—the edges were not different to the central part of the wound—it corresponded with the holes in his clothes—I have seen this knife pro-duced before, and examined it—it corresponded with this knife.

EDWARD COUSINS (Policeman RR 25), On 8th October I was called to take the prisoner into custody—I asked him what he had to say—he said "I did it"—I said "Where is the knife?"—he said he had given it to his mother; and his mother gave me the knife, and I took possession of it.


20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-75
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty; Guilty > pleaded guilty

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75. JAMES YOUNGMAN (40), PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a sheep and 72 lbs. weight of mutton. Also to killing the said sheep with intent to steal its carcase— Twelve Months' Imprisonment [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]. And

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-76

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76. ALBERT KNOTT (31), EDWARD HAYES (35), and WILLIAM HILL (35), to stealing 184 lbs. weight of lead, the property of the East London Railway Company— Twelve Months' Imprisonment .


Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-77
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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77. GEORGE AUGUSTUS BENZIE (39), Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MR. LLOYD conducted the Prosecution.

ALFRED FREDERICK JAMES . I assist my father at the Greyhound public-house, Streatham—on 24th October, about 2 o'clock, I served the prisoner with some bread and cheese, ale, and a cigar—he gave me a florin, which I put in the till where there was no other florin, as my father had cleared the till five minutes before—I then examined the florin, as I thought it looked black, and found it was bad—I ran out and called a policeman—I saw the prisoner and a woman going down the road—we followed them to the William the Fourth, where the prisoner called for a glass of. ale and the woman went up a bye lane—the prisoner gave the barmaid a florin—I asked the barmaid to let me look at it and said "Here is another bad one "—I gave the prisoner in custody—I then went out and saw the woman on the opposite side of the road, and gave her in charge to another policeman—as she was going to the station I saw her drop a piece of paper, the policeman told her to pick it np again and she did so, and said that it was prepared chalk—I saw the policeman take the same parcel from her and examine it, it contained two bad florins—Julia Alsop gave me another florin and I gave them both to the sergeant.

JULIA ALSOP . I am barmaid at the William the Fourth, Streatham—on 24th October I served the prisoner with'a glass of ale—he put down a florin,

I put it on a slab where there was no other coin—Mr. James came in and I gave it to him.

JOHN KEYS (Policeman IF 192). I saw the prisoner and Ward (See next case) close to the William the Fourth—I accompanied Mr. James, and we followed the prisoner into the William the Fourth—Ward went down aback lane—I received two bad florins from Mr. James and gave them back—he gave me the prisoner in charge—I found a good half-crown on him—he said going to the police-court that Ward was his wife.

WALTER BAGG (Policeman W 189). On 24th October, about 2 o'clock, I saw the prisoner and Ward—the prisoner went into the Greyhound and Ward went down the road towards the William the Fourth—the barman spoke to me and gave me directions, and I found the prisoner in Key's custody—Jones gave Ward into my custody, she was following behind—I asked her what she had in her hand. and she said some French chalk, and whatever it was I should have a b——y struggle to get it—I took a paper parcel from her at the station containing two bad florins—ahe said in the prisoner's presence that if she had known what she had been going to be charged with she would have done away with them—the female searcher handed me this purse containing Is. in silver and 10d. in bronze, 2s. of which are bad, a packet of French chalk, and a piece of gold beater's skin—Ward said "I never saw that man before to-day.

SARAH HIGHGATE . I am female searcher at Streatham police-station—on 2 3rd October I searched Ann Ward and found on her this purse which I gave to Sergeant Walters—two of the shillings and four sixpences were wrapped in paper; I took them out of the paper and. mixed them with the others.

WILLIAM WALTERS (Police Sergeant W 10). I was on dnty at Streatham station and received this parcel from Bagg, I have had it ever since—I saw Ward with her hands at her side and directed the constable to seize them—I subsequently examined the coins and found two counterfeit shillings.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . These two florins uttered are bad and from the same mould—the two taken from Ward's hand are bad and from the same mould, but not from the same mould as the first.

Prisoner's Defence. I do do not know anything of Ward; she is quits innocent of knowing them to be counterfeit.


He was further charged with a previous conviction of a like offence, in 1870, to which he


20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-78
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude; Imprisonment

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78. GEORGE AUGUSTUS BENZIE was again indicted with ANN WARD (24) , for unlawfully having counterfeit coin in their possession with intent to utter it.

The witnesses repeated their former evidence.

Ward's Defence I never saw this man before.

Benzie's Defence. I know nothing of the female prisoner.

GUILTY —BENZIE— Ten Years' Penal Servitude .

WARD— Twelve Months' Imprisonment .

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-79
VerdictGuilty > unknown; Guilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment; Imprisonment

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79. WILLIAM CHADWICK (18), and SAMUEL PAGE (19) , were indicted for a like offence.

MR. POLAND conducted the Prosecution; Mr. Gill appeared for Chadwick; and Mr. Straight for Page.

COULSON LAOEBY . I keep the Henry the Eighth, Union Street, Borough—on 23rd October Chadwick and another man who I believe to be Page

came in and Chadwick asked for a pint of ale and gave me 1s., which I put Jin the till; there was no other 1s. there—the other man asked for a cigar, which came to 2d. and paid with 1s., which I put into the till also—they both drank of the beer and gave the cigar away to another man—as soon as they left I went to the till and the only two shillings there were bad, one was dated 1871 and the other 1876—I kept them them in a glass apart from other money, and afterwards gave them to the constable—I had seen Chadwick before—on the 25th Chadwick came again with another man, who I do not know—he asked for a pint of ale and gave me 1s., I bent it with my teeth, it bent easily, and I found it was bad—I asked him if he had any more like that—he said "No," and that he did not know it was a bad one, he had changed a half-crown with a costermonger in the Borough for 6d. worth of nuts—he gave me a good 1s.—I gave him custody with the 3s.—while I was waiting for a policeman I saw Page go by the house, and on Friday I picked him out at the station from seven others as the man I believed to have been with Chadwick on the Friday.

Cross-examined by Mr. Gill. The other man was discharged because nothing was found upon him—Chadwick said that he had never been in the house before.

Cross-examined by Mr. Straight. There is no objection to a person passing my door, but Page looked over the bar to see for his friend—I am not prepared to swear it was Page.

HENRY COGGIN . I am barman at the Duchess of Edinburgh, Great Suffolk Street, Borough—on 24th October, Page came in with two companions between 8 and 9 o'clock and asked for a pot of 6d. ale, he gave me a bad 1s. I asked him if he had another, he said." Yes" and got a good shilling from one of his friends—I gave him 6d. change, they drank the ale and then had another pot and left—I kept the Is., marked it, and gave it to my employer and afterwards to the constable Walch—I picked Page out from 8 or 9 others at che station on the following Friday, and have no doubt he is the man—Chadwick came in the same evening at a little after 11 o'clock.

Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. I was paid for the beer—Page wanted the bad coin back but I would not give it to him—it bent easily.

JAMES WALCH (Policeman L 15). On 25th October, about 1.15 a.m., I took Page at his house and told him it was for being concerned with Chadwick in passing a bad shilling at the Henry Eighth—he said "I know nothing of Chadwick, I own I passed the shilling at the Duchess of Edinburgh, but I did not know at the time it was bad; I then borrowed Is. from my friends"—Mr. Coggin gave me this shilling produced—I heard Page get out of bed and found him under the bed stripped.

Cross-examined by Mr. Straight. I do not think I said anything about Chadwick before the Magistrate—Page was not charged, at the station with Chadwick—he said "I have not been with Chadwick; I know nothing about Chadwick."

Re-examined. I knew that Chadwick was in custody and had been remanded.

JOHN BRETT (Policeman M 290). Mr. Laceby called me and I took Chadwick—he said "I give this man in custody for uttering one counterfeit shilling last Monday and one to-day"—Chadwick said "I have never been in the house before "—I found on him 6d. and 4d. good money—Mr. Laceby gave me three bad shillings.

WILLIAM WEBLTBR . These two shillings taken out of the—till are bad;

one is of 1871 and the other 1874—this other is a bad shilling of 1874 and from the same mould as the other—this one uttered by Page is bad ni from the same mould as the other of 1871.

Chadwick received a good character.

CHADWICK— GUILTY .— Nine Months' Imprisonment

PAGE— GUILTY Twelve Months' Imprisonment .

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-80
VerdictNot Guilty > no evidence; Guilty > lesser offence
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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80. HARRY DAVIS (17) JOSEPH WADEY (18), GEORGE CARTER (23) and THOMAS EVANS (17) , feloniously cutting and wounding William George, with intent to do him some grevious hodily harm; Other Count prevent the lawful apprehension of Davis.

MR. POLAND and MR. BEASLEY conducted the Prosecution.

WILLIAM GEORGE (Policeman S 84). On Sunday night, 29th October, I was on duty in uniform in the New Cut about 2 o'clock; my attention was drawn to a gentleman's hat, which was knocked off—I saw the four prisonen there and others; I asked them what they meant by knocking the gentleman'i hat over his eyes—they said they did not do it—the gentleman said that he did not know which of them did it—I told them they had better go a was Carter, Wadey and Davis used very bad language—they went away aften a few minutes down the street; I followed them—they went down Windmil Street, and Davis turned to the right down Little Windmill Street—as soon as he turned the corner I got to the corner, and a brick came and struck me and knocked my helmet off—Davis was the only person who could hare thrown it because the others had gone straight on—he said "Take that you f——old sod" and went into No. 13; I followed him into a room on the first floor, where there was another man in bed—I took Davis out into the street—he was very violent when he got out—there was a Jmob there of twelve or fourteen people; my helmet was then on; I had picked it up. Davis said "Let the copper have it! give him a doing "—I kept hold of Davis, and Evans and Carter got hold of him and tried to pull him and, saying "Let the man go "—they pulled him; I still kept hold of him and called the by standers to assist me, but nobody came—there were then twenty or thirty people there, Wadey had hold of me trying to pull me away—Davis then got his head between my legs and bit a piece right out of my thigh, above me knee—he bit a piece out of my trowsers and a piece of flesh outof my leg; it bled—he threw me on the ground—he had a struggle on the ground, and he said "Let him have it Wadey! knock his bleeding face in"—Wadey was close to him—my face was not bleeding, that was only an expression—Wadey kicked me across the forehead while I was on the ground, making a wound about 2 inches long right to the bone; it bled; I become insensible and Davis got away—I was also kicked on the left ear when Davis got up, and I believe it was by Davis—it made my ear bleed—I became insensible; Davis got away from me and the next I remember was when I was in the Kennington Road police-station, about 11 o'clock—Carter and Evans were holding Davis, and they rescued him—I saw Wadey, Carter, and Evans in custody at the station that night; I knew them before, I had seen them about—I picked Davis out on the next Monday week from ten or a dozen persons; I knew him by sight—I have no doubt that the prisoners are the four men—I was confined to bed eight days, and attended by a surgeon every day for a fortnight—I suffered very much pain—I have not been able to resume duty—I am very weak; I lost such a deal of blood.

Cross-examined by Wadey. I can swear to the clothes you wore that night! you had a white flannel jacket on.

Cross-examined by Carter. I can swear that I saw you with the others.

RICHARD MORTON (Policeman L 44). On Sunday night 29th October, I received information at a few minutes past 10 o'clock, and went to Windmill Street, where I saw George leaning against a wall, near Little Windmill I Street—blood was running from the top of his heard and from his ear—his helmet was on the ground and I picked it up; he was insensible—I got assistance and took him to the station in a cab—I was then standing at the corner of Little Windmill street, about 20 yards from George, and as soon as he saw me he ran down Windmill Road—a woman was assisting George.

LUCY ROWE . I live at 23, Little Windmill Street—on 29th October, from 10 o'clock to 10.30, I heard a tramping of feet—I came out half dressed and found a quantity of women and children, and the constable standing with his back against the wall, bleeding from the left side of the head—I got some water and bathed him.

RICHARD PARKER (Detective L). On Sunday night 29th October, I received information, and about 1 o'clock went with Detective Davis to 2, Windmill Street, where we found Wadey, Carter, and Evans all in the same bed—I said "We shall take you in custody for assaulting one of of our men, 84 L, in Windmill Road this rvening"—Wadey said "It is me you want"—Evans said that he knew nothing of it; he was in bed at 5 o'clock—Carter said that he was not there; he knew nothing about it—Wadey was placed among others at the station and identified by George, and when the charge was being read over to them Wadey said "I wish I had kicked him more."

ROBERT DAVIS (Detective Officer). I was with Barker when Wadey was taken; he was charged at the station with assualting William George, L 84.

WILLIAM BEALE (Policeman L 175). On the evening of 9th November I took Davis on a warrant, in a stable in Little Windmill Street: I told him I had a warrant for his apprehension for assaulting L 84; he said that he knew nothing about it—on the way to the station he said "I remember that little affair; I had forgotten it and I thought it was all forgotten; I had been on the look-out for him."

JAMES CLAVERLEY (Polioeman L 65). On the 29th October, about 10.30, I was called and saw Evans, who I knew by sight, at the corner of Little Windmill Street, standing with some females, and the footway was blocked up; he. was causing an obstruction and I requested him to move; he said "I shall not go for a b——y sod like you;" I said "If you do not I shall take you in custody"—I had heard then of George being injured.

CHARLES CORBETT BLADES , M.D. I am surgeon to the L division of police—on 29th August about 11 p.m. I saw policeman L 84 at the Kennington police-station; he was a good deal exhausted and lost a considerable quantity of blood—he had a wound 2 or 3 inches long on the left side of his forehead down to the bone; it was a contused wound but pretty cleanly cut—there was a large bump at the top of his head and a bite above his left knee, but not very deep; and his trousers at that place were torn—the wound on his forehead might have been inflicted by a violent kick—he was bleeding from the internal part of one ear, which we generally look upon as a serious matter, shewing injury to the base of the brain; a violent kick would case that—they were serious wounds—he was under my care and that of a friend of mine, and is still unable to go on duty—he is out of danger now, hut if he had not been a temperate man it might have been fatal—every wound on the head is serious, because erysipelas may set in

one is of 1871 and the other 1874—this other is a bad shilling of 1874 and from the same mould as the other—this one uttered by Page is bad and from the same mould as the other of 1871.

THE COURT considered that there was no evidence against Evans and Carter.


DAVIS and WADEY— GUILTY of causing grievous bodily harm Five years' penal servitude each.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-81
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence

Related Material

81. ALFRED TROWELL (25) , Feloniously cutting and—wounding Ann Turner, with intent to do her grievous bodily harm.

MR. LILLET conducted the Prosecution; and Mr. Besley the Defence.

ANN TURNER . I am the wife of William Turner, of Charles Street, Oakley Street, Westminster Road—on the evening of 22nd September I—was walking along Camberwell New Road; I went straight down the road just before the railway arch near the County-court—I went down too far; I turned up a little turning where there were some" trees at the corner; the prisoner followed me, and then I stopped; he asked me where I was going—I said "What is that to do with you: I am a married woman and mind your own business "—he said "Come down this lane with me "—I said "Certainly not, I shall not"—he said "You won't?"—I said "No"—he took me by the two shoulders and pulled me back and put something sharp into my eye, saying "Take that "—I screamed for help—I felt it go in my eye and come out—I fainted away and remember nothing more till I found myself in a chemist's shop—I could not see him run away—I was blind in both eyes—I did not see him till he was brought into the hospital to my bed side—I was taken to St. Thomas's Hospital, and was there about a month—I am now an out-patient 'for the injured eye, and the other eye is very bad indeed—I did not speak to the prisoner beyond what I have stated.

Cross-examined. I understood him to make an improper proposal to me—when he said "Come down this lane," I said "Certainly not, I shall not;" I said again "I am a married woman"—I was very much shocked and frightened—I have not been in the habit of walking the Camberwell Road—I have never been charged as a disorderly prostitute—I never heard the name of Detective Perks—I cannot say I have been in the police-court as a disorderly prostitute; I have not been to the police-court for accosting gentlemen—I was knocked down once and was taken in then senseless—I have not habitually walked Camberwell Road as suggested—my husband works hard; I am lawfully married to him on my oath; we have been married about thirteen years—he was sentenced to ten years' penal servitude; all the time he was away I went into service and lived a respectable life—he is out on ticket-of-leave now—I have not constantly walked the road with my husband walking near to me; never in my life on my oath—I was taken to a police-court senseless once, but not on a charge; two gentlemen found me senseless; that is two accidents I have had in my life; that was but last Christmas Eve, on no charge whatever—they thought I was drunk—I have not been cautioned by the police for accosting gentlemen—what I was before my husband was sent away, that is no reason I should do it now—before my husband went away I did the best I could for a little time, but not since—I was in service all the time he was away and received him home respectably—I can say that since he has come home the police have not cautioned me—I have not had occasion to do it—I have never been charged as disorderly; I have never been charged these last few years since my husband has been home—when he first went away of course I saw left penniless and I had to be a little while till I could get some

clothes, and then I went to service—I have never married any other man—my name was Ann Nash before I was married and now Ann Turner; I am still living with Turner—I did not absent myself on one occasion from the police-court when this matter was under investigation by the Magistrate; it was the prisoner's brother and his friends kept me away—my husband and myself have not demanded from the prisoner's brother 20l. for compensation; I took five 5l. to pay my fare, and the money was to be sent down to the country for me if I kept away till after Christmas—I was in the waiting-room—my husband had the money; I did not receive it—I went down under the trees on the occasion of this occurrence for the purpose of making water—I did not follow the prisoner, he was behind me—I did not say to him "Give me a penny, I have only a penny myself for a pint of beer "—I had money of my own—he did not say "Go about your business "—I did not take hold of him* in an indecent way and ask him to have connection with me—I did not lay hold of him and tear his coat or his trousers; I never touched him at all—I did not use the" words "You b——if you don't give me some money 1'11 split your skull open "—I never opened my lips to the man—it was after I was insulted I told him I was a married woman—I did not use that filty language to him, or threaten him, or throw a brick I at his head; I never laid hands on him, it was he laid hands on. me.

Re-examined. I did not say I walked the streets only a few years ago, I said a few years back; that is about eight years and a half ago—since that I have not done so—on this occasion I did not make any overture whatever—I did not attempt to steal his coat; I never touched him—I gave him no provocation whatever."

By THE COURT. As soon as I turned out of Camberwell, New Road, the prisoner followed—T had seen a man behind me, but did not know him—I knew someone was behind me; the prisoner is the man—it was about a minute before I turned up the corner, and when the man turned round I stopped to see where he was going—he came straight to me and spoke to me.

JAMES BURR . I am a shopman, of Hodderley Road Peckham—on 22nd September, about 9 o'clock p.m., I was passing along Camberwell New Road—I heard a woman's screams on the opposite side of the road from down a little turning—I ran across the road and saw the prisoner run out—I followed him, he ran up Flodden Road, on the same side of the road, the next turn farther on—he got to the top of the road and then he turned round and stopped—he said "What are you following me for?"—I said "What have you been doing to a woman?"—he said "I struck her "—I said "You must have hit her very hard to make her scream like that"—he then wanted to go away; I asked him why he struok her, he said that she wanted to steal his coat, that he had been waiting at the railway station". for his brother two hours, and he came in this little turning—I did not see that his coat was torn—another man came up and said to his hearing "Keep him here, I will go and see what he has done "—he returned and said "He has stabbed a woman "—the prisoner did not say anything—I said "You must go to the station "—at first he said that he should not go; but I overpowered him, and he said he would go quietly—on the way he said that he had got, a knife in his pocket; he took it out of his left hand pocket, and said that that was the only thing he had about him, and he could not do it with that—he said that he had done it with his fist.

Cross-examined. He said he had been waiting at the station, and I think he said he was going home through this turning when the woman stopped

him—before the young man came back from where the woman wast be prisoner said "I struck her, she was trying to thieve my coat"—when he came back and spoke of stabbing; he said "I only struck her with my fist—he showed the knife and said "I could not have done it with that "—he said he had not stabbed her, but struck her with his fist—I saw the knife and a pocket handkerchief taken from him at the station—I could not see any traces of blood on either.

THOMAS EVANS (Policeman P 430). About 10o'clock, on the evening of 22nd of September, the prisoner was brought to the station at Camberwell Green, by two gentleman—I did not hear the charge made then—I did not see anyone else there; I charged him to the inspector on duty; in consequence of what the sergeant told me I went to Camberwell New Road, and found that the prosecutrix had been taken, to the hospital—I went and saw her there; I saw she had had an injury to the eye—I returned to the station and charged the prisoner—he said "I admit I struck her with my fist, but not with a knife "—I had previonsly searched him and found on him this old razor. (A razor blade fixed in a deal handle.) On the following morning I took him to the prosecutrix's bedside—I asked her if she knew anyone there—she said "Yes, that is the man that did this to my eye "—he did not reply; I noticed his clothes; they were not torn.

Cross-examined. He did not show me that his coat was torn—I would not—swear it was not torn; it might have been—I made no special examination; I felt in his pockets; I have been in the P division ever since I joined the force on 15th May, 1871—I am constantly on duty in the neighbourhood; I did not know the house, 25, Charles Street, Oakley Street, Westminster Road—I have never been in that locality till I met with this case—I cannot answer as to its being a disreputable house; I do not know—I never remember seeing the prosecutrix before.

JAMES BURR (re-examined). I identify this knife.

WALTER EDMUNDS . I am house-surgeon at St. Thomas' Hospital—on 22nd September the prosecutrix was brought there about 10.30 at night—I received her and examined her—she had much swelling about both eyelids of the left eye; there was a large opening in the left eyeball, and some of the contents had escaped through the wound, the vitreous humour; the rent was about three quarters of an inch long—this knife might have caused it; it was more likely to have been done with some instrument than with a fist—she cannot see at all with that eye, the sight is quite destroyed—she left the hospital about 31st October and has been an out-patient ever since.

Cross-examined. As a student I have had hospital practice some years——since I have been a surgeon I have directed my attention to the study of wounds; it is quite possible for a wound to be the result of a blow, and when the eyeball is burst by it it presents the appearance of a clean cut wound—the contusions point to a blow with a fist rather than an instrument—the bursting of the eyeball would give a sensation of sharp pain; it would be correctly described as a feeling of something entering and coming out of the eye.

By THE JURY. I cannot say whether it would be more likely to be caused by a blow with a knife or a fist, one is as likely as the other.

Re-examined. There would be no flow of blood upon the hand of a person inflicting the wound—I should think the instantaneous act would not cause a flow of blood; the wound would draw very little blood; it would he a very rare injury to be caused by a fist; an ordinary blow with a fist would not

have done it—I should think the rupture of an eye by a blow from a fist is rather uncommon.

By MR. BESLEY. I do not know an instance of a Mr. Turnham, a licensed victualler, having an accidental blow from a friend, and having his eyeball burst.

The Prisoner received a good character.

GUILTY of unlawfully wounding Eighteen Months' Imprisonment

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-82
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

Related Material

82. EDWARD LANGTHORNE (18) , Stealing a hat, the property of Abraham Dawson. Second Count—Feloniously receiving the same.

MR. SIMS conducted the Prosecution.

JAMES GAYWOOD . I am in the employ of Christey's, hatters, Bermondsey Street—on 17th October, about 4 o'clock or 4.30 we sent a crate by Platt, a carrier, containing one silk and twelve felt hats to the Great Eastern station—I saw these two hats (produced) in the police-court since; they are our make; I could not swear they were the same hats sent in the crate, but they are of the exact description; they were different sizes; the one smashed up was in a perfect condition when sent out; it has the appearance of being worn about a day and then crushed.

JOHN PLATT . I am a carman in the employ of Messrs. Dawson—I called at Christey's for some hats on 17th October at their place in Bermondsey Street—I took a crate; I did not see what was in it—I took it farther on my round—I missed it in Weston Street, Bermondsey, between 4 and 5 o'clock—I know Kent Street, Weston Street, is not a quarter of a mile off—I do not know what became of it.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You could lift a crate like that—I did not see you do it.

HENRY COLLINS . I am a fish curer, of 16, Clarendon Street, St. George's New Town—on the evening of 17th October I was in a coffee shop in White Street, at the top of Kent Street—the prisoner was standing beside a man—the man asked me if I would buy a hat—I said "No, I don't want to buy it"—he said "Do buy it, I am hard up"—I said "How much do you want for it?" he said "Two shillings;" I said if you want two shillings for it I will give you two shillings "—he had it on his head—this (produced) is it—I gave him 2s. and took the hat—the prisoner said nothing—there were five or six others farther down, but not near.

Cross-examined. The man did not go to give you any money—he turned and went away and you stayed there.

WILLIAM PAGE . I am manager to a hairdresser, at 1 1/2, Kent Street—on Tuesday evening, 17th October, about 10 o'clock, the prisoner came into our—shop—I had seen him before—he had had his hair cut on Monday evening—my two apprentices and some others were in the shop—the prisoner offered a brown hat for sale, something like the one produced, a felt hat of very good quality—he named 2s. 6d.—one of the lads wanted to buy it and I forbade him.

By THE COURT. I told him I suspected they were stolen—the prison; said that he had 144 of them—I did not buy one—he took it out of the shop—he had on a similar hat which just fitted him—the one in his hand was a larger one—he asked me to try one on and it came right over my, ears—they were both new.

Cross-examined. It was not Friday night when you came in; it was Friday night when you were taken in custody—you had your hair cut with

another young man at a few minutes to 10 o'clock, and when you came in with the hats it was on Tuesday evening—it was not on Friday that you had your hair cut, it was Monday evening—you gave me one of the hats in my hand.—

JAMES WELSH (Policeman M 15). On 20th October I went to the prisoner's house and told him I wanted him for not reporting himself; he said "No you don't;" I said "I do; come on quiet with me "—I had two con stables, one at the front and one at the back of the house—I called the constable in front and we caught hold of him by each arm—I told him a second time I wanted him for not reporting himself—he said 'No, you want me for them hats "—in the street he said "Well, let me give the key to my wife; "he reached out his hand to give the key and snatched at his hat on his head and said "Take my hat" to the mob of people, and he smashed the hat—we had to run him into the station with fourteen or fifteen constables—I did not introduce the question of the hats to him; I thought he would go quietly, that is why I did not mention them—I knew what a bad place I was in.

Cross-examined. I did not say that we wanted you for a crate of hats—I think we got you into the house—I did not take the hat off your head, it was the other constable.

The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. "I did not steal it; I bought the hat."

Prisoner's Defence. On 17th October I was coming along White Street at 8.10. There was a man standing there with a hat and several others. The hat was 7s. I did not want it. He brought it down to 1s. 6d. He said he was hungry. He took the hat off his head. I gave him 1s. 2 1/2 d. for it. I went across the road into the barber's shop. I had my old hat and the new one. I went to work on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, when the policeman took me. The hat was dropped and trod on by the mob. The barber says the two I had were new. One was a new one and the other was an old one. My house was searched, and nothing was found. I bought the hat honestly.

JAMES WELSH (re-examined). The hats were all distributed and sold. GUILTY

on the Second Count. He was further charged with a previous conviction in June, 1875, to which he

PLEADED GUILTY Seven Years' Penal Servitude .

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-83
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown; Guilty > unknown

Related Material

83. THOMAS BRENNAN (73), and SARAH HOLMES (40) , Stealing a purse and 1l. 4s. 6d. of Thomas Jacobs.

MR. THOBNE COLE conducted the Prosecution.

CHARLOTTE JACOBS . I am the wife of Thomas Jacobs, a plasterer, of 4, Princes Road Richmond—on Saturday, 4th November, I went to Mr. Blackmore's pawnbroker's King Street, Richmond, about 6 p.m., with my eldest son; he bought a pair of trousers—I took out my purse to pay for an article, and gave Mr. Blackmore a half-sovereign," and received 4s. 10 1/2 d. change—I laid my purse on the counter—my son called my attention to a pair of trousers on the opposite side; I was a minute or two examining them; I had to move away for about 2 yards, and when I turned. buck the purse was gone—at the time I put ray purse on the counter the two prisoners were there and a girl, Mrs. Holmes' daughter, and no one else, and when I turned and missed my purse they were gone—the girl had been on my left hand, and the prisoners on my right—the purse contained

about 1l. 4s. 6d., two paid bills, one unpaid bill, and two duplicates—I gave, information to the police.

THOMAS JACOBS . I am the son of the last witness—on 4th November I went with her to Mr. Blackmore's—we might have been about a quarter of au hour in the shop—I saw my mother's purse'in her hand as we were going into the shop—I did not see it on the counter—I noticed" the female prisoner in the shop, and a little girl about fourteen; there were no other persons there—they came in after us—the female prisoner was very chatty—Mr. Blackmore called my attention to a pair of trousers that he thought would suit me, and I called my mother's attention to a pair that I thought would suit my father, and she turned directly and said "I have lost my purse"—the prisoners had then gone out—we searched everywhere, and could not find it.

ROBERT BLACKMORE . I am a pawnbroker at Richmond—I sell clothing and other things—on Saturday, 4th November, about 6 o'clock, Mrs. Jacobs and her son came in, and I attended to them—they were the only persons then in the shop—the son bought a pair of trousers—whilst looking at them the prisoners came in and a young girl, the daughter of the female prisoner—the male prisoner asked to look at a pair of boots, and the female prisoner paid half a orown off a clock that she had purchased the week before—whilst they were there Jacobs looked at a pair of trousers; they were rather large in the leg'; the female prisoner said by taking a little off the bottom part they would fit him very well—Mrs. Jacobs paid me 5s. 1 1/2 d. For an article that she redeemed—I saw a purse on the counter—her attention was called to another pair of trousers—the prisoners left directly the woman paid me the 2s. 6d.—she was nearest the prosecutrix, quite within reach of the purse—directly they had gone out the prosecutrix. turned and exclaimed that she had lost her purse—I searched in the shop, but could not find it—my assistant was in the shop, but he was not near the purse; he was engaged in showing the boots to the male prisoner—I had seen the prisoners there together on the Saturday week before, when the clock was bought.

FRAHK DUFFIELD . I am assistant to Mr. Blackmore—I was in the shop and saw Mrs. Jacobs and her son there, and, the prisoners and the girl—I did not see the purse—I was showing the male prisoner a pair of boots—he did not buy them—directly they left Mrs. Jacobs called out that she had lost her purse—the male prisoner was not near the counter; he was near me.

MARY SPRING . I keep the Red Lion, Richmond—on Saturday, 4th November, near 7 o'clock, Brennan came in and had a pint of half and half,' for which he paid with a sovereign—I gave him in change half a sovereign, and the remainder in silver—he went into the tap room, and shortly after the female prisoner came in, and they were there in company—I did not see the daughter—I have known the man many years.

MARY DOUGLAS . I am married, and live in Artichoke Alley, Red Lion Street, Richmond—I saw the two prisoners together on 4th November in the tap room of the Red Lion, about 7 o'ciock—they were there for an hour.

EDWARD JOSEPH PINKERTON . I am surveyor for Richmond—the male prisoner was employed by me for three or four years continuously—I paid him his wages on Saturday, 4th November, about 5.7, half a sovereign and two florins; his wages were 14s. a week—he was paid by the week—I never paid him a sovereign.

WILLIAM SEELEY (Detective Officer 7). On Sunday morning, 5th November, I took the prisoners in custody—I told them the charge—they both said they werenot there—the male prisoner lodges in Holmes' house at Ham—I also took the daughter; she was afterwards discharged.

DAVID FRAMPTON . I am a carman at Richmond—I picked up this purse on Sunday morning, 5th November, in King Street, Richmond, right opposite Mr. Blackmore's shop—it was lying open, on a grating; it contained two pawn tickets and some papers, but no money.

MRS. JACOBS. That is the purse I missed, and the tickets.


HOLMES— GUILTY Nine Months' Imprisonment .

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-84
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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84. EDWARD HATTON GRIMES (17), PLEADED GUILTY to stealing, whilst employed in the Post Office, a letter containing a warrant for 5l .

Receceived an excellent character Eighteen Months' Imprisonment . And

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-85
VerdictsGuilty > pleaded guilty

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85. CHARLES MAPLESON (27) , to three indictments for stealing a clock and other articles of Arthur Fuller Smith, a clock of Joseph Home, and obtaining by false pretences a photographic apparatus of William Ford Stanley — Six Months' Imprisonment . [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-86
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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86. JOSHUA AMOS (37) , Stealing a gelding, the property of Charles Hoyle, his master.

MR. ST. AUBYN conducted, the Prosecution.

CHARLES HOYLE . I am a manure dealer, living at Camilla Road, Ber-mondsey, and the prisoner was in my employ as horse keeper—on the 13th of this month, I had a horse in my stable at 12 o'clock—it was not there at 6 o'clock; I gave information to the police, and afterwards saw the carcass of the horse at a slaughter house, in the Blackfriars Road—I never gave the prisoner any authority to sell my horse.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. His sides were never mustered at all—the one that was mustered died—I did not go and beg shavings for him that he might not knock himself about—the black horse died; I said he should go to work again when his foot got better—his foot got worse instead of better.

By THE COURT. There was nothing the matter with his foot except that he kicked and hurt his foot and was under the doctor's care, and he ordered me to put the bran poultices on it—the other horse died of influenza; it is a gathering in the throat—three died; I am a carman and dealer in manure—I sell manure to the farmers in the country; I had eight horses—I lost two and bought two more—I never authorised the prisoner to sell this horse; it was not suitable for working the day I saw it in the stable—it was then worth 4l.; I gave 8l. for it about six weeks before—I saw its carcass at the slaughter-house; not skinned.

Prisoner. He told me on the Sunday when I was going to feed him with corn—" Don't give him any corn, but give him hay, for 1 am going to send him away in the morning "—I said "If you are going to send him away I will speak to a man who will give you more; I shall see him at dinner time and will let you know "—I did not see him—on the Monday morning, when I went up I said "I see the man at dinner time and let him know; I think I can do it;" the man asked what time I should be there, and I said 7 o'clock.

CHARLES DUDDY . I am a horse slaughterer, living in the Blackfriars Road

—on the 13th of this month, I bought a horse of the prisoner; I asked him wanted he wanted for it; he said 30s., and I gave him 25s.—I slaughtered the horse.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The horse was in a very bad state.

By THE COURT. He was not fit to live—I don't know whether he had the glanders; I did not ask the prisoner any questions as to where he came from—I simply gave him the money and killed the horse, and took it home.

JAMES STOLEY (Detective Officer R). I saw the prisoner inside a public-house, at Blackheath, and called him out and charged him—he said "Good God! he doesn't mean to charge me with stealing, does he?"—I said "Yes, I am going to take you back to Rotherhithe station, when he will charge you "—he said." I sold it on commission for 25s."—I said "You will see the prosecutor.


20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-87
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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87. JOHN WHITE (30), PLEADED GUILTY to a burglary in the dwelling-house of Richard Stevens; also to a burglary in the dwelling-house of A lfred George Bradfield, and stealing two vests and other articles— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment .

Before Mr. Baron Hawkins.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-88
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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88. JOHN ALFRED NOSEDA (15) , Feloniously and carnally knowing and abusing Grace Emma Doman, aged eight years.'

MR. GILL conducted the Prosecution; and MR. SAFFORD the Defence.

GUILTY Nine Months' Imprisonment .

Before Mr. Justice Denman.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-89
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty; Not Guilty > unknown

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89. ROSINA BALCHIN (44), and ELIZA HEATHER (76) , unlawfully endeavouring to conceal the birth of a female child of the said Rosina Balchin.


MR. HORACE AVORY conducted the Prosecution; and Mr. Croome the Defence.

JAMES MARSHALL . I am a policeconstable of the borough of Guildford, on Saturday, 1st July, I was near the prisoner Heathers'house at Guildford, I saw two men come to her house, they made a communication to her and she went away with them in a cart—I saw her again between 9 and 10 o'clock in the evening, she then had something similar to a basket tucked under her shawl.

ELLEN LODER .—I am the wife of Mark Loder of Guildford, on 1st July, I was at work at Mrs. Heather's house, she was out when I first went there, she came back about 1 o'clock in the day and brought with her a rush basket—between 9 and 10 o'clock in the evening I went into the washhouse and went to a cupboard there and saw a basket in the bottom of the cupboard, it was not the rush basket, I opened it and saw in it the body of a child; I screamed and called Mr. Day, a lodger—Mrs. Heather came into the wash, house soon after and left again—I afterwards went to the cupboard and then found that the basket was gone.

Cross-examined. It was an open cupboard in the washhouse to which I had access at all times when working, and other persons also, for the purpose of getting fuel—I called Day and showed him what I saw in the basket.

OLIVE MERCER . I am the wife of George Mercer of Albury Heath—I live close by Mrs. Balchin. On the morning of 3rd July, I was called and went to her house, I found her in bed—Mrs. Heather came in afterwards, about 10 or 11 o'clock; and in Balchin's presence I asked what was the matter

with her, I could not say whether she heard, what was said, her eyes were closed at times, she was very ill—Heather said it was a bad flooding—I saw Balchin again in the course of the week and had some conversation with her, she never admitted having a child—she said that she had not been confined, that it was only a flooding.

Cross-examined. I was there every day from the 3rd July—Heather was not present the whole of the time—Balchin's husband called me in on the 3rd, and I want in afterwards to wait on her—I had not seen Mr. Barker then; I first saw him on the Sunday following, he is the deputychief constable—it was on the Thursday that she said she had not been confined; I had not seen Mr. Barker then, or any of the police—Heather was not present then, Balchin was alone; she was in a very weak state at that time, I don't think she was always conscious; she got better after the Sunday; she was very bad that week—I attended upon her the whole time till she was taken into custody, that was a fortnight after—she was in a very weak state of health when she was taken away—I was present when she was examined before the Magistrate; she was in a very weak state of health at that time she fainted several times during the examination—I went to some drawers in another room in the house, I was sent by her and I found some baby linen in a drawer sufficient for a baby if it was born; it was old and new—I was in the house when Mr. Barker came and made a search on Sunday the 9th, it was after that that she sent me to the drawers, she said I should find some baby linen there—I saw Mr. Barker open the drawers in the room in which Balchin was, she was in bed at the time, I could not say whether she was unconscious—Mr. Barker left the drawers open and went out of the room; she asked me what they had been looking for; and after that she told me to go to the other room—she had not left the house in the mean time; she was not in a condition to do so.

Re-examined. I did not, that I recollect, have any conversation with her on the subject of the confinement after that Thursday.

WILLIAM CHAUNT . I am a labourer at Stoke." On Thursday, 6th July, I was going along the towing path of the river Wey—I saw something in the water,. I took it out, it turned out to be the body of a child; I took it to the police-station and gave it up there; it was naked.—

CHARLES WALTER BARKER . I am deputy chief constable of the Surrey constabulary—on 6th July, I received the body of this child at the police-station, on the 8th, I received Mrs. Heather in custody, and on the 9th, I went to Albury to Mrs. Balchin's house, Mr. Shollick, the surgeon, was with me; he went into the house, afterwards came out and made a communication to me and I then went in—Balchin said to me "That man pointing to Mr. Shollick says he has come to see me about a child, but I do not understand what he means, I have not had a child for 13 years—I said "I have your mother in custody; and she states that she delivered you of a child on 1st July "—she said "That is all false"—I said "You must be examined by a doctor, will you allow any one about here to see you "—she said "Yes, Mr. Capron may see me "—I went for Mr. Capron to his residence at Shere, and he came back with me and saw her—after he had seen her I went and saw her again, and I then said "Dr. Capron tells me you have been delivered of a child within a few days, have you made any preparation for the birth of a child "—she said "No, none "—I searched the room with Dr. Capron and Mrs. Mercer; there was no baby linen there, I did not search in any other room; there was anotherroom, I was told that was the lodgers, and I did not go in, she

told me that—I think I saw the lodger on the Common, he was not in the house—I don't think there was any woman lodging in the house, I never heard that there was.

Cross-examined. I have been deputy chief constable about three years; I have been in the force twenty years—I don't think I saw Mrs. Mercer before 1 went to Balchin's house; I am not sure, but I think I did not; I don't know whether I. did or not—I saw her afterwards I know, but I think I did not see her first—I did not employ her afterwards; I asked her to look to Mrs. Balchin; she told me she had been nursing her, and I asked her to look to her, because I thought she would be charged with this offence, and I did not wish to put a policeman there to watch her; I thought if Mrs. Mercer would look to her that would do as well—I did not tell her to have conversation with her, nothing of the kind—I don't remember that she repeated to me any conversation that she had with her at any time—I am not sure that I saw Mrs. Mercer after the Sunday till the prisoners were examined before the Magistrate on the Friday week following—on Sunday, the 9th, both the prisoners were charged with murder—I did not caution Balchin when I first went into the room before I put any questions to her; she spoke to me first, as soon as I went in—I had never seen her before, and I don't think she knew me, unless Mr. Shollick had told her—she made no objection to being examined by Mr. Capron, she submitted to it at once; she did not like Mr. Shollick to examine her.

THOMAS JOSEPH SHOLLICK . I am a surgeon practising at Guildford—on Thursday evening, 6th July, I saw the body of this child at the County police-station; I afterwards made.a, post-mortem examination of it—as far as I could judge from the condition of the heart and lungs the cause of death was suffocation; it was not caused by drowning in my opinion—in my opinion the child was dead before it was thrown into the water—on Sunday, 9th July, I saw Balchin at her house; I went there with Mr. Barker; I'said to her that I thought she looked very ill, and asked her—what had been the matter; she said she thought it was the change of life—I asked if she had lost a great deal; she said "Yes "—I then asked her when she was last confined; she said thirteen years ago—I said "Have you not been confined recently?"—she said "I am not conscious of having been—confined"—I said "Have you miscarried?" she said "Yes, twelve years ago "—I then asked her if she had any objection to being examined; she sad no, but she should like her own medical man—I asked her who her own medical man was—she said "Dr. Capron, of Shere—I said "I know Dr. Capron very well, we will go and see if we can get him to come"—Dr. Capron afterwards came—she asked me how it was she came to be suspected of having had a child—I said "Your mother has been taken into custody, and she states that she attended you at your last confinement on the Saturday previous, and that she afterwards brought the child in a basket and put it into the river; that is the reason why you have been suspected of having had a child "—she said "I assure you, Mr. Shollick it is quite false, I have not been confined."

Cross-examined. She was very weak indeed, and very much blanched, in such a state as would result from great loss of blood—I began the conversation with her at once on going in; I was alone with her; I had seen her before—she knew me, and so did her husband—I had not attended her before, but I had been called in in consultation with Dr. Capron and Dr. Taylor, of Guildford, to see her husband, who had fractured his legs; that

was some years ago—she recognised me and called me by name—her husband was living with her at the time, but he was not present—she and I were alone in the room at the time of the conversation—I examined the child that was found in the river on the 7th; it was a very large child, 21 inches in length—I think the confinement would have been a difficult one—that difficulty would be increased by the fact that she had had no child for thirteen years, and considering her age.

EDWARD CAPRON . I am an M.D. and live at Shere—on 9th July I was fetched by Mr. Barker to see Balchin—I found her in bed and very weak; I told her she was suspected of having had a child, and I asked her if that was the case—she said if that was so she was not sensible when it was born—I asked if she had any objection to my examining her medically to see if that was the case; she made no objection—I examined her and came to the conclusion that she had been recently delivered of a child, within a week or ten days—I only noticed that she was feeble, she had evidently had a great loss of blood, nothing more—I found nothing else that attracted my notice—of course I looked at her breasts, that was part of my medical examination; that was one of my reasons for saying that she had had a child—I had no doubt in my own mind of the fact—she said the first remembrance of consciousness she had was her mother saying "Good God, child, you are dying "—I asked if she had made any preparation with her mother beforehand to take the child away; that she denied—I think it is possible that as soon as the child was born she might have had excessive flooding, and she might be unconscious as to what became of the child afterwards—patients frequently from severe loss do faint away and are unconscious for some time—I should scarcely think she could have been unconscious of giving birth to a child.

Cross-examined. I have never know such a case, I should think it impossible—during the pains of labour. she must have been conscious of it; she would not be unconscious before the child was born except under excessive hemorrhage, which would be unusual before birth—such a thing might occur, but it is not usual—I think she must have been conscious that she was giving birth to a child at the time of its birth; she might have been unconscious a few minutes aftewards, and before the child was fully. born—I don't think she could suppose it to be a miscarriage; but that de-. pends upon whether the miscarriage takes place at an early or late period; at a very late period it may still be a living child of seven months, a child that breathed—I don't think it possible for her to be unconscious then—I examined the bed; there had been a considerable amount of hemorrhage, but of course I could not say when that occurred—she asserted that she was unconscious at the birth of the child—I did not hear her say that she saw no child at all—I had been her medical attendant for thirteen or fourteen years; I had never attended her for a confinement—I have heard it reported that the mother always attended on those occasions—my last attendance upon her was three or four months previously—she then came to me and complained that she thought she was undergoing a change of life—I treated her for that.

Re-examined. If she had recovered from the fainting I do not think she could be unconscious of the fact that she had given birth to a child, or forget it.

By THE COURT. Directly after a child is born hemorrhage frequently recurs, and before full birth—it would be some considerable period before

or directly after birth; if it occurred to such an extent as to render her unconscious, that unconsciousness might last some hours, it would depend on the amount of hemorrhage; if it lasted more than an hour I should say it would be of a serious nature, and it would be necessary to call in a medical attendant—severe hemorrhage would weaken her considerably and make her unconscious for some period, not for days, say twelve hours; not total unconsciousness, but a kind of faintness or weakness; she would be unable to take part in what was going on, or to know what other persons said.

THE COURT was of opinion that the case against Balchin was insufficient. The Jury concurred and found


Several withesses deposed to Heather's good character.

HEATHER— One Month's Imprisonment

Before Mr. Justice Denman.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-90
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

90. THOMAS TANTONY (57) , Feloniously killing and slaying James Stocker.

MR. CARTER conducted the Prosecution; and Mr. Harris the Defence.

FREDERICK BASS . I am a coachman, and live at 1, Bromley Cottages, Castle Yard, Richmond—on 16th October, about 2.30 in the day, the deceased came into the bar of the Fox and Duck with John Stocker,—and said, "So help me God, I have killed Bobbie;" that is the name the prisoner goes by, he asked Pieseley the potman, to go round to help pick him up, I went with him and James Kirkman to Mr. Wench's stable, and there saw the prisoner lying on the stones in the stable with his head on his arm—he looked as if he had been knocked down; I did not see any mark on him—he was lying quite still, I don't know whether he was insensible or not, the potman and Kirkman tried to pick him up—he said "He said get out of the way," which they did—after that Stocker came in and he stepped over him as he was lying and went to the corn bin, he then stepped back over him again and stood against the door post, and the prisoner got up and struck him in the face and knocked him down on his back on the gravel—they picked him up and carried him into the skettle ground of the Fox and Duck and set him on the form there—he was insensible—I saw him next afternoon dead—he was about 45 years of age; he was sober at the time, and the prisoner was sober.

Cross-examined. The deceased was often drunk—he did not say anything about a spreader before I went into the stable—where the prisoner was lying was pretty close to the door, and the deceased was standing in the doorway—the prisoner ran out as he got up, he made a start to go out of the door to run away—I did not see him push the deceased to get by him, he got by directly he struck him and then the deceased fell on the back of his head; the ground slopes down there—I thought the prisoner hit him very hard, I did not see any mark—he fell with his head on the stones—I have known the prisoner nine or ten years, he was always a quiet, peaceable, well conducted man—I have not seen the deceased run after people with a spreader—a spreader is a kind of splinter bar, used to keep the chains from rubbing; the deceased used to go with horses and braw a barge from Wey-bridge—I don't know anything about his temper.

ARTHUR JAMES PIESELEY . I am potman at the Fox and Duck, on 16th October, about 3.30, I was at work in the garden, I heard some one call me,

I left where I was and went across the road; I met the deceased, he asked me to go and help pick Bobbie up, I did not know who he meant, I ran round with him to Mr. Wench's stable and found the prisoner lying on the ground on his right side, with his head on his right arm; I went to raise his head up, he said "Get away"—I stepped over him and went to the back of his head—the deceased stepped over him in order to get to the corn bin, and in coming back he stepped over him again, and then the prisoner got up and struck a blow with his fist knocking the deceased down on the ground on his back—I and another man picked him up, and took him into the skettle ground and seated him on a form, and I got some warm water and bathed his face—he afterwards walked up to bed, I walked up behind him, he did not speak; he laid down on the bed for an hour and half, he was left alone for that time; I then went up to see him and took off his things and put him to bed—he did not speak, he was unconscious, about 7 o'clock, I went up to him again, he was then asleep—I went up again after 8 o'clock, he was about the same, as if asleep—I left him till nearly 11 o'clock; I then went to bed—I slept in the same room; he seemed a little worse then I think—I spoke to Mrs. French, the landlady, she came and looked at him—we tried to administer a little brandy to him, he did not take it he did not speak at all—I then went to fetch Mr. Wench; both the prisoner and the deceased were in his employ—I afterwards went to Richmond to fetch a surgeon, he was not at home—I went back again to the bedroom; the deceased was still either asleep or unconscious, and a little after 1 o'clock I 'again went for the doctor.

By THE COURT. When I saw the prisoner lying in the stable he was in the same unconscious state that I afterwards found the deceased in; it was not till the deceased stepped back over him that he suddenly came to, himself.


20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-91
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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91. SAMUEL FISHER (59) , Feloniously killing and slaying Charles Morris. He was charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with the like offence.

MR. RIBTON conducted the Prosecution; and MR. LILLET the Defence.

WILLIAM SHERWIN . I am a stone mason—on 4th August, I was at work at the new church Queen's Road, Kingston Hill—the prisoner was foreman of those works—on that morning he and the prisoner came on the scaffolding; I was about 16 or 20 yards from them—Fisher called out at the height of his voice for Morris to come up to the scaffolding—Morris said to me "There is something up I suppose "—he went up on the scaffold—as soon as he got on to the top of the scaffold I heard Fisher commence swearing at him about a stone that he had worked wrong, it was abusive language, he was very angry, indeed, he let his temper get the mastery of him—Morris said "It is no use making a row about it, it can be very soon altered"—he then said "What shall I do "—Fisher said "Go up and take up what job you like, I will have no more to do with you"—Morris then went down the ladder, he had two moulds in his hand—he went down the ladder and Fisher followed him down; I believe both were on the ladder at the same time—when they got about 3 or 4 yards from the foot of the ladder Fisher seemed to me to make a rush at him, and try to snatch the moulds with one hand and to take hold of Morris by the neck or shoulder with the other, and at the moment they both fell; there was a pail standing in the way and Morris fell on to the top of the pail, and Fisher on the top of him—he cried out very loud "Oh, dear oh," with pain; apparently

he could not get up—Fisher scrambled up as quickly as possible, almost as soon as he was down—a man from the other shop ran to Morris' assistance and picked him up, the moulds fell on the ground, someone picked them up, they were zinc moulds for the shape of the stone that Morris had been working; they were the property of the builders of the church, Messrs. Todd & Saunders—I did not hear Morris refuse to give them up, but as Fisher was trying to get them he seemed to be holding them away from him; ho would have given them to him, only Fisher was so high in temper at the time; he would have been bound to give them up on Fisher's word being as he was foreman, and they were his masters' property.

THE COURT and JURY considered that the injury was more in the nature of an accident than anything else.


20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-92
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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92. JAMES HARVEY (52) , Feloniously killing and slaying Mary Elizabeth Harvey. He was also charged on the Coroner's Inquisition, with the like offence. Me. Lilley conducted the Prosecution.

MURDOCK MITCHELL . I am a gardener and live at 4, Aberdeen Terrace, Mitcham—the prisoner lived next door, but one to me—he had a wife and step-daughter—on the evening of 8th August, about 10.30, I was at my own door with Bennett, his wife and my wife, I. saw the prisoner's wife and daughter come to the house, the deceased entered the house first, the daughter followed, and as soon as she entered the house the prisoner came and pushed her out of doors, and. said she should not enter the house that night, he then shut the door, the daughter remaining outside—I heard some words inside between the prisoner and his wife about a shilling; I only heard him speaking—I also heard the sound of some blows—in a few seconds he came outside and pushed the daughter down in some potatoes—the deceased then came to her daughter's assistance, and the prisoner turned to her and hit her three distinct times with his fist, as far as I could'see about the chest and ribs; they were three blows in succession with his fist; I could not say whether they were hard blows—as he gave the third blow I caught hold of him from behind by the muscles of his arms—she fell as he gave her the third blow—I hoard a sound as he gave the blows—she fell on the doorstep of No. 7, the back of her head came in contact with the doorstep—she appeared to be in a dying condition—I pushed the prisoner indoors and went to assist the deceased, as she was lying on the ground—I went and fetched the doctor, I fancied I could hear a groan as she lay on the ground, I thought I could hear her groan once—I left my wife, and Mr. and Mrs. Bennett with her while I went for the doctor—I returned before the doctor, she had then been carried indoors and laid on the sofa—she was dead; I had told the prisoner while his wife was lying on the ground to go and fetch a doctor, and he said he would not; some of the women round advised him to go and fetch some brandy, and he did so.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I heard the sound of two blows distinctly, inside the house—I could tell they were blows by the sound—when I asked you to fetch a doctor you said you would not, I was to go myself.

Prisoner. I said it was not necessary—she had fallen just in the same way on the Saturday night, and laid in the same way, and she always said it was wind spasms.

THOMAS BENNETT . I live at No. 5, Aberdeen Terrace, Mitcham, next door to the prisoner—on the evening of 8th August, about 10.30, I was there with my wife and Mitchell and his wife, talking together—I heard the

prisoner and his wife quarrelling inside the house about a shilling—I heard a struggle and likewise blows afterwards indoors, as I was outside my own door—after that I heard him say the daughter should not come in that night, and he used very bad language, when she was standing outside the door against the window—the mother said she should—he rushed out after the daughter, and the mother followed—there was a struggle out in the potatoes—I don't know whether he struck the daughter or not; she got away from him and the mother hung to him to defend her daughter—the daughter fell over a son of mine; I don't know whether he struck her or not—he hit his wife three times, heavy blows in the chest—she called for my assistance before he hit her the last time—she said "Bennett, come and assist me," and I ran to her assistance—I could hear the blows; they were with his right fist—she fell on the door step on her head—she was nearly gone; she gave one bit of a sigh and was gone—I assisted to take her indoors and place her on the sofa—I don't think she breathed at all afterwards—I said before; the Magistrate "I think she breathed once and died "—that was the wind in her inside as we were taking her indoors, she was dead—the doctor came in about twenty minutes—Mitchell spoke to the prisoner about fetching a doctor, and he said she was only fainting; he did not think she required a doctor—when the doctor told him she was dead he said at first he would not believe it; he said "Good Lord, you don't mean it."

Cross-examined. You and your step-daughter were quarrelling after you came out of doors—you said she had been away, or something of the kind, and she said she had not; that she had been along with her mother.

By THE COURT. He was accusing the daughter of stopping but and going with men, and blowing the wife up for not keeping her away from them—the girl was not in the habit of wandering about; I lived next door, and I had seen nothing of the sort—she was getting her own living in an honest way—I never saw anything wrong.

Prisoner. I never complained of anything of the sort; I only said it was not right of her to be out after 9 o'clock; that was 10.30. Witness. He was complaining of her being out so late—I did not see any money pass; the wife had drawed a shilling at her work, and she wanted to know where the change was, or something to that effect.

MARY ANN BENNETT . I am the wife of the last witness—I was present on this occasion.

Cross-examined. I heard your wife ask her daughter if she would like some money to go and sleep with Lizzie Digby, the landlady down below in the terrace, because her father had turned her out—the girl said she would not go, she would sleep at home, and you said she should not come in.

By THE COURT. I heard Mr. and Mrs. Harvey quarrelling about a shilling, but I don't know what they said—the prisoner was in a passion, he done it in the heat of passion—about a month before this I found her suffering from spasms about the heart; she was very much troubled with wind about the heart—he gave her some brandy, Mitchell fetched it—she was in the most excited state; she was not at all insensible when she had the spasms.

JANE HARVEY . I am the daughter of the deceased, and was living at home with her and the prisoner—on the evening of 8th August I returned with my mother about 10.30; I had been waiting for my mother corning from her work, and I came with her—I work at the lace mills at Mitcham;

I received wages and paid for my board and lodging—when we got home we went in doors; father told me to go out again, that I should not enter the doors any more—I remained outside, and while outside I heard them lustling indoors, but I could not get in—mother came out and she was offering me some money to go and sleep with my friend; I said I did not like to, and father came out and knocked me into the potatoes; he then got and struck my mother, mother came to take my part—I can't say whether he struck her; I did not see him strike her—I saw her lying on the doorstep of No. 7—I was frightened—I told him I had been to meet my mother and had come home with her.

Cross-examined. You did not blame me for going with anyone that night.

By THE COURT. I saw a scuffing between them in the potatoes—they were two doors from me when she fell; I had got away from him then—he did not complain that I had been misbehaving, he complained of my coming home late that night—the quarrel about the shilling was this: mother had drawed a shilling at her work and sent it home to him by my brother, and she wanted to know where it had gone to—I did not hear what he said about it, because they were inside—that began the quarrel; that had nothing to do with me—I paid for my lodging out of my earnings—I have one brother, he is living away in London—there were three daughters of theirs living at home, they are younger than me—I get my own living.

GEORGE HALL (Policeman W 89). On the night of 8th August, about 10.40,1 was called to the prisoner's house—I found the deceased lying prostrate on the ground, to all appearance dead—I asked if they had sent for a doctor; they said "Yes"—I told the prisoner he must consider himself in my custody for causing the death of his wife; he said "I suppose you will"—I asked him how he done it—he said "I merely pushed her"—he said he was having a row with his daughter, and his wife interfered, and he merely pushed her down.

EDWARD MARHALL . I am a surgeon at Mitcham—I was sent for on the evening in question—my assistant went that evening—on 11th August I made a post-mortem examination of the deceased; I found no injury externally—the body was somewhat decomposed, there was a slight bruise on the inner side of the arm; that was the only external indication—on opening the body there was no injury to any organ whatever that I could find—there was no injury to the scalp outside or to the brain inside—on examining the organs of the chest I found the heart weak, flabby, and enlarged, and quite devoid of blood—I could find no injury to account for death, but I believe it arose from nervous excitement, a nervous shock, a severe shock to the nervous system acting on a* weak and flabby heart—I don't remember having attended her at any time.

By THE COURT. The death was from what I should call fatal syncopy in a time of great excitement—that my happen in the absence of blows; but if three severe blows had been dealt it would be almost certain to produce that excitement of the heart, and that once produced might cause death—I think she would have lived on if she had not been in that excited state—she would have been likely to die at any time in any great excitement; in the absence of any great excitement she might have lived on—I think if heavy blows had been given even a second or so before death there would have been some appearance of them—I think death could not have been so sudden as not to produce some effusion under the skin, to be seen on a careful post-mortem examination—I don't say there would be any

external appearance, but in the cellular tissue under the skin I think there would have been evidence there of such blows—I made a careful examination as to that—there was an absence of any such appearance as I should have expected from heavy blows on the body; but I believe great excitement might have produced the syncopy which caused death—I think that would amount to a high probability, especially knowing that she had been subject to fainting fits.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate." I wish to say that I did not strike my wife, I only pushed her out of my way."

MARY ANN BENNETT (re-examined). I saw the prisoner strike the deceased three violent blows—I can swear that—I was not indoors at the time, I met him coming from his wife as he hit her.

Prisoner's Defence. I leave my case in your hands. I call the Almighty to witness that I am innocent.

GUILTY Nine Months' Imprisonment .

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-93
VerdictGuilty > unknown

Related Material

93. SILAS BARLOW (26), was indicted for the wilful murder of Ellen Sloper alias Smith . He was also charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with the like murder.

MR. POLAND and MR. BEASLEY conducted the Prosecution; and Mr. Fulton and Mr. Grubbe the Defence.

JESSIE WILSON . I am the wife of George Wilson, a waiter, living at 18, Leopold Street, Vauxhall—on the 11th September a person named Ellen Smith or Sloper died at my house at 2 o'clock in the morning—she had been a lodger at my house since the 21st August—she occupied the anteroom at 5s. per week; one room—she took the name of Mrs. Smith—when she came she brought a child with her, about six months old—she remained there continuously until she died—the prisoner used to visit her—I do not remember exactly the date when he first came, but it was some day in the first week—he did not come very often—he called himself Mr. Smith and he called her Mrs. Smith—on the 3rd September he came about 8.30 in the evening, and they were both together in her room—she had been in good health up to that time; she had no vomiting or sickness whatever—she went about her work as usual—the prisoner remained that night until 9.30—I was not with them; they were together alone in her room—when he went away she came down, knocked at my door, and said she had been very sick and bad—the prisoner was not present. (Mr. Fulton objected to anything stated in the prisoner's absence, but Mr. Justice Denman considered the evidence admissible so far as it was in the nature of. a complaint or a declaration accompanying an act.) I asked her what was the matter; she said it was the sarsaparilla water that he had given her—I think this was about half an hour after he had gone; about 10 o'clock—she felt weak and hardly able to stand; she appeared to be very nervous and shaky, as if she should faint—I never observed her in that condition before—I persuaded her to go to the street door, which she did for a short time and she then came in and went upstairs—before I went to bed I went up to see her; she was then retching very heavily; she was sitting upon a chair; I did not remain with her—that was all I noticed on that occasion—next morning, Monday, she came downstairs about 9 o'clock and she looked very bad and white, and was compelled to balance herself against the wall, she could not stand—she said that she had been very bad all night—she got better during the day—I did not see the prisoner again till the 10th—I think he was

there on the Saturday, but I did not see him—I saw him on Sunday the 10th; he came about 8.30 in the evening—the deceased was then at the street-door talking to me, with the baby—she appeared in perfect health then—they went upstairs into her room, and about 9.30 the prisoner came and knocked at my door and said his wife had had two fits—I ran upstairs and found her lying across the bed with her head towards the door and her feet towards the window—the prisoner went up with me—she was in a kind of fit or convulsion—I sent the prisoner for water and brandy—she became a little conscious, and I went to touch her and she clutched me by the dress and said "Don't touch me! don't touch me!"—she had been unconscious—after that the moment she was touched she continually went into these convulsions—her teeth and hands were clenched and she was drawn perfectly backwards; her back was a perfect arch—she was not conscious then—it was as much as the prisoner could do to hold her each time—he was holding her all the time—this continued from the time I went up until I sent for the doctor, which was about 10.30—he came directly and the prisoner with him—Mr. Miller was the doctor—the prisoner brought him from Tyre Street—when he came he looked at her; she was slightly conscious then—we applied hot flannels and mustard poultices—I did that myself—the doctor remained with her about five minutes, and Smith went with him then for a bottle of medicine—the doctor did nothing to her, only held her legs up while I put the plasters on—I saw her legs and feet at that time, they were perfectly white, and looked to me dead—her toes were drawn under, a little backwards like to the soles of her feet—the doctor told me to put hot flannels to her calves—it did not seem to do her any good—I administered two draughts of medicine to her—she could not take it easily—she did not seem able to swallow; she went off into convulsions directly and bit the spoon—at the time she had these dreadful convulsions Smith was holding her—one dreadful one she had, and it took me and the prisoner to hold her; that was when her head seemed to be drawn perfectly backwards as if her neck would have been broken, and her back was perfectly arched—she became a little conscious after that—she said it was the nasty sarsaparilla that made her like this—the prisoner said "Oh! no! I have taken more of it than you have "—he said he had given her two pills and taken two himself—then she complained of a dreadful pain in her heart; she continued unconscious then, a little at times she came to herself but very slightly—then she continued on in these convulsions until she died—she had fearful convulsions when the prisoner was holding her—she died at 2 o'clock; at that time she was perfectly drawn backwards the same as before—I was attempting to hold her—the prisoner was holding her all the time, and in one of the convulsions I and the prisoner had to hold her, and it was as much as we could do to keep her in the bed—she did not die when I was holding her; the prisoner was holding her then—she seemed to drop instantly after the dreadful convulsions—I gave her two dozes of the medicine that the doctor sent—I had not seen any sarsaparilla in her room, nor any bottle—there was no bottle left there after that night—Mr.—Smith, the coroner's officer, searched the room—the prisoner went away about 7 o'clock in the morning, and said he was going to telegraph down the line for somebody to be put on in his place—he came back in about half an hour, I think, and remained there I think until I sent him for the undertaker, which must have been about 11 or 12 o'clock—the coroner's officer took away the bottle of medicine which the doctor had sent, and also a pill-box from the

mantelpiece, I had not seen that box before the prisoner came—the prisoner remained at my house that night until quite late in the evening—he used to give the money to the deceased to pay for the lodging, and she paid me—she said he gave it her; he paid me a week's rent himself on the Monday that she died—there was one pill left in the box—the coroner's officer took it away—when the prisoner went away that evening he said that he was going to his cousins at Clapham Junction—he came back about 8.30, I think—I asked him if his cousin was going to take the child—he said "Yes," and at 10.30 I dressed the child and gave it into the prisoner's arms in my kitchen, and he took it away—I had put the sucking bottle into his pocket full of milk—I followed him through the passage. (Mb. Beasley proposed to ask when the witness saw the child again. Mr. Fulton objected, as it might give rise to certain inferences prejudical to the prisoners in ike decision of the present case. Mr. Justice Denman considered it admissible as tending to throw light on the conduct and motives of the prisoner.) I next saw the child on Friday, the 15th, at a public-house in Battersea—it was then dead.

Cross-examined. I had not known the deceased previous to the 21st August; he was quite a stranger to me, I saw her occasionally during the time she was with me—she would come down, say "Good morning," and so on; nothing more—she was in perfect health, she never complained—the prisoner visited her on several occasions, I never noticed anything quarrel-some between them—I was never in their room, nor heard them talking together—I never heard quarrelsome disturbances between them; I think I mentioned before the Magistrate about her complaining of the sarsaparilla on the 3rd; I am sure I did—she said it to me at the door—she got quite well again after that and in her usual health—when I was called in on the 10th, I did not notice her eyes particularly; she had them closed when in these convulsions, the same as they were when she died, I did not hold her hand at all during the convulsions—I did not notice whether they were cold or clammy—her convulsions were so strong it was impossible to hold her—I was a good deal disturbed in my mind to see her suffer so; her breathing seemed very hard, and she clutched her throat at one time and said she should be choked—her breath was almost suspended—her teeth were perfectly clenched except when she was a little conscious, when she spoke; they were perfectly tight; a perfect fixture; as well as her hands; perfectly clenched—I did not particularly notice gnashing of the teeth, only the clenching of them, when in convulsions—I was' so excited, having the baby at the same time—after she died, round her mouth was perfectly black, when she had not been dead more than about two hours or so—I did not notice any froth or foaming about her mouth before her death—she wanted to be sick on one occasion and she could not—she repeated that on several occasions; she evidently felt very sick and the prisoner tried to move her to be sick, and then she went off in convulsions the moment she was touched—in the morning after her death her face and the side of her nose was very much swollen like soap-suds blown out of a tobacco pipe—I kept saying to the prisoner "Whatever is the matter with her 1 how she does suffer; the poor thing"—he said "Yes; she does "—he appeared to be distressed, but not so much as you would think—he sat on the side of the bed and held her the whole time, acting kindly towards her to every appearance—I sent for the doctor at 2 o'clock when she died; he did not say that night what she died of—from 9.30 till 2 she was partly conscious, and partly unconscious;

but more unconscious than conscious—at one time she appeared to be quite conscious and to understand what was going on—that must have been about 12 o'clock or 12.30 as near as I can recollect—she spoke, and seemed as if she wanted to move; she tried to move herself and said that she would try and move to sec if she could be sick—she got up and put her hand to the end of the bedstead to catch hold of it; after that she was a little conscious for sometime; not long; and then she went off into these fearful convulsions again—she was unconscious most of the time, and she was unconscious at the time of her death—Mr. Miller came about 10.30, and he came again when the prisoner went for him, after she died; about 2.15 I think—on the first occasion when he came he asked the deceased about her symptoms—she was a little conscious then—I do not recollect that he put any question to me—I told him that she had had some fearful fits, as I thought they were—I cannot recollect whether or not I mentioned to him about the arching-; I think I did; I cannot positively recollect whether I did—there was none of that while he was there; only her feet were turned when he looked at her toes—I do not think her back was arched so much at that time the doctor saw her—I told the doctor of the dreadful shaking, that she shook so fearfully—I might have mentioned about the arching to the doctor; I have some idea that I did—the body was bent back in the form of a bow—I had never seen anything of that kind before; it struck me as a most remarkable circumstance, I thought they were strong fits; I had no idea of. anything else—I cannot positively say whether or not I did mention, the arching of the body to the doctor; I might not in my agitation, having the mother and the child to attend to; but I know I said about the convulsions—I mentioned the arching the first—time I was examined before the Magistrate—the undertaker was sent for and came—the prisoner was there at the time—he never came to bury her—he left the body at my place—he promised to come and bury her on Wednesday the 12th—the post-mortem examination was at my place—she was taken from my house after the post-mortem examination, after the inquest, that was on Tuesday, the 19th—I did not know that she died from strychnine—I had not heard from anybody that she had died from poisoning by strychnine—I had no idea but that she had died from fits—I think the first one that said that the symptoms I gave was poisoning by strychnine was the coroner's officer—I think he said it when I said the symptoms—he did not put any questions to me in particular; nothing concerning the death—I gave the account to Dr. Lees on the Sunday after, when he came to my house—that must have been the 17th, he was the first person—the coronor's officer came first and searched the room—I told him about the symptoms before I told Dr. Lees—I think he came on the Thursday and I gave him the symptoms; I thought you meant, did I tell strangers? I told the coroner's officer the symptoms of the death of the woman; and then he said "There is every appearance of dying by strychnine"—that was on the Thursday when he searched the room in the evening—he did not ask me the nature of the symptoms—I told him how she died and I told him of the arching—I was not asked, was there any arching—I gave a description of the woman's death to him, and also to Dr. Lees on the Sunday—I had no conversation with anyone afterwards until I saw Dr. Lees on the Sunday—I never mentioned it to anyone out of doors—I mentioned it to no one except the coroner's officer—I had no conversation with my neighbours about it; nothing of the sort—I did not speak about the arching or' the dreadful convulsions to my neighbours; I do not gossip—the deceased was

a sober, quiet, inoffensive woman, about 24 years of age—I do not know whether sarsaparilla is very much taken by people in her class; I never took any myself—the prisoner said he always had it by him; he always kept it.

JAMES MILLER . I reside at 30, Brunei Street, Vauxhall—it is a dispensary—I am medical assistant to Mr. T. B. Donahoo—I have not taken any degree; I have not passed as a medical man—I have been six mouths—with Mr. Donahoo—before that I was assistant to Dr. Scott, of Lambeth; he is a general practitioner—previous to that I was engaged with an insurance company as an agent; I have never studied in the hospitals—I acquired my medical knowledge from reading, prior to my assistancy with Dr. Scott—on Sunday night, 10th September, the prisoner came to fetch me about 10.40; from what he said I went at once with him to 18, Leopold Street—he said his wife had had two fainting fits, and asked me to go and see her—it took me about a minute to get there—I found her lying on the bed dressed; she was quite conscious; she was lying very quietly on the bed; straight up and down the bed—I asked her to describe her symptoms, her feelings—she said she had severe pains in her legs, and that she had fainted twice—I asked her if she had been complaining of anything during the week, and she said only of pains in her head—I examined her legs—the muscles of the calves were very rigid, and her feet were turned slightly inwards—as she lay on the bed on her back the toes of each foot were inclined to each other, and each foot was inclined to the other inwards—there was no turning of the toes downwards towards the heels—the rigidity of the muscles was in both calves, not above the knees—while the cramp was in the lower limbs the arms were quiet; when it passed off the arms were agitated, and she beat her breasts—the hands were partly closed—her heart was very excited and the breathing was slightly laboured; the heart continued excited all the time I was there—there was no variation in that at all—I was there about five minutes; I asked her, what she had taken—she said she had taken a cup of tea in the morning and a herring for tea—what I saw hardly amounted to convulsions—I believed her to be suffering from an attack of epilepsy—the prisoner left with me and I made up a bottle of anti-spasmodic medicine—it consisted of valerian, ammonia, and assafoetida—they are reputed to have the effect of keeping down spasmodic attacks; that is their characteristic—the prisoner waited while I made it up, and I gave it to him to take to the woman—I did not hear that she had taken anything but the tea and herring; I was not sent for again during her life—after her death I went to the house again and saw her dead—the prisoner fetched me and said he wanted me to come at once; ho thought his wife way dying—that was just after 2 o'clock; I was in bed, he rang me up—I went at once and found that she was dead—I did not anticipate that at all from the symptoms I had seen when I first saw her—I had no idea that she was in a dangerous state, or a state approaching death; I only placed my hand over her heart to satisfy myself that she was dead.

Cross-examined. I was there altogether about five minutes—I did not notice the arching of the body, which Mrs. Wilson has spoken of, in anyway; that was not mentioned to me at the time as one of the symptoms of the complaint from which she was suffering; I am quite sure of that—I noticed that each foot inclined slightly inwards as she lay on her back—I should not describe that as an arching—I have not seen many cases of epilepsy in

the course of my practice—I do not remember more than one—that may be about twelve months ago—the symptoms I then observed were very similar to the symptoms which I noticed in this woman—I know nothing about strychnine poisoning beyond what I have read; I cannot say that I was fully acquainted with the symptoms of poisoning by strychnine at the time I saw the woman—I knew that arching of the body was one of the striking symptoms of poisoning by strychnine—if that had been mentioned to me it would have led me to change my opinion of the diagnosis of the case—I saw her immediately after death, and placed my hand on the heart to see whether life was extinct, or not—there was no arching at that time—I did not notice any marked rigidity of the body, nothing more than the usual rigidity which accompanies death—if the body had been in any peculiar form I think I should have noticed it if it had been there—she was clothed; her clothes about the breast were undone—she had not gone to bed; she was lying in her clothes on the bed—if there had any marked rigidity of the body, I think I should have observed it; as a matter of fact I did not—the hands were partly closed—there was no other marked symptoms of rigidity about the body—I should imagine that I saw her about a quarter of an hour after her death.

Re-examined. I did not pull up her clothes and examine her legs on my second visit—I am not sure whether the lower part of the body was covered with clothes; she had her own clothes on—the lower part may have been covered by the bedclothes—I did not make a careful examination of the body after death—I satisfied myself that she was dead by feeling the heart—I thought it was strange that she should die so quickly, but I did not examine more than I have said—in the case of epilepsy that I saw twelve months ago the person had been in a fit; she died about six hours afterwards—I did not see the person in any convulsion; she was not unconscious when I saw her—I have not seen any other case of epilepsy—I only prescribed the mixture in this case, not the pills.

WILLIAM SMITH . I am a parochial constable and coroner's officer—I heard of the death of this woman on the 15th September—I went to the house 18, Leopold Street, and saw Mrs. Wilson—I searched the room where the deceased was lying; she was. then lying in her coffin and screwed down—I found a bottle of medicine on the mantel shelf; it appeared to have been opened—I took possession of it and produced it at the inquest on the 19th, and by the direction of the coroner it was given over to Dr. Lees—I also found a pill-box in the room; there were two pills, left in it—I am not certain whether Dr. Lees took that or not—I had it before the coroner, I am not certain whether I gave it to Inspector Easter; it was either to himor to Dr. Lees—I found it on the mantel shelf in the room.

Cross-examined. I got the particulars of the death from Mrs. Wilson to submit to the coroner—I did not put any questions to her—I did not know at the time that the woman was supposed to have died by strychnine—she described the symptoms to me—she voluntarily told me everything, and as she did I pencilled them down—I have here the note of what she said (producing it)—it contains everything she told me on the 15th—I took down the symptoms exactly as she described them to me—she said nothing to me on the 15th about the body having been arched. Memorandum read: "Jessie Wilson, wife of George Wilson, waiter, of 18, Leopold Street, Vauxhall, states—A man and a female with a child about six months old came here three weeks last Monday; the female called

at this house and took a furnished upstairs-room for her husband, self, and child, giving the name of Ellen Smith, about twenty-five years of age, and said her husband was pointsman at Victoria railway-station. She with the child slept here that night. He slept here only once, and that on the second Saturday afterwards. She paid the rent. He was here again on Saturday evening, the 8th of September; he stopped two hours. He came again last Monday evening, the 10th; and on the evening of Sunday, the 3rd of September, about 8.30, he came and stopped two hours and went away. After he went away she paid Mrs. Wilson the rent and ls. board. After that she was very sick and said she had taken some sarsaparilla water which her husband gave her, and said he had also taken some. On Monday the 4th, she complained of being sick; she got better and went on all right through the week On Sunday, the 10th, he came at 8.30; she was at home. They went to their room; at 9.30 he came down to the landlady and said his wife had had two fits, and asked her to come up. She went up and found her on the bed dressed; she was then conscious. In a few minutes she went into another fit. 'She complained of a curious feeling in her feet and legs. Gave her some brandy; he fetched it; she got better. He went and fetched the doctor from the dispensary in Bury Street. He came. She was better then, shaking, but conscious, and pains in her feet and legs. He applied mustard to her legs, then hot flannels, and gave her some medicine. After that she was in and out of fits till she died, at 2 o'clock in the night, on the 11th September. She was there all the time. The husband remained till Monday night and left there at 10.30 or 11 o'clock, takingthechildwith him, tellingthelandlord he wasgoing to Clapham Junction to his cousins. She has not seen him since." I am sure she did not describe to me any arching back of the body—I said to her that it appeared like a case of strychnia—I said that only from matters that I had heard and read' that there is continually convulsions—that was a matter that I thought it was a symptom of, from what I have read—I had hold of the idea at the time from the continuous convulsions—that was all, nothing else.

GEORGE HAZEL (Police-sergeant M 18). On Friday, the 15th September, I went to 21, Tweed Street and saw the prisoner there; he was downstairs—I was shewn his room upstairs over the kitchen; I learnt that it was his room—I took him into custody that day—on the next day, Saturday, I went to the same room again and searched it—it was the back room, first floor—I found, standing on the top of the drawers, three bottles labelled sarsaparilla—I opened the drawers with a key which I took from the prisoner the night before, and found inside a small 2-oz. bottle, and another smaller one, both of them containing some liquid—I found five bottles altogether, and a powder folded up in a dirty paper, and a little bag containing some Fuller's earth—I produced those things at the inquest on the 19th, and gave them to Dr. Lees in the state in which I found them—I marked them; there was no label on one of them, but I made a mark on the cork and bottle to know it—this is one of the bottles (produced)—it was marked No. 2 by me—that, is the one that was on the top of the drawers—it has been re-marked, by Dr. Lees, No. 9.

DAVID BARLOW . I live at 21, Tweed Street, Battersea—I am a plate-layer in the service of the London, Brighton, and South Coast Railway Company—the prisoner is my brother in-law and first cousin—his wife is dead—she died about twelve months ago—I think he was a plate-layer in the service of the Brighton Company in my gang—his wages were 3s. 6d. a day—

he lodged with me at 21, Tweed Street, and had been living there about two years before this occurred—he occupied the back room, first floor—I knew the deceased woman, Ellen Sloper—I was not aware that the prisoner used to visit her—I did not know where she was living" in September until I saw it in the paper—the police searched his room and took some bottles away—I do not know anything particular about those bottles—none of them were mine that I am aware of—the prisoner mentioned the bottles to me—he said there were bottles in the room when he went there to lodge—that was after this inquiry had begun.

Cross-examined. I have lived there with the prisoner about two years—I think it is over two years—I cannot say whether the bottles had been there all the time—they must have been in his room—I saw some bottles when the inspector came and took them away—there were some there previously, but I was not often in the room—I know that the prisoner was in the habit of taking sarsaparilla—I have known him take it, and he has given my children some of it once or twice—I suppose he kept it in a bottle—I have seen sarsaparilla in a bottle on several occasions—we have been very much troubled with mice in our rooms, and I used to kill them sometimes with Battle's Vermin Killer—I have not used any just lately, not for the last few months—I was in the habit of killing mice with it when the prisoner lodged with me—I do not know whether he was in the habit of doing so also—he complained of mice, I recollect, in his own room—he knew of my using Battle's Vermin Killer—it was successful, in my case, in killing the mice—I knew the deceased personally—I knew but very little of her habits—I cannot say whether she was a sober woman; I do not know—I did not know that the prisoner had had a child by her, not till this happened; I am quite sure of that—what little I had of the Vermin Killer I kept downstairs as far as I am aware—I never bought but very little at a time, and I generally used what I did buy

Re-examined. I bought the vermin killer myself; I cannot exactly say when—I bought it at a chemist's shop in Wandsworth Road, to the best of my recollection—I bought a 3d. packet one time, and one time I think I bought a 6d. packet, but I am not quite sure—I cannot tell exactly when it was I bought the last; it is a good time since; it must be towards the beginning of the year—I do not think I have had any since—I do not think anyone was with me when I bought it—I generally used what I bought; I do not recollect having any left at any time—the prisoner complained of mice some time ago; I think it must be when I bought the last, somewhere back about the beginning of the year—I do not know what I said to him when he complained of the mice; it is so long ago I cannot recollect—I do not think he used any vermin killer in his own room—I do not know—that he did—I do not know, one way or the other, whether he did or not—he said there was a lot of mice upstairs, and I know we had some in the kitchen—he knew how I got rid of them without my telling him—he knew the thing I was using, and the name of it; at least, I expect he did—I do not know whether he did—I did not know of the poison it contained—I did not see any mice die of it—of course I knew it was a poison.

By THE COURT. I have been the landlord of this house about five years—the prisoner lodged with me—other people used the room in which these bottles were found as well as he—my mistress always did the room for him—no other person slept in the room but him—he had it to himself—it was his room.

ALFRED EASTER (Police Inspector W). On the 17th September I received from Dr. Lees eight bottles and a packet containing some powder—I took them in the same state I received them to Dr. Bernays, Professor of Chemistry at St. Thomas's Hospital—this bottle numbered 9 was one of them—I remember a pill-box being produced before the Coroner by the Coroner's officer—I looked at it—there was one pill in it—I do not know what has become of that pill-box and pill—I do not think I brought it out of the room—it has been lost.

JOSEPH LEES , M.D. I reside at 112, Walworth Road—I first saw the deceased on Monday, 18th September, in her coffin, at 18, Leopold Street—I made a post-mortem examination that day, Dr. Lewis, a friend of mine, who I had asked to assist me, was present, he is here—I made a careful postmortem examination—the body was much decomposed—there was no morbid appearance to indicate death from natural causes—the limbs were somewhat rigid, the body was that of a woman fairly nourished, the stomach exhibited no traces of irritant poisoning, it contained, about 6 oz. of thin brownish fluid—that was all that it contained that was obvious to the senses—I removed the stomach together with its contents, and put it in a glass stoppered bottle, and a portion of the viscera I put in another jar—I received from the police-sergeant Hazell five bottles and a packet of brown powder, on 19th September, the day of the inquest, and a bag containing Fullers earth—I saw a box produced at the inquest containing one or two pills, I can't say which, they were never in my possession—one of the bottles was a 6 oz. bottle, containing a few ounces of good sarsaparilla, it was about one third full—there was another bottle of the same size labelled sarsaparilla; that was empty, it had been recently rinsed out with water, it was practically clean—I say recently rinsed out because the inside was so clean and moist, the bottle was still wet; had it been rinsed out weeks previously it would have become dry—there were a few drops of water at the bottom, just a layer of water, just as much as would remain after being rinsed out, that was my impression—this bottle (No. 9), was one of the bottles; that contained about 2 grs. of dry refuse, dry powder, adhering to the bottom and sides of the bottle—I am not by profession an analytical chemist—I added these ingredients to the water, 2 dchms. of spirits of wins, 30 drops of hydrochloric acid, and a sufficient quantity of liquor potassae to render it alkaline—I grain of dry powder would be in bulk about as much as would equal a grain of wheat—I wrote on a slip of paper what the ingredients were that I added and stuck it on the bottle, and it is there now—my purpose in adding these ingredients was that I suspected that it might contain strychnine, and I commenced to test for strychnine, to separate it if it was present; but my proceedings were cut short by a visit from Inspector Easter, requesting me to give him the bottles to take to Dr. Bernays—the bottle then contained the dry refuse, plus the substances marked on the label—I corked it up and gave it to the inspector in that condition; what I had done up to that time did not enable me to form an opinion, because I had not separated the strychnine, it would probably have taken me a day with other duties, to have completed it, I should have left it to settle and had it chloroformed—I analysed a portion of the contents of one bottle, No. 3, a 2 oz. phial; that was the same day I handed it over to the constable—I tested two portions of it; I had completed my observations of that bottle before I gave it to the constable, when I received it it contained 1/2 a dchm. of a reddish brown fluid, 1/2 a dchm. would be 30 drops, 1/2 a teaspoonfull—

I first tested 5 drops, put the drops into a vessel, and obtained clear evidence of strychnia—I used the same things as I had used with the other except potash and chloroform, and I obtained a substance which yielded evidence of strychnia when tested by manganese sulphuric acid, bichromate of potash, and peroxide of lead, those were three separate tests—the evidence of strychnia are in the colour—I used three separate tests, and had three-. fold indications of the presence of strychnia—I subsequently took 10 drops and repeated the process and obtained needle-shaped crystals, such as strychnia will crystalize in; I have some with me, (producing them), they are very minute needle shaped crystals—that was evidence to my mind that it was a crystalline substance having the same form that strychnia sometimes assumes—that is not peculiar to strychnia alone, it is a common property with others, with thousands of substances, it need not be a poison,—I do not think it is common to sarsaparilla—strychnia comes from a vegetable nux vomica—sarsaparilla comes from a vegetable, there may be crystalline substances obtained from sarsaparilla, but I cannot speak with authority on that subject—I am able to say that the stuff in that bottle did contain strynchnia, because I applied the tests to those crystals, that again is a matter of colour—strychnia when treated by these tests turns violet passing into red—I think taking a crystalline substance giving this colour, acting with the tests named, it would be consistent with chemical science to say that it was strychnia; in my opinion it was conclusively strychnia—it is certainly my opinion that the tests I applied enabled me to say that the bottle did contain strychnia—I showed the remainder on a watch glass to Professor Bernays-that is it (produced), Idid not test the contents of the bottle for anything but strychnia, I left about 15 drops in the bottle; I measured the quantity when it came to me, about 30 drops, I did not measure it afterwards some might have been lost, I corked that up and gave it with the other bottles to Inspector Easter—I produced this 2-oz. bottle at the inquest and subsequently before the Magistrate—I took the precaution to empty the remainder of it into a clean ounce phial, rinsing out the 2-oz., No. 3, with spirits of wine, that ounce phial I corked and locked up. in my drawer, and that No. 3 bottle I produced at the inquest and before the Magistrate, it was then empty—when Inspector Easter called on me I emptied both the contents of the 1-oz. phial into No. 3 and gave it to the inspector—I should think a considerable quantity of the fifteen drops was lost by evaporation; that was one reason that induced me to add the spirit, thinking it would preserve what was left—all the other bottles I received I also handed to the inspector to go to Professor Bernays—I should think there was about l-120th of a grain of strychnia in bottle No. 3 when I first obtained it, but not now; that was only a sort of guess, and it would represent 4-5ths of the bottle full, 4-5ths of a grain, supposing the bottle was full—the smallest dose that would be fatal to an adult would, from my reading be 1/2 grain, and a less quantity would produce serious effects—I have no idea of the quantity of strychnia in bottle 9—I have been in practice fourteen years—I have attended to Mrs. Wilson's evidence, and if she has accurately described the symptoms, I am of opinion that they are consistent with death from strychnia—they only resemble those of the disease known as indiopathictelanus, that means lock-jaw, which comes on of itself without any wounds—that will not kill a person in two or three hours, it takes from two to thirty days—wheether a person who was in a state of health at 8.30 p.m. and died, after convulsions, at 2 a.m., died from idiopathic tetanus, would

depend upon the character of the convulsions; but, even if the body was arched up and resting on the head and the heels, it would be too rapid to be consistent with idiopathic tetanus; nor is it consistent with traumatic tetanus, nor with anything except death by strychnia; not coming on so suddenly—if the strychnia was administered in solution, the symptoms would come on very rapidly, indeed, possibly within a few moments—assuming a fatal dose given about 9.30 at night, it is quite consistent with death from strychnia that the symptoms should exhibit themselves up to 2 o'clock, and that death should then take place, and assuming that the strychnia was administered in solution, I should expect to find traces of it in the stomach of the deceased, but I should not be surprised not to find it—I found no contents of the stomach except a brown liquid—strychnia is a vegetable poison—I think the presence of food in the stomach would delay its absorption, and we should be more likely to find it—the brown liquid was the remains of food—the strychnia becomes absorbed into the blood in the first instance, and then it would find its way into the tissues rapidly—under some circumstances it would be found in the blood, but it would be a very uncertain chase to find a grain of strychnia in the whole blood in the body—strychnia occasionally produces irritation of the stomach, but I did not observe any here—I have seen animals poisoned by strychnia, but have not seen it in human subject—I have seen tetanus in the human subject—the symptoms of tetanus are somewhat similar—the symptoms of poisoning by strychnia are the repeated occurrence of twitching in the limbs and rigidity of the muscles of the limbs, usually commencing in the lower extremeties, and a sense of weight at the chest or heart, the extension of the symptoms to the muscles of the trunk, the arching back of the body and the head, called oposthotonos, intervals of consciousness, the absence of any great difficulty in swallowing or articulating, and death taking place in six or seven hours; those are the facts upon which I should found my opinion—I have read that touching the person will bring on an attack—I say that it was not a case of epilepsy, because of the complete consciousness between the attacks of convulsions; and in epilepsy one does not expect to get the oposthotonos—the convulsions in epilepsy are constant contractions of the limbs coming and going, and not the rigid continuous extension which would be the case in tetanus.

By THE COURT. There is a frothing of the mouth in epilepsy always if long continued—the clenching of the jaws would be present in poisoning by strychnia, and in epilepsy, and in tetanus, but not continuous, it would be intermittent—in tetanus the jaw would be fixed, commonly called lock-jaw; in this case the patient was able to drink and talk—the same state of jaw might exist in tetanus and in epilepsy, but in idiopathic tetanus it would be persistent; in epilepsy it would be intermittent, merely continuous during the spasm—continuous tetanus is lock-jaw.

By MR. POLAND. The rigidity of the limbs was passing off at the postmortem examination—it is very unusual for a first attack of epilepsy to be fatal; the fits go on from time to time till the person is carried off, or they may recover.

Cross-examined by Mr. Fulton*. Epilepsy is sometimes accompanied by tetanic complications, but I cannot say that in that case it would be more likely to prove fatal than simple epilepsy, or that it would not; I do not think it is a more serious complaint—I have seen hysterical tetanus; tetanus coming on on with hysteria—I cannot recall any marked case of epilepsy

accompanied by tetanus—theconvulsive symptoms I have heard described resemble the symptoms of poisoning by strychnia—leaving out the arching of the back the symptoms are not the same as those in epilepsy—if I had heard nothing of the arching of the back I should not be disposed to say that the deceased died from strychnia, I should hesitate certainly, I should hesitate very much—there is no case that I have read of of poisoning by strychnia not accompanied by arching of the back, it is the leading symptom of death by strychnia—I certainly should not have said if the arching of the back had not been there that she died from strychnia—I do not know of one case on record of strychnia poisoning without arching of the back; it is a leading symptom of poisoning by strychnia that the intellect is clear during the intervals of the attacks; my authority for that is my reading, which is derived from Sir Thomas Watson's lectures; I have not got them here, or "Taylor's Medical Jurisprudence "—those books and "Todd's Clinical Lectures "are the principal authorities I have consulted-"Taylor's Medical Jurisprudence "is a recognised authority; he says that in death by strychnia the intellect is clear, but it depends upon how the patient dies—I should say that if the patient goes off rapidly at the end of an attack his intellect would not be clear, with all that writhing in convulsions.

By THE COURT. I could only tell whether the intellect was clear or not by questioning him, but it might be that the agony would be so great that no question I put would receive an answer—you are going into somewhat theoretical grounds—I should say that consciousness was not complete, if a person was at the point of death from such fearful convulsions as to turn back the heels to the head—my only means of forming a judgment is my knowledge of physiology, it is merely an opinion—what I say is that at that time the convulsions were not at their height, but were at a lull, it may be that the intellect was clear; that would not also be consistent with well marked epilepsy, not in one fit coming on rapidly after the other; I think I should like to qualify that by saying that after an epileptic convulsion a patient may recover consciousness, but it would be a matter of time; epilepsy is usually accompanied by drowsiness and sometimes by profound sleep.

By MR. FULTON. In the patient being more unconscious than conscious I do not see anything inconsistent with death by strychnia poisoning—sleepiness and unconsciousness and drowsiness are symptoms of epilepsy—sickness is not inconsistent with strychnia poisoning—I cannot mention any case in which vomiting has been given as a symptom of poisoning by strychnia—I cannot say that it is a symptom of epilepsy; I think not—I have seen some hundreds of cases of epilepsy in the course of my experience, and vomiting has been absent in a very large majority of them; I think had it occurred constantly I should have observed it—I am not aware that pains in the head are given as a symptom of poisoning by strychnia; it is a symptom of so many diseases that one may not attach much importance to it—it is not necessarily a symptom of epilepsy—the patient does not complain at all in epilepsy; you find him in a fit, in a state of unconsciousness, you may pick him up and drop him down, and touch the eyeball without the least blinking—if the toes were pointed in, but not arched, I should not give my opinion that death was caused by strychnia, that would be indicative that the muscles on the inside of the leg were acting more than the muscles at the back—if the feet were stretched down in that way they would be turned in because the muscles there would be stronger; if

the muscles of the legs were also contracted there would bo greater pressure there, and the feet would be turned in—in epilepsy the symptoms come and go, it is not a question of stretching, it is a constant twitching; that is in ordinary epilepsy,; but epilepsy with tetanic complications is a thing I know nothing about—I examined the body on the 18th September, eight days after death—it was somewhat rigid, but that was passing off from decomposition—I should expect to find very great rigidity after the death of a person from strychnia—I should expect to find arching of the back, unless what we call the rigor mortis had passed off—if I went in four or five minutes after death I think I should expect to find the person in an arched condition, but that is speculation—rigor mortis sometimes does not set in till some time after death; it varies in different persons—the post-mortem appearances in cases of death by strychnia are not marked, but certain symptoms have been observed in certain cases—I found the membranes of the brain highly decomposed and turning green—I know that congestion of the membranes of the brain is one of the consequences of death by strychnia; I examined the upper part of the spinal marrow—the membranes of the brain were congested, that is present in death from strychnia and also from epilepsy—I found the lungs congested; I mentioned that in the written report 1 sent to the Coroner—the heart was flabby and empty; it contained a little coagulated blood—the heart is flabby and empty if you examine soon after death, but decomposition does away with most appearances—the blood was dark and frothy and of a dull colour, but those are appearances due to decomposition; a great part of the surface of the body was green—the blood was dark, unfreshlike, and frothy—the muscles of the throat and gullet were of a dark colour and congested, and the tongue also; but we do not attach much importance to that, on account of the decomposed state of the body—the only reason I give for the death not being from natural causes is this: I could not see any indication of disease; that was drawn from the post-mortem—I said that there were no morbid appearances to account for death—Battle's Vermin Killer contains Prussian blue, flour, and strychnia—I do not know of my own knowledge that it contains Prussian blue; I found no trace of it, nor should I expect to do so if it was administered in any small quantity—Prussian blue is a combination of cyanogen and iron—it is partly mineral—I give as a reason for not finding strychnia that it is a vegetable and is rapidly decomposed; that would not apply to a mineral, but Prussian blue is not properly a mineral—iron would not absorb, but iron is a constituent of the body; there is always iron in the blood—iron, in a small quantity, would not stain the stomach—I do not know how much iron is contained in one of those powders—I have heard that a 6d. packet contains 3 grains of strychnia—four hours and a half is a long time for a patient to whom strychnia has been given to be dying; death generally takes place more rapidly, but longer intervals have occurred and also shorter, five or ten minutes—the time depends upon the dose and the susceptibility of the patient and the form in which the dose is given; if liquid, it would come on more rapidly—death would not be more likely to come on if the dose was given in a liquid form; that would depend upon the dose given and the peculiarity of the individual—there are two cases given by Watson where two men each took a grain of strychnia by mistake and neither of them died, and one scarcely suffered at all—the minimum fatal dose, quoting from Taylor, is 1/2 grain, and the maximum is any quantity.

Re-examined by Mr. Poland. In an attack of epilepsy the patient will fall down, and probably utter a cry, become convulsed, froth at the mouth, turn livid in the face, and become unconscious—the convulsions would last for a varying time, and the body would be twitching during the time—I have never known that the feet sometimes beat the ground—sometimes the muscles on one side only are twitched—when the convulsions cease, the patient probably falls into a profound sleep, lasting perhaps for hours.

By THE COURT. I should say that five or six successive attacks of epilepsy would be a large number, usually there is one attack and the patient falls asleep and then awakes, perhaps knowing nothing of what has happened—I have seen more than 100 cases of epilepsy; the cases in which the convulsions most frequently occur would most resemble the case we are dealing with, but I never saw a case in which the fits occurred within intervals of a minute or so, in which the patient was able to talk and remained conscious—I have known a patient to have convulsions for a minute or two and then return—he would then go off into the final sleep and then recover—it ends in sleep, and it may end in the sleep of death, but it is very unusal—I do not recollect one case of epilepsy in which there was arching of the back, or such consciousness as to enable him to talk to the extent which is spoken to—if there was no arching of the back I should not assume that death was owing to strychnia—independent of the arching of the back there was the tetanic convulsions and occasional consciousness, and the freedom of the jaws as distinguished from idiopathic tetanus.

ALBERT JAMES BERNAYS . I am professor of chemistry at St. Thomas's Hospital—I am not a medical man—on 17th October, I received some bottles from the police-inspector and a packet of powders—bottle No. 1, contained a portion of the viscera, and No. 2, the stomach and its contents—the only thing I need mention in No. 1, is that it was in a state of frothy decomposition, but not smelling at all badly—the heart was in No. 1, and was exceedingly flabby and very much decomposed, I am not able to tell what condition it was in when the subject died—No. 2 contained the stomach, the ends of which had been tied—I found no poison in it of any description, it contained a very watery fluid, with bits of cheese, the eye and gill of an hen-ing, a bone, some fibres of meat, some bread, and some tannin, which is the astringent principle of tea—I found no signs of valerian—if a fatal dose of strychnia had been given at 9.30 at night, and death followed at 2.30 a.m. I should not expect to find in the stomach traces of the poison, I should expect absorption to have taken place, and that the poison which had killed the person would have been altered in its chemical condition, and therefore be no longer strychnia—I should expect it to have got chiefly into the liver—it is said that half a grain is the smallest fatal dose, but I can only speak from reading—there was a small 2 oz. bottle which I myself numbered "No. 3," it contained very nearly 15 grs. of a somewhat clear liquid, strongly alcholic and smelling of myrrh—I made a careful analysis of it and found no strychnia in it—spirits of wine having been put into the bottle and turned out again, would account for the alcohol, unless it had originally contained tincture of myrrh—I found on examining the cork that the bottle had contained paregoric, or a minute quantity of morphia or myrrh; I thought it had been frequently used, and the cork had been saturated—I tested it for strychnia and did not find the slightest trace—I have been a professor of chemistry for 30 years and have had a great deal

of experience at St. Mary's and St. Thomas's Hospitals—I have heard the mode in which Dr. Lees tested the strychnia, and am perfectly certain that what he showed me on a watch glass contained strychnia—I do not lay so much stress upon the crystals, I look upon that as a feature of the case only.

By THE COURT. My ground for saying that what I saw on the watch glass contained strychnia is, in the first place the taste inasmuch as certainly the 8-1000th part of a grain would be readily detected by its metallic bitter taste, and then by the use of the various colour tests which Dr. Lees has enumerated, principally oxide of manganese and per-oxide of lead, and sulphuric acid, and I tried them myself in his presence and found strychnia.

By MR. POLAND. Those were proper tests to be used—from my experience I should say that the quantity tested on the watch glass contained 1-1000th of a grain of strychnia—the crystals Dr. Lees shewed me are quite consistent with crystals of strychnia—the mode of treatment leads to the conclusion that the crystals must be those of some alkaloid—I am of opinion that the crystals must have been strychnia, that is a matter of certainty—No. 4 is a mere medicine, an anti-spasmodic—if she took valerian and assafoetida at 10.30 I should expect to find the greater part of it. absorbed into the system at 2 o'clock, and the smell of the contents of the stomach was exactly like valerian, but something had evidently been given which preserved the liquid from being offensive at all—ammonia will preserve from putrefaction—the medicine seemed antiseptic in its effects—I can account now for the smell of the contents of the stomach, which I could not account for at the time—I could answer for the quantity of medicine she must have taken, from the quantity remaining in the bottle, the bottle was nearly full when brought to me. (Mr. Miller here identified the bottle of medicine as that which he made up.) A spoonful had been given out of it—knowing now what the mixture is I say that it tallies with what I found in the stomach—the contents of the stomach as far as solid food is concerned may he said to have been nil; it was chiefly water; the medicine had been to a certain extent absorbed, because the coats of the stomach were slightly acid, whereas the medicine was slightly alkaline—it had passed through the stomach and the ammonia had gone—if it came after the strychnia, the strychnia would have the start of it, and the one that came first would be most likely to get absorbed into the blood; and if it was taken in a fluid state the crystalline bodies would pass through—No. 4 is an anti-spasmodic medicine—I did not examine it completely except to see that it was free from poison—No. 5 containes oil of aniseed and nothing else—No. 6 is very old mustard in powder—No. 7 was a very excellent compound decoction of sarsaparilla and nothing else, there was about a fluid ounce of it. (This was labelled "Concentrated compound decoction of Jamaica sarsaparilla; warranted conformable to the British Pharmacopoea). No. 8 I handed to Dr. Lees, it had contained sarsaparilla, but it was not only empty but it had been washed out—this is No. 9 (produced) I carefully examined it—I had no knowledge of what Dr. Lees put into it—I tested it to see if the contents corresponded with the label, and having found that they did, I set to work to look for strychnia—that was the proper way to set to work—I had not the slightest idea of what had been done; but when 1 found what had been done, that was the sort of thing I should have done myself, with a slight modification; it was perfectly

correct—I found on opening the bottle a strong smell, reminding one of vomit; the bottle contained a full 1/2-oz. of alkaline fluid of a yellowish colour, with a flocculent deposit, which under the microscope looked more like broken starch granules and tissue—tissue means something like the coating you sometimes see on bread, the husks, or indications of something of that kind, or bran—I evaporated a portion of it to dryness to see that it answered the description given on the label, examined it tinder a microscope and found a crystalline mass, consisting mainly of chloride of potassium; in fact, what one would have expected from the analysis—I then took a small portion of it and decomposed it with sulphuric acid, filtered it to remove the flocculent matter from it, took a portion of it on a watch-glass, added a tiny drop of sulphuric acid to it and held it for a few minutes on a water bath; it slightly changed colour, it turned somewhat brown, but not quite black, and when I saw that it was the right time, after a few moments, I added a few drops of water, filtered it, and again evaporated it on the watch-glass, and then used the bi-chromate of potass, which gave me distinct indications of strychnine—I then took another portion and treated it in the usual way with chloroform, having first got rid of the alcohol—I adopted all the tests—the second process with the manganese, which Dr.—Taylor prefers, gave me the most perfect result as to strychnia, and the third the per-oxide of lead in the same manner—I have not the slightest doubt that there was strychina in that; I should say from l-50th to 1-100th of a grain—I only give that as a matter of opinion having had a good deal of experience with the students; I am acquainted with the poison called Battle's vermin killer; I had a 3d. and a 6d: packet of it brought to me by Inspector Easter, on the 31st October—I have about 10 grains of it here—it consists of flour, strychnia, and a very small quantity of Prussian blue—the total quantity is 15 grains of a 3d. packet, and in that there is 1-603 grains of strichnia, that is one in three-fifths; I can only guess the portion of Prussian blue—it is simply flour slightly coloured by Prussian blue—there would be about 13 grains of flour in it, but I have done nothing to quantity that—the 6d. packet weighs exactly double, and. contained 30 grains—the strychnia was 31 5th grains—this produced is a 6d. packet—in bottle No. 9 I found what appears to be brown starch—when I made the examination of it I thought it was consistent with its being some of the flour of Battle's vermin killer, and I think so now—I thought so when I came to the analysis; I was not aware whether it was Battle's or Butler's vermin killer; I do not know which, but one of them suggested itself as possible—I presume that it is made of starch because the mice eat the starch, and there is no smell about it—it is simply that there is something to eat, and it kills them—I had not heard that there was such a thing in the place where the prisoner lived; I should say it was possible by washing to remove the greater part of the flour and the blue—supposing it were put into a liquid and given to a person who died of the strychnia, I should not expect to find traces of the Prussian blue, first on account of the smallness of the quantity, and also because the slightest knowledge of chemistry enables one to remove the blue in a moment—I am a chemist, but not a physician—I cannot imagine any reason why the effect of a dose of strichnia administered at 9.30 might not be delayed until 2 o'clock, the following morning; sarsaparilla is a sweet substance—a good dead of the so-called sarsaparilla is liquorice—this was very good, indeed—I have no doubt it was made according to the British Pharmacopoea—it is a

thing from which you can extract sugar—if a fatal dose of strychnia in the form of Battle's vermin killer was put into sarsaparilla, I should think it would make it bitter, in fact it must—except from reading I should not be able to give an opinion as to whether strichnia produces vomiting—I should imagine that it would; because as has been already said it does not so rapidly affect the throat as in the ordinary symptoms of tetanus, and so forth—one of the first things that I should look at in a case of poisoning by strychnia, speaking as a layman, would be whether any symptoms took place soon after taking food or medicine of any kind—if convulsion results soon after taking food that would be consistent with having taken strychnia; but I get that altogether from my reading—the clenched hands, the curved feet and the jaw fixed are the direct effects of poisoning by strychnia—I should mention that there is another vermin killer which contains strychnia, and not Prussian blue; that is Butler's, and there is one of Butler's that contains no strychnia at all; but carbonate of baryta, I should say that these things ought never to be sold, or only sold by legitimate pharmacopoeists, and that persons using them should give their name; as they do in purchasing other poisons.

Cross-examined. I have stated that I see no reason why death should usually be deferred from 9.30 to 2 o'clock; it depends upon the strength and constitution of the person; there are a number of cases on record of a far longer time than from five to thirty minutes, two hours, three hours, and six hours—in those cases which are on record the usual time is from five to twenty minutes, but there are cases not on record in which death has taken place much later than sixteen hours even—I would rather not answer the question whether from the symptoms described, with the arching of the back, I should be prepared to say it was a death from strychnia, because that is so distinctly a medical question and involves practice in medical science—it is, of course, my duty to be acquainted with the results of poisons, as well as the constituents of them—the arching of the back is certainly mentioned as one of the most important indications of poisoning by strychnia—in order to see whether there has been any case in which that was absent I should require to look into the books; I certainly do not remember one—suppos-ing' the symptoms I have heard today had been given to me, without the arching of the back, I should not have said that death was from strychnia, but what I should have said would be that it was a case of great suspicion and one that ought to be examined into—I should not have said it was a case of poisoning from strychnia, I mean independent altogether of the result of any chemical investigation—one of the results of death from strychnia is very great rigidity after death, but muscular relaxation takes place by time—in case of death by strychnia it certainly is said that there is great rigidity immediately after death, much more marked than the ordinary rigor mortis—it is stated in Taylor's book that a 1/2 grain is the minimum amount of strychnia that will cause death, but Gerard says that he has known the most serious symptoms from l-48th of a grain—I do not know whether that was a case in which death occurred—serious symptoms might occur in that case without death, but medicines have such different effects on different persons that it would be scarcely safe to say that what would kill one man would kill another.

THOMAS STEVENSON *. I am an M.D., of the University of London, Fellow and Examiner on Chemistry at the Royal College of Physicians, Lecturer on Chemistry at Guy's Hospital, and a Fellow of the Chemical Society—I have

been in Court during the whole of this case—I have paid special attention to the evidence of Mrs. Wilson and Mr. Miller, and of Dr. Lee's and Professor Bernays—assuming the description given by Mrs. Wilson of the woman's symptoms on the night she died to be accurate, in my judgment I should say that the cause of death was strychnia or some preparation containing strychnia; and assuming Mrs. Wilson's description to be accurate, I do not think it is consistent with any other cause of death—I do not think that idiopathic tetanus would produce the same symptoms; that is a very rare disease, and I do not think a case of idiopathic tetanus would have been so speedily fatal—I should say the symptoms detailed by Mrs. Wilson were remarkably typical of strychnia poisoning—assuming that description to be accurate, the death is not consistent with an attack of epilepsy—I agree—with Dr. Lees and Professor Bernays that if a fatal dose of strychnia was administered at 9.30 at night and the person died at 2 o'clock in the morning traces of it would probably be absent in the stomach—I have myself failed to detect strychnia in the stomach, when I have been able to find it in other portions of the body, when it has been absorbed in the liver—I have also detected it in the urine when I failed to detect it in the vomit of a person who had taken strychnia—the smallest recorded fatal quantity of strychnia is a 1/2 grain—I have heard the tests applied by Dr. Lees and Professor Bernays and I cannot doubt that strychnia was discovered by both.

Cross-examined. As a rule, in poisoning by strychnia, the intellect is clear, except when the convulsions are very violent or prolonged, or when death is very near—supposing the patient was ill from 9.30 till 2 o'clock and during the greater portion of that time was unconscious, I should not say that was inconsistent with death from strychnia—on hearing Mrs. Wilson's evidence I am not sure that the person was conscious, in the medical sense of the term—persons may take no notice,—yet may be perfectly conscious and during the paroxysms it would be quite impossible, I should say, to tell whether the person was conscious or unconscious—if proper tests are. applied it is easy to ascertain whether the person's intellect is clear; it is unusual for a person to be unconscious in strychnia poisoning, but it is not impossible that it should be somost of the recorded cases go to show that the intellect is clear; by "clear" I do not mean that they become more clever than before, buy they understand what is said to them; when their attention is not concentrated on their sufferings they give clear and intellectual answers, and they are clear of what is going on around them; there is no impairment of the mental faculties—vomiting is not a symptom of poisoning by strychnia, not a usual symptom—persons often vomit when they come out of an epileptic attack, but I should not say that was a usual symptom—some people feel sick and some not, some vomit and some not—a person may desire to be side without being so—vomiting on a desire to vomit would not be a symptom of poisoning by strychnia, nor especially a symptom of epilepsy; I have not read that it is a symptom, nor have I observed it in the effects of strychnia myself—I should think taking a great quantity of sarsaparilla by a person unaccustomed to that medicine might cause sickness; it is usually given in: water; I think it states so on the label of this bottle; it is not a thing you would take alone; it has a cloying sort of taste; a dessert teaspoonful of this is equal to a quarter of a pint of the decoction; that would be a full dose—if the patient had actually died in the middle of a convulsion I should

expect to find immediately after death very marked rigidity of the body—the description Mrs. Wilson has given is consistent either with her being drawn back in the rigid state, or that relaxation had come on—the relaxation of the muscles at the end of these dreadful convulsions does not usually stop on the sudden, not in a moment—the patient would be drawn back and rigid, then they would sink down, and relaxation would come on, and then they could bear to be touched—I believe it does end suddenly in a collapse; the person will suddenly drop back in the bed—there might be no marked rigidity shortly after death—I have never myself seen a patient actually die from strychnia, although I have seen persons who have died from it—my opinion is formed from what I have read—I have found in operating upon animals that they will be quite rigid immediately after death—my own experience and practice is consistent with rigidity after death; I have never observed the absence of it immediately after death in any animal—the time which the rigidity continues is very variable in animals; when it is observed immediately after death it often passes off very shortly; it may pass off in a few hours, it may be several days; I should not expect it to last a week—if the rigidity was immediately after death I do not think it would pass off in so short a space as half an hour—from my reading I find it stated that the body is generally as stiff as a board—when they are rigid after death they are extremely rigid—the expression "stiff as aboard "is one that has been used—the time at which rigor mortis is continued after death in a person that dies from natural causes is very variable, it may pass off in a few hours or it may last several days; I have never observed it pass off within less than twelve hours, but there are cases on record where it is much less than that—between the death and the twelve hours the body would usually be laid out—I could not be sure that the rigidity would be likely to continue longer in a case of poisoning by strychnia than in an ordinary case; I do not think that it would be probable—if the body was rigid at the moment of death I should expect that would continue, it would depend upon whether the person was seized with death at the time that arching happened—the feet being turned towards one another would be consistent with strychnia poisoning—the feet may be averted or inverted—I should place more reliance on the fact that the muscles and tendons were subject to great tension—in an ordinary case of strychnia you would find the toes turned downwards in an arched form.

Re-examined. Poisoning by strychnia does not produce unconsciousness in itself; it is from my reading I know that where persons have very violent and rapid convulsions, or when very near death, they may be unconscious when dying from strychnia—I do not think strychnia in itself produces unconsciousness—they are conscious immediately after convulsions.

By THE COURT. If the convulsions were very violent, I do not think that they would take any notice of what was said; but when they came out of the convulsions they would express themselves as conscious of what was been going on—I mean that a person would be so suffering in convulsions that they would not show consciousness, but when they came to themselves, you ascertain that they have been conscious of what was going on, they will describe their feelings to you—that would not be the case in death by convulsions from epilepsy—there is entire unconsciousness during the attack in such cases, and drowsiness afterwards, with a loud snoring breathing—a patient recovering from epilepsy is not able to tell you what has occurred during the fit.

Sarah Ann Fitch. I am the wife of Charles Fitch, a labourer, and live at 24, Falcon Court, High Street, Borough—the deceased, Ellen Sloper, called Ellen Smith, was my sister—she was twenty-four years of age when she died—I went to live in Auckland Street, in March, this year—the prisoner came up from the country to stay with me—she had been in town before, and had met the prisoner in town before—she and I occupied a lodging in the same house—on 4th March, she was confined of a female child, her only and first child—I was present at her confinement—it was a proper, full grown child—she had a very good time—the state of her health was very good all the time she was with me—she stayed with me six weeks, down to 15th April, the Saturday after Good Friday, and she went from me to Cheltenham, taking the child with her—I never knew of her having fits or convulsions—I next saw her a month previous to my seeing her death in the paper—she had come up from Cheltenham, and had the child with her—she was rather weak then—she did not stay with me then—she left me the same evening—she went to take lodgings at Mrs. Wilson's—I never saw her afterwards.

Cross-examined. I knew the prisoner—I know that he contributed towards her support during her confinement—he paid 5s. a week—I saw him during that time, his conduct to her was very good in my presence—he seemed to treat her kindly, and take an interest in her—I saw no quarrelling or any thing of the kind—I have known him from a boy—his character has been very good, I think—when I saw my sister about a month before her death, she struck me as being in rather & weak state of health.

By THE COURT. She did not complain of anything, only she did not look so strong as usual—I did not see her suffering from anything—she was nursing her baby at that time—it looked well.

MARTHA BOLTON . I am the wife of Robert Bolton, and live at Cheltenham—I knew the deceased woman Ellen Sloper—I was at service with her, near Stroud, for two years—she left there in June, 1873—after that I heard of her from time to time—she came to Cheltenham to stay with me on Saturday, 15th April last, and brought her child with her—she was with me two months, till about the middle of June—she then went to live with my sister for a week at Cheltenham—after that, she was living at 36, working as a servant—she continued at Cheltenham till 19th August—I saw her every day—during the whole time I knew her she never suffered from fits—she had perfectly good health—she was in good health when she left Cheltenham—she took her child with her and came up to London.

DR. STEVENSON (re-examined). Epilepsy usually commences in children or very young persons; it may come on in adult life—when a person is subject to epilepsy the attacks come on suddenly, in a moment—there is nothing inconsistent in an attack of epilepsy seizing a person of twenty-four years of age for the first time—it may come on at any time, but rarely at a late period of life—there is nothing in the suddenness of the attack, but there is in the gravity of the case—it is very unusual for a first seizure of epilepsy to kill a patient; I think it would not be impossible, but I have never seen such a case—I think I have read of such cases, but I am not in medical practice now, except as a toxicologist—an attack of epilepsy comes on very suddenly, a person is seized in a moment, they utter a cry perhaps and fall to the ground insensible—one attack is not usually followed by another very speedily, I mean not within a few minutes, or perhaps within a few

hours—it is not continuous, as this was almost continuous; and when the patient comes out of an attack of epilepsy, when the convulsions are over, they are insensible and only gradually resume their consciousness, and they cannot recollect what has occurred during the attack—I do not think that epilepsy with tetanic convulsions is a well-known disease—I have never seen such a disease; I am not in medical practice now, but during the six years I was I never saw such a case—I think I have a very imperfect recollection of having read of such cases—I have great doubts about the reality, the entity, the separateness of such a case.

JESSIE WILSON (re-examined). I was in the room the whole of the time she was suffering as I have described, from 9.30 till 2 o'clock—she was in a continuation of violent convulsions, I can't say how many altogether, there must have been a dozen or more, for she was continually in them, she was no sooner out than she was in again, some of them lasted about five minutes; they differed in length; the one that took the prisoner and me to hold her lasted near ten minutes—I should say there were more than a dozen convulsions—I am sure of a dozen for it was a continuation of them.

DR. STEVENSON (re-examined by THE COURT). The ammonia in the mix-ture that was given might somewhat delay the absorption of the strychnia—it might prevent its being absorbed so rapidly as it otherwise would, but it would not prevent the fatal effects in any way; it would retard absorption—I don't think it would retard the coming on of death—the only effect would be this: that usually the contents of the stomach are acid, and the acidity of the stomach makes it able to take up the strychnine rapidly, the ammonia would neutralise the acidity of the stomach and would to a certain extent prevent the immediate rapid absorption of the strychnia; that would not last long—death from strychnia is by convulsions or exhaustion—I do not think the valerian assafoedita or ammonia would act in any way as an antidote, or would prevent the access of convulsions—I don't think it would have the effect of retarding the operation of the poison.

DAVID BARLOW (re-examined). I do not know when the prisoner came back to my house; he was in bed when I called him on Tuesday morning—I never saw him bring the child to my house.


There was another indictment against the Prisoner for the wilful murder of the child, which was not proceeded with.


Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-94
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence

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94. JAMES HARLING (60) , Feloniously cutting and wounding Eliza Harling, with intent to do her some grievous bodily harm.

MR. M. WILLIAMS conducted the Prosecution.

ELIZA HARLING . I am the prisoner's wife—I live at Twyford, Berks—on Saturday evening, August 12th, I was at home at work—my husband came home at 12 o'clock—I do not know whether he knew what he was about; he had been out of temper for two days—he asked me for money; I gave him no answer; I gave him 1s.—I put it on the table before him and then went upstairs to put the child to bed—on coming down as I went through the warehouse into the front room, a knife came and struck me in my eye; it cut mo to the bone and bled very much—my little boy was there—

I nearly fell in turning round—my husband then came and said he was very sorry—I lost a deal of blood—my neighbour, Mrs. Crutchfield, strapped up the place—I heard the prisoner at the knife-box as I was coming down stairs—I did not see him-this (produced) is the knife that struck me—Dr. Noad saw me and strapped up the wound.

FRANCIS HARLING . I live with my father and mother at Twyford—I remember father coming home the night my mother was hurt—I do not remember him asking for anything—I remember mother going upstairs—my father went to the knife-box and took a knife out—he flung it at mother—father then picked up the knife and wiped it on his sleeve—he said he was very sorry—Mrs. Crutchfield came in and bound the wound up—my father took the knife from the box.

JOHN GAMBLE . I am a constable of the Berks Police, stationed at Twyford—on Saturday, 12th August, I went to the prisoner's house—I saw Mrs. Harling bleeding from a wound on the right cheek—I charged the prisoner with cutting his wife with a knife with intent to do her grievous bodily harm—he said that he was very sorry he had done it—afterwards he said that he did not do it; that he threw the knife on the table and it must have bounced off and struck her—he ran to his wife and begged her to forgive him—I looked at his sleeve and found blood upon it.

GEORGE WILLIAM NOAD . I am a surgeon of Wokingham—on 15th August I examined Eliza Harling—she was suffering from a punctured wound on the cheek, just below the eye, and dividing the structures down. to the bone, about 1 1/2 inch—a knife such as this produced would have caused the injury—I strapped, up the wound; it was about an inch long.

GUILTY* of unlawfully wounding — Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

Before Mr. Baron Hawkins.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-95
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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95. JOSEPH SPINAGE (26) , Feloniously setting fire to his house with intent to defraud.

MR. M. WILLIAMS conducted the Prosecution.

HERBERT REECE (Police Superintendent). I am stationed at Farringdon—on 28th September, from information I received I went to Stanford, which is about four miles from Farringdon, and received the prisoner in custody from a constable named Dunnett, about 11 a.m., I told him I was going to take him to Farringdon, charged with setting fire to his house at Stanford, on 17th September—he said that he knew nothing at all about it, he had two witnesses, named Varney and Pendle, to prove it—I said "Very well, I will take care that they are before the Magistrate "—I then asked him what—things were destroyed in the house—he said" A feather bed, three blankets, two sheets, a counterpane, and a shavings mattres"—he told me that he had left Varney at Rolls Corner at 10.15 at night—that is a beer-house in the village of Stanford—he said that when he left Varney he went to Clay Ponds, to a girl's house named Collett, a witness who is present, and remained there till 11.30—on 29th September, between 9 and 10 o'clock, a.m. I was in the guard room adjoining the cells at Farringdon police-station; the prisoner was in one cell and Barry in another, and I heard the prisoner say to Varney "I suppose they will want to get something out of me "—Barry said "Aye," that means yes—he said "Thee keep quiet, Will will be over presently, I have sent for him to come over this morning"—they then stopped their conversation for a few minutes—10 minutes afterwards he said "Will will be over straight, he is the worst into it, I don't

think they can hurt me, thee keep thy counsel, all he has to say is, that he left us at Rolls Corner at 10.30 on the night of the fire "—Will is Pendle—he hesitated a minute, and then he said "It is a d——d bad job"—I took him to the railway station after the committal, but before starting he made "a communication to me at the office door; he said "I can't keep it any longer after what Varney has stated, we all three agreed to set it on fire, Varney did it and he asked me several times for gunpowder to do it with"—Varney is a very unwilling witness.

HENRY VARNEY . I am a pensioner at Stanford, I formerly served in the 76th Foot—on Sunday, 17th September, between 9 and 10 o'clock, I met the prisoner at the Rolls beer-house, at Stanford, and left there with him and William Pendle, as we were going along he asked me to go and set fire to the house—I said "No"—he then said "I shall do it"—he did not say what he should do it for or anything about any money—I was sober—I went home to bed and left the prisoner and Pendle together—I heard the next morning about 9 o'clock that the prisoner's house was burnt—that is at Stanford in Berkshire—I saw the prisoner at the Rolls beer-house about 10.15, and he asked me to go to Buckland, a village about 3 miles off; he did not say to whom—I went with him—he did say on the road what he was going to Buckland for—before we started for Buckland I went to the prisoner's house and on the road from there to Buckland he said that it was a bad job about the fire, I said that it was—he did not then say anything about Pendle telling the tale—we went to the Lamb at Buckland, and the prisoner went to sleep as soon as he got in—I got the share of a pint of beer, I did not have several pints of beer there, I had some, and some Buckland chaps paid for it and we played at buttons—I did not play at a game for the beer, but the Buckland chaps gave me a drop of beer—the prisoner paid for a pint of beer—he left me at the Lamb and said that he was going up to see the insurance agent—that is near the Lamb—he came back shortly afterwards with (Mr. Stainner, who drove us back to the prisoner's cottage—the prisoner did not tell me what he had lost in the fire, he said nothing about a feather bed—he showed me a lot of things when we went up in the morning—well he did tell me about a feather bed he had lost in the fire. (The Court here cautioned the witness to be careful what he said). He told that me he had lost a feather bed and a pillow in the fire, and two or three things of wearing apparel—I don't think he said anything about blankets—on Wednesday, 27th September, police-constable Dunt came to me and I had a conversation with him.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not pay for three pints of beer at the Lamb—I did not on the Friday night ask you three times for some powder to set fire to the house.

By THE COURT. I am sure that when I met the prisoner at Rolls beer-house he did not ask me to go anywhere or tell me what he wanted me to go to Buckland for—Buckland was 3 miles off—I did not ask him why I should walk 3 miles to Buckland—he did tell me that he was going to the insurance office—that was not when he asked me to go with him; I swear that—I did not ask him any question about what insurance it was, and I do not think he told me—he did not tell me what insurance he had got or what it was for—he did not say anything about it; that I swear.

RACHAEL SPINAGE . I am a widow, and live at Stanford, next door to the prisoner's cottage—on the 17th September I went to bed at 8 o'clock—the prisoner's brother was in the house with me—I woke up about 11.30, and smelt something; I gut out of bed, looked out at the window, but saw

nothing; I then went across the road, and saw the thatch of the prisoner's cottage burning—I called to my son—I saw the prisoner helping the others to put the fire out.

JAMES HILL . I am a roadman living at Stanford, about 60 yards from the prisoner's cottage—on Sunday, the 17th, I went to bed about 9 o'clock, and about 11.30 the prisoner's brother called me up, and I saw that the prisoner's house was on fire—the fire was on the side of the roof, about 4 feet from the ground, in the thatch—it was about halfway from the eaves, in the middle—it was not the part nearest the ground; it broke out in the middle—the cottage is only one storey high—it is a slanting roof, and the fire was about the middle of it—I gave a man named Wilshire a leg-up on to the thatch, and got some water and put it. out; I then went home and went to bed again—after I had been in bed about half an hour somebody came to my cottage and woke me up, and I went back to Spinage's cottage and went inside it to the prisoner's sleeping room—the cottage consists of a kitchen and a sleeping room—the sleeping room is plastered between the rafters—I looked up at the thatch on the inside and could see that it was burning—I looked at the bedstead, there was a mattrass of shavings on it, and that was burning—I never saw any feather bed, nor did I smell any burning of feathers—this (produced) is the sacking that was burning—the prisoner was in the room—he said nothing to me or I to him—I saw no wearing apparel at all.

By THE JURY. The bed was underneath where, the fire was burning on the roof—the place where I saw the roof burning the second time was 3 or 4 yards from the place where I put it out.

By THE COURT. I completely put it out. with water the first time, and there was no danger at all; that was outside—the second fire was inside; there was no fire outside at that time.

GEORGE SURAS . I keep the Leathern Bottle, at Challow, Berkshire—on the 10th April I bought a. feather bed and bolster and half a dozen chairs of the prisoner—I went to Stanford with him and brought the bed away—I found the bedstead on a sort of mattrass composed of sacking of the description produced—I gave him 30s. for the bed—I took it away and the half-dozen chairs and a pillow—there was no other bed.

The Prisoner. There were seven chairs.

WILLIAM PULLER SKINNER . I am deaf—I live at Buckland with my uncle, Mr. Cook Wheeler, who is agent to the Provincial Fire Insurance Company—I act as his deputy in his absence—on Monday, 18th September, between 4 and 5 o'clock in the afternoon, the prisoner came to my uncle's house—I was out at the time—I returned home at 6.45 and saw him—he said that a fire had occurred at Stanford, at his own place, and he had come there to see the agent, for him to come to Stanford to see the loss he had sustained, as he was insured in the Provincial office—I drove him to Stanford, and we picked up a man named Varney at a public-house opposite my house—on the road to Stanford I asked the prisoner if it was a very large affair; he said that the thatch was burnt and he had lost several of his goods—I told him I would say more about it when I got there—I think he said that at the time of the fire he was about half a mile off—when. I got to the house I examined it—the fire was out, but there were two separate places which had been on fire; they were about 4 feet apart—I found some bedclothes and sacking burnt—I asked the prisoner what articles he really had lost, and I took down what he said in this paper. (Reading: One feather

bed, value 3l.; a bedstead partly damaged, two sheets, three blankets, one pair of cord trousers, and one cord jacket.") I asked him to show me the remainder of the feather bed—he said that it was all burnt out—there was no smell of burnt feathers—I told him I would communicate with the office—he said that he was very badly off and had got nowhere to go and sleep, and asked me if I would advance him any money—I did not do so—on the next day, Thursday, I went to the cottage again and minutely examined the premises—the roof was burnt in two separate places on the outside; there were two holes burnt through, each about two feet square, but they were totally distinct places—the plaster on the inside had fallen down from the thatch where the fire was—the fire on the inside was just at the same place as the fire on the outside—the prisoner never told me what amount he claimed from the insurance company, but he was insured for 60l. (The Court ruled that the amount of the insurance could only be proved by the policy, which was not produced.)

Cross-examined. I did not ask you to go in the name of Thomas—I remember asking you if your name was the same as your father's who is dead, because it would be rather awkward if it was not.

By THE COURT. His father, Thomas Spinage, occupied that cottage, and died about twelve months ago—I never saw the prisoner till 18th September—it was at the time of the fire that I told him it would be awkward—I asked him some time in the evening if his name was the same as his father's—I cannot say whether that was the day after the fire, but it was after the fire had taken place—I asked him if his name was the same as his father's, and he said "No "—I then told him it would be rather awkward, no doubt, for the policy, but that my uncle would see about that when he came home—I do not remember his making any reply to that—I do not know where the policy is, but it should have been in the prisoner's possession—it would be in the possession of the person insured.

Prisoner. He said if I did not go in my father's name I should get nothing, but he would do the best he could for me. The insurance company is nothing to me. My name is not transferred to it. Witness. That conversation did not take place, but the conversation I have just told you did.

ANN COLLETT . I am single, and am an inmate of the Farringdon Union—on 17th September, I was living at a cottage, at Clay Pond, Stanford—I lived with a man named Pendle—on Sunday evening, 17th September, about 10.30, Pendle came home, and we both went to bed together—I did not see the prisoner at all that evening—he did not come to our house at all that evening.

JOSHUA DUNT (Policeman of Stanford). On Tuesday morning, 19th September, about 10.30, I went to the prisoner's cottage—I subsequently found him lying on the Green near Richard Baker's house—I said "Joe, I want to speak to you a minute," and he came to where I was—I said "Now, look here, I want to ask you a question, do as you like as to answering me, I caution you, where were you on Sunday night?"—he said "Down at the Clay Ponds"—I said "Who were you with?"—he said "Along with Bill Pendell and that girl Collett"—I asked him what time he left, he said "11.30"—I said "Did you ask the agent for any money?"—he said—" No "—I produce the sacking and the blankets.

PRISONER'S DEFENCE . I am the loser of the things that were burnt; the insurance company has nothing to do with me, that is all I have got to say

Varney asked me for powder three times to blow up the thatch in order to go and get some drink. It is my own house. I have no witness but Pendell, and he is in gaol. (The Prisoner had been asked on the previous day whether he wished to have Pendell brought up from Reading Goal, and had declined.)

RACHEL SPRINGER (re-examined.) The prisoner's cottage does not stand in a row, it is single—the next cottage is 2 feet or 3 feet distant—there are three cottages—I live in one of them, and a family lives in the other.

GUILTY Seven Years' Penal Servitude .

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-96
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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96. AARON JOYCE (60) , Feloniously cutting and wounding Peter Headland, with intent to murder him. Second Count—With intent to do him some grievous bodily harm.

MESSES. M. WILLIAMS and MR. MEAD conducted the Prosecution.

PETER HEADLAND . I am a travelling hawker in the country with ferns—on Tuesday, 8th August, I came with my wife from Reading to Wokingham, in Berkshire—we then went to Golds' lodging-house, in Denmark Street—the prisoner was not there then, but I went into the town, and when I returned to Gold's lodging-house, between 5 and 6 o'clock, I went into the kitchen, and the prisoner was there with his mistress—I was there during the evening going in and out—I had had a drop of drink, but I was not drunk—Joyce had had some beer, but he was not the worse—neither of us were drunk—there was no quarrel while I was sitting in the kitchen, but the prisoner was jawing about; he was jawing with me and the missus—I supposed he wanted to fight—he did mention once or twice that he would fight me or anyone—I told him to hold his tongue, we did not want to have any bother—he is a hawker, I have known him for years—I went out about 6 o'clock, and returned about 10 o'clock, or a few minutes afterwards, and the prisoner and his wife had then gone to bed—my wife and I then went up to bed into the same room where the prisoner and his missus were in, we were all four to sleep in that room, there were two beds in it—I found the prisoner lying on his bed with his trousers and shirt on, his wife was in bed—I said "Who is that Punch?"—the prisoner said "Yes "—he is called Punch, I never knew his right name—I said "All right old fellow go to sleep and good luck to you "—he said "You hit me three times three downstairs, and I don't like it"—I had only hit him in play downstairs when he wanted to fight—I said "Come on Punch," and hit him with my open hand—he said "No, we don't want to fight," and laughed and said "Then stand some beer"—I said "I will stand a bushel if you like that was upstairs—when he said "You hit me three times three, and I don't like it," I said "Go to sleep and settle it in the morning if there is anything the matter"—I was in bed then, I only had my trousers and waistcoat to pull off, my shoes were undone—my mistress said "What do you want to quarrel with him for V and then the two women began to quarrel, and his mistress scrambled out of bed and tore my mistress down, who had not got her clothes off, it took her longer to go to bed than me, and she was standing in the room getting her clothes off—the prisoner then jumped out of bed and set-to and hit her—there was a little light in the room when we first went up, but it was down low and it went out—when the prisoner attacked my wife I got out of bed and caught hold of him and pulled him back, and then there was a general fight; he turned round to me directly I caught hold of him and began fighting, and we closed together scrambling,

and we were fighting one agin the other, and I suppose I got the better of him, for he called out "Don't don't," and I left off and said "Do you want any more, if not go to bed and settle it in the morning"—we fought as hard as we could—he then went away as if he was going to bed, but he turned back and I saw he was coming at me again and stood in my own defence, and met him as he was coming to me and we had a tussle for a few minutes between the bed and the wall—I had got my hand up like this to protect myself, and I felt something fly on my hand, and it was blood—I said "You have cut my throat"—he said "Perhaps I have," and then he rushed by me and said "I have, I have, I have," and rushed downstairs—I knew that the blood was from my throat—Mrs. Fury then came in and tied her apron round my neck—my throat was bleeding very much—Mr. Millard, the superintendent of police, came, and a doctor, Mr. Noad, who served up my wound—I also found a wound at the top of my left arm, and another on my left ear—I was in the doctor's hands about a month, and could not get my living.

Cross-examined. I hit you three times downstairs, but it was only in play—I gave you a black eye, but that was upstairs—you had been in bed three hours, when we came up—I saw nothing in your hand the light was out.

SARAH MART ANN HEADLAND . I am the wife of the last witness—on Tuesday, 8th August, I went with him to Gold's lodging-house, Wokingham: the prisoner and his wife went up to bed first—I went up afterwards with my husband, who said "Is that Punch V the prisoner said "Yes"—my husband said "Good-night, and good luck to you "and the prisoner attacked me—my husband took him off me and they had a scuffle—the light was out—my husband persuaded the prisoner to leave off and go to bed—he went towards his bed and came back, and they had another scuffle for two or three minutes, and then my husband said" Punch, you have cut my throat"—he said "Perhaps I have" and he turned to go to the door and said "I have, I have, I have "—he had no shoes on, only his trowsers and shirt—he ran out of the house——Mrs. Fury came in, I ran downstairs and called "Murder," and the police came and a docter—I saw no razor.

Prisoner. I never touched the woman at all, she has taken a false eath.

FANNY FURY . I am the wife of William Fury—on Tuesday, 8th August, I was in Gold's lodging-house—I was in my room between 6 and 7 o'clock and heard quarrelling downstairs between the prisoner and Headland—soon after the quarrelling Punch and his wife went upstairs, that was at 7 o'clock; I asked them to go up and not to have any bother—I went to bed at 9 o'clock, and the prisoner and his wife were then in bed—mine is the next room to theirs and I could distinctly hear what was said in their room—they were talking about Headland hitting him three times downstairs, and the prisoner said "Before 3 o'clock in the morning I shall settle him, if I cannot do it one way I shall do it another "—he was speaking to his wife and he said "Peter hit me three times three, and before 3 o'clock in the morning I will settle it one way or the other, for I will put his light out"—they were alone in the room then—about 11 o'clock I heard Headland and his wife come up, it was before 11 o'clock because the public-house had not closed—as soon as they entered the door Headland said. "Punch, is that you?" he said "Yes "—Headland said "Good-night, and good luck to you "—Punch said "You struck me"—Headland said "Don't you like it?"and they began again, but I cannot tell who struck the first blow because I was not inside the room—I heard the prisoner cry "Don't Peter, don't," and then there

was silence again—I asked my husband to go in and quiet them as we were the only sober people in the house, but he said "Never mind, they—can't hurt one another on the bed"—the two women then began, they were—scuffling, and Headland directly got up and a scuffling began between the two men but I did not see anything—I heard Peter say "I am stabbed"—the prisoner said "Perhaps I have," and then he said "I have, I have, I have "—I told my husband to light a light and stop him from going down, if he had done such a thing, and I went into the room and bound Peter's throat up with an apron—I did not see what became of the prisoner, the constable and the doctor came into the room—I saw Headland's throat, he was holding it with his thumb and finger, and when I came with a light he asked me to look at it—I thought his head was off and I bound his wife's apron round it—I was very timid, there was no one left in the room but me and him.

ELIZABETH GOLD . I am the wife of John Gold, we keep a lodging-house in Denmark Street, Wokingham—I know the prisoner and his wife, and the prosecutor and his wife as customers—the prisoner and his mistress went to bed first and soon afterwards Headland and his wife went upstairs—they all slept in the same room—I was at the front door and heard somebody coming-down—I met Punch coming down with his trousers and shirt on, he said "Open the b——y door "—I said "It is not fastened "—he said "You are a b——y liar," and opened the door and ran out so quick that I could hardly discern him—I saw blood on, I think, the left shoulder of his shirt—I went and found Peter Headland upstairs—there was a light on the bed—his throat was covered with blood, and it was cut—there had been a little disturbance downstairs in the evening, and before Punch went up. I heard him' say that he would settle it before the morning.

Cross-examined. There was a lamp in the room, I cannot say who took it there, it was my lamp—you had been in bed as nigh as I can guess about two hours—I did not hear you call for a light—it was dark when Headland and his wife went up—I cannot say whether there was or was not a light in the room.

GEORGE WILLIAM NOAD . I am a surgeon, of Wokingham—on Tuesday night, 8th August about 11.30, I was sent for to Gold's lodging-house and found Headland lying on a bed—his throat was very much cut from the centre of the windpipe up to the left ear; it was a long incised wound, extending between 4 and 5 inches; it was very deep; it had slipped over the windpipe, but it got slighter as it got nearer the ear; that was where the knife would come out—he had lost a great quantity of blood before my arrival—the cut escaped the windpipe, owing to the flabby state of the skin, but it had struck it; the looseness of the skin prevented further injury—there was a wound about 4 inches long on his left arm half way between his elbow and shoulder—I sewed up his throat and arm—he would not necessarily have lost his life if the windpipe had been cut, but it would have been dangerous to life—the cut was near the carotid artery—the injuries could have been inflicted with this knife (produced), there was blood on it when I first saw it, some of which was wet—the cut began from the centre of the throat and went to the side upwards; it appeared to be a stab to the throat and then to be drawn outwards—I saw the knife about 11 o'clock, Superintendent Millard showed it to me with blood on the handle principally, but. there was some on the blade.

BENJAMIN MILLARD . I am superintendent of police at Wokingham—on

8th August, a few minutes past 11 o'clock I was on duty in the Market Place and heard a woman cry "Murder!"—I went to Gold's lodging-house, and up into a front room, where I found Peter Headland lying on a bed with his throat cut—I saw the white handled knife on the floor with blood on the handle and blade, and a considerable quantity of blood on the floor—I earched for the prisoner and telegraphed right round, but could not find him—on Thursday, 10th August, at 7.45, he (came to the police-station—I was in the yard, and he said "I have come to give myself up for what I have done "—the front of his trowsers was covered with blood—I produced the knife and said "You will be charged with cutting Peter Headland's throat with this knife on the night of 8th August, with intent to kill and murder him "—he said "I done it in self defence," and immediately afterwards he said "That is my knife and what I done it with, one tale is very good till the other is told "—I locked him up.

Prisoner's Defence. I was in bed an hour and a half or two hours before the man came up. I was round that side of the bed and he came and pitched into me as I lay down. I had a hard job to get my trowsers on and had some awkward blows while I was getting them on, and I hit at him in the dark. I could not see where I was hitting him, but I did it in self defence, because when a man is in bed he cannot fight, and he was as liable to kill me as I was to kill him.

GUILTY on the Second Count— Five Years' Penal Servitude .


Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-97
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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97. THOMAS BROWN (23) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Samuel Brown, and stealing therein 5l. 13s. 2d. Second Count—Feloniously receiving the same.

MR. W. A. CLARK conducted the Prosecution; and Mr. D. Metcalfe the Defence.

SAMUEL BROWN . I live at Tring station, Oldbury, and keep the Royal Hotel—on Sunday night, August 6th, I went to bed about 10 o'clock or soon after—I went round and saw the windows and doors fast—I was roused at about 1 o'clock in the morning by the bell ringing—I went downstairs and opened the door—on going into the bar I found the window open—we let in the police—then I looked round and saw the till was broken open and the money gone—the till is a drawer, but there being a slab on the top of it it was with some difficulty a chisel could be got under to break it open; it had been forced in three or four places—I saw the marks—there were some plants in the window, one had been moved sufficient to pass between them; that was the bar window—there is another window; he had thrown that open, and that is where he went through into the passage; it was an inner window into the passage and passed into the waiter's room—the bottom side went very hard, the drop down was about 8 feet—I saw how the till had been broken, there were marks—I missed nothing else but money—there was some bread and cheese about and I found a portion had been broken off and tied in a handkerchief—the constable was admitted; the waiter opened the door, he did not go out—I sent to Tring for other police—Sergeant Aldridge pointed out the footmarks—I had not seen the prisoner on my premises before—I saw him on 16th July on a Sunday afternoon lying on my form—I saw this chisel found by the policeman, he showed it me directly he picked it up—I saw it applied to the marks on the till drawer.

Cross-examined. I had seen the prisoner lying on my form; he was not drinking—mine is a railway hotel—a good number of people stop there—I saw the prisoner on 16th July, and the station was broken open about 6 o'clock in the afternoon—there were other people about.

JANE MART BROWN . I am the wife of the last witness—on the night of the 6th August, about 1 o'clock, I was disturbed by the ringing of the beil—I had attended to the bar that day—I locked the till up that night—there were two sovereigns, 2l. 10s. in shillings and two-shilling pieces and half-crowns, and three-penny, four-penny, and six-penny pieces, and above 3s. 6d. in coppers—one of the sovereigns was a George and Dragon—one threepenny piece had a hole in it—I helped to lock up the bar—I fastened the one window myself—I have seen the money produced before the Magistrate—it answers very nearly to the sum lost and to the description—I had seen the prisoner on the premises about 8.30 after the arrival of the last down train—I saw him him at the bar—I examined the bar window after the burglary and found it had been cut with a knife.

Cross-examined. I do not take many sixpences with holes in; I have only taken one since——I often take George and Dragon sovereigns—I have taken several since.

DAVID WASSALL . I am a police-constable, at Oldbury—on the day of the robbery, I was in the station yard about 12.40—the station adjoins the Royal Hotel—I heard a noise in the house as if someone were wrenching open a drawer—I walked round the house until.I found the bar window open on the opposite side—I listened for a moment, and I could hear glasses moved inside, and someone walking about the room—I then concealed myself near the open window, expecting to see someone come out—I heard a window open on the opposite side—I ran round in that direction—I heard someone drop from the window to the ground—I saw a man cross the garden—he ran a few yards to the left, and then he took a circle to the right, back into a path leading down the garden to the meadow, and ran towards the canal—the garden gate and an iron fence were between the garden and the meadow, he got through the gate and over the fence—the nearest I got to him was about 18 yards—I was about that distance from the window when I heard someone drop from it—I had a garden fence to spring over, and in doing so I ran an iron spike through my hand, that prevented me from getting to him as soon as I should have done——I followed him across the meadow, and saw he took the canal—there is a footpath, and the meadow leads to the towing path, which goes towards Watford and London—when I found he was gaining ground so fast, I turned back to the house and roused Mr. Brown—I saw the state of the till—it had been broken open and was empty—I went to the inspector and informed him of the robbery—I did not go with Aldridge till after I had been to Bourne End—I went to the spot where the chisel was found—it was about 2 yards from the window—I did not see it found—the man was dressed in light jacket and trowsers, and low black hat—he was about 5 feet 7 inches or 7 1/2 inches in height—I did not see his face.

Cross-examined. I ran about 200 yards behind him—I guessed his height—I was on the side nearest the railway station, when I heard the. noise inside the house—the first window was nearly 8 feet from the ground, I think, 7 feet 11 inches—there was no ladder near, nor anything to get up by—I did not try to find anything; I thought it best to wait till the man came out at some window—I hid myself behind a gate-post 4 or 5 yards from

the window, not the window he came out of, that is on the other side—I heard a noise outside, and I went round on the other side—I was about 17 or 18 yards from the man when he dropped down—he ran down the garden path and I followed him for 160 yards—I cannot run fast for a long distance—he gained fast upon me when he got into the meadow; I knew I could not keep him in sight—the nearest constable would be at Birkhampstead—I did not meet anybody—he did not gain much upon me till he got into the meadow—I was never nearer than 18 yards; I can swear to the man—it is my firm belief the prisoner is the man—he turned once to look at me when he was gaining ground—I have had inflammation on the chest so that I could not keep up the chase.

Re-examined. I say the prisoner is the man from the build of him, from following him 200 yards.

By THE JURY. The moon had been very bright, and just at that time there was merely a thin cloud over the moon—I think it was full moon that day.

THOMAS WEEDON . I am one of the heads of the county police at Berkhampstead—on the morning of the 7th August from information I went with the last witness, in a cart, to Bourne Hill, that is 6 1/2 miles from Tring—I left the cart and went on the towing path along the canal towards Berkhampstead—that was at 2.45—I heard footsteps coming—I then stepped behind the hedge until the prisoner came up—I said "Good morning. You are in a hurry "—he said "Yes; I want to catch the early train at Watford to go to Covent Garden Market"—I said "How far have you come?"—" From Berkhampstead," he said—I said "Where did yon—lodge last night"—he said "At Vincent's, the confectioner's"—I said "It must have been Vincent's, in Castle Street, Berkhampstead. Well! you will have to go back along with me to see if it is correct"—he said "Why?"—I said "Because you answer the description of the man I am looking after," and he said "Very well"—he went on a few yards and then said he should not go—I said he would have to go back, and was about to lay hold of him—he said "Oh! if that's what you mean I'll go back "—I took him back to Mr. Vincent's, confectioner, and asked him if he knew anything of him—the prisoner was there—he said "No "—the prisoner said "Yes; you know Carter, of Stone "—" Yes," he said, "I know him, but I don't know you"—I said "Has he lodged here "—Mr. Vincent said "No "—there is a place called Rose Cottage along the canal, going to Vincent's, nearly 2 miles from where I met the prisoner—I saw the prisoner drop something there from his hand—I believed it to be a purse, because I saw it shine and heard money chink—it dropped among some nettles—I said "You have dropped something?"—he said "No, I have not"—I then made a mark with the toe of my shoe on the towing path—I did not leave the prisoner—after going to Vincent's I took him to the police-station—he was searched—I found in his pockets 2l. 10s. 11d. in silver, a gimlet, and a pocket knife, and a large key with a latchkey attached to it, and two bunches of. keys containing 18 in number; in copper 13s. 8 1/2 d.—I left him at the station and went back to the place where I made the mark, and among the nettles I found the purse (produced) containing two sovereigns and 17s. 7d. In silver, and three pawntickets—I went to the prisoner sometime after, and said "I found a purse containing 2l. 17s. 7d."—he made no reply—I noticed his shoes were wet when I first met him, as if he had come through some grass.

Cross-examined. That was at 2.30—the distance from the house is 5 miles—I was in uniform—the moon was shining—I let him come up to me—I spoke to him—he could see I was a police-constable—I took him along the towing path—there are many nettles in some places—I will "swear, to the best of my belief, it was a purse I saw him drop—I made a mark with the toe of my shoe——I found that mark easily—I found upon him some money—that was loose—the purse in the nettles contained 2l. 17s. 6d.

JOHN ALDRIDGE . I am sergeant of the Herts County Police at Tring—I went to the Railway Hotel on the morning of the 7th August, about 2.5, at daylight, I walked round the meadow adjoining the garden—I found this chisel (produced)—there are some iron hurdles and an iron fence dividing the garden from the meadow—the chisel was 5 or 6 feet from the fence—in the garden I noticed footprints, very distinct under the pantry window, with the toe pointing towards the wall—I pointed them out to Mr. Brown—I examined the chisel, and compared it with the marks on the till drawer, and it corresponded—Inspector Goodyer afterwards brought a pair of shoes—they were compared with the footmarks by making impressions alongside of them—they corresponded exactly, and I noticed as remarkable outside the heel a number of brads, which were not put in straight, but zigzag—the impressions of those brads were upon the impressions in the mould—the chisel I picked up in the meadow and compared with the marks in the till—it fits them perfectly.

Cross-examined. I have the boots here.

By THE JURY. The chisel had a few drops of wet upon it where you see the rust—there was no rust upon it then—there had been a shower, and there were one or two drops of wet on it, but no rust.

Re-examined: I produce the boots—the brads spoken of are round the heels.

ROBERT GOODYER . I am inspector of police at Birkhampstead—it was by my instructions that Weedon and Wassail went to the station—it was about 10.30—I was present when the articles were found—the prisoner said. "Good morning, Mr. Goodyer," when he first came in—I said to Weedon "Bring him up here"—the prisoner said "You are not going to keep me here, are you?"—I said "Yes; there has been a robbery, and as you answer the description of the man you will be detained "—he said "I was going to Covent Garden Market'; I have a lot of property there to sell"—I said "Where do you come from"—he said "From Stone; I was going to Watford"—Stone is in Buckinghamshire, about 16 or 17 miles from Birkhampstead—I had his boots pulled off because they were very wet and dirty—when he was brought in, Weedon said "He has thrown a purse along the towing path "—I said "Go back and find it; shall you know where it is?"—he said "Yes; I have made a mark"—he went and brought the purse back again—he showed it to the prisoner, and said "This is the purse you threw away"—he made no reply—after that I went to the hotel garden and saw the impressions under the window, one of them was very deep, almost directly under the window—the heel was quite 2 inches—I took the right boot and made the impression beside the other, and measured in all ways, and they corresponded exactly—that was in the presence of Sergeant Aldridge, Mr. Brown, and others—in the impression were marks of brads exactly corresponding in number with those on the boot—amongst the articles found was a knife—after we had compared the shoes Mr. Brown showed us the window open—I saw marks

in it, made by somebody from the outside—the point of the knife had a notch, as if it had been pressed upon something—I compared that with the marks in the window—it corresponded, and it would open the window—there was money found on the prisoner, also a time table (produced) and a piece of paper—it is marked "Leaves Watford 4.52 a.m., and thence to Tring 9.30 p.m.; Sunday return to London from Tring 7.30 a.m., 12.10 p.m.; Birkhampstead 7.45"—when I went back I told the prisoner, in fairness, what I had done, and if he could have shown us any reasonable explanation we should have given him the benefit of it—I said "What is your name? Have you given your proper name?"—he said "My name is Tom Brown, from London. That's good enough. It's no use going to the station, I am not known there "—but I did go down—that was all I could ascertain—after he was remanded I asked where his mother lived; whether he had any friends; and after some time he told me where his mother lived, because I had ascertained at the station all about his career, and where his mother lived, not where he lodged.

Cross-examined. I did not question him on that—I asked his address, and that is my duty—I never asked him where he lodged—it was his mother's address I asked; after a long time he told it me—I asked it because I wanted to know his own address.

FREDERICK DYER . I was a waiter in the Royal Hotel in July and August last—on Sunday, 16th July, I saw the prisoner there in the smoke-room, leaning over the windowledge—he ordered a pint of ale and some tobacco, which I brought him—he asked me to put the ale on the window ledge—when I went again he was getting through the window on the window ledge—he was dressed in a light drab suit and light soft hat, the colour of this suit—on the 16th August I saw him again at the bar, dressed in the same suit, only he had not the same hat and necktie—he had a black hat and dark blue necktie—I knew him again—that was about 8.45, after the last down train had gone, both up and down trains—I did not give any description to the police.

WILLIAM DEWSON , Saddler. I live at Birkhampstead—on Sunday night, 16th August, I went to the railway-station at Birkhampstead—I saw the prisoner there—I am quite sure—he came into the station—my wife was with me—he took a ticket for Tring, by the nine minutes past 9 down train.

Cross-examined. I noticed him—I was waiting for a friend—I noticed his dress because it was a pecular plaid.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I reserve my defence. I am certain I can establish my innocence, and perhaps throw light on the real burglar, as the man elected to protect the public."


INSPECTOR GOODYER stated that there was a warrant out from Northampton for two other burglaries, that the keys found on the prisoner had been identified, and a pawnticket found on him related to a watch also stolen, and the chid corresponded to the marks at Tring station.

GUILTY Eighteen Months' Imprisonment .

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-98
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence

Related Material

98. WILLIAM POWELL (19) , Robbery with violence on James Walklate, and stealing from him 5s., his money.

MR. GRUBBE (for MR. W. A. CLARK) conducted the Prosecution.

JAMES WALKLATE . I am a draper's assistant, at St. Alban's—on Saturday, 2nd September last., I was working in my employer's shop till 10 o'clock at

night—when I left I went along the left hand side of St. Peter's Street—when I turned to go back some man came to me, he caught me round the waist and said "Give me some tobacco "—I said "Leave go of me; please; if there was a policeman here I would have you locked up "—he did not let go—he swung me round and I fell on my right side into the road—he struck me when I was falling, somewhere here on the neck—I have a mark there and on the right temple—he struck me several times about the head—I fell on my right side and he fell across me—In my left hand trousers pocket I had two 2s. pieces and 1s.—I felt his hand about that pocket—I said "Leave my money alone "—he made no answer; he did not leave it alone—I believe he had it; it was gone when I got up—he got up and went away—I felt his hand at my pocket, and afterwards passed his hand towards my watch as though he was going to take it—I said to him" You have got my money; leave my watch alone"—he did not take my watch—he made off then—I saw two little girls, Willis and Cook, when I got up—I said to them "That man has got my money, can you tell me who he is?"—they were about 4 or 5 yards from where I fell—there was no shop near—they followed me down the street—I went home first and told my father—he then came back with me to the police-station—I have not the least idea who the man was but from the girls' evidence—I have only seen him before at St. Alban's Court—the man who assaulted me was about the height and build of the prisoner, shorter and stouter than myself, dressed in corduroy trousers, pilot coat, and soft felt hat—I have known the prisoner by sight about the town, and to the best of my belief he is the man——after going to the station I went with my father and constable Murray to a police-ser-geant's house, and then to the house of prisoner's father in Catherine Lane—they said he was not there, he did not live at home—on Saturday night after the robbery I spoke to the prisoner at the Ten Bells public-house,—after I had been to his fathers house—I said "Have you seen me before this evening?"—he said "No "—I asked if he had seen either of the little girls—he said "No "—they were not with me—I knew them by name—I asked him if he had seen a little girl named Willis that evening—he said "No"—he said he had not been out of the Ten Bells since 9 o'clock—if was after 10 o'clock, just after 10 o'clock, when I left the shop—I saw no one with the prisoner there—I saw his father, the prisoner was not present when I first saw him, but was afterwards at the Ten Bells—he said "It is my-son, Mr. Walklake; I don't want him to go to jail; try and make it up now, come "—the prisoner was present but said nothing; he appeared to be asleep, and we had to wake him up—I had stated what had happened; the policeman was with me.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You struck me; I had marks—I can swear you hit me at the side of the neck—I said I felt your hand at my pocket.

ELLEN WILLIS . I live at St. Alban's—on Saturday evening, 2nd September last, I was outside the Ten Bells, with Elizabeth Cook, my companion—I know the prisoner well, and was in the habit of speaking to him—he came out of the Ten Bells, and Elizabeth Cook stood at one side and I the other, and he insulted us first—I said to my companion "It rains, doesn't it?"—the prisoner said "Yes, it does, doesn't it, Fat?"—I did not like that—I saw Mr. Walklate come up—prisoner said to him "Halloo, Moody; how have you been getting on?"—the prosecutor went on, the prisoner followed him and caught hold of him and threw him down—I saw them struggling on

the ground, the prisoner got up—I ran away—the prosecutor got up and spoke to us—he went away, and I went behind him.

Cross-examined. I stood outside the Ten Bells, waiting for Elizabeth Davis—I was not inside while you were struggling in the road.

By THE COURT. I did not see any blows.

ELIZABETH COOK . I am a friend of Ellen Willis—we were outside the Ten Bells on the night of 2nd September—I know the prisoner by sight—I saw him that evening outside the Ten Bells—he called the other little girl ,'Fat"—the prisoner then said to Walklate "Halloo, Moody, how are you getting on?"—he replied "I have not been getting on at all "—the prisoner said "Shall I walk with you?"—Walklate said "I am capable of taking care of myself," the prisoner threw him on the ground; they both fell together—he swung him down first, and struck him afterwards—he followed the prosecutor down the street a little, and then went away; I did not see where—I followed behind the presecutor—I have known the prisoner as long as I can remember.

Cross-examined. The prosecutor said "I will have you locked up "—the prisoner said "Will you lock me up, you b——."

THOMAS MORLEY (Police Sergeant, St. Albans). I know the prosecutor; on Saturday night, 2nd October, I saw him, and went with him to the Ten Bells——I saw the prisoner there; he was asleep—I woke him up, and searched him—I do not think I spoke to him that night—I asked the prosecutor if he knew him, he said "No," and could not identify him—I did not tell him what he was charged with that evening; I went again on Sunday to the Ten Bells; he lodges there—he was there; I charged him then with assaulting James Walklate, and robbing him of 5s.—I don't think he replied; I do not think he did; I would not be positive that he did not—I do not recollect—I did not search him then, I searched him on the Saturday before.

MARIA LANGHAM . I know the Ten Bells, at St. Alban's—I was there on Saturday night, 2nd September, about 2.15—many other people were there; the prisoner was—he came in about 9.15; he stayed there a few minutes—he did not speak to me—he returned again in about an hour, about 10.15.

Prisoner's Defence, I was not the man at all. I never upset that man at all I am quite innocent of that case. He swore I hit him; I have not hit him. I had not touched him. I never saw the man, I saw none of them.

GUILTY of assault with violence, with intent to rob — Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

BEFORE MR. Justice Denman.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-99
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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99. MICHAEL MURPHY (46), was indicted for a rape on Lizzie Watson* Mr. Croft conducted the Prosecution.


Before Mr. Baron Hawkins.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-100
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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100. GEORGE CURRELL (26), PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously setting fire to a stack of barley and a stack of straw, the property of Paul Baker— Seven Years' Penal Servitude .

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-101
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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101. CHARLES DODD (23), PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously uttering a forged endorsement upon a cheque for 6l. with into to defraud.

MR. GRUBBE conducted the Prosecution; and MR. CROOME, for. the Defence, stated that the prisoner suffered from mental derangement, and the prosecutor desired that he should be leniently dealt with.

Ten Day's Imprisonment .


Before Mr. Recorder.

20th November 1876
Reference Numbert18761120-102
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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102. EDWARD SMITH (25) , Feloniously forging and uttering a receipt for 5l. with intent to defraud.

MR. MONTAGUE CHAMBERS with MR. HURRELL conducted the Prosecution; and MR. STRAIGHT the Defence.

JOHN REED . I am an engine-driver—in November, 1875, I was living with my father at 5, Ashdown, Buckstead, Sussex—at that time I opened an account at the Savings' bank at Uckfield; and I received this deposit-book; this is my name at the beginning; it was issued to me by the Uckfield post-master—on 27th November I deposited 11l. there; my father went with me——on 15th January I deposited 2l., and subsequently 7l. 10s. through my sister at Rotherfield post-office—since I paid in those sums I have never drawn any out, or authorised any one to do so for me—about 6th June I went to work at Midhurst—I was then lodging at my Bister's house once a month—she is the prisoner's wife; they lived in Town Row, Rotherfield—on a Monday evening in June I remember looking for my deposit-book and it was there all right; I kept it in a little box in my clothes box in the bedroom where I slept—I went away on 31st July and returned to my sister's on 26th August, and next day, Sunday, I examined my box and found that the little box was gone containing my deposit-book—I spoke to my sister about it after breakfast; the prisoner was present, and he said he would see if they had lost anything—he and my sister went upstairs and they said they had lost a ring and a. pair of black cloth trousers—I went to the post-office at Rotherfield that morning, my sister went with me, and I gave information to the post-master of my loss—I caused a letter to be written to the authorities, the prisoner wrote it at his own house; this is it (produced)—I signed my name to it at the bottom. (Bead:"August 27th, 1876. Dear sir,—I have had the misfortune to lose my bank-book from my box. I have paid 20l. 10s. altogether; 11l. at Uckfield last November, when I began to pay; 2l. at Uckfield, and 7l. 10s. at Rotherfield on 6th June. If no one has not taken the money out, I wish you would stop them, and let me know by return of post. I believe the number of my book is 1207. I had the book from Uckfield postoffice for 5, Ashdown. I live at Rotherfield now with my sister and brother. I have lost my letters that I had from you altogether with my book. Signed, John Reed, engine driver.") When I first deposited my money I signed this declaration—I did not sign this notice of withdrawal, nor is this my signature to this receipt on this warrant.

Cross-examined. Ikept the key of the little box in which my book was—my clothes box was not locked—when I ascertained my loss the prisoner suggested that I should at once write to the post-office, he said that was the. best thing I could do, and he sat down and wrote this letter; that was at his own house in Town Road, Rotherfield——Rotherfield is a very small place, there are a few scattered houses about there—the prisoner had the whole of the house—my sister is in service now; at that time she was hopping two

days before I came home in August, in Sussex, I believe—the prisoner works at hay tying; he did not do much work I think—he has one child about three or four months old—I think they have given up the house now——in August when my sister was hopping she came home at nights—the house was empty during the day.

Re-examined. The key of the large box was left in it, in the room where I slept——I asked my sister to take care of the key for me—the key was still in it when I came back and missed the little box—the large box stood at the foot of my bed——nothing else was taken out of the large box—the clothes I have on now were in it; my Sunday clothes, they did not take any of them; I had two or three shirts in there—nothing was moved but the little box.

GEORGE EDWARDS . I am post-master of the post-office at Rotherfield—on 2nd August I recollect a person coming and asking for a withdrawal notice; I can't tell at what time he came; it was some time during the day——the prisoner is the man that came——I asked him if he had got a savings' bank book, and he produced a deposit book; I can't say that this is the exact book; he produced a book, and I got him to fill up the notice from the book—it is the same number on the book, it is No. 1207, Uckfield—I handed the prisoner a withdrawal form; this is it; I told him how to fill it up; he filled it np and signed it in my presence. (Read: "Uckfield, 1207, 5l., Rotherfield, John Reed, Rotherfield, labourer.") He signed that "John Reed," and put in the word "labourer "—I then gave him the withdrawal notice and he posted it to the chief office—on the morning of 4th August I saw him again; he came into my office and wanted to know if there was a letter for John Reed; I told him the mail bag was not in yet; he said he would call again presently—in the course of about a quarter or half an-hour the mail bag came in; the letters were sorted out, and there was no letter for John Reed——in about half or three quarters of an hour the prisoner came again and produced this warrant; he did not say how he had got it, he simply produced it——I saw that it corresponded with the advice I had received, and I paid him the 5l., and he signed the name "John Reed "on the warrant——that is a receipt—at the time I paid him the 5l. I made this entry in the deposit book: "August 5th, 1876, K 65l., 5l., G.E."—I did not know the prisoner before by name, only by sight—as far as I knew he was John Reed.

Cross-examined. I saw him about after the 4th of August, and I saw him when the sergeant of police brought him to my office about three weeks after——the post-office is about a mile from where he resides—when the sergeant brought him it was about the 5l. being withdrawn—I did at first say I would not swear to his being the man; it was in the evening—I swore to him before the Magistrate on the 4th September; I think that was three or four days after the sergeant had brought him to me——I had seen the prisoner in the interim and I had seen Mogford, the letter carrier; he comes to my office every morning—I had also seen the sergeant——the prisoner wrote the first document in my presence; he wrote it as anyone would, freely enough.

Re-examined. I recollect the prosecutor coming to me with his sister, the prisoner's wife, one Sunday morning——they'did not then bring me this letter, written by the prisoner, and signed by the prosecutor——they posted it in the afternoon——they did not show it me—I told them they had better send it, and they posted it—before they came to me 1 had no notion there

was anything wrong in the withdrawal of the 5l.——I had nothing to do at my office with the withdrawal of the rest of the money.

EBENEZBR MOGFORD . I am employed as a letter carrier at Town Row, Rotherfield——on the 4th August I saw the prisoner there——