Old Bailey Proceedings.
10th January 1881
Reference Number: t18810110

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Old Bailey Proceedings front matter.
10th January 1881
Reference Numberf18810110

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Sessions paper.








Short-hand Writers to the Court,








Law Booksellers and Publishers.



On the Queen's Commission of



The City of London,





Held on Monday, January 10th, 1881, and following days,

Including certain cases committed to this Court under order in Council, pursuant to the Spring Assizes Act of 1879,

BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. WILLIAM McARTHUR, M.P., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; The Hon. Sir WILLIAM ROBERT GROVE , Knt., one of the Justices of the Common Pleas Division of the High Court of Justice; The Hon. Sir CHARLES CHRISTOPHER SYNGE BOWEN , Knt., one of the Justices of the Queen's Bench Division of the High Court of Justice; Sir ROBERT WALTER CARDEN , Knt., M.P., Sir THOMAS GABRIEL , Bart., Sir ANDREW LUSK , Bart, M.P., Sir THOMAS SCAMBLER OWDEN , Knt., and Sir CHARLES WHETHAM , Knt., Aldermen of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q.C., M.P., Recorder of the said City; EDGAR BREFFIT , Esq., one other of the Aldermen of the said City; Sir WILLIAM THOMAS CHARLEY , Knt., Q.C., D.C.L., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR , Esq., LL.D., Judge of the Sheriffs' Court: Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer, and General Gaol Delivery of Newgate, holden, for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal court.









A star (*) denotes that 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.


NEW COURT.—Monday, January 10th, 1881.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-154
VerdictGuilty > unknown

Related Material

154. JOHN DANIEL (24) , Unlawfully uttering two counterfeit sovereigns within 10 days.

MR. LLOYD Prosecuted; MR. HEWICK Defended.

EDWARD HUGHES . I am 16 years old, and live at 38, Thomas Street—I am in the employ of Mr. Baker, of 32, Thayer Street, a stationer—on 16th December I was going home, and saw the prisoner in Mandeville Place—he said "Tommy, I will give you twopence if you will go on an errand for me"—I did not know him before—I said "Yes"—he said "Go to Markham's, at the corner of Marylebone Lane and Bentinck Street, and get a bottle of whisky and bring it to my house, 13, Hinde Street, Manchester Square"—he gave me something wrapped in brown paper, and said "That is a sovereign; don't open it in case you drop it out"—he said nothing about the change—I went to Markham's, took it out of the paper, and handed it to the barmaid, laying the paper on the counter—she said that it was bad, and did not give me the whisky—she sent the potman and another man with me to follow the prisoner, but he had gone—I went to 13, Hinde Street, and found he did not live there; that is only a few yards off.

Cross-examined. This was about 9 o'clock on Saturday night; it was a dark night—I said at the police-court that I saw the barmaid take something out of the paper—I did not see the prisoner again till I went to the police-station, and picked him out at once from six or seven more—he was in the middle of the room.

Re-examined. The others had their hats off—Frederick Palmer was there at the same time and for the same purpose; I went in first—I took the sovereign out of the paper, and not the barmaid.

LOUISA WELLS . I am barmaid at the Coachmakers' Aims; that is Markham's—on 16th December, about 9 p.m., I served the prisoner with a bottle of whisky, price 3s. 6d.; he tendered a counterfeit sovereign—he took it out of the paper, I did not, and he laid the paper on the counter—it was marked, and I gave it to Mrs. Nagle—I Knew

it was bad by the weight, and asked where he brought it from; he first said "From Miss Baker," and afterwards that a man gave it to him in Mandeville Place—I told the potman to go out after him.

Cross-examined. I do not know Miss Baker, but Mr. Baker is a customer for whom I would change a sovereign; his shop is three minutes' walk off.

EDWARD HUGHES (Re-examined). I first said that I got the coin from Miss Baker, and then that a man gave it to me.

Cross-examined. I received it from the prisoner, but I said that I received it from Miss Baker, because he saw me coming from Baker's—I told a deliberate lie; the only other lie I have told in the case was about my taking the coin out of the paper; that is lie number two.

Re-examined. The prisoner did not tell me to say anything about where I got it.

THOMAS CLARK (Police Sergeant D). I received this coin from Miss Clelo—on 23rd December, about 8.30 p.m., I went with Hughes and Palmer to Tottenham Court Road Police-station—the prisoner was placed with several others; he was in custody on another charge of uttering a bad half-sovereign on that afternoon—the boys went in separately, and both identified him, and went up and touched him—I told him the charge; he said "I never saw the boys before; I know nothing whatever about it"—he was charged at Marylebone Police-station with the two offences, and Mr. Foulger produced a bad sovereign—Miss Clelo marked it, and so did I.

Cross-examined. The charge upon which he was arrested was not gone into by the Treasury or by the police, not because they found they had made a mistake, but because the coin was not found—there were seven men at the station, and the prisoner made the eighth—13s. 6d. in good silver and 2d. was found on him on the 23rd.

Re-examined. I have two bad sovereigns here—Mrs. Nagle gave me one and Miss Scarborough the other—she is barmaid at another public-house.

FREDERICK PALMER . I am 12 years old, and live with my father and mother at 10, New Quebec Street—on 16th December I met the prisoner in Seymour Street; I did not know him before—he said "Will you go on an errand for me, and I will give you a penny?" I said "I will"—he told me to go to Mr. Foulger, in New Quebec Street, the Bricklayers' Arms, and get him a bottle of whisky—he gave me a coin in paper, and told me not to take it out in case I dropped it out—I took it out when I got to the Bricklayers' Arms, laid it on the counter, and asked the barmaid for a bottle of whisky; she looked at it and said that it was bad—Mr. Foulger gave me the whisky, and told me to go on up the street, as the prisoner said he would wait at the corner of Quebec Street, and he would follow me; the potman went out also—I could not see the prisoner; he was about 12 yards off when I left him.

Cross-examined. This was about 3 p.m.—the man was about a minute speaking to me—Hughes and I told each other what we went for—he did not tell me whether the man was dark or fair, only that he sent him for the same thing—Hughes went in first, and when he came out I went in directly—I did not speak to him when he came out.

FLORENCE SCARBOROUGH . I am barmaid at the Bricklayers' Arms, New Quebec Street—on 16th December Palmer came in for a bottle of

whisky, and put down a sovereign; I found it was light, and showed it to Mr. Foulger—it was marked in my pretence; this is it—it was lying on the counter when I saw it, with a piece of paper by the side of it—I asked who sent him; he said a man waiting at the corner of the street—Mr. Foulger and the boy and the potman went out.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . I am inspector of coin to Her Majesty's Mint—these coins are bad, and the gilding is worn off.

THOMAS CLARK (Re-examined). The prisoner was taken in consequence of the circulation of his description which I got from Hughes; the other case was not known then—he was arrested on another charge, and in consequence of his description the boys were sent for before he was discharged.

GUILTY .— Twelve Months Imprisonment.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-155
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

155. GEORGE COLE (57) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MR. CRAWFURD Prosecuted; MR. H. AVORY Defended.

HENRY SMALL . I am employed to keep a coffee stall outside the Temple Arms Coffee Tavern, Earl Street, Soho—a few days before Christmas, about 3 o'clock on Monday morning, I served the prisoner with some coffee and bread-and-butter value 2d.; he gave me a shilling—I tried it in a tester, and found it was bad; it was soft, and bent easily—I said "What do you mean by this?"—he fumbled in his pockets, and said "I know I have another shilling somewhere"—I gave him in charge with the shilling—it was five or six minutes before a policeman came up—I did not hold the prisoner, as I was inside my stall—he said that he had done wrong, and must stand the consequences.

Cross-examined. He could not find another shilling, but it was found when he got to Bow Street.

JAMES BENNETT (Policeman E 383). I was on duty at 3 a.m., near Small's stall—he sent a man to me; I went there, and he said "This man has passed a bad shilling"—the prisoner said "I know I have done wrong, and I shall have to be locked up; I have got another shilling about me somewhere"—I searched him at the stall, and found a good shilling in his waistcoat-pocket at once, easily—I took him to the station—he refused his address; I searched him there, and found he was marked, with a "D."

Cross-examined. That means deserter from the Army—he did not say that Small would not give him back his shilling—he heard Small say that be should give him in charge.

Re-examined. When I found the good shilling Small had gone to get somebody to take charge of his stall—I took him to the station before Small came back.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . This shilling is bad.


10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-156
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

Related Material

156. HENRY RANSOM (24) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MR. CRAWFURD Prosecuted; MR. GEOHEGHAN Defended.

THOMAS BRUCE . I keep the Wellington public-house, Goswell Road—on Saturday, December 11, about 11.30, the prisoner came in, and Chamberlain brought me this coin—I examined it, and found it was a lion shilling gilt—I said to the prisoner "Do you know what this is?"—he said "Yes, it is a sovereign, I have taken it in my wages"—the drink came to 2d.—I sent for a constable, and then saw 2d. on the counter—a constable came, and said "Will you charge him.?"—I said "If he

will give me his correct name and address, and a true statement as to how he became possessed of it, I will let the matter drop"—he then gave his correct address, and said that he took the coin and 1s. for his wages at Mr. Naman's, Castle Street, Finsbury—I sent a constable there, and in consequence of his inquiries I gave him in custody with the coin.

Cross-examined. On the Sunday morning a person came in and showed me a glass case out of which, he said, this coin had been dropped while he was running down some street—a boy, who I cannot swear to, was with the prisoner when he came in—I do not know whether that was Dunn—here is a mark on the milling of the coin, where a loop has been filed off—after the prisoner was given in charge he said that he got the coin from James Dunn.

HARRY CHAMBERLAIN . I am barman to Mr. Bruce—on Saturday night, 11th December, the prisoner came in with a child; I cannot say whether it was Dunn—they both came up to the bar, and the prisoner asked for a pint of half-and-half, which came to 2d., and put down the coin with the head up, saying "A sovereign"—I noticed that it was light, but I did not doubt it till I weighed it; I then took it to Mr. Bruce, who spoke to the prisoner—I do not know what became of the lad—I saw 2d. on the counter; Mr. Bruce took it up.

Cross-examined. I said at the police-court "The prisoner or his friend put down 2d. for the beer"—I saw Mr. Bruce pick it up—I know the boy now as James Dunn—I do not remember the prisoner saying when he was charged "James Dunn gave me that sovereign"—I went to the other end of the bar to Mr. Bruce, and the prisoner was there when I came back.

JAMES WILKIE (Policeman G 255). I was called to Mr. Bruce's, and found the prisoner and several persons in front of the bar—I did not observe that any one was in his company—Mr. Bruce produced this coin, and said "This man has tried to pass this shilling for a sovereign"—I asked if he wished to charge him—he said" I do not; if he will give me his correct address, and where he got the coin, I will not charge him"—the prisoner said that Mr. Naman gave him the sovereign and shilling for his week's wages, and that he lived at 31, Seward Street, Goswell Road—I left him in custody, and went to Mr. Naman's; I then went to the station, and found the prisoner detained there—I said "I have been to Mr. Naman's, and you are not known there"—he said "If I must tell you the truth, me and a friend of mine have been to the Variety, and on the way home my friend said to me * If you will wait here a little while I will go home and get some money, and then we will go and have something to drink.' I stood there some time, my friend came back, and said 'They have given me a sovereign instead of a shilling, but I do not think it is good, do you?' I took it, and tried it on the ground, and said, 'I think it is good enough j' my friend said, 'You will go into the Ivy public-house, and change it.' I said, 'I won't go in there, I am known there,' and we then went to the Wellington public-house."

Cross-examined. The prisoner was in the House of Detention the whole time until the charge against him had been finished—the prisoner's mother and I went and saw James Dunn, who told me his little sister had picked up this coin in Little Sutton Street, and he had taken it from her, and that they had one witness who rang it on the wound and said that it was good—I have been two years in the force—I put down the

prisoner's statement there and then as well as I could—I have not got it here; it is at home in my duty-book; no, I have it here; this is it (Producing a sheet of paper)—I forgot that I had it here—I took a copy of the paper and then tore it up, as I thought it would not be wanted then—I have never done so before—the charge was entered in the charge-sheet from my duty-book—I have torn up my duty-book in other cases—I was a labourer before I went into the police—I have received no promotion—this was written on a separate sheet of paper, not in a book, and the page torn out—this is my duty-book. (A leather case of letters)—it is a memorandum book—the entry was made on a piece of paper; it is not a book at all.

Re-examined. This is a common pocket-book—I make my notes on paper, and when the charge is entered I tear it up.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . I am Inspector of coin to H. M.'s Hint—this coin is a good shilling of George IV. gilded—it has had a ring on it where it has been attached to a chain—the head side is exactly like a sovereign, and it would deceive anybody who did not try the weight—it is a current coin of the realm, but it ceases to be so when it is gilt.

Cross-examined. It rings well—it is rather paler than an ordinary sovereign—it has the ring of a good shilling, but not of a good sovereign.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "When we came out of the Variety we called at the Grapes, and James Dunn said he would go and borrow a shilling from his mother; he came back with a sovereign, and asked me if I thought it was a good one. I said 'Yes,' I wanted him to go into the Ivy and the Grapes, but he would not, and we went to the Wellington. He gave me this sovereign, and told me to call for the drink. The reason I told Mr. Bruce I got it at work was because I did not want to get into a row. Had I known what it was I would not have gone into the public-house with him."

The Prisoner received a good character.


NEW COURT.—Tuesday, January 11th, 1881.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-157
VerdictGuilty > unknown

Related Material

157. JAMES GILWAN BRADLEY (36) , Unlawfully uttering a medal resembling a sovereign.

MR. CRAWFURD Prosecuted; Mr. HEWICK Defended.

CAROLINE HARRISON . I am barmaid at the White Horse, Islington Cattle Market—on 17th December, about 3.30, I served the prisoner with threepenny worth of brandy; he put down this coin—I said "What do you call this?"—he said "A sovereign; I want my change"—I passed it to Mr. Hodges, who said "What do you call this?"—he said "A sovereign; I want my change"—I heard him say that he got it in part payment for a horse.

Cross-examined. He made no attempt to leave—he was perfectly sober—when he left he went quickly.

Re-examined. He did not wait for his change.

THOMAS HODGES . I keep the White Horse; the last witness called my attention to this coin, and I said to the prisoner "What do you call this?"—he said "A sovereign"—I said "Where did you get it from?"—he said "Out of the market buying a horse"—I asked if had any more of

these coins—lie said "No"—I said in his hearing to my son, "Get an officer"—he then tried to get out, but could not do so quickly, as the bar was crowded—I went out the back way and met him in the road trying to get into the market as fast as he could, but I stopped him before he got into the crowd—I met my son with an officer, and gave the prisoner in charge.

Cross-examined. During the whole conversation he steadfastly maintained that it was a sovereign, and that he expected his change—I did not hear him say that he should be able to show where he got it.

Re-examined. He was making for the more crowded part; he did not wait for his change.

WILLIAM BROWSON (Policeman 424 G). I was fetched, and met Mr. Hodges, who pointed out the prisoner, who was going as fast as he could towards the inner market, though not exactly running—there was a crowd in that direction—I stopped him, and Mr. Hodges charged him. I told him the charge, and that what he said would be used in evidence against him—he said "I took it in part payment for a horse"—I asked him if he had any more coins on him—he said "No"—I took him to the station, searched him, and found another coin, corresponding with the one uttered, in a purse in his trousers pocket; also four good florins and twopence-halfpenny—I also found this deposit note on the City Bank—he said before the Magistrate that he had the coin given to him in part payment for a horse which was not his, but which he had brought for sale—I asked him to whom he had sold it, and he said that he should not tell.

Cross-examined. He was going as fast as he could, but he could not go very fast because of the crowd—he was between a walk and a run—he did not say to me that he would point out the man from whom he took the coin, nor did he point in the direction where he had received it, or say when it was—he made no attempt to get away—the public-house is about twenty yards from the inner market.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . These are two Hanover medals, which are bought about four for a penny as whist markers—the head side and the edge resemble a sovereign.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I took the money of a man in the market for the two ponies. I should know the man if I were to see him in the market."

Witness for the Defence.

CHARLES BENTLEY . I am a contractor, of 16, Hunt Street, Mile End New Town—I have known the prisoner over five years—on 17th December I let him have a pony for 30s.—I had had several transactions with him before—this was not a very good pony; it was fit for a hobby—I had bought one of him for 5l. on the Saturday before—he is a house decorator I believe; he is very honest and just, but one of the dullest of men.

GUILTY .— Four Months' Imprisonment.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-158
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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158. WILLIAM CLARKE (28) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MR. CRAWFURD Prosecuted.

KATE BARROW . My husband is a tobacconist, of 45, Paddington Street—on 13th December, about 9 p.m., I served the prisoner with a pennyworth of tobacco—he put down a sixpence and kept his finger over it—I took it up and put it in the till; it felt rather smooth, but I gave

him the change—there was only one other sixpence in the till, a bright new one, and ten shillings—he left, and Mr. Burford came in directly—in consequence of what he said I went to the till and found a bad sixpence, the one I had from the prisoner—I went out and found him coming from a public-house at' the bottom of the street, five or ten minutes afterwards, and gave him in charge—he said "I have not been near the shop; you have made a mistake"—the inspector asked him at the station if he had passed a sixpence—he said "No" at first—the inspector asked him where he took it—he said that he did not know, but he took it for a good one—he said that he did not know where he took it, but he tried to pass it at Burford the chemist's.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I know the sixpence by it being a little bent—this is it—it is bent more now; it had not these cuts then, they were made at the station—I saw you ten minutes afterwards, I had to go and put my shawl on—Mr. Burford had followed you first.

FRANK BURFORD . My father is a tobacconist, of 12, Dorset Street, Marylebone—on 13th December I was standing outside the counter when my mother served the prisoner—he put down a sixpence; he did not hand it to her—she put it in a trier and slightly bent it, told him it was bad, and gave it back to him—he turned it over two or three times in his fingers and went away without saying a word—he did not take the tobacco—I went to the door; he went to the left, towards Paddington Street—I followed him; I lost sight of him for a moment, because I turned in another direction, but I turned and caught him, and stood on one side while he went into Mrs. Barrow's shop—when he came out I went in and spoke to her; she looked in the till and showed me a bad sixpence—I overtook the prisoner again, and Mrs. Barrow came up and gave him in charge.

MARY BURFORD . My husband is a tobacconist, of 12, Dorset Street—I remember serving the prisoner, and his handing me a sixpence—I put it in the trier, slightly bent it, and gave it back to him, saying "It is not a good one"—he took it and walked out without saying a word—I believe this to be it by the bend I made in it.

HENRY RAY (Policeman P 89). Mrs. Barrow gave the prisoner into my charge—he said "I have not been near the shop"—I searched him at the station and found 3 3/4 d. and a roll of tobacco.

Cross-examined. I did. not take hold of you till you got to the station door—you went quietly.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . This sixpence is bad; it is made of brass and silvered, and the impression on one side is obliterated.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I changed a shilling, the sixpence must have been given to me when I changed it."

Prisoner's Defence. Do you think I would go into a second shop close by when the coin had been refused at the first? No, I should have thrown it away. I do not know where I got it, but no doubt it was given to me in a public-house in change for a shilling; any man is liable to have a bad coin given him. The gentleman followed me, and only 3 3/4 d. was found in my pocket, which does not answer for 5d. chance.

GUILTY .**— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-159
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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159. JAMES PHARAOH (23) PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously marrying Emily Eldret, his wife being alive. Recommended to mercy by the Prosecutrix.— Six Months' Imprisonment.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-160
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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160. STEPHEN STRINGER (29) , Feloniously forging and uttering an order for the payment of 1l. 14s., with intent to defraud.

MR. J. P. GRAIN Prosecuted; MR. FULTON Defended.

HENRY BENNETT . I keep the Grapes, Farringdon Street—I know the prisoner by sight as a commercial traveller—he came in on 11th December, after 4 o'clock, presented this cheque, and said "Will you change this for Mr. Green"—I said "Do you work for Mr. Green?"—he said "I am Mr. Green's foreman"—I said "Will you back it?"—he said "It is backed," here is "H. J. Skinner" on it, and it is payable to him—I did not know the prisoner's name—the whole cheque is in writing—I gave him 1l. 15s. for it, knowing Mr. Green as a customer—this was on Saturday—I paid it into my bank on the Monday, the City Bank, Ludgate Hill, and it was returned the same day marked "No account"—I communicated with Mr. Green, and, in consequence of what he said, with the police—I did not see the prisoner again till he was in custody.

Cross-examined. I did not communicate with the police till five days after my interview with Mr. Green; I had more important business to attend to, and I was in hopes of seeing the prisoner, but when I found out that he had left Mr. Green's service I did not expect him to come—I have ascertained from parties who have had cheques of him that he bears an extraordinarily bad character.

Re-examined. I have seen several bad cheques which he has passed, and which the officer has.

JOHN JAMES GREEN . I am a carrier, of Fleet Lane—the prisoner was in my employ about a month prior to December 11th—I gave him no instructions on that or any other day about cashing this piece of paper; I know nothing about it—he was not under notice to leave, and I expected him to come on the Monday; but he did not, and I never saw him till he was in custody—Mr. Bennett showed me this cheque on the Monday, it is the prisoner's writing and the endorsement also.

Cross-examined. I have seen him write and have some of his writing in the office—I believe this (produced) is his writing; it is not exactly the same writing as the cheque and the endorsement, but it is written by the same man—he was in my service about a month—he gave me a reference to the London, Chatham, and Dover Railway Company; I could not meet with the manager, but I took him on approbation—he had lived there some years before, but he led me to suppose that it was recently—I employed him as foreman, and saw his writing every day.

WILLIAM HENRY MARLEE . I am a cashier at the Ludgate branch of the City Bank—this cheque has nothing to do with us, but if a customer had drawn it and it was his signature we should have paid it—I do not know Mr. Collingwood—it was paid in, and we returned it marked "No account."

HENRY TAYLOR (Detective Officer). On 18th December I saw the prisoner at a house in Westminster, and said "I have come to see you respecting a cheque which Mr. Bennett says he cashed for you"—he said "I got it from Mr. Collingwood, of St. Benets Place, Bishopsgate Street; I had a betting transaction with him, and he gave it to me on Saturday morning"—I took him to the station, and he was charged with obtaining 1l. 14s. by false pretences—he said "I received the cheque from Mr. Collingwood on Friday morning"—I went to St. Benets Place, Bishopsgate, but did not find any name of Collingwood there.

Cross-examined. It is a large place, with two or three sets of offices on each floor—I also inquired for the clerks, bat not at each place—the prisoner gave me to understand that Mr. Collingwood was in business there—St. Benets Place is in Gracechurch Street, but it is not far from Bishopsgate Street—I did not inquire of every person there—the prisoner said that it was a betting transaction—he said Saturday morning when I arrested him, but before that he said Friday morning.

JOHN JAMES GREEK (Re-examined by MR. FULTON). From my knowledge of the prisoner's writing I should say that this is his (A piece of the document previously produced), but I cannot be very positive.

The prisoner received a good character.

GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-161
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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161. WILLIAM CASEY (20) , Robbery with violence, with others, on Richard Vincles Housart, and stealing a bag, a pocket-book, and 18l. 11s. 6d.

MR. TORR, Prosecuted; MR. THORNE COLE Defended.

RICHARD VINKELES HOUSART . I live at 72, Linfield Row, Bow, and am in the employ of a gentleman, a large owner of house property; I manage his business—an 29th November I was collecting rents for him—about 5 o'clock that afternoon I was in Bell Street, Cable Street, St. George's-in-the-East, collecting rents, where he has some houses—I put my silver in a bag, which was slung over my shoulders, the gold I put in my pocket—there is a public-house there that has been shut up for some time, and which is rather more obscure than the rest of the street, and all at once I found a man standing by the side of me, putting his hand on my right arm, and tripping me up; he put his foot behind one of my feet, and tripped me up; meanwhile two other men held me behind—I saw them run away—I did not see them at the time they were by me, but I saw them afterwards when I was on the ground—as I fell down I clutched my bag; I allowed them to throw me down instead of defending myself—they never spoke a word—they threw me down, and when I was down I called out "Murder! Police!" and all that; nobody heard me, or chose to hear me, and the three of them unclasped my hands, and took my bag away—they first of all wrenched off my strap, and ran away with my bag—I got up, and ran behind them crying "Murder! Police! Thieves!" and ran up to the top of the street following them—a number of persons were congregated there, and asked me what was the matter—I did not say anything to them, but I rushed through them to the police-station, and made the charge—I could not see the thieves; they had the start of me—they used no further violence than was necessary to throw me down and get the money; they hurt my shoulder a bit, that was from the fall—I was not particularly in bodily fear; I took things as they came; I knew I should lose the money—that was the only fear I had—there was 18l. 11s. 6d. in silver in the bag—this is the bag; it was not torn in this way when I was wearing it—the prisoner is the only man I can recognise—I pointed him out 13 days afterwards at the station from among other men—there was another man who I thought was one of the other two, but I did not swear to any one but the prisoner, I thought he was a little older than the man.

Cross-examined. I think Detective Foster came for me to go to the station to identify the persons—I did not go with him; I went afterwards—I

was in a room upstairs for some time; I was then taken down, and saw a dozen or 20 persons standing there—I was asked if I could recognise the people that robbed me—I was there about 10 minutes—I went round once, and coming back I picked the prisoner out, and said "That is the man"—they then asked me whether there was anybody else—I looked round, and said "That man looks something like one of them, but I won't be certain of him."

Re-examined, No one pointed out or directed my attention to any particular person—to the best of my belief the prisoner is the man who stood by my side; his features are impressed on my memory, but my visual organs may be deceived, although I don't think so.

WILLIAM ELSTON . I am a coal-porter, and live at 3, Brigg's Place, Cable Street, St. George's-in-the-East—on 29th November, between 5 and 6 o'clock, I found this bag on the wharf where I work, Charrington's Coal Wharf, Chapman Street, about five minutes' walk from Bell Street; it was in the same condition it is now.

GEORGE FOSTER (Police Sergeant H). On the evening of 29th November I was at the Leman Street Station when the prisoner came to make a charge to the inspector—on 8th December I received this bag from Elston—on 12th I apprehended the prisoner from information I received—I had received a description of him from the prosecutor—I told the prisoner he would be charged with being concerned with two others in stealing a bag and a certain amount of money from a rent collector in Cable Street last Monday week—he said "What time was it, sir?"—Sergeant Newman, who was with me, said it was 5 o'clock in the afternoon—he said "I can prove I was at work at that time"—I took him to Leman Street Station; he was placed among several others—Inspector Holder, who was on duty there, superintended the identity; the prosecutor was called in, and he picked out the prisoner, who was the second man, and said "That is the one"—he was then asked if he could identify any other person—he looked, and said he thought he was rather too old; that was another person, not the prisoner—he pointed out the prisoner at once; he was the second man; he walked along the row, and said "That is the man"—I stood back; I had nothing to do with the matter—no assistance or hint was given him.

Cross-examined. This was not in a room j it was in the cell passage—I stood at the far end, and so did the inspector, Mr. Holder—I believe there was no other officer there—I did not go to the prosecutor's house to communicate with him; I believe Girling did.

RICHARD VINKELES HOUSART Re-examined). What I said about the man looking too old I intended to apply to the prisoner.


10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-162
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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162. WILLIAM AXTELL (40) PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously marrying Sarah Barnes, his wife being then living.— Six Months' Imprisonment.

OLD COURT.—Monday, Jan. 10th, and Tuesday, Jan. 11th, 1881.

Before Mr. Recorder.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-163
VerdictNot Guilty > directed

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163. JAMES GRAYSON (60) was indicted for wilful and corrupt perjury.


In this case, the Court being of opinion there was no satisfactory case for the Jury, they found a verdict of


10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-164
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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164. JOHN TAYLOR SMITH (25) , Unlawfully uttering a counterfeit shilling, having another in his possession.

MR. CRAWFURD Prosecuted; MR. GEOHEGHAN Defended.

AKNIE OASET . I am barmaid at the Phoenix public-house, at the corner of Worship Street, of which Mr. Hill is the manager—on 29th December, about 12.15 in the day, the prisoner came in and asked for a quartern of rum; it came to 6d.—he gave me a shilling in payment; I bent it and found it was bad—I asked him where he got it; he said "Somewhere in London"—I asked if he had any more in his pocket; he said "Yes, another one"—I then called Mr. Hill—he asked him to show him the one he had in his pocket; he showed it—Mr. Hill sent for a constable, and he had the shilling that I tested—the prisoner paid for the rum with 6d. in coppers.

Cross-examined. When I asked the prisoner if he had another bad shilling about him he at once said "Yes"—he did not tell me he had had it for six months—I don't remember saying so at the police-court; there was no person in company with the prisoner—he remained there about five minutes before the constable came—what I said to him was "Have you any more like this?"

HENRY GEORGE HILL . I am manager of the Phoenix public-house—I was in front of the bar—I did not see the prisoner till Miss Casey spoke to me and gave me the shilling which he had passed—I told him I understood he had more in his pocket, and called on him to produce them—he put his hand in his pocket and produced another bad shilling—I asked if he knew they were bad; he said yes, he did—the two shillings were lying on the counter—I said "Bid you know this money was bad? "he said "Yes, I did"—he took it from his pocket—I told him he ought to be locked up; he said I could lock him up if I liked; he was very impertinent over it—I sent for a constable, who searched him—I don't think anything was found on him but three halfpence; he had previously paid for the rum—I gave the two coins to the constable.

Cross-examined. I said he must be searched—he did not appear reluctant to be searched; he was not indignant—he said he was a respectable man; I have found out that he is so from the evidence at the police-court only—at the time he said the money was bad it was lying on the counter—one of the pieces had been bent up—he remained at the bar when I sent for a constable; I sent the barman over to prevent his going away—I would not swear whether he took the shilling from his purse or from his pocket.

WILLIAM ASHBURN (Police Sergeant G 2). I was called by Mr. Hills, who said the prisoner had been tendering some bad money—these two shillings lay on the bar, with three halfpence in coppers—the prisoner had asked for a glass of ale, and they refused to serve him—I said "Have you any more? do you know these are bad?"—he said "Yes, I took it in London; I knew it was bad"—I found on him a purse, a chain, and a bottle of medicine; there was nothing in the purse—I took him to the station—when the charge was read over to him he said "I knew the first one was bad, but not the other."

Cross-examined. I have been in the police over 10 years—I made a note at the time of the conversation—I produce it; it is part in pencil and part in ink; the ink was written over the pencil—his words were

"I knew it was bad"—I have made inquiries about him, and find he has borne a respectable character.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to the Mint—these two coins are bad.

Witnesses for the Defence.

JAMES BEYON . I live at Stratford—I am in the employ of the Great Eastern Railway Company—the prisoner was in the service of Mr. Turner, the head of the store department there—I have been intimate with the prisoner for some time; he came to me one afternoon in July last, and said in a joking way "I have been nearly locked up"—I said "How was that? "he said for passing a bad shilling"—I said "Where did you get it?" he said "Do you remember my changing a sovereign yesterday afternoon at the Commercial Hotel?" I said "Yes"—he said "One of the shillings was bad; I went into a house for a glass of beer, and when I tendered it the girl said it was bad"—I advised him to take it back to the place where he got it changed; he said he would not do that, he would rather keep it as a curiosity—I have frequently seen the shilling since; he kept it in his purse among some old coins—I gave evidence at the police-court.

The prisoner received a good character.


10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-165
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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165. CHARLES KEELE (42) , Wilful and corrupt perjury.


WILLIAMS Defended.

CHARLES CHABOT . I have made handwriting my study for many years—I was at the Bloomsbury County Court when the case of Hunt v. Keele was tried before Mr. Francis Bacon; I heard the defendant sworn and examined and cross-examined—this letter and envelope were put into his hand, and he was asked whether he had written them; he said he had—I had previously seen all these post-cards—he was asked whether he had written them; he denied over and over again having written any of them—he was cautioned, and then the question was put to him again—he was then asked to write something from dictation—at first he said he could not write, or did not want to write, but eventually he did write—he took a long time about it—I saw him write this—I have compared that and the letter and envelope with the post-cards and Anonymous letters, and I express the same opinion now that I expressed in Court, that they are all in the same handwriting—I have not the slightest doubt about it. (A number of photographs of the documents were handed to the Jury, and the witness explained the various similarities and peculiarities in the handwriting upon which he founded his judgment, and in cross-examination he conceded that there were many differences in the writing, which he said were such as would occur in the ordinary handwriting of any person.)

JAMES STEELE . I am a retired sergeant major, on pension—I am employed at Horse Shoe Hotel, in Tottenham Court Road—I have been an industrial school officer—I have known the defendant for many years; I can't say that I have seen him write; I may have done so some years ago, but I can't say that I have—I am here on subpoena; I did not wish to come—the defendant is a very old friend of mine—I should not know his handwriting if I saw it.

Cross-examined. I have known him about 20 years—he has always borne a respectable character.

Re-examined. At present he keeps a public-house in Little Queen

Street, Holborn; he does nothing else for a living that I know of—I don't know that betting goes on there; I have only been in the house three or four times—I have never received letters from him—whether he bets with people and lends them money I don't know.

ROBERT WHITESIDE . I am a law stationer, of 53, Chancery Lane—I have known the defendant between four and five years; I know the house he keeps, and have known him as a customer—I have never seen him write; or received letters from him—I have seen one letter of his produced in evidence, that is all—I am here on subpoena.

EDWIN ALBERT HUNT . I am a solicitor's clerk—the name of my employer is Henry Lucas Turner, of 91, Queen Street, Cheapside, 273, Amhurst Road, Stoke Newington, and 23, Charlotte Street, Bedford Square—I live at the last-named place—this letter, No. 1, is the defendant's writing, and to the best of my belief the whole of these post-cards are his writing; I have examined them carefully; I am positive of it—I have received letters from him, and have seen him write on many occasions—I don't think I have had post-cards from him on business—I have not seen him write on post-cards, but I have seen writing on a post-card which he said was his—I produce a certified copy of the County Court plaint, the notice of judgment for the defendant, and the refusal of the application for a new trial; it was an action for libel—I have been on friendly terms with the defendant for many years, and was mixed up with him in sundry transactions.

Cross-examined. I describe myself as a solicitor's clerk—Mr. Turner is my master—he does not pay me a salary—I pay the rent of the office at 23, Charlotte Street, Bedford Square—I also practise in the name of Mr. Cotton, with his permission, in a great many cases—there is a Turner and Co.—they live at 273, Amhurst Road, Stoke Newington—I said before the Magistrate that I did not know where Mr. Turner lived; I did not know his private address at that time—Cotton and Co. do not pay me any salary; I pay the rent of their office—he is a solicitor on the Bolls, and so is Mr. Turner—Mr. Turner has an office at 91, Queen Street, Cheapside; I presume he pays for that himself, I have no idea—I have not passed in any other name—I have signed my name as Albert on two or three occasions on bills of exchange; my name is Albert: Edwin Albert Hunt; I dropped the Hunt, and adopted the Albert—I did not issue a writ in Baddeley v. Kirby—I know something about it; there was no writ issued, it was a joke entirely, it was a piece of waste paper—I did not make or cause to be made an application for money on this document, that I positively swear—I wrote the document; it was well known to be a joke; it was in the name of Turner and Co.—I know a man named Wright; I did not accuse him of writing these post-cards, I swear that positively; I never said to him that I believed he wrote them; I owe him 6l.—before I was a solicitor's clerk I was an accountant; before that I was a butcher—I have signed the name of Cotton and Co. on cheques on several occasions; I had a perfect right to do so.

Re-examined. I handed the writ to Kirby; he is a friend of mine; I have known him two or three years—Mr. Cotton is a solicitor; I was acting as his clerk; I am now acting as managing clerk to Mr. Turner; he pays me a commission—I had a connection as an accountant, and I have an opportunity of introducing certain business, and I give my services as far as they are required and as far as it is right to do so, and where I require the services of Mr. Turner he attends for me.

This being the case for the prosecution, the RECORDER expressed an opinion that the necessary, amount of proof was wanting—viz., the evidence of two witnesses; here the only evidence appeared to amount to a belief as to the handwriting, as against the positive oath of the defendant in denial at the County Court. After hearing MR. SLEIGH and MR. FILLAN, who submitted that the positive belief expressed by the witnesses was sufficient for the consideration of the Jury, the RECORDER stated that he would reserve the point if it became necessary.


10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-166
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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166. EDWARD HIPWELL (28) and EDWARD RAYNER HUME (40), Unlawfully soliciting and inciting Constantine Morris and John Morris to assault and wound Timothy Horgan. Other Counts varying the form of charge.


PETER SPURR PARKYN . I live at 28, Camberwell Grove, and am advertisement clerk to Messrs. Dawson and Sons, advertising agents, of Gannon Street—in October last I saw Mr. Hipwell at our office; he requested the insertion of an advertisement which he brought; this (produced) is a copy of it; he required its insertion in the Sporting Lift and Bell's Life; originally it was to be four times in the Sporting Lift and once in Bell's Life, afterwards he cancelled two of them—the insertions commenced on 30th October; there were four insertions; it appeared twice in the Sporting Life.

JOHN WALTER LAKE . I am the publisher of the Sporting Life—on 30th October a copy of this advertisement was inserted; I got it from Messrs. Dawson, of Cannon Street. (This was an advertisement for a heavy-weight boxer, terms liberal. Apply by Utter only to 0. P. Q., care of TV. Dawson and Sons, 121, Cannon Street.)

CONSTANTINE MORRIS . I live at 39, Emsworth Street, Barking Road—I am a plasterer by trade—up to the end of October I was living at Sunderland—I have practised boxing; I am a heavy weight, which is over 13 stone—I saw this advertisement for a heavy-weight boxer in the Sporting Life; I cut it out, and sent a letter in answer to it; I got this letter (marked A) in reply; I pasted it at the back of the advertisement.

TIMOTHY HORGAN . I know Mr. Hipwell's handwriting; this letter is his writing—these other letters, marked B, C, D, E, F, are also his writing; I have some doubts about D; I have no doubt about the others—I would rather not swear to the writing on this card, but I have no doubt it is Mr. Hipwell's.

Cross-examined by SIR HARDINGE GIFFARD. I believe this (produced) also to be Mr. Hipwell's writing.

CONSTANTINE MORRIS (Continued). This (A) is the first letter I received (This stated that a heavy weight was wanted for a friend who had been continually annoyed by a blackguard of a fellow, and for a good consideration to let him have what he wanted)—on the receipt of that letter I wrote again—my first letter was addressed to Dawson and Sons, 121, Cannon Street—by this letter I was directed to write to Deacon's, 154, Leaden-hall Street, and I wrote to that address, but got no reply—I then came up to London by boat on Monday, 22nd November—I then wrote again to Dawson's on the Tuesday night, and on Wednesday evening I received this letter (B)—I wrote again, and received this reply, signed O. P. Q.

(0), addressed to me at my mother's, 39, Emsworth Street, requesting me to be at the Monument next morning with a paper in my button-hole—up to that time I had not seen anything of O. P. Q.—I kept the appointment; I put the paper in my button-hole—I got to the Monument about 11 o'clock; Mr. Hipwell came and spoke to me—my brother stood at a distance, at the corner—I met him in London; he was living in London—when Mr. Hipwell came up to me he said "Are you Morris?"—I said "Yes, sir; are you Mr. O. P. Q.?"—he said "Yes, follow me"—I said "I am not alone; I have got a friend with me"—he said "Then let him follow; follow me to the Shades Hotel"—I went with him; he walked by the side of me—my brother came over while I was talking to Mr. Hipwell at the Monument, and they had some conversation together—Mr. Hipwell said something about not wanting two people in it, but he said "As you know so much about it, follow behind," which he did—Mr. Hipwell and I went into the Shades; my brother staved outside—when we got inside he asked for some liquor; I don't know what, I think it was rum that I had, and he ordered something for himself, and he asked for a private room—we were shown into a little room on the right-hand side as you go in—I said "I want to know something about this affair, sir"—he told me to sit down, and he said "A friend of mine has been assaulted by a dog of an Irishman, and I want you to follow this friend about, and at a given signal come forward with a life-preserver or a knuckle-duster, and disfigure his face well; come forward and hit this Irishman with big whiskers with a life-preserver or a knuckle-duster, and be sure you disfigure his face well"—I told him it was rather a hazardous task for One to do; I should like my brother with me—he said "I will see him outside"—I asked him for his card, and he gave me this card; it has printed on it "Edward Hipwell," and he wrote under it with a black-lead pencil "New Hibernia Wharf"—he said "If you will do this job well I will give you 20l., and pay your fare wherever you want to go; here is 3l., that will help you to defray your expenses, and I will continue giving this money every week to you till this job is done"—I said. "How am I to know your friend?"—he said "Follow me and I will show him to you; follow me over London Bridge, and I will go into Tooley Street and pass and repass before the person you see me speak to; that is my friend"—I said "Suppose I am locked up; how then?"—he said "I will send 20l. to your house; no fear of the police"—I drank up my liquor, Mr. Hipwell paid for it, and he said "Follow me and I will show you my friend"—when we got outside I saw my brother; Mr. Hipwell spoke to him and gave him some money; then he said "Follow me over London Bridge"—I did so; my brother walked just by the side of me—when we got to Fishmongers' Hall Mr. Hipwell stopped short on the right-hand side and said "Be sure and disfigure his face well, and I will give you 20l. and pay your fare wherever you want to go"—my brother was just at the side of me when he said that; he might have been a yard or so off me—Mr. Hipwell then said "Follow me at a distance and 1 will show you my friend—I did follow him at a distance; he went over the bridge and down the steps on the left-hand side of the bridge—I then saw him speaking to Mr. Hume by Fenning's Wharf—I passed and repassed before him two, three, or four times—I then started to walk away towards the Borough Market through the archway, and Mr. Hipwell beckoned to me to stop, and said "That is my friend I want you to watch about; we must arrange that the affair

will take place somewhere about here"—that meant underneath the arch—this was between 11 and 12 in the morning—there was no gas under the arch to my knowledge—I said "All right," and went away—he said "Come down tomorrow morning; I want you here about from 10 to 4 every day till this affair happens"—this was on 36th November, on a Friday—I had not been in London a week then; I came up on the Monday in that week—nothing further took place between Hipwell and me on this occasion; I left my brother standing on the bridge; he did not come down into the street; I went away home; at least I went for a walk all about London that day; I reached home that night—next morning, Saturday, I came down about 10 o'clock; I saw both the defendants in Tooley Street, Mr. Hume especially; I walked about there; I saw a lot of gentlemen walking about—I went home that day about 3 o'clock; I stopped at home on Sunday; I came down again on Monday morning at 10 and stopped there till about 4 in the afternoon; I came down on Tuesday at 10, and about 2 that day I saw a young man standing by the side of Mr. Hume; he came over and gave me a half-crown and told me to be on the alert—I received this letter on the Thursday night after the half-crown—I did not come down on the Wednesday or Thursday (The. letter stated: "I have not seen you for a day or two; you had better be here tomorrow, as it is n, likely day"—upon that I wrote this letter, and received this (D) in answer (This was dated December 3rd, and requested the witness to be at the Monument at 9 next morning)—I kept that appointment, and went there with my brother; he stood at the opposite corner—in a few minutes I saw Mr. Hipwell, and a minute or two after Mr. Hume; Mr. Hipwell beckoned over to me; I went over to him; he said "That is my friend; he wishes to speak to you"—I said "Well, sir, what is it?"—he said "Do you know your business well?"—I said "Yes"—he said "Well, I want you to be on the look-out," or "on the alert, and watch me about; I have been assaulted by an Irish fellow with big whiskers," and he wanted me to watch him about, and to come forward and give him a good thrashing—I said "All right," and he turned round to Mr. Hipwell and said "Give him what he wants"—Mr. Hipwell said "Follow me"—Mr. Hume went away to London Bridge, and I followed Mr. Hipwell to the corner of Pudding Lane, Eastcheap—my brother joined me at the top of Fish Street Hill, and at the corner Mr. Hipwell gave me 3l., and he gave my brother money again that day—he then said "Follow down in about half an hour"—we went down Tooley Street, where I had been before—there was some conversation with my brother which I did not hear; I moved away when I got my 3l., and was walking about Tooley Street till about 2, when Policeman M 260 came up to me and asked what I was doing; I made a statement to him—I had written to Mr. Hipwell and told him that the police were watching me, and that I could not come down any more, and I received this letter of 6th December, I showed the policeman Mr. Hipwell's card, and said I was in Mr. Hipwell's employ—I did not go down any more; I wrote to have au interview with Mr. Hipwell, but got no reply; I wrote again, and got no reply—I got some work after this—I gave Mr. Hipwell's letters to my brother—I got no more money than I have spoken of; I got 6l. and my brother got 3l.—my brother communicated with the police, and on 17th December I saw Lansdowne, and went with him to a solicitor's office in Bishopsgate; I there saw Mr. Horgan and a solicitor—I had never seen Mr. Hogan before to my knowledge—I made

a statement to the solicitor, and afterwards attended at the Mansion House and swore to it—I appeared at the police-court on the summons being heard against the defendants.

Cross-examined by SIR H. GIFFARD. I said before the Magistrate that I wrote to them to say that if they did not give me money to hush this affair up I would put the matter in the hands of the Criminal Investigation Department—that was what X meant when I talked about this letter—I got no answer to that—I sent my brother with the letters on the Tuesday or Wednesday to take to Scotland Yard—I did not gee any policeman before I saw Inspector Lansdowne, or any attorney or Mr. Horgan—I first saw Lansdowne on Friday morning, 17th December—altogether I was watching three days, Saturday! Monday, and Tuesday, in Tooley Street—when 1 walked through the arch I could see Mr. Hume's office—two policemen spoke to me on 4th December; no, policeman spoke to me before that—I saw that man (Thomas Smith, Policeman Mr 2)—he spoke to me on 4th December about ten minutes before, 260 spoke to me, on that same morning—I did not tell him "I am here to look after Mr. Hume, of Hibernia Wharf;" I swear that—I told him that I was in Mr. Hume's employ—I told him afterwards I was looking after an old gentleman, and if he wanted to know anything about me to go to Mr. Hume or Mr. Hipwell, at Hibernia Wharf—my brother usually lives where I am residing, 39, Emsworth Street, Barking Road—he is a plasterer—he is not working at all now; he was at work a week on ten days ago, but not in November or December to my knowledge—he was working just before Christmas and since—I swear positively that the first time I saw Mr. Hipwell there was a conversation between my brother and him—this letter is, I believe, my writing; it is dated November 2, and I believe I wrote it on November 1 or 2—I received this other letter dated November 1, which has the advertisement on it; it is marked "A"—I see the dates thoroughly, and I tell you that the one with the advertisement on it is the one I received in answer to mine—I first made a statement about the direction of Mr. Hipwell to use a knuckle-duster to Mr. Guy, the lawyer, on Friday, 17th December, at his office in, Bishopsgate Street Within, and it was first to him, with a view to these proceedings, that I said anything about a direction to disfigure the case—Mr. Horgan, the solicitor, and my brother were present, and the detective, but he did not stop to hear all—I do not know whether the datective was present when I mentioned the knuckle-duster or the disfiguring—Inspector Lansdown was the detective—my object in communicating with the police was public justice—I said at tie Mansion, House "If they paid my expenses I would not have said a word about the matter"—if had got my expenses I would have gone back to Sunderland where I came from, and would not have said anything about it, but I was left pennyless, and I left work to come up for this—I was examined at the Mansion House before my brother was examined at all; he was not examined that day—I heard somebody say that they wanted corroborative evidence—I cannot swear now whether I said one word on my first examination about any conversation with my brother—I said to jour learned friend beside you "My brother had a conversation with Mr. Hipwell once when I was a few yards off, and I know of no other"—perhaps I did not mention about the conversation at the Monument with my brother; he did have a conversation with him once when I was a few yards off; that was, in

East cheap; it was a mishap if I said that I knew of no other—I cannot exactly swear that it was true, because he spoke of him twice or three times in our dealings together—it was adjourned for a few days, and then my brother came and gave evidence of several conversations—I had not talked to him in the mean time, but I was puzzled by the gentleman cross-examining me—I do not think I had any conversation with my brother, only general talk—I believe I had a conversation with him between the adjournment and the time he was brought up, about it being necessary to corroborate my evidence—I have fought in the prize-ring; I have never been employed to maim a man or disfigure him, or to use knuckle-dusters to him—that would strike me as a very unmanly thing—I did not say anything to these people when they asked me to do so, but I told them it was a very hazardous task—my intention was to get as much money as I could—if I had seen Mr. Hume assaulted I should not have interfered to protect him: not in danger of my being locked up—I never intended to do anything at all for the money.

Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. When I went to Mr. Guy my statement was taken down, and I signed it, and my brother signed his—there had been no communication between us before that—we had a general talk over the affair going home, and I told him to mind what he had said himself, and to keep as near as he could to what was written down in the lawyer's office, and which he signed—up to that time nothing had been said about corroboration to my knowledge—I did not keep copies of my letters—this is the letter Sir Hardinge Giffard asked for; it was produced by Mr. Hume's Counsel at the Mansion House, and I was asked about it. (Marked H. Read: "Dec. 6, 1880. Respected Sir,—I received your note this evening, and in reply wish to state that I shall not be able to come till Thursday, as I have met with a slight accident, being thrown out of a trap, and I do not wish to be seen with my head cut.") That was written in answer to the last letter I received—I was getting out of a trap, and fell against a wall—my head had sticking-plaster on it—this (produced) is my letter, and the envelope; the one I sent to get the money—I had never written a letter threatening Hume or Hipwell—the date on the envelope is December 12; it was produced to me by the Counsel at the Mansion House. (Marked G. Read: "12th Dec, 1880. Mr. Hipwell. Sir,—I wrote two letters, one to you, and one to Mr. Hume, and received no answer; the fact of the matter is, if you think I am going to be trifled with you think wrong. I think it a very ungentlemanly action to serve me like this. I have told you nothing but the truth. If you do not send me money by return of post to hush this matter up, I will make a public exposure, and place your letter in the hands of the Criminal Investigation Department, Scotland Yard. Now, Sir, one thing or other, money to hush this affair up by return of post, or the matter in the hands of the Criminal Investigation Department tomorrow, &c, &c. Direct Constantine Morris, 13, Street, Clerkenwell.") I had nothing to live on at that time, and was living at my mother's—I received money from Hipwell on 4th December, but have had nothing since—it was my brother who went to the police, and I saw Mr. Lansdowne about three days afterwards—the 7th was the first time I saw Mr. Horgan—I know John Matchell, a boxing booth proprietor—I am sure that I pasted the advertisement on the side of the letter I got; I only got one letter in Sunderland from Mr. Hipwell, and I swear that that was the one I pasted the

advertisement on—the only two letters of mine shown to me at the Mansion House were H and G—I wrote one to Hipwell in Sunderland, and one on Tuesday night, 23rd November—I received no reply next night, and wrote another on Thursday, the 25th, and I wrote several others, but I cannot swear how many—I wrote several in London.

JOHN MORRIS . I live at 49, Emsworth Street—I have been in London two years—the last witness is my brother; he came up to London last November, and slept at my mother's house; that is where I live—I was not at work then—on Friday, 26th November, I went with him to Fish Street Hill, Monument—a party walked by the Monument with a piece of white paper in his button hole; my brother spoke to him, and they had a conversation, and spoke to me—Mr. Hipwell said that he did not want a second party in the case, as it might excite suspicion, but as I knew so much about it I might follow him—I followed him to the Shades Hotel, Old Swan Pier—I remained outside, and my brother and Mr. Hipwell went inside, and remained there 10 minutes or a quarter of an hour—Mr. Hipwell gave me 30s. outside the Shades Hotel, and said that I was to follow him and my brother—they went to the Fishmongers' Arms on this side of London Bridge, and had some conversation; I went up, and he said that he wanted the big Irishman with big whiskers to get a good hiding, and he should not mind a 10l. note, and if there was a scuffle I was to get my brother away if possible, and he said "If he gets what we want, next time it comes on I snail not be hard upon 10l."—I never saw him again till 4th December—I was then at the bottom of Hart Street, facing the Monument again—Mr. Hume was with him, but I had no conversation with Hume—I had never seen him before; they were conversing with my brother—it was between 9 and 10 a.m.—Hume went towards Fish Street Hill, and I followed, and joined them—Mr. Hipwell spoke of a knuckle-duster or a life-preserver—I received a second 30s., and Mr. Hipwell told my brother to follow in half an hour—I saw nothing more; those are the only two conversations I have had—my brother gave me the letters on, I believe, December 15, and I went to Scotland Yard, showed them to the Inspector Lansdowne, and left them there—after that I went to Mr. Guy's office, where my brother made a statement, and I saw Mr. Guy writing—I made a statement, and signed something; that was on 17th December—I took six letters altogether, among which was the one with the advertisement on the back.

Cross-examined by MR. WADDY. I got 30s. twice, but I do not know what for; I was there, and I thought I ought to be in the same swim as my brother; it was given me with the same impression that I should help to assault this gentleman—my brother and I and my mother had a conversation, and we came to the conclusion that it was a very dangerous affair; that was after my brother got molested by the police—we did not come to that conclusion before my brother's money was stopped—we did not intend to interfere with anybody, but when my brother got interfered with I took the letters to Scotland Yard—I did not give information to the police in any shape or form before that—I was at the Mansion House when my brother was first examined before the Lord Mayor—I heard him examined—I was not examined the first day; I was on the second occasion—we had had no conversation about the evidence we were going to give—our statements had been taken down in the solicitor's office—nothing took place about it being necessary

for me to corroborate my brother I am Positive of that; nothing of the kind was said; I never saw him above three or four times during: the intervening trials, and I never spoke to him about what we should say, because we had it in our heads, and it was down in our statements at the solicitor's office—my brother did not tell me to keep as near as I could to what I said at the solicitor's office, or to what was down on the paper; nothing at all like it.

Re-examined. When I made the statement at Mr. Guy's office I had not arranged with my brother what I should say—as to telling everything truly, there might be a word out or a word in; it is hard upon a poor man to be so accurate.

ANDREW LANSDOWNE . I am Inspector of the Criminal Investigation Department, Scotland Yard—John Morris came to me there on 15th December, and brought some letters, which the Director has; this one with the advertisement was one—I had no letter then in my possession of Herbert Windle's—I had not received any letter with an enclosure from the Chief Constable's office at Handley, in Stafford shire—I have not seen this letter (marked I) before—I began to make inquiries in Tooley Street on 16th December, and saw Mr. Horgan that day.

TIMOTHY HORGAN . I am a provision merchant, of 13, Wyndham Road, Camberwell—I have known the defendants about eight years, and have had business transactions with them—Hume sued me last year for 4l. 7s., and I disputed it—after the case in the County Court was over Hume called me an Irish bogtrotter; I struck him and he struck me, and after that we struck each other—that was outside the Court—I knocked him down and then we were separated—about half an hour afterwards I saw Hume in Tooney Street, but nothing happened, and from then till the end of October I saw him frequently, and we called each other unpleasant names and looked cross at each other, but there was never any violence—about 15th December I received a communication from Inspector Lansdowne, who called on me—I knew nothing of the Morrises before that.

Cross-examined by SIR H. GIFFARD. Mr. Guy is my attorney here—he has acted for me before, getting permission to alter a house or a shop—that is the only business—that was about a month ago; no, it was before that, it was before the Morrises came to me—that was the only business—he did not appear for me in any charge against me of violent assault at Margate—I did not appear for myself—I did not plead guilty to a violent assault or to an assault; I said that I was guilty of using strong language, that is all—Mr. James Kirby Vickers did not complain that I had assaulted him on leaving a bathing machine, and thrown him into the sea; if I had done so he would have been wet—he was three-quarters of an hour in the machine, half an hour of which he was dressing, keeping me waiting in the burning sun, and when he opened the door I said "What do you mean?" and shoved him out—I caught hold of him—I had to pay the costs of the Court, and was bound over to keep the peace in 20l. for three months, with a surety—that was the latter end of August, I fancy—he was a stranger to me, a visitor there bathing—it came on in the County Court in September, I think—it was not after my recognisances, I am sure of that—the action against me was for the balance of account—I was beaten and paid a set-off, and the Judge said that there was only oath against oath, but I might try the case again—he no suited me, he said that my set-off was not proved—I met

Mr. Hume going away with his copy letter books in one hand and I struck him in the passage of the Court—I bit him, or something of the kind—he rushed at me and put his chin on to my mouth, so close that my teeth touched him—he did not bite himself with my mouth—Mr. Hipwell is Mr. Hume's clerk—I did not go to him and tell him that I would give his master the damndest thrashing a man ever had; I told him his master had committed perjury, and I had given him a good hiding—I knew that he had had the misfortune to have to bring a petition for divorce against his wife, and that lie got a decree—I did not mention that in Court—I say that on the word of an Atheist—I said outside the Court that he was a divorced scoundrel—I do not know that he is morbidly sensitive on that subject—I said in Tooley Street, in reply to very uncomplimentary remarks from him, that he had better go and look after his wife.

Re-examined. He and a friend hooted me and called me a coward, and I told him to go and look after his wife—he called me an Irish bog-hopper at the County Court, and then I struck him—I forget whether any provocation had occurred when I called him a divorced scoundrel; I lost my temper, and he was also excited—there had been blows before that, and then he pinioned me and I could not move; he pat his chin to my face, and I pinched it—I fancy there was a slight mark on him; he did not bleed—he took no proceedings against me; no police were present; Hume asked them to arrest me, and they would not, as we were both fighting—with regard to Mr. Vickers, I was waiting outside his bathing-machine three-quarters of an hour; I knocked repeatedly, and he took no notice; after a long time he opened the door, and I said, "What keeps you there all day?"—he asked what I meant; I said, That is no affair of yours"—he said, "You had better be off"—I said that I would not, and I put him out—he had a solicitor, and took me before the Magistrate; I had to pay 10s. 6d. t and he had to pay his solicitor and his own costs in consequence of the provocation—I had not been guilty of any violence towards Mr. Hume.

Several witnesses deposed to the good character of the defendants.


10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-14
VerdictNot Guilty > no evidence

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166A. FRANK CREW MOREOROFT (80) , Obtaining money by false pretences. No evidence.


FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, January 11th, 1881.

Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-167
VerdictsGuilty > pleaded guilty

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167. ARTHUR WILLIAMS (35) PLEADED GUILTY to uttering orders for the payment of 16l. 16s. and 13l. 10s.; also to uttering a request for the delivery of 6 oz. of goldplate.— Two Years Imprisonment. And

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-168
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceNo Punishment > sentence respited

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168. ALEXANDER SCHZMONI (22) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Patrick Molony, with intent to steal.— Judgment Respited. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-169
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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169. JOHN STEWART (24) and MARGARET BAGSHAW (28) , Stealing a clock, the goods of George Ambrose. Second Count, receiving.


CHARLES MORRISON . I am assistant to Mr. George Ambrose, of 13, Railway Terrace, Forest Gate, a watch and clock maker—the clock produced is his property; I saw it last on the 6th December between 5.30 and 6 p.m.; I missed it from a glass case that stands on the counter; its

value is 28s., it is new; I next saw it at the police-station at Hoxton on Tuesday evening, the 7th; I had not sold it.

FREDERIC HOLLANDS (Policeman N 184). On Tuesday, the 7th December, I was in the Kingsland Road about 10 a.m.—I saw Bagshaw carrying a clock, partly in a wrapper, under her arm; I asked Her how she came possessed of it—she said she had had it a long time, and that her husband had given it to her to pawn—I said I was not satisfied with her statement—I took her into custody; she was charged with unlawful possession of the clock; she was taken before the Magistrate the same afternoon at Worship Street—Stewart came forward in the Court and said the clock was his property, and that he had sent her to pawn it; she was discharged; I kept the clock—she gave the name of Margaret Bagshaw; she pointed Stewart out to me outside the Court as her husband.

Cross-examined by Stewart. I told the Magistrate on the 7th December that Bagshaw said she had had the clock a long time; not three or four years.

ROBERT SAGE (Policeman). On 7th December, about 11.30 p.m., I went to 12, Louisa Street after Mr. Morrison had identified the clock—I saw Bagshaw and told her I should take her into custody for stealing the clock—she said she did not steal it, but the man she lived with gave it her to pledge—I took her to the station; she was charged—she gave her name as Margaret Bagshaw.

JOHN LLOYD (Policeman). On Thursday, the 9th December, I took Stewart into custody as he was leaving the House of Detention—I told him I should take him into custody for being concerned with a woman now inside the walls in stealing a clock at Forest Gate on the 6th—he said, "It is my clock; I bought it down the Lane on Monday afternoon"—I showed him the clock—I took him to West. Ham—he said his name was John Bagshaw—the prisoners were taken before the Magistrates at Stratford, remanded, and afterwards discharged.

Cross-examined by Stewart. I did not ask you your name; I said I took you into custody as John Stewart.

Stewart, in his Statement before the Magistrate, said that he bought the clock of a dealer with other goods, and that he asked Bagshaw to pawn it.


10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-170
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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170. THOMAS RYAN (20) , Robbery with violence on Edward Conway and stealing his watch and chain.

MR. GEOHEGAN Prosecuted; MR. KEITH FRITH Defended.

EDWARD CONWAY . I am a labourer, of 11, Dial Street, Bloomsbury—on Saturday night, before the 29th November, about 12 o'clock, I was in St. Martin's Lane—three men came to me; the prisoner was one; he put his hand to my throat, and pushed me against the wall; he snatched my chain—I caught hold of him by the throat and wrist; we struggled; a crowd gathered; I detained him till a constable came—I saw my watch and chain.

Cross-examined. The value of them is about 4l.—I said at the police-station it was worth 17l., including the chain; I had had a drop of drink, two glasses of ale and a share of half a quartern of gin between three—the watch was a present from my wife; I had had it 11 weeks—a young woman was with us, who lives at 15, Leicester Square—we were not drunk.

FREDERIC KING . I am a cheesemonger, of 20, Little Gross Street—I was passing down St. Martin's Lane about 12.30 on 28th November; I saw the last witness and the prisoner straggling; the prisoner threw the prosecutor on the ground; a crowd gathered.

EDWARD MITCHELL (Policeman E 237). About half-past 12 on the night of 28th November I was in St. Martin's Lane and heard cries—I went to the spot; I saw the prisoner holding the prosecutor by the throat; he was bleeding from a wound in the face; he said "I charge this man with stealing my watch"—the prisoner made no remark—I took him to the station and searched him; I did not find the watch—the prosecutor said he had been drinking; but he knew what he was doing.

GUILTY . He also PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction in this Court in April hut in the name of Thomas Murphy.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-171
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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171. PETER CRAWFORD (17) , Feloniously assaulting Richard Robert Mills, with intent to steal.

MR. GEOHEGAN Prosecuted; MR. RAVEN Defended.

JOSEPH SOPER (Policeman H 383). On Saturday, the 18th December, about 7.30 p.m., I was with Police-constable Enright in Broad Street, Ratcliff—I saw Mills very drunk standing up against a wall; he staggered; the prisoner came up and struck him on the eye, knocked him down, and put his hand into his coat pocket—I went towards them; some one cried out to Crawford "Leave him alone; you will get yourself into trouble"—I took the prisoner into custody; I charged him with assaulting a drunken man—the prisoner said "He challenged to fight me first"—I took him to the station; I found on him If. 11 1/2 d. in his trousers pocket—I did not see any sailors about.

Cross-examined. I was in a doorway watching; I said so to the Magistrate—I did not hear any challenging—I was on the same side of the road the prosecutor was knocked down—when I first saw them I was on the other side—I saw no row; they crossed the road and came to the side I was; I was about forty yards away when I first saw them, and about five yards when they crossed the road.

Re-examined. The prisoner followed the drunken man across the road—I was in plain clothes.

JAMES ENRIGHT (Policeman H 293). I was on duty with the last witness in plain clothes—Mills was very drunk; I saw the prisoner strike Mills on the left eye and knock him down on the roadway; whilst he was down he put his hand in Mills's pocket—Super took Crawford and I took Mills—I found 1s. 6 1/2 d. on Mills.

Cross-examined. I was concealed in a doorway with the other constable—they were from fifteen to twenty yards off—I heard no squabble—I did not see the prosecutor kick the prisoner—people gathered round; I could not swear now many; about two.

Re-examined. I first saw them in the middle of the road—the occurrence took place on the pavement; I was watching on the opposite side.

RICHARD MILLS . I was drunk on the 18th December—I remember being knocked down—I had about 33s. in my pocket; I spent 4s.; when I got to the police-station I had 6s. in silver and 1s. 1 1/2 d. in bronze—I was not interfered with by any sailors; I have not a clear idea of what happened.

Cross-examined. I came out at 3.30 p.m.; the assault was about 7.30

as far as I know—I had been drinking in three public-houses; I was very drunk—I have a dim recollection of being knocked down; I know nothing of the attempted robbery.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I was coming down Broad Street, and the prosecutor interfered with two sailors. I said 'If you do not look out they will kill you; you had better get away.' One struck him and knocked him on the grating, and struck him in the eye. I said 'You had better get away.' He said 'Are you as good a man as them sailors?' I said 'No, I am not.' He up and hit me and kicked me on the ankle. He ran after me and hit me again; he made the third blow and fell down on the crating just by Bags's. Some gentlemen said 'Why don't you go away? I said 'He won't let me go away; he keeps following me.' The man said 'Come along with me,' and he came after me again and hit me again. This gentleman shoved him away from the two of us. As I was going to run away again these two constables came up and took hold of me."

The prisoner received a good character.


10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-172
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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172. JAMES SMITH (26) , Stealing 29 pairs of gloves, the goods of Samuel Morley and others.

MR. JONES Prosecuted; MR. THORNE COLE Defended.

ROBERT WRIGHTSON . I am a warehouseman employed by Messrs. I. and R. Morley in Wood Street—about 1.30 on the 31st December I saw the prisoner in the warehouse in the French glove department; he was standing with his back to the counter holding this black bag behind him (produced)—a box of gloves was on the counter; I went to him and said "What do you want?"—he said "I want some kid gloves at 84s."—that is ridiculous, and I said "We have nothing of that kind; if you go round the corner I will show you the things we have"—he immediately dropped the bag behind his back; I heard him throw it under the counter; I went back to pick it up; he ran downstairs as fast as he could—directly I picked up the bag I saw the gloves in it—I ran after him and said "Stop thief?"—he was stopped by one of our customers and brought back; he was walking towards the door when I said "Stop thief," and then he ran—the gloves in the bag corresponded with the gloves on the counter behind him—I found two dozen and five pairs at 45s. per dozen—he said he had no bag in his hand; I am sure he had, the bag produced; it fell on an empty box.

Cross-examined. The French kid glove department is on the first floor; the hosiery department is down three or four steps; the French and English gloves are on that floor—we have two staircases; you can get into the first department without going into the glove room—Mr. Jones was serving; others, named Hall, Hock, and Middle ton, also serve—the prisoner faced the fireplace, which was not a yard from him—I could not say whether he was warming himself; his back was towards the counter—I should have served him, but he ran away—I called out to James, one of our waiters; he is not here—he did not come up; he ran after the prisoner down below.

FREDERICE GEOEGE APPLEBY . I am a general draper residing at Westboume Park—I am a customer of Mr. Morley's—on the 31st of December last I was entering Mr. Morley's warehouse about 1.30 p.m.; I heard the cry of "Stop thief"—I saw the prisoner rushing out; I laid

hold of him, but by force he carried me out into Wood Street, and my shoulder caught against the wheel of a cab—I held him till others came from the warehouse and took him back.

Cross-examined. A lot of people were going in and out; I was in the doorway entering; as I opened the left-hand door the prisoner opened the right; they are swing doors.

ROBERT WRIGHTSON (Re-examined). I explained the matter to Mr. Donne, a member of the firm—I did not tell him nor any one the prisoner had his left hand in the box—I first saw that the prisoner had no left hand in the counting-house—he had his hook in his pocket.

HENRY RANDALL (Detective Officer). I took the prisoner in charge;. I took him to the Thames Police-station—he was charged—he said "I do not know anything at all about the tag"—I searched him and found 2l. 11s.

GUILTY . He also PLEADED GUILTY* to a conviction of felony at this Court in November, 1877.— Two Years' Imprisonment.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-173
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence

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173. EMMANUEL JARVIS THOMPSON (27) and HORATIO PHILIP NEAL (19) , Feloniously wounding Charles Porter, with intent to do him some grievous bodily harm.

MR. GEOHEGAN Prosecuted; MR. KEITH FRITH defended Thompson;

MR. LEVEY defended Neal.

CHARLES PORTER . I am a cabdriver—the prisoners are strangers to me—one Sunday morning between 12 and 1 o'clock I had brought my cab home—I was taking my rug off the cab in Coburg Row, Westminster—the prisoners came up; Thompson asked me if I wanted to fight—I said "No"—he struck me on the face—I tried to return the blow—we both fell to the ground—I felt a knife in my face—I got up as quick as I could—Neal ran up—thinking he was going to hit me I tried to stop the blow—I felt something run down my knuckle—it was cut—blood was on it and on my face—I ran after the prisoners—they were stopped in Rochester Row—at the police-station I charged them with stabbing me—they said they had got no knife.

Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. No knife was found on them—I took off my coat to save it from the blood—they went in the direction of the police-station—I did not hear them call out "Police!" nor that they were going to charge me—I have been summoned for loitering and causing obstruction; nothing else.

Cross-examined by MR. LEVEY. I had not taken my cab into the yard—the road is not wide, but there is room for two vehicles to pass—it is a granite road—I did not offer to fight, nor my brother that I know of—I did not go to Battersea to fight—I can use my fists, but I am not a prizefighter; a quarrel is different—I very seldom quarrel; if I am hit I should be like other people, return the blow—it is not a fact that I and my brother are constantly fighting—we are not known in the neighbourhood as quarrelsome—I was brought up there—I never saw the knife.

Re-examined. I had been out with my cab all day, and was more ready for bed than fighting.

By MR. FRITH. I had fallen on Thompson when I felt the knife—I went to St. George's Hospital, and was attended by a medical man.

JAMES PORTER . I live at 5, Coburg; Bow, Westminster—I am a general dealer, and brother to the last witness—I was standing at the door when the prisoners came up; one of them hit my brother, and both fell to

the ground—he stood over my brother with a knife, and said "I will stab any one that comes near me"—I said to my brother "Charley, mind the knife"—the prisoner put it in his pocket—my brother was bleeding when he got up from the ground—I lent him my handkerchief—he ran after the prisoners—Neal said to Thompson "Pull out your knife."

Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. My brother had his coat off when he was on the ground—he struck no blows—he tried to defend himself; that was before he took his coat off to save it from the blood—it was made of box-cloth—the prisoners did not say they would charge me nor my brother—they did not call out "Police!"

Cross-examined by MR. LEVEY. The prisoner put the knife in his right-hand trousers pocket—the blade was open—it was a hansom cab—my brother was giving his wife the things off the cab—I did not hear either of the prisoners ask my brother to drive him to Battersea.

Re-examined. They ran about 100 yards—I was then about 40 yards away from them.

ALICE PORTER . I am the prosecutor's wife—I was standing waiting for him when the prisoners came up—Thompson asked my husband if he wanted to fight—he said he did not—Thompson struck Him; they fell on the ground—James Porter said "Be careful, he has got a knife"—my husband got up bleeding from his face—Neal slapped me in the face, and both ran away—I saw them stopped by the police.

Cross-examined by MR. LEVEY. I was at the police-court but did not give evidence the first time; I was not called—I was waiting to take the things from my husband—he took his coat off when he got up—I said "Take off your coat, you had better go to the hospital"—he had a bright coat on, and I thought it might be spoiled—he was on the ground two or three minutes—I did not see the knife.

JAMES NIOHOLLS (Policeman B 147). About 20 minutes to 1 o'clock on Sunday morning, the 18th December, I was in Rochester Bow, when I heard cries of "Police!"—I saw the prisoners running towards me; I stopped Neal; James Porter and others came up, and said Neal had stabbed his brother—Neal said "Find the knife—they were searched at the station; no knife was found—the prisoners did not prefer any charge.

Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I did not hear the prisoners cry "Police!"—they ran towards the police-station; they were covered with mud, and looked as if they had been fighting.

Cross-examined by MR. LEVEY. No blood was on Neal; I searched in the road; I found no knife; I should say the prisoners had been drinking.

MAEMADUKE SHIELD . I was house-surgeon at 8t. George's Hospital—I attended the prosecutor on the 19th December about 1.30—he was suffering from a small wound on the left cheek, and also a cut on the right knuckle; they must have been inflicted by a sharp instrument.

Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. A sharp pebble would not have caused it; the wound was clean, no haemorrhage, and it gaped—a glass bottle might have caused it.

Cross-examined by MR. LEVEY. I was not called before the Magistrate—I did not examine the prisoners.

The prisoners received good characters.

GUILTY of unlawfully wounding.

Recommended to mercy on account of their good character.— Four Months' Imprisonment.

OLD COURT.—Wednesday, January 12th, 1881.

Before Mr. Justice Grove.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-174
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment; Imprisonment

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174. JOSEPH TIDMAN (58) and ELIZA TIDMAN (61) PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously killing and slaying Sidney Tidman.

The prisoners had been previously tried and sentenced upon an indictment for unlawfully neglecting the said child, and upon this indictment the sentence was the same, to be concurrent with the other—viz., JOSEPH TIDMAN— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment. ELIZA TIDMAN— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

(For other cases tried on this day and Thursday, see Surrey Cases.)

NEW COURT.—Wednesday, January 12th,; 1881.

Before Mr. Justice Bowen.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-175
VerdictMiscellaneous > unfit to plead
SentenceImprisonment > insanity

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175. ANN GORING (42) , for the wilful murder of Alice Goring.

MR. RIBTON Prosecuted.

JOHN ROWLAND GIBSON . The prisoner came under my observation on Saturday last—I have conversed with her as well as I could—she is unable to understand the charge, and unfit to plead to it. The Jury found the prisoner of unsound mind, and unfit to plead.— To be detained till Her Majesty's pleasure be known.

(For other Cases tried this day see Essex and Surrey Cases.)

THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, January 12th, 1881.

Before Mr. Recorder.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-176
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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176. ALFRED COTTON (32) PLEADED GUILTY to four indictments for stealing the moneys of the London Society of Compositors, and falsifying his accounts as their collector. (The defalcations were stated to amount to about 10l.)— Four Months Imprisonment.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-177
VerdictMiscellaneous > postponed

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177. HENRY JOHN OSWALD GUDGEON (30) , Unlawfully obtaining from Percy Preston and other persons various goods by false pretences with intent to defraud.


In this case, the Court being informed that one of the Jury had been seen in communication, with one of the witnesses during the adjournment, the Jury were discharged, and the case postponed till the next Session.

FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, January 12th, 1881.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-178
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceNo Punishment > sentence respited

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178. JOSEPH DENNY (30) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing in the dwelling-house of Richard Bolton Jones the sum of 25l., two coats, and other articles, and afterwards burglariously breaking out of the said house.— Judgment Respited.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-179
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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179. FREDERICK FRANCIS COPPING (31) , Embezzling securities for 4l. 10s. 8d., 3l. 7s., and 9l. 14s., received on behalf of Richard Millar, his master.

MR. KEITH FRITH Prosecuted; MR. GEOHEGAN Defended.

RICHARD MILLAR . I am a drysalter and sauce manufacturer, of Duncan Road, Hackney—up to a fortnight before he was charged the prisoner was in my employ as traveller—he gave me no notice of his intention to leave—his duties were to collect orders and accounts, and remit the same to me every night—he was allowed 7l. per week for expenses and 2l. per week for salary—he was not entitled to give his services to any one but myself—on the 9th November I sent him to Luton in Bedfordshire, of which I have a memorandum in ink in his own handwriting on his order-sheet—I produce his letter of the same night. (Read: "November 9th, 1880. Bedford Station. Dear Sir,—Enclosed you will find cheques from Hawkes and Simons, Bedford. I am just off to Northampton. Enclosed you will find orders from Luton and Bedford.—Yours truly, F. F. Copping.") I had a customer of the name of Colley at Birmingham—it would be part of the prisoner's duty to collect the accounts due to me from Colley—on the 28th November I received this letter from the prisoner, dated "Cornwallis Hotel, Manchester. Dear Sir,—Both letters to hand, with cheque enclosed for 4l. I dare say you think it unkind of me not writing to you before, but I have been very poorly. I have had a rash come all over my body and hands, which you will see when Income home on Thursday. Enclosed you will find a few small orders. I can scarcely hold the pen as it is; my hands are all discharging. I will send you cheque for all cash tomorrow. I am going to Liverpool tomorrow, as I cannot get a cheque to-day—Brown did not pay his account; Colley did; 4l. 10s. on that account is to his name, and Barber 3l. 6s.; Longman 9l. 14s.," &c. (Signed) "F. F. Copping." He did not send that money, which it was his duty to do—I have charged him with forging that cheque.

Cross-examined. I carry on one portion of my business under the name of "Millar and Co."—there is no "Co."—I have three places of business—I have just started another business at 49, Nicholas Road, Yarmouth—I carry on business in the name of "Richards and Co.," "Millar and Co.," and "Copeing and Co."—the business at Yarmouth is in ketchup—the invoices went out from there—the business was my own idea—the prisoner's mother lived at 49, Nicholas Road, Yarmouth—the recipe for the ketchup was not his mother's property—they never Bold it to mo; it was my own invention, and it was named "Norfolk ketchup," and has upon it "Pure Norfolk Ketchup, Bottled by F. Copeing, 49, Nicholas Bold, Great Yarmouth"—the prisoner's mother's name was Copeing—it does not say the ketchup was made there, but that it was bottled there—the prisoner's salary being very heavy, and he not being able to sell enough goods to cover his expenses and salary, this business was suggested by me to help pay part of his expenses—in our trade it is the custom to put various names on various things; for instance Worcester Sauce, that is made in London; Reading Sauce is also made in London, and Yorkshire Relish—in every trade there is a little secret, and people like the ketchup from Norfolk better than anywhere else, the same as Cambridge sausages—I first got information of the prisoner receiving those sums and not paying them over by writing to several persons because he had neglected the business—I knew he had received those sums before he wrote to me—I believe I have always stated that this requires explanation—I was examined at the police-court,

when my evidence was taken down and read to me, and I signed it—if it says in the deposition "The prisoner wrote and told me had received those three sums of money before I knew he received them "I have no doubt I said it—I was communicating with Mr. Longman and some hundreds of my creditors, and I was under the impression that I had received a letter beforehand respecting the cheque from Longman, at least, and with regard to Colley and Barber I am not quite sure; if I had looked I should have remembered—my memory is defective on the point—if he told me had received the money he did not pay it over—I suppose he sent me about fifty pounds' to sixty pounds' worth of orders on the 26th November—he accounted for all the other money he received in reference to these letters—it was his duty to send the money the same day he received it—the prisoner says he was a partner; I say he was a traveller—the cheques were always made out to myself—I have a customer named Sutton—I have not a cheque drawn in the prisoner's name—I did receive one drawn in his name from Sutton, who is a sauce manufacturer, in reference to ketchup—it was not endorsed or paid in—I am not awaiting the result of this trial before I endorse it—the cheque was originally made out "F. Copping"—it is now altered into "Copeing"—Mr. Sutton did that; he made the alteration about two days after the prisoner's wife gave it to me; before the prisoner was charged—I am waiting for another cheque from the same man—I cannot tell whether it is usual for a man of business to carry a cheque about dated since the 27th November for 5l. 6s. 3d., and keep it without endorsing it—that is the first cheque I have had from Sutton and Company, and it was my first transaction with them—Mr. Sutton is not here—I never said at the police-court that I was awaiting the result of this trial before I endorsed the cheque—Mr. Sheepwash, of New Brompton, is a customer of mine, and Hdwes, of Friar Street, Beading—I have never received cheques from them drawn in their names; I paid the prisoner's salary to his wife every Saturday—I never took receipts from him; I have his letters acknowledging the cheques—the date of the last one is November 29; it is pinned to the depositions—the business at Great Yarmouth does not pay at present—we had only just started it when he went on his first journey—these are the first orders—I did not say in my circular that I had the mushrooms direct from the marsh farmers of the district—the prisoner got that circular up, and I would not allow one of them to be sent out—I objected to it on trade grounds, because it told a palpable falsehood—if I sold "Yorkshire Relish," which was made in London, that would not be open to the same objection; it is not a fraud to take a place in Norfolk, because people in London think they get better ketchup there, and to sell it as Norfolk ketchup though made in London—we do not send it to Norfolk—it is a trade practice; people can think it comes from Norfolk if they choose; that is, no doubt, the reason why I took the place there—I believe some prints of the circular were sent out, but I had it withdrawn directly; it was not published with my sanction—a proof was not submitted to me—I gave the prisoner the money to have invoices and tablets printed, not the circulars—I gave him no directions for them; he had the invoices and tablets printed, and came to me for the money—I never saw the bills; I left it to his discretion; our agreement as to salary was verbal—I am the absolute proprietor—the prisoner collected the orders, sent them up to me, and I executed them; mine are all credit customers—I had carried on the business for 20 years

before I knew the prisoner; he knew no more of his business than a cat before he came to me—there is no truth in the suggestion that he was my partner, and that the profits were to be divided Between us; I gave him no reason to believe it—I have a customer named Flett, of Liverpool; he wrote to me to say he had paid the prisoner his account, for which he never accounted—I think his letter is with the depositions. (Read: "Sir,—I enclose you cheque value 7l. 13s. in payment of the two hogsheads of ketchup. Please forward remaining three hogsheads at your convenience.") That cheque did not come to hand; that was in October—I have not charged the prisoner with forging that cheque; the prisoner's letter is dated 28th November—I gave him into custody as soon as I could find out where he was; I did not give him a chance of repaying me the money before I gave him into custody; very likely I shall not endorse Mr. Button's cheque at all, for the simple reason that he has agreed to pay me the full amount in my own name—I trade in that name; I had no reason for holding it over—I went to Mr. Sutton to stop the prisoner getting any more money, and told him exactly how it was—he knew the prisoner as F. Copeing; my Christian name is not Frederick; I believe the prisoner's is.

Re-examined. Those three accounts in Copeing's name charged in the indictment were not for ketchup, but for sauce and various goods; I could not ask the prisoner for the money, because he had gone off—I had a letter from him a week before, on the 22nd of November, enclosing some orders, and asking for a cheque to be sent to him; it is in the prisoner's handwriting. (Read: "Grand Hotel, Birmingham, Nov. 22nd, 1880. Dear Sir,—Enclosed you will find a few small orders for Coventry, also a cheque from Ambrose and Co. Bell, of Coventry, will send his account on. Barber paid cash 3l. 6s. I am just off to Gloucester. Address me at Cornwallis Hotel, Ducie Bridge, Manchester. I shall be there tomorrow, when I shall want a cheque for expenses. Signed, Copping.") I sent him a cheque to Manchester according to his instructions, and I never heard anything of him for eight days, when I got the letter dated 28th November—in the meantime I had stopped all the accounts as far as I could; he got those three accounts before I had time to stop them; therefore that week he was doing nothing for me at all, virtually he was on the spree—when I got that letter I sent him a telegram in the morning to tell him to come home—he came home some weeks after—about half an hour after I sent that telegram I received a communication from Liverpool, on which I telegraphed to Liverpool, telling him to come home—I neither saw nor heard any more of him until he was in custody on the 16th December—I had not given information to the police to arrest him—I was waiting for him to come home, knowing he must come home some time or other—I did not know where he was, and I could not go and look over the world alter him.

By MR. GEOHEGAN. I do not think that in one case out of fifty in an engagement of this kind there is a written agreement—I had not one with the traveller before—I paid him salary and commission—I have several travellers on commission in London—the prisoner had his journeys chalked out for him—his most northern town would be Liverpool; that journey was to extend over three weeks—I stopped sending him money after his letter of the 28th November.

By the JURY. If he had 8l. or 10l. to remit to me, he would get a

cheque drawn in my name from a customer—he should send the individual cheques—I understand by "I will send cheque for this amount tomorrow" (17l. odd), that he would go to one of my customers and ask him for a cheque in my name for the amount, which he would have sent up, and which he had done frequently—I paid the prisoner's wife three 2l. and one 1l. after the prisoner had gone off, as I did not like to see the woman and children in a fix—I give about two months' credit—I gent him cheques for whatever he wanted for expenses.

WALTER COLLEY . I am a dry Salter of 64, Shelly Street, Birmingham—Richard Millar and Co. are suppliers of mine—on the 19th November I paid the prisoner 4l. 10s. 8d. in cash, for which he gave me this receipt. (Read: "Duncan Road, London Fields, London. Received this 19th day of November, 1880, of Mr. W. Colley, the sum of 4l. 10s. 8d., for and on account of Richard Millar and Co. F. F. Copping.")

Cross-examined. That was for ketchup and anchovies.

GEORGE BARBER . I am a grocer, of Cross Chipping, Coventry—on the 22nd November I paid the prisoner 3l. 7s., for which he gave me this receipt. (Read: "Duncan Road, London Fields, London. Received this 22nd day of November, 1880, of Mr. Barber, 3l. 7s., for and on account of Millar and Co.")

Cross-examined. That was partly for ketchup.

HENRY HODGES LONGMAN . I am a grocer of Gloucester—on the 26th December I passed a cheque to the prisoner, for which he gave me this receipt. (Read: "Received this 26th day of December, 1880, of Mr. Longman, cheque 9l. 14s.")

Cross-examined. I don't think that ketchup would be a thing that I should order of Millar and Co.—I do not know a firm of the name of Copeing and Co.—I don't know that Norfolk is celebrated for its mushrooms.

JOSEPH HEWETT (Policeman N 151). I took the prisoner into custody at his own house—he asked to see Mr. Millar, but he declined—I took him to the station—he was not admitted to bail—he was given into custody by Mr. Millar, and not taken on a warrant.

NOT GUILTY . There were two other indictments against the prisoner for forgery which were postponed to the next Session.

NEW COURT.—Thursday, January 13th, 1880, and

OLD COURT.—Friday, January 14th, 1881.

Before Mr. Recorder.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-180
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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180. HANNAH MARKIN (28) , Feloniously marrying Septimus Swyer, during the lifetime of her husband.

MR. RAVEN Prosecuted; MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS Defended.

MARKS FLETCHER . I live at 222, Commercial Road East—I was present at the marriage between Horace Markin and Hannah Aarons in July—I cannot remember the date—this is the certificate—the prisoner is the woman—it took place in Leman Street, according to the Jewish ceremony—Markin is alive—I know him and have known him for many years—I have seen him lately.

WILLIAM HENRY BUTTERFIELD . I live at 46, Theobald Street, Holborn—I am registrar of marriages for the district of Islington—my

office is at 285, Upper Street, Islington—I produce the original certificate of marriage on the 18th August, 1880, between Hannah Markin and Septimus Swyer—the prisoner is Hannah Markin—this is a true copy of the original.

CHARLES NUTKINS (Policeman N). I apprehended the prisoner on the 25th of October a second time—I had previously apprehended her and she was discharged—I told her the charge—she made no reply—the first time I apprehended her I told her a man was waiting outside the house who had the certificates and claimed to be her husband—she said "Let him come inside"—he came in; she dropped back in a chair and said "I thought he was dead."

MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS submitted that there was no evidence to show that the prisoner knew her husband was alive at the time of her second marriage. The RECORDER being of that opinion, the Jury found the prisoner


10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-181
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment; Imprisonment

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181. DANIEL CAHILL (39) and EBENEZER MATTHEW REYNOLDS (27) , Unlawfully conspiring, by false representations, to procure Reynolds a situation as barman. Other Counts varying the form of charge.

MESSRS. BESLEY and GRAIN Prosecuted; MR. WARNER SLEIGH defended Cahill; MR. FILLAN defended Reynolds.

WILLIAM SHEAD . I keep the Mitre public-house, Downham Road, Kingsland—on 21st March, 1879, I saw this advertisement in the Morning Advertiser: "As barman, second or single, a steady active young man, age 24, used to a country trade, willing and obliging; highest reference from gentleman just left and former employer. Direct, A. B., 190, Jamaica Road, Bermondsey"—I instructed my wife to write in answer to the address, given, and on the same evening Reynolds called at my house; he brought my wife's letter—I asked him if ho had come for the barman's situation—he said "Yes," and that his name was Reynolds; he said he was the person alluded to in the advertisement, and that he Lad received the letter from my wife—I asked where he had been living; he said at the Grapes, Rotherhithe Wall, and that Mr. Cahill, who kept the Grapes, was his master; he said he had lived there nine months—I asked him if they would give him a character—he said "Yes"—I said, "When can I see Mr. Cahill? I cannot go this evening"—he said, "Tomorrow morning"—I said, "I will endeavour to go there"—I went the next morning to the Grapes; I saw Cahill; I asked him if he had had a man in his employ named Joseph Reynolds; he said he had—I said, "Because he has made an application to me for a barman's situation;" I asked the reason that he was leaving—Cahill said, "I wanted him to do the potman's place as well as the barman's"—I said, "You can hardly expect a man to go back; he wants to go forward, I should think;" I asked him how long he had lived with him—he said, "Nine months," distinctly—I said, "Is he sober, honest, and industrious?"—he said, "Yes, so much so that, as I deal in glass, he takes it out at times in my interest"—I said upon that character I should take him—the Grapes is a very small house—I asked where I could find Reynolds; I think he said it was in the Jamaica Road, Bermondsey, at a shoemaker's shop; I went there; I saw a young woman and left a message—on the following Monday, 24th March, Reynolds commended his duty with me—he continued in my employment, up to the 1st February, 1880—between those

days I noticed a considerable falling-off in ray takings I have made a statement taken from my till-book, which I have brought here; it is in my own handwriting—Reynolds was the only person in the bar with the exception of my wife, my son, and myself, but my wife never served; my son William served and myself—I take the corresponding months of '78, '79, and '80; taking 10 months from March, '78, my takings were 4,610l.; from March, '79, they were 4,122l.; and the following 10 months, from March, '80,4,709l.; the latter increase, perhaps has arisen through, an alteration I have had made in my place—on 24th April, when the, prisoner was out, I took 2l. 5s. over and above any of the days that he was in; on 27th May I took 10s. more; on the 18th August 10s. more; those are days when he went for a holiday—I always made an entry when he was out—he was in the country on the 10th and 11th of September, and on those days my takings were 3l. 3s. over and above the other days in that week, and on the 9th October I took 1l. only—unfortunately I had to take my wife to Matlock, and my takings fell considerably; on 29th October my general takings fell down from 11l. 16s. to 9l. 5s. 6d., the day I was away—on 11th October I found 1l. short—I was laid up for several days with a sore throat—on the 16th December there was 2l. 13s. short—on Sunday, let February, I called Reynolds into my parlour; I said, "What name did you give me when you came here?"—he said, "Joseph Reynolds"—I said, "How is it that my children find your linen marked 'E. M.'?"—he hesitated to give an answer—I said, "You took the name of George;" he wished to be called George instead of Joseph; I did not get a satisfactory answer with regard to the linen—I said, "Let me see, how long a character did I have with you"—he said, "Nine months I think you had"—I said, "Where did you live before?"—he said, "With Mr. Simpson, of Broad Wharf"—I said, "What was your reason for leaving there?"—he said, "Mr. Simpson died, and the potman and I removed the body and made a jeer, and it came to the lady's knowledge and she discharged me"—I said, "Do you know I have long complained of the falling-off of my trade?"—he said, "Yes, I know you have," or something of that character, I cannot recollect the exact words, it is a long time ago—I said, "Is it true that you had a man in here asking you for money?"—he said "Yes"—I said, "And have you been out a day or two looking after him?"—he hesitated, then said, "Yes, I think I have"—I said, "You made a mistake by doing so"—he warmed up about that time and said, "I do not know what you are getting at"—I said, "I am simply asking you questions"—"Oh," he said, "I shall not stop and sleep here to-night"—I said, "I do not discharge you, you clearly understand you are not discharged"—he left of his own accord; he asked for some brandy as he was going away, and my wife gave him some; I saw no more of him till the next morning; it was between 11 and 12 o'clock at night when he left—the next morning when I saw him he asked for his wages; I refused to pay them—he asked if he might take his box away; I said, "Yes, you can take it"—I have not seen him since; I have not been applied to for his character; I have had no communication with him.

Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. I produce my day-book—I keep the books myself—Reynolds has not had to pay 1l. for my wife's cab fares—she kept my keys; she had not taken my money; I know that because I

make up my books, and they balance almost to a penny—I never took the keys from my wife; I gave them to my eldest son, except we were both together—I never did it permanently—my son Samuel took half a sovereign; not from the till, but from a tray that I kept for change, but Reynolds did not catch him, my own son did—no one complained—I was bound to detect it—I punished my son for it; I did not thank Reynolds for bringing it to my attention; nine months may be considered a good character for a barman according to some people's views—I took Reynolds on that—I discharged him in three months; he remained six months longer at his own request, not at mine—the takings did not tumble off so much then as they did afterwards—I distinctly asked Cahill if he had employed Reynolds as barman; he did not tell me Reynolds did potman's work or I should not have taken him; he did not say Reynolds had a little trap, or that he was a handy man.

Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. I heard the evidence of the police; I do not know how many; they were not all in uniform—I do not know Riley and Nolan (Riley and Nolan were called in)—I did not see them at the police-court—I was not present on the last occasion; I was present at every other examination—my safe was in the bar-parlour; my wife had the keys; she was not in the habit of going out in cabs—I will not swear she has not been hours and hours, and that the cab fare has come to 8s. or 10s.—I know a potman named Edward; perhaps his name was Clark—my wife took stimulants, but not to a great extent—I never took her to a sanatorium at Bristol; it was Matlock; it was a hydropathic institution—I say distinctly that Reynolds has not had to pay 14s. in cab fares for my wife—I was 500l. short in my takings—I did not detect it at first; it did not exist—I first noticed the fallings off about August, 1879; I detected them in September, and onwards every week, except when he was out—I never was at Ramsgate—(Looking at a book) it is a wrong entry; it is my writing—I do not usually make a mistake—I was not away from London a week in Reynolds's time, from Sunday to Sunday, nor six days—his holidays were once a month—the entry on the 18th of August "Lost off the tray" is not in reference to my boy—the tray was in the bar-parlour—there is no entry when my boy took the 10s.; I did not lock him up for a week, nor feed him on gruel—I gave him porridge for a day or two—he had to like it, and so would you if you were my child—on one occasion I cross-questioned him, and he has been a better boy ever since—my son William had access to the safe; I could trust him with untold gold—Reynolds was in the bar all the morning—I have taken the keys away from my wife for a reason—I am not willing to send for my son—I never missed money from my safe; money was taken from it for housekeeping and other purposes—Reynolds was not away a week once; it was two days, on account of a cousin dying.

Re-examined. My boy Samuel was in his 9th year when the theft occurred—he went to school; there is no ground for saying he was continually robbing me—he had never done it before to my knowledge; it occurred in 1879 I think—William was about eighteen and a half years old—the half-sovereign was taken in the parlour and not in the bar at all; if William comes here I have no one else to look after my business—my books include all my expenditure, and what my wife had was taken into account—I only punished my child of nine, that once—I never discovered my safe having been tampered with.

ELLIN BROWN . I am a single woman, and live at 32, Derrick Street, Rotherhithe—I am Mr. Abbott's servant—I remember going into the service of Mr. Cahill at the Grapes; my brother died about two months after I went there; I cannot fix the date exactly; I cannot read; it was about two years ago; I was in his service about eight months; there were four rooms in the house and a bar-parlour; three were bed-rooms; my bedroom was at the top; Mrs. Cahill's brother occupied the other bedroom—I was about twenty-one; he was a little older—on the next floor was a billiard-room, and the room occupied by Mr. Cahill—Reynolds never slept there—we reached the kitchen through the skittle-grounds—Mrs. Cahill did not serve in the bar—I never saw any barman—Mrs. Cahill's brother was potman; when I went there Cahill had only been there a few weeks; he told me so—it was not many weeks before Christmas when I left.

Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. I stayed there about six months after my brother died; I am sure it was not three years ago.

Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. I did not give evidence at the police-court; I was first asked to come here the day before yesterday—I should know the gentleman who came to me—Mr. Cahill did not give me a character when I left; I do not know why; I was on friendly terms with Mrs. Cahill's brother; he always told me he was older than I was; I did not keep company with him—Mr. Cahill did not discharge me; there was no notice given—Mr. Cahill's brother-in-law picked up my purse on the stairs of the skittle-ground, and came up to give it to me at my bed-room door; he was not in my bedroom; I will swear we were not in bed together—Mr. Cahill did not tell me to go; I went because my parents had been wanting me to leave my situation for some time, and Mr. Cahill came up and spoke to me in an ungentlemanly manner, and I got up next morning and went away, and after three days I got into another situation—Mr. Cahill did not accuse me of anything; he asked what his brother-in-law did, and I told him directly what he wanted, and what he gave me, and I have the purse to show; it was after closing time—I did not speak to Mrs. Cahill about it nor she to me; I have no recollection of what he said.

Re-examined. No imputation nor blame was cast upon me—Mr. Tooley was one of the gentlemen who called to see me; he was a detective; another was a stout gentleman, and another a young man; I went to Mr. Smith's after I left Cahill's, and before I went to Abbott's; he kept the British Queen at Kentish Town; I was there about seven months—I am now living at 32, Derrick Street—the prisoner used to come to Cahill's and drink, but always outside the bar.

HENRY LUND . I am a labourer living at Rotherhithe, and am related by marriage to the last witness; I married her sister—I remember her brother John Brown's death—I cannot read—I remember Ellen Brown being at the Grapes about two months before her brother died; she was there altogether about eight months as a domestic general servant—I went there once or twice a week—I never saw a barman there; Reynolds did not act as barman—I never saw him with an apron on during the time I went there; I went there once or twice after my sister-in-law left—Cahill made a complaint about her.

Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. He told me that he found his brother-in-law and my sister-in-law in bed together—he gave me that as his reason for discharging her.

Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. I did not see Reynolds there at all.

Re-examined. I never got any explanation from my sister-in-law; I never mentioned it to her—I mentioned it to Mrs. Cahill's brother, and he only laughed.

GEORGE DODCARD NOTCUTT . I live at 57, Riston Street, Rotherhithe—I am a postman; the Grapes tavern has been in my round for 11 years—I remember when the Cahills had the house—I had four deliveries a day, and when I delivered letters there I never saw a barman; I do not know Reynolds.

Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. I do not recollect seeing him as barman—I will not swear that I did not see him at all; I might have seen him as a casual customer—I am not a pensioner; I never was—I might have been entitled to a pension last year; I don't know—I expect to receive one—I have been asked if I would take it by my superior officer, Mr. Sergeant—I dare say complaints have been made against me, but none to prevent my receiving my pension—I have known Tooney for some years; I know Inspector White through his being at the police-station, and my delivering letters there; he has not been there many years—Tooney came to my house about this case; I cannot tell you when it was—I was subpoenaed; he asked me if I recollected delivering letters at the Grapes; I told him "Yes"—I was asked if I had seen a barman there—I said "No"—I do not know Cahill's brother-in-law—I never saw anybody serve except Mr. and Mrs. Cahill.

Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. I delivered letters on an average three times a week at the Grapes.

Re-examined. I also used the house for refreshment—I am 63 years of age, and expect to be superannuated next month; I have served the Post-office 20 years last November—the complaints against me were as regards mis delivery, not dishonesty—I have no interest in the Lioensed Victuallers' Association.

WILLIAM SHEAD . I am 19 years of age—I am the son of Mr. Shead who keeps the Mitre, Downham Road, Kingsland.

Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. I have been fetched here by a clerk—I have had no conversation about this case; I have not heard of my father's cross-examination; my mother kept the keys of the safe when my father was out principally—she had them when he was at home sometimes—I had the keys when both were out; I do not remember the keys being taken from my mother and given to me when she was not away; I never had them when she was in London.

GEORGE RILEY (Policeman M 366). I was called to the Lambeth Police-court to give evidence on behalf' of the prisoner; Mr. Sawyer asked me what I know about the case, but I said I would not state anything further—I had no other communication about it—I was in Court and heard the witnesses—after the witnesses for the defence I was called as witness by Mr. Maitland—I know the Grapes at Rotherhithe Wall; I knew it when Cahill kept it; I used it frequently during his time—it was in the neighbourhood where I lived—I have seen Mr. Cahill and his brother-in-law serving, and Mr. Cahill's wife, but that is all—I have seen Reynolds in front of the bar—I only knew him as a customer.

Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. I do not recollect seeing Reynolds anywhere else; he used to go in the skittle-grounds with beer, and received money for it, but no more than I should do—Cahill told me Reynolds had

been barman for him before—I was in front of the bar when that remark was made—I have no recollection of that remark being made of Reynolds being barman at another house; nor my saying "George is a handy barman, Cahill"—I said so at the police-court—I was very often at Cahill's when off duty, and on duty only when I had occasion to visit the house—I did not know Cahill dealt in glass bottles—I have known Cahill for three years, but I knew nothing against him till this charge—I did not go with Tooney to Miss Brown's—I have not seen Reynolds assist in the bar; I saw him with his coat off, and in his shirt sleeves, but not in front of the bar—it was when he was playing skittles.

Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. I have not known Cahill for 10 years; as far as I know he bore an excellent character—I know nothing against him—I have not heard how many public-houses he has kept besides the Grapes.

Re-examined. I heard of his good character from people in the house—I have never heard licensed victuallers speak of him; it I said "George is a handy barman" that was after the question had been suggested to me—I never suggested it to any living being.

RICHARD WHITE (Police Inspector M). My station is at Rotherhithe; my special duty is to look after the license and transfer of houses for the district—on the 30th July, 1878, I received notice from Cahill of his application to transfer the Grapes to him—this is a plan of the Grapes (produced)—on the 19th of August he obtained his protection—his license was transferred on the 25th of September, 1878—I received notice of transfer from Cahill to another from the 30th of April, 1880—the house was closed from March, 1880; I frequently visited the house in the course of my duty from April, 1878—I never saw Reynolds act as barman; I saw Cahill in the house, also in the street collecting cans—I never saw a barman there at all.

Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. I frequently looked in at the Grapes; I cannot say how often—I have not seen Mrs. Cahill's brother serve; I have seen him in the bar-parlour—I first knew Cahill when he was on my beat—so far as I know he always conducted himself in a proper manner.

EDWARD THOMAS . I am a surveyor, of 234, Deptford Road—I made this plan (produced); it gives the perspective elevation—the scale is 4 feet to an inch, the space behind the bar is 9 feet 6 inches by 14 feet—there are three compartments in front of the bar, one 5 feet 1 inch, and the others 7 feet 6 inches from the counter; they are shown on the plan—it is a two story house.

BRIERS (Detective Sergeant M). I have known the Grapes from July, 1878—it was part of my duty to visit the house with several others—I never saw Reynolds in the house; I have seen Cahill, hit wife, and her brother behind the bar—I kept a watch on Reynolds; he drove a horse and cart after I went to Rotherhithe, about two or three months from July, 1878—I did not speak to him—I got a warrant to take Cahill into custody—I went to the Sultan's Head, a beershop in Picton Street, Camberwell; he was serving—I told him it was for conspiring with another man named Reynolds to obtain a situation as barman—he said Reynolds used to work for him, and that he used occasionally to sell glasses, and to serve customers in the skittle-ground.

Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. I first knew Cahill ten or twelve years

ago at Shoreditch—I never heard anything against him—I also knew him at the Prince of Wales, not at the David and Harp.

Re-examined by MR. BESLEY. I lost sight of him for eight or nine years.

JAKES TOONEY (Detective Officer M). I have known the Grapes about twelve years; I knew it all the time Cahill was there—Reynolds was never employed as barman—I used to see Cahill during 1878 with a horse and cart; he afterwards lived at a private house; then I found him at the Grapes—I took Reynolds into custody on the 12th of last month at 19, Farncombe Street, Bermondsey—I told him I had a warrant for his apprehension for obtaining a situation, with a false character; he said "All right, where is Cahill"—I said Cahill was in custody—he said "All right, I will go with you quiet; I have nothing to fear, for I did live with Cahill at his last, and five weeks at his present house as a barman and nine months at the Grapes; I used to take out glass for him"—after he was committed for trial I made inquiries respecting Brown in consequence of what I heard—I did not suggest her evidence to her.

Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. I was not often in the Grapes, not once a month, while Cahill was there—I saw Reynolds at the Crown and at his stables, and at other public-houses, with a cart—I used to pass the Crown to my dinner and see him—if Reynolds was employed at the Grapes I must have seen him—I have never seen him at skittles.

Re-examined. The Crown is about 300 yards from the Grapes—my back bedroom looks into the stables.

GEORGE LIPPARD . I keep the Crown public-house in Southwark Park Road, not far from the Grapes—Reynolds and his brother took stables and kept a horse there from about June till November, 1878—he was in and out of my house almost every day during that time as a customer—the last time I saw him was the latter end of 1879—I did not know he had gone to the Mitre—I never conversed with him.

HENRY WEST . I am a cab-driver, and live in Balaklava Road, Bermondsey—I had a stable in the Glebe Road, near the Crown—I know Reynolds; he had a horse and cart; he paid me 3s. a week for the use of a stable from the beginning of July, 1878, for about five months—I saw him once or twice a day, sometimes more—on one or two occasions he said he had been at the Grapes playing at skittles—I do not know what the horse and trap were for—he sometimes drove out his wife.

THOMAS VOISEY . I live in the Southwark Park Road, not far from the Grown—Reynolds stabled his horse with me for about four or five weeks; he used to drive out in a cart—he told me he was a dealer in live stock in the country—I never saw any live stock—I have seen his brother come into the yard.

EDWARD EDWARDS . I am sanitary inspector of Rotherhithe—I knew the Grapes when it was kept by Cahill from 1878 to 1879, about eighteen months—I visited it officially, also had refreshments there, and passed it many times in the day—I never saw Reynolds there in any capacity—I saw Mrs. Cahill, a person hard of hearing, and once or twice there was a youth there and Cahill himself, but no one else.

Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. I said at the police-court I never saw any one else but Cahill, his wife, and a youth—I think I have seen the lady serve—the youth might have served—I never saw Reynolds serve.

HENRY FULLER . I am manager to Mr. Carpenter, pawnbroker, of 92,

Rotherhithe Street, next to the Grapes—I have been in his employment 24 years—I remember Cahill coming to the Grapes; he was there about eighteen months from July, 1878—I went in occasionally—I have seen Cahill and a relation of his serve—I believe the relation was Mrs. Cahill's brother—I never saw Reynolds serving.

Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. I did not go to the Grapes every week—I have seen the young man cleaning the windows and the brass outside.

JOHN NOLAN (Policeman MR 37). I was told by my inspector to attend the police-court; I was there the last day—I heard witnesses for the defence—I was afterwards examined by Mr. Maitland—I had not given him any information till I was put in the box—I have known the Grapes sixteen or eighteen years—I have been on duty in the neighbourhood since 1860, and actively employed except for two years from 1863 to 10th July, 1865—I knew Cahill when he kept the Grapes; that was about a year and nine months—I visited the house when off duty—I never knew a barman employed there; I never saw Reynolds behind the bar—I knew Mrs. Cahill's brother—I saw Reynolds in the skittle-ground once playing at skittles and drinking the same as others.

Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. I have not been at the house more than six times—I did not generally use the house—I saw Reynolds bring a pot of ale in the skittle-ground; I saw him in the bar-palour—I have known Cahill ten or twelve years—I know nothing against him.

Re-examined. I have not seen Cahill continuously for ten or twelve years—I have not made inquiries at Brighton about him—I lost sight of him five or six years after 1865—I said at the police-court I never saw Reynolds draw any malt liquors.

THOMAS MALLAN . Cahill lodged at my place four months from April last year—I removed his things from the Grapes to my lodgings—my place is the Sultan.

Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. I took a horse from my place to the Grapes on one occasion for a German to see—I saw Reynolds and Cahill—I do not recollect Reynolds being in the bar, nor who served me—both came out and looked—I would not say Reynolds was not behind the bar.

Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. Cahill went away after he left the Grapes somewhere; I cannot say how long.

Re-examined. I believe Cahill was away a week or two—his things were not taken away—the German came to see the horse about two years ago, a little before Christmas—I do not know whose service Reynolds was in then.

GILES (Police Inspector). I have charge of the licensed houses in the Camberwell district—on 2nd September, 1880, I received notice of transfer of the Sultan beerhouse, Camberwell, to Cahill—the protection was granted to him on 18th September, and the transfer made on the 29th—afterwards Cahill went to the Grapes, Rotherithe Wall, the place he previously kept—that was the address he gave me.

FRANK SQUIRE . I am a licensed victualler, and keep the City of York public-house, York Road, King's Cross—on Monday, the 13th September last, I saw this advertisement in the Morning Advertiser: "As barman, a respectable young man, age 23, can assist in the cellar if required. Nine months' good reference from the gentleman about leaving. Direct, M. M., the Sultan, Picton Street, Camberwell"—that was answered—I

saw Reynolds at my place on the 14th, the day the advertisement came out—I asked him if he had come in reference to the advertisement—he said "Yes"—my son had written to him—he brought the post-card—I asked him where he had been living—he said the Grapes, Rotherhitbe "Wall, for nine months—I asked him why he left—he said the gentleman had given up the house and did not require him any longer—I asked him who he was with—he said he was stopping at a beer-house with the same gentleman he was with at the Grapes, Mr. Cahill—I went to the Sultan the next morning—I had told Reynolds I should go—he was in the bar cleaning up—I asked for Cahill—Reynolds went to the parlour and called him out—I asked Cahill in Reynolds's presence if Reynolds had lived with him as barman—he said he had for nine months—I asked if he was honest and sober, and he gave me every satisfaction concerning his character, and said that if he had another house he would only be too happy to take him again—neither mentioned Reynolds being at Mr. Shead's, at the Mitre—Cahill said he had been out of business for some time, and that he took that business as a home for his wife, but that he did not do enough for himself, but Reynolds was there clearing up till he could get another situation, and he always treated him as one of his own—I took Reynolds into my service on 14th December, and he remained till the 1st December—I did not like the way he carried on the business nor the way he acted—I was laid up for a fortnight, when I found my takings were not so much—my son saw him putting some brandy into something and told him of it; he repeated it the following morning and my son again saw him—he threw the brandy over the counter and my son told him he would have to leave—when I went down into the parlour I told him I wished him to leave that day week—I did not know he had been employed by Mr. Shead till he was in custody, or I should not have taken him.

Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. Cahill did not say how long Reynolds had been at the Sultan, nor that he went out to sell glass, nor that he was a handy man—I only wanted a barman—I first heard of this matter from the Protection Society, through Mr. Maitland's clerk—I should think I am prosecuting him—Cahill did say he hoped to do business with me in glass—he said he was an independent man.

Witnesses for both the Defendants.

GEORGE SMITH . I am a confectioner, of 36, Union Road, Rotherhithe—I knew the Grapes when Mr. Cahill was there—I became acquainted with him at the back end of September or October, 1878, up to December, the second day of the Cattle Show; it was through buying some tumblers and other glasses of him which Reynolds brought to my house, and I paid him for them; it was Reynolds who first solicited my custom; I knew him before he was married, and in consequence of what he told me I became a customer at the Grapes on several occasions—I have ordered liquor at the bar and in the skittle ground, and paid for it; Reynolds has served me; Cahill was the last person who served me on the second day of the Cattle Show—I have seen Reynolds six or seven times behind the bar serving, and in the skittle ground, and I have given him 1s. and 2s. to change—when I heard this charge I became bail for him, knowing his innocence—I was called as a witness at the police-court.

Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I have lived in Rotherhithe 20 years—Downham Road, Kingsland, may be four miles from Mr. Shead's place of business—I sell fireworks, and went to the bar and served Mr. Shead's son with some on several occasions—I was at the Mitre perhaps 30 times while Reynolds was barman, and have stayed there perhaps two hours at a time, till it was shut up; I have been there more than twice on the same day on more than two occasions; I went there before Reynolds was barman—this is the only time I have had to do with a criminal court; I have been bail for people who have been drunk, but never till now for people charged on the charge-sheet—I have sworn this, "I don't believe I was in the house above seven or eight times in my life," but I find I went twice more in December—I said that Reynolds was in the habit of visiting me on Sundays on his holidays; I have ridden with him in his cart—I have had a game at skittles twice, or it may be three times, not more; I generally lost, and then Reynolds fetched the drink and took the money—I have said, "I never understood Reynolds was barman, or what he was; he never told me he was a barman; he acted as barman "—he was a servant in Mr. Cahill's employ—it is true that my seven times of going there were in October, 1878, and the back end of September.

Re-examined. December was the third time I went to purchase glass—Reynolds did not give me to understand that he was a barman, but he acted as barman—I knew him as barman at a beershop before he was married—this is my card (produced) as artist in fireworks; E. W. Jones is my partner—I served Mr. Shead's son after the firework time was over and after Reynolds left—I have been 22 years in that house, and 10 years on Rotherhithe Wall, and there is no foundation for the instiuation that I have been in a criminal court in my life.

By the COURT. I do not know whether Reynolds continued in Mr. Cahill's service—it was in 1879 that I went to Mr. Shead's—Reynolds continued to act for Mr. Cahill up to December, 1878—I never went to the house after that; I had no occasion.

HENRY FRANCIS FAULKNER . I sell firewood at Rotherhithe—I knew the Grapes before August, 1878, when Mr. Cahill was the proprietor—he sometimes served me, and Reynolds did so several times—shortly after August I was taken seriously ill, and Reynolds brought me wine and spirits from Mr. Cahill, and came up to my bedroom—I understood that he was the barman as long as I knew the house.

Cross-examined. I lent Cahill 14l. to go into the house—I did not know the previous landlord; I never went in above four times till Cahill went there—I said "The house was never of much use," but I did not say "Mr. Cahill and his wife might have managed it alone"—I said I thought it was the year 1878, but I really did not take any account—I said that it might have been August or something like that that I saw Reynolds at the house, and that the occasions when I saw him there were covered by two months, and then I was taken ill—I spoke of Reynolds as a travelling barman; I adopted the word; I cannot tell you what that is—I have known Cahill 10 years; a person named Vickers introduced him—I have known Reynolds from a boy; I only know that he was born in the street where I lived—I said "I knew him three and a half years at Garrett's, in Bermondsey, and at the Drummond Arms six years ago—I did not know him at the Blue Coat Boy, Islington—I did not say he was at Kingsland, at Mr. Shears's—I did not know where he went to—I did not say "I think he left there rather suddenly; he did

not tell me why he left"—I know he was at Mr. Squire's, at King's Cross; I do not know if he got both those places by one character—I signed my deposition—this is my signature to my deposition; it was read over to me before I signed it.

Re-examined. I have been very ill for the last three months, and confined to my room some time—I am able to get about when I am carried—I am suffering very much now—Mr. Maitland, the solicitor for the prosecution, cross-examined me at the police-court for about a quarter of an hour—I was told that Mr. Reynolds went to Mr. Shead's, at the Mitre Tavern, Downham Road, Kingsland, but I never saw him there; his father-in-law told me—I heard that he left rather suddenly—I never heard Mr. Maitland ask me if the house at Kingsland was Mr. Shead's; he asked me if I saw Reynolds at the house at Kingsland, and I told him I never did—he said "Did he tell you he was at Mr. Squire's, King's Cross?" I said "Yes"—the Magistrate said "Do you know whether Cahill had a barman?" I said "Yes," and that his name was Ebenezer Reynolds.

By MR. BESLEY. I said afterwards that Reynolds was working about the Grapes; sometimes he was waiting on the skittle-alley.

MARY ANN ELLIS . I live at 67, Salisbury Street, Bermondsey—I remember the Grapes when Cahill was the landlord—I have often been there for my dinner and supper beer—Reynolds has served me—he once gave me a letter to get my sister, who was in a consumption, into the hospital—I saw him there five or six months; the last time was after he gave me the letter—my sister was in the hospital six weeks before she died, and he served me several times after that—she has been dead a year and nine months—this is her memorial card, but I cannot read it (Dated 31st March, 1879)—she was in the hospital six weeks, and then went into the infirmary and died—I think Mr. Cahill gave Reynolds the letter for me.

Cross-examined. I knew the Grapes many years before Mr. Cahill had it—I have lived down the Wall all my life, out I never knew any barman there—I knew another young man there while Reynolds was there—I don't know whether Mr. Cahills brother was there—I saw Reynolds there a good many times after my sister died—I was not asked to look up this card before I gave my evidence—I went there of my own accord.

Re-examined. I only know Reynolds by going to Cahill's for my beer—I have no interest in this case—I have seen no detective but the one who brought me the summons.

WILLIAM LOAKES . I am a cab-driver—I often went to the Grapes when Mr. Cahill was there, and saw Reynolds behind the bar—he often served me, and several times came round to order a cab of me.

Cross-examined. I said at the police-court that I had seen Reynolds at the Grapes four or five times, and that I often saw Mr. and Mrs. Cahill there without him, and that he looked as if he was the barman—I never went with my cab to Mr. Shead's, the Mitre, Kingsland, on Sundays—I drove Reynolds twice to Moorgate Street Station from 19, Farncomb Street, Bermondsey; I did not fetch him from Kingsland.

GEORGE RICHARD COLLINS . I am a chromo-lithographer, of 26, Albion Street, Rotherhithe—I was Coroner's officer in 1878—I have called at the Grapes many times when Mr. Cahill was there, both before November

and after—here is an entry in my Coroner's book, by which I find that I went there on 4th or 5th November to summon him on a Jury for an inquest—I have seen Reynolds behind the bar, and he has served me and others with liquor; I have been in the skittle ground, and have seen him bring refreshments there.

Cross-examined. I have known the Grapes 24 or 25 years, and have gone there 10 years—Wheeler was there before Cahill, and there was a barman there then, but I don't know his name—I have lived in several places; I was in difficulties; I went to Banstead and Sutton; I heard there were judgments out against me; I was not asked to go to the police-court; I was a volunteer—I only knew Cahill at the Grapes; I knew Reynolds best—I never went to Shead's; I never went to Kingston—I did not know he was at Squire's; he was at Shead's in March or April, 1870—I was not charged with taking the Coroner's money; the charge alluded to the licence fees, which I am responsible for; the Vestry did not insist on my resigning in consequence of my appropriating the fees, but I did resign in 1880; I cannot tell you the month; I was not there to hear whether 30l. was mentioned as the sum I had appropriated; I sent a letter of resignation to the Vestry and the Coroner; judgments were not then in force against me that I know of, but I heard so, and I went to work at Banstead and Sutton; that was in April or May, 1880; I am going by memory—I did not take No. 1, Paradise Street, concealing my own name; I was put into No. 2, and this is the agreement (produced); it was a fried fish business; I was not turned out, but an action is likely to follow; it is some weeks since I was there last; it was taken in my middle name of Richards; I sunk the Collins.

Re-examined. I was placed there by another person's capital with the hope of doing me good.

CHARLOTTE MAY COLLINS . I am the wife of the last witness—I remember the Grapes when Cahill was landlord; I have been served with refreshment there, and have seen Reynolds behind the bar; he has served me at the bar and in the skittle ground.

Cross-examined. I lived about two years with Reynolds's mother.

RICHARD GRAY . I am a traveller in mineral waters, of 2, Longfellow Road, Mile End Road—I have known Cahill as landlord of the Grapes, and did business with him all the time he was there, delivering mineral water twice a week; Reynolds has taken the goods of me when nobody else was there.

Cross-examined. I am speaking of the summer of 1878—I have seen Reynolds behind the bar nearer 50 times than five; it must be 20 times; I used to call twice a week; I called for more than 10 weeks in 1878; Reynolds was there for seven or eight months in 1878—he was not behind the bar every time I went; I think I may swear I saw him once a week there, but I do not know that he was never laid up for a week; I was not laid up; it is possible that I may have gone there without seeing him; I was never a month without seeing him—when I had the subpoena last Saturday I carried my mind back to what occurred at the Grapes in 1878—Mr. Knowles kept the house before that; I never saw a barman there then.

HENEY OLIVER RICE . I am a collector to Hanbury and Co., brewers; the Grapes is one of their houses, and unless Cahill had high references they would not have put him on to the premises; I went there every 28

days to collect; I never saw Mr. Cahill behind the bar, but to the best of my belief Reynolds is the man I have seen there twice, once cleaning the windows, and the second time bringing in a lot of pots from the back part of the house, but I won't swear to him—Cahill took possession of the Grapes on 7th July, 1878; that was the first communication he had with our firm.

Cross-examined. They are Messrs. Hanbury and Co., of Clerkenwell, not Truman, Hanbury, and Co.—it is a fully-licensed house; my principals have been interested in it sir or seven years—Cahill succeeded Joseph Knowles—it is not a small house; I should think the trade in beer and spirits is 45l. or 50l. a month—I know nothing about soda-water—the rent was 50l., it is now 60l.—no barman is kept now—I do not know Mrs. Cahill's brother—when the prosecution came about, Cahill naked me if I recollected being there; I said that on two occasions I saw a man there, but could not swear to him—my firm are not brewing now, Truman's are brewing for them—I never saw Reynolds behind the bar, nobody but Mr. and Mrs. Cahill.

ROBERT HAYES . I am a Custom-house clerk and insurance agent, of 100, Albany Road—I have been to the Grapes while Cahill was landlord, and I believe Reynolds was behind the bar and served me, and took my money.

Cross-examined. I am sure I saw him behind the bar—I went every morning, but did not always see him—I saw him in August or September, 1878; I only recollect those two months—I was first asked to recollect about a fortnight ago—I worked at Home's, the wharfinger's, with Cahill as a fellow-servant—I had an account at the South-eastern branch of the Central Bank of London; I will not swear that I did not pass a cheque after it was closed; I was not aware it was closed; this cheque bears my signature, and I believe I got 4l. for it from the landlord of the Waterman's Arms; I told him that it was as good as the Bank of England; I had not had letters to tell me that cheques were being presented and dishonoured, and that the account was closed; I did not get a number of cheques dishonoured before that; I dare say I have paid three cheques since, which I gave before August, 1878, but I can only recollect one; I cannot tell on what day it was dishonoured, but just about this date; a day or two elapsed between my making the cheque and putting on it "Dishonoured;" I have never paid that.

Re-examined. At the time I drew that cheque I was not aware that I had overdrawn my account at the bank—I have not been written to for the payment of this cheque, and have not up to this moment had the means of knowing that it was presented after my account was closed—I have not seen it since I gave it—I have never received any notice from the bank that my account was closed—the other cheque which I have paid was, I think, for 2l. 10s.—to the best of my knowledge I never drew any cheques but these two after my account was overdrawn—the publican who gave me the money for the cheque has never asked me for it—I am still an insurance agent.

JAMES RAFFERTY . I am a board-ship fireman—I have known the Grapes all the time Cahill kept it—I have seen Reynolds behind the bar six or seven times; he has served me.

HENRY POCOCK . I am a licensed victualler, of Drummond Road, Bermondsey—I bought glasses and bottles of Cahill on two or three occasions—Reynolds

brought them to me three times on a barrow or truck—he did not receive the money—my place is about three-quarters of a mile from Cahill's.

Cross-examined. I am the son of Mr. Pocock, of the Waterman's Arms—I did not see him give four sovereigns for the dishonoured cheque, but I have seen the man who got the money; I have never asked him for it—I do not know that dozens of applications have been made to Hayes to get the money he obtained from my father; that is my father's business—he never authorised me to ask for it, nor did I ever hear him ask for it—he is not here—I don't know where the glass came from; I had some in January, 1879, and some in March; no, all the bottles which are mentioned were in November or December, 1879—I do not mean 1878—he came to me in 1879 and brought half a gross of bottles—I do not persist in saying that he brought the bottles to me in December, 1879.

Re-examined. It was after January, 1879—I cannot say whether it was in November, 1878; it was just before Christmas, and it cannot be three Christmases ago, because I was not there.

DANIEL HUNTER . I keep the Adam and Eve, Rotherhithe—I knew Cahill as landlord of the Grapes, and have had dealings with him in glass; Reynolds brought it—it was some time in January, 1879—Cahill gave me this receipt, dated 6th January, 1879—I had two subsequent transactions with him, but cannot find the receipts.

Cross-examined. Reynolds came to me three times in the latter part of August, 1879, but only once with goods—he came when this receipt was given, and I paid him—I have been at the Grapes three or four times.

MR. BESLEY in reply put in the deposition of Henry Francis Faulkner, which was read.

GUILTY on the Counts for conspiracy to obtain the situation by a false character, not on the Count for conspiracy to steal.

CAHILL— Two Months' Imprisonment.

REYNOLDS— Six Months' Imprisonment.

OLD COURT.—Thursday, January 13 th, 1881.

Before Mr. Justice Grove.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-182
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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182. SARAH JANE SWAN (25) was indicted for, and charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with, the wilful murder of her newly-born child.


GUILTY of Manslaughter. — Five Years' Penal Servitude.

THIRD COURT.—Thursday, January 13 th, 1881.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-183
VerdictGuilty > unknown

Related Material

183. HENRY ROFFEY (32) , Feloniously forging and uttering an order for the payment of 1l. 14s., with intent to defraud.

MR. LEVEY Prosecuted; MESSRS. FILLAN and HEWICK Defended.

EDWARD BROOKS . I am manager to Sidney Smith, of 64, High Street, Kingsland—on 13th November, about 6 p.m., the prisoner came in, and said "Can you oblige me with change for a cheque for Mr. Merton, as he

is too late for the bank?" and gave me this cheque. (This was on the London and Provincial Bank for 1l. 14s., payable to John Stevens or bearer, and signed Charles Merton.) I said "Yes," and went across to Mr. Merton, who came over, and said that it was not his signature, and gave the prisoner in charge.

Cross-examined. He did not know that I had sent for Mr. Merton; it was only across the road—he got a little bit fidgety towards the last; he looked guilty, but he did not attempt to go out because there were three of us—I did not know Mr. Merton's signature, but I had heard something which made me suspicious; I am not aware that a man was waiting outside for him—he did not say "Will you oblige me with change for this cheque of Mr. Merton's?"—he said "for Mr. Merton, as he is too late for the bank"—I did not know the prisoner before.

Re-examined. I had heard at 4.30 that Mr. Merton had pent for a cheque-book, and that a second cheque-book was sent for, and some false cheques were going about, and that was why I stopped the prisoner.

CHARLES MERTON . I am a tobacconist, of 2, Eidley Road, Dalston—Mr. Brooks sent for me, and showed me this cheque; it is not signed by me or by my authority; this other cheque (produced) is also a forgery—a policeman went into the shop with me, and the prisoner, who was there, said that he would go to the station and give all the information he possibly could, and I hear that he did so, but I left.

Cross-examined. I have no reason to suspect what man it is who has been dealing with my name.

ARTHUR JEFFREYS . I am a cashier at the London and Provincial Bank, Kingsland branch—on 13th November a genuine order in Mr. Merton's writing was brought for a cheque-book for Mr. Merton, which was supplied—shortly afterwards this order scribbled in pencil on an envelope was produced, "Please stop number of cheque-book just sent. I put it on the counter, and it was stolen; please send another of 50 cheques by bearer"—that is not Mr. Merton's writing, but the tale seemed so plausible that we acted upon it, but took the precaution to send the second cheque-book payable to bearer instead of to order, because they are of a different colour; that was about 1 o'clock—I do not know whether it was brought by man, woman, or child—about half an hour afterwards a boy presented the first cheque out of the second-book, filled up for 22l. 14s.—I did not like the look of the signature, and had the boy detained while I went to see Mr. Merton—I subsequently made up a packet of coppers for the boy, and instructed him; I followed him to where he was to meet some one at a public-house five minutes' walk off, but the person was gone—this cheque for 1l. 14s. is the second cheque out of the same book.

Cross-examined. I told the boy that I should follow him, and he went to a place where there was no man; I do not think he took me to a wrong place, or that he was an accomplice of the man; he looked a nice honest boy—the time which elapsed would make the man suspect that something was wrong—we have forms for the delivery of cheque-books, but they are not always used—I cannot remember whether the order was brought by the same boy who brought the cheque.

CHARLES BOWRING . I am getting on for 15 years old, and live at 2. Albany Cottage, Stamford Hill, with my parents—on Saturday, 13th of November, about 2 p.m., the prisoner came up to me in the street, and

told me to go over to the London and Provincial Bank across the road, and take this cheque, and meet him at the Lamb; he did not say what for, but he asked whether I could sign my name—I took the cheque, and waited—ultimately a packet was given me—I then went up the street, but the prisoner was not there.

Cross-examined. I do not know a man named Evans—I saw several men at the station and looked at them all; they asked me whether I knew any of them, and I said "No;" if the prisoner was among them he may have stood in a different position.

Re-examined. That was at 8 p.m.—there were gas lights.

JAMES ARMSTRONG (Police Sergeant N). The prisoner came to Dalston Station and I said "What about this cheque?"—he said "Well, I am all right, I will tell you all I know about it. A man named Evans called at my house, 3, Half Moon Passage, about 3 o'clock this afternoon; he came up to my bedroom and said Harry, get up and come along with me and get this cheque cashed, and I will pay you what I owe you.' I had lent him 4s. and 2s. when we were out in the evening. I got up and came downstairs; we both went out together to the Adam and Eve, Aldersgate, and asked the landlord if he would cash it; he would not do so, and we went from there to Kingsland, to a public-house. We went in there and he tried there to get it cashed; the woman said 'No, I don't cash cheques.' We then went up High Street; Evans went to a cornchandler's, he could not get it there, and he said 'Here, Harry, you take it over to the corner and see whether you can get it.' That was Mr. Morton's shop, where the cheque came from. Evans said 'Don't go there, I shall lose my work.' I went to the pawnbroker's, and when I came out I could not find Bill anywhere"—I said "Who is Bill?"—he said "Bill Evans"—I said "Where does he live?"—he said "I don't know"—we made inquiries, but could not find Evans's address, and have not been able to find it since—the pawnbroker's is at the corner, close to Mr. Morton's.

Cross-examined. I have not found out anything against the prisoner—I believe there is a person named Evans—the prisoner said that Evans worked fur Mr. Morton's brother, and while he was out on bail he went with me to try to find him—he told me that Mr. Clark introduced Evans to him—Cane, a detective, was called for the prisoner at the police-court.

CHARLES BOWSING (Re-examined by MR. FILLAN). I went to Morton's shop on the Sunday after this—I don't think I told him that the prisoner was not the man who gave me the cheque for 222.—I did not tell him that the man was a fair man; I said that he was rather tall, without whiskers, and with a small moustache—I did not tell him that the prisoner was not the man—when I saw Mr. Merton, it was after the prisoner was brought up at the police-court—I did not recognise any prisoner at the station, but I saw the prisoner there; that was on Sunday, the next day, not a week afterwards.

EDWARD BROOKS (Re-examined). There was a man looking over the door, and I should say that he was beckoning—there were several persons outside on Saturday night—it is not uncommon for persons to wait if anybody is in the shop, before they come in to be served.

Witnesses for the Defence.

WILLIAM CANE (Detective Sergeant). I have had charge of this case—the

prisoner gave me all the information he could—I hare had him out with me night after night trying to find Evans—I hear from his employers that he is a very respectable man—I was at the police-court when the boy was asked to identify the prisoner, who was among half a dozen others; he had a good look at them back and front, but could not do so.

EDWARD PORTER . I am the prisoner's landlord; he is a very industrious man—I know there is such a man as Evans; he is taller than me, and has a fair bushy beard—on 30th November he called to see the prisoner about 2.30 or 3 o'clock; before going up to the prisoner's bed-room, Evans showed me this cheque for 1l. 14s., and asked if I could change it for him—I said that I had not received my salary—he asked me if I could let him have 10s., and then went up to the prisoner's bed-room.

Cross-examined. I have known Evans only a fortnight coming to the prisoner—he came with a young man named Clark about three times—I do not know whether they stayed together, because I go to business at night—I am a pantomimist—they brought Evans in about a fortnight previous to the prisoner being locked up—Evans is a very smart young man, taller than myself, with bushy hair, and I should say very well educated.

ALFRED CLARK . I know Evans; he is a pianoforte tuner—my son, who is not here, introduced him to the prisoner.

Cross-examined. I do not know where Evans is now; I know very little of him; it was my son who was present when this cheque was offered by Evans to Mr. Porter.

The prisoner received a good character.

GUILTY .— Six Months' Imprisonment.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-184
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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184. WILLIAM WHITE (29) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of George Haines, and stealing two table-covers, a clothes-brush, and hearth-rug, his property.

MR. LEVEY Prosecuted.

THOMAS BRIGGS . I live at 15, Lawford Road, Kentish Town, and am of no occupation—on 26th December, between 9 and 10 p.m., I went to the back of my house and saw a light in Mr. Haines's kitchen next door—knowing that the house was empty I went to a neighbour and asked him to help me watch the house—I afterwards saw the prisoner taken in custody.

JAMES NOLAN (Policeman Y 469). On 26th December I was called to Lawford Road; my attention was called to No. 18, and I saw the prisoner at the gate, the side entrance—there is a garden and a low wall between the two houses—it was then 9 or 9.15 p.m.; I am sure it was not before 9—I said, "What are you doing there?"—he said, "I came to see a friend"—I said, "Who is your friend?"—he said, "A servant living in the house"—I said, "What is her name?"—he said "Busby"—I saw this bundle on the low wall between Nos. 11 and 13; it contained two table-covers, a clothes-brush, and a hearthrug; I said, "What are you doing with that bundle?"—he said, "It is not mine, it does not belong to me."

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not say, "I went to look at that parcel on the wall," nor did you point to it.

By the COURT. The prisoner was coming out at the side entrance—the

house door was not open—he was coming from the direction of the back garden along this passage with a low wall, where the parcel was—I cannot say whether the door was open.

GEORGE HAINES . I live at 13, Lawford Road—this rug and other articles are mine; they were in the kitchen on 26th December, folded up, and put on a cheffonier; no one was in the house, my family had gone to Brighton, leaving no one in charge; the house was secured in every way four weeks before.

JOHN GRIGGS (Police Inspector Y). I was on duty at the station when the prisoner was brought in—I afterwards went to 13, Lawford Road, and found the catch of the back window broken; the window had been pushed down, and also the shutter, and an entrance effected; the door leading from the washhouse had been forced open, and there were marks of blood about the place; the prisoner's hands were bleeding when he was brought to the house—on the wall between the two houses there were footmarks of a person climbing over—there is network on the wall.

Cross-examined. I looked at your hands on the Monday morning; there were scratches on your little finger and on your face.

WILLIAM JAMES COX . I live in Bassett Street, Kentish Town—on Sunday morning, 6th December, I was in Lawford Road, and my attention was drawn to No. 13; I walked up and down in front of the house, and the second time 1 passed, some one came into the entry between No. 13 and the wall; finding they could not get through they placed this parcel on the wall and left it there, and retired to the back premises for a few minutes; I kept watch, and three or four minutes afterwards the prisoner walked out of the other entry, where there is an inner garden gate, and walked out at the front garden gate of No. 11; just as he got to the gate the police came in the other direction and stopped him—Mr. Brigg's gate was locked, and as the prisoner could not get through he placed the parcel on the wall and retired—I heard him say to the policeman, "You did not see me put that parcel on the wall," as if he knew something about it—I asked him to show me his hands; they were covered with blood, and he had a great bruise on each cheek.

Cross-examined. You said that you came to see the servant, and I rang the bell at No. 11 and asked the gentleman whether he or his servants knew anything about you, and they said "No."

Re-examined. I saw all the servants—you said it was a girl named Busby, and the gentleman said that he did not know such a name.

Prisoner's Defence. I had only left my wife ten minutes. I saw the parcel on the wall, and went in to see what it was. It was never in my possession.

GUILTY of housebreaking only. He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at Clerkenwell in October, 1879.— Five Years' Penal Servitudes.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-185
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

Related Material

185. PATRICK BROWN (28) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of James Sherwood, and stealing two coats and other articles, his property.

MR. RAVEN Prosecuted.

JAMES SHERWOOD . I am a clothier of 7, Peel Place, Kensington—on 20th November, between 4 and 5 a.m., I was in bed upstairs, and heard a noise in my shop, as if something fell; I got up, went down with a lamp, and found the staircase window open, which is thirteen or fourteen feet from the back yard—I shut it, went into the shop, and found it in

confusion; the coats were all pulled about which I had packed up the night before—I went behind the counter, and saw the prisoner crouching there; I held the light up and said "Get up, I know you"—I knew his face—he got up; I laid my hand on him and said "You had better come this way, because if you get out I shall know you"—I unbolted the front door and halloaed "Police!"—he ran upstairs and got out at the staircase window into the yard—he must have dropped or jumped down because the ladder was hanging against the wall—I was in the shop at midnight and bolted the house up secure—the staircase window was always shut down, but there was no fastening to it—I missed two or three coats and two pilot jackets, which were found on the leads of the next house by the police in my presence; they were ready to be taken into an empty house—I recognised the prisoner directly I saw him at the station and picked him out from several others—his brother and another young man came to me on the Sunday evening and made a statement about the case—there were some empty tubs outside; they were not under the staircase window, but in the next yard.

Cross-examined. You were not covered with dye—I did not see you again till I saw you at the station—I said at the time "He has got away, but I know him"—I did not tell Catherine Casey that if you were the man you must have fallen into a tub of dye—Seymour did not cough at the station to let me know that you were the man—I did not say to you "Seymour says you must know something about it"—I said "You had better plead guilty," because I thought it would be easier for you.

Re-examined. I did not say to his brother "If he fell into a tub at the back of the house his trousers would be covered"—I said "He fell among a lot of tubs, and I think there must have been dye on his trousers," but there was no die in the tubs; it was water.

GEORGE SEYMOUR (Police Sergeant T). On 20th November I received information and went to the prosecutor's house about 9 a.m.—I received a description of a man, and at 6.30 went to the Kensington Infirmary and found that the prisoner was there—I kept in communication with the doctor, and on 23rd December I went there with a constable and told the prisoner I should charge him with breaking and entering 7, Peel Street, and stealing some coats and jackets—he said "I know nothing about it"—he was in bed—he remained there till the 6th, and then took his discharge—he was then placed with six other men of the same class, and Sherwood picked him out at once.

Cross-examined. I did not take you before because you were too ill to be removed—I saw your clothes in the receiving-room, and the right leg of your trousers was wet, as if it had been washed—Mr. Sherwood could not see what men I brought into the station—I did not say "Have a good look," and then cough and go to the other side of the room.

CHARLES CHESTER (Policeman T 308). On 20th November, about 4.45 a.m., I was called to Mr. Sherwood's shop, and found him there and some clothes scattered about—I found a ladder in the back yard placed against a wall leading into 1, Camden Street, which is the next yard; the houses are back to back, and on the wall some stencil plates were broken down—the staircase window was wide open—I produce the clothes.

Cross-examined. Sherwood said that he found a man behind the counter and he knew him—I said that at the police-court.

Witnesses for the Defence.

CATHERINE CASEY . I am a widow and do laundry work—when the shopkeeper came to identify the prisoner he said that if he was the man his clothes were covered with dye.

Cross-examined. I said at the police-court "If he fell into the tub of dye at the back of the house his trousers would be covered and he would be the man"—I have got the man outside who picked him up when he was fainting.

WILLIAM SWIFT . I am a labourer—I met you on 19th November, and you told me that three navvies from Marylebone had kicked you; I picked you up, put you on my back, and took you home to your brother's between 12 and 1 at night.

Cross-examined. It was Saturday night—I knew him before, but not exactly well—I did not see him again till he was at Hammersmith—he lives with his brother—I have been there since and seen him there—I did not know that he was in Kensington Infirmary, or what was the matter with him while he was there—I made no inquiries after I carried him home to his brother's—I had not been out with him—I found him in Pottery Lane, Notting Hill; that is about 400 yards from Peel Street—I am sure it was not between 4 and 5 a.m. when I picked him up; it was between 12 and 1, because it was past 12 when I went out—my missus has a clock at home, and I looked at it before I went out.

Re-examined. You could not walk, and I put you on my back—I live in Kenilworth Street, Notting Hill, about 150 yards off.

JOHN HUSSEY . I am a labourer; I picked you up with John Swift; you told me you were very bad, and I said you ought to go into the hospital—you said that you would go in if you were any worse the next morning—I went to see you at the infirmary, and asked what the policeman was walking up and down for, I was told that there was a robbery at Mr. Sherwood's, and you were blamed for it—your brother asked me if I would go to Mr. Sherwood and ask him if you were blamed for it; I did so—he said "Yes," and that he could recognise you, and even if he could not, the man fell into a tub at the back, and his trousers would be smothered with dye.

Prisoner's Defence. I was knocked down by one man, and another kicked me in the groin; these two men took me home, and next day I went into the infirmary. I was there ten or twelve days, and was then charged with burglary. If I had committed the crime I should not have gone to Kensington Infirmary, where I was bred and brought up. These are the trousers I wore that night, and there is no dye on them, or they would have been taken to the station. I was not bodily sick. I could not walk from the kick I got on my thigh, but I could bear speaking to, and he ought to have come and charged me. If I had jumped out of his window I could not run away two miles, for I could not stand. My trousers leg got a little wet when I was knocked down.

GUILTY . He was further charged with a previous conviction at this Court in January, 1871, to which he PLEADED GUILTY.**— Eight years' Penal Servitude.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-186
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment; Imprisonment

Related Material

186. JOHN SHEA (20) and JAMES ROW (20) , Robbery with violence on Emile Baker, and of stealing a watch, a chain, a locket, and a purse, his property.

MR. MORICE Prosecuted.

EMILE BAKER (Interpreted). I am a sugar-baker, of Christian Street, Commercial Road—on Christmas Eve, about 5 p.m., I was in Albert Square; the prisoners came up to me and Shea asked me for a pipe of tobacco—I said that I had none—he said "If you have no tobacco give us a penny and we will buy some ourselves; have you got any money?" and put his hand in the breast of my coat-Row was behind me, and caught me round my neck, and put his knee into my back and forced me down—I cried "Police!"—I had my hand in my left trousers pocket to protect my purse; Row forced my hand out and took my purse, containing one shilling, two sixpences, two halfpence, and twelve beer tokens from my firm—Shea said "I will help you up; have you lost anything?"—I said "Yes; I have lost my purse"—while helping me up Shea got hold of my watch and chain, and handed them over my shoulder to Row, who took them from him—they were worth 2l.; I have not got them back; I was quite sober—I went to the station immediately and gave information and a full description—I identified Shea at 6 o'clock that evening, and picked Row out next morning—I could scarcely walk the next week; they pained me very much in my back.

RICHARD TALBOT (Police Sergeant H). I received a description, and took Shea at 6 o'clock on 24th December, and told him the charge—he said "I did not do it, I was carrying washing at 5 o'clock in Albert Square"—I took him to the station, placed him with five others, and Baker picked him out—Shea said "That is fair"—I found Row in custody on another charge on Christmas morning, placed him with others, and Baker picked him out; he made no reply—I acted only upon Baker's description.

Cross-examined by Shea. Baker looked up and down the rank two or three times; you had your hat over your eyes; you raised it and he then said "You are the man," and you said "That is fair."

Cross-examined by Row. You were very drunk when I was sent for—it was about 1 a.m.—I said "It is too late to go for the prosecutor now, he had better see you in daylight."

JOSEPH POOLE (Policeman H 403). At 1.30 on Christmas morning I took Row in St. George's Street about 250 yards from this place; I took him to the station for being drunk and disorderly.

HERBERT SMITH (Policeman H 346). On 24th December I looked through the wicket of Shea's cell, and saw him tie his handkerchief tightly round his neck and knot it twice; I removed it with the inspector's assistance with some difficulty, and took his belt from him shortly afterwards I visited him again, and he had his shirt off and the sleeves tied tightly round his neck—he said "I am put in here innocently, and if I am left alone I won't be alive long"—the shirt was taken from him, and he was watched all night by a constable.

The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Shea says: "It is true what the last policeman has said. I never saw the prosecutor till he came to the station." Row says: "Last Wednesday night I was at work at the London Docks up to 4 o'clock; after I had done work I went to 5, Chapel Road, and me and my friends went up to the Old Rose public-house at the corner. I had a little too much to drink, and went home to bed. I woke up at 1 o'clock in the morning, and saw some drink on the table, and because they would not give it to me I made a disturbance, and the constable took me in charge. I have fourteen

years' good character at Mr. Wood's, St. George's Street.' (Row repeated the same statement in his defence.)

Shear's Defence. I was carrying home two loads of washing to Great Eastern Chambers and the policeman took me. He said, "I don't expect it is you, you will be out again soon."

GUILTY of robbery without violence.

SHEA PLEADED GUILTY**) to a previous conviction at the Thames Police-court in May, 1880.— Two Years' Imprisonment.

ROW† Fifteen Months' Imprisonment.

OLD COURT. Saturday, January 15 th, 1881.

Before Mr. Recorder.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-187
VerdictGuilty > unknown

Related Material

187. JOHN RICHARDS FARRELL (30) , Unlawfully obtaining from James 0'Gorman and others 2s. 6d. and other sums by false pretences.

MESSRS. WILLIAMS and MEAD Prosecuted; MR. PUECELL Defended.

JAMES O'GORMAN . I live at 49, Great Prescott Street—in October last I was living at Abbeglin, Queen's County, Ireland—on October 25th I saw an advertisement in the Freeman's Journal, offering facilities for obtaining situations to clerks and others; I wrote to the address given, Messrs. Richards and Co., 94, Great Titchfield Street—on the 27th of October I received this letter, dated the 26th: "I beg to forward this day's list of vacancies for grocers' assistants. H. D. Harrod, 40, Old Compton Street, S.W.; John Rose, James, and Co., 232, Shoreditch, London, E.; W. Parnell, 221 and 223, High Street, Camden Town, London; Plant Martin, Post Office, 1 and 2, Tulse Hill Brixton, S.W., London; W. S. Chapman and Co., 111, High Street, Marylebone, London; Coppin Brothers, 42, Marsham Street, London, S.W.; Mr. Nash, 22, Weston Road, Brixton, near London. I charge 2s. 6d. for entering names on my books, and then personally interest myself on your behalf till you are suited. Yours truly, H. Richards, Brothers, and Co." On the 30th of October I wrote a letter, enclosing a post-office order for 2s. 6d.; I had no acknowledgment till I received this post-card on the 10th of November, stating my letter had been mislaid—I replied on the 10th, stating my age, and enclosing copy of my discharge and last letter—I received a Daily Chronicle stamped "British Employment Agency" it contained advertisements for grocers' assistants—I came to London on the 6th of December—I went to 94, Great Titchfield Street; I did not see the prisoner—I was directed to go to 164, Great Titchfield Street; I did not see the defendant—I went back to 94, and left my address with a lady—the next day I received this post-card (To call between 10 and 2 o'clock at Little Queen Street, and stating, "You did not acknowledge my two papers. I am fulfilling the contract, so don't make yourself uneasy,") I went there the next day; I was unable to find the defendant or any representative of Richards and Co.—on the 9th I received this post-card, dated the 8th. ("325, Strand. Dear Sir,—Will you take a situation as traveller? Write by return.") Upon that I went to Scotland Yard, and gave information to the police; I have not obtained a situation through the defendant, nor Richards and Co.—my half-crown has not been returned.

Cross-examined. I received five letters altogether from the agency—I wrote for a list of vacancies there were in England—advertisement were not marked in the Chronicle I received; I am certain I received a news-paper—I

was certain at the police-court—I received a second—I came to London to obtain a situation by looking at the advertisements in the papers and applying to various parties—I communicated with the police on the 18th of November; I wrote to the authorities before I came to London—I arrived on a Sunday—I saw O'Callaghan on t he Tuesday at Westminster—I applied for the return of my half-crown—I received the list of vacancies before I sent the half-crown—I have heard that persons called at my lodgings in Great Prescott Street twice.

Re-examined. I did not send my half-crown for a Daily Chronicle, but to get a situation.

MICHAEL CAVANAGH . I live in Main Street, Gory, County Wexford—I am a grocer; I saw the advertisement of Richards and Co. in the Freeman's Journal, in consequence of which I wrote a letter to 94, Great Titchfield Street—I received this reply on 6th November (Asking for stamps for 1s. to register for a situation)—I sent 12 stamps in the letter produced—I got no answer—on November 5th I wrote this letter (expressing surprise at not hearing and enclosing an addressed and stamped envelope)—I received this reply (stating they had received several replies, and advising the witness to try again)—I just tried for information to get a situation; I also received the advice to servants, &c, advertising—I never got a situation through the Employment Agency; I never got my shilling back.

Cross-examined. I received two or three letters from the British Employment Agency; I cannot say exactly how many—no newspaper was sent to me—I came to London on 30th of December; I was here before—I was at the police-court; I have been backwards and forwards to Ireland twice at the expense of the Treasury—Captain Foley communicated with me—I saw O'Callaghan twice; I am not aware what he is; his name is Irish.

PHILLIP LANE SHEEHAN . I am a grocer, of 3, King Street, Fermoy—the beginning of November I saw an advertisement in the Freeman's Journal; I wrote to the address given, and received this circular in reply (stating the charge for entry in the books was one shilling, and signed Richards and Co.)—I wrote, enclosing one shilling's worth of stamps on 30th November—I wrote again on 3rd December this letter (inquiring about the 1s.)—I never received a situation, nor a list of situations—I heard nothing more till the police of Ireland communicated with me; then I came to London.

Cross-examined. I received one letter; no paper—I saw O'Callaghan.

CHRISTOPHER MCNALLY . I am a grocer's assistant, of Castle Pollard, County Westmeath—in November last I saw the advertisement in the Freeman's Journal—I wrote for particulars; I received this circular—I sent subsequently the letter dated 9th November, enclosing 12 stamps (alse saying that his friend McEvoy wanted a situation as well as himself)—McEvoy lived with me—I heard nothing—on 30th November I wrote this letter (satirically thanking the advertisers for the situation they had obtained for him)—I never received my money back nor any situation.

Cross-examined. I never received a list of names, nor a newspaper—the police asked me to come to England—I saw O'Callaghan—I was subpoenaed; I have been backwards and forwards twice.

Re-examined. McEvoy also sent a shilling's worth of stamps.

ARTHUR WATSON . I live at 416, Crown Street, Glasgow—I saw this advertisement in the, Glasgow Herald, ("Wanted, clerks, teachers,

assistants, &c. For particulars send to Richards and Co., 325, Strand.") I was a teacher in a public school; I wrote for particulars, and received the reply on December 2nd (stating the charge for entry in their books was one shilling, and enclosing advice to servants, &c., advertising)—I wrote again on the 3rd of December, enclosing 12 stamps and a stamped envelope addressed to myself—I received a letter acknowledging mine, and another circular—I wrote the letter of December 9th (asking why another circular was sent in reply to the 1s. sent)—I never obtained a situation, nor received my money back.

Cross-examined. I was not then aware the prisoner was in custody on the 11th.

PATRICK MACDONOUGH . I am a grocer's assistant, of Claremorris, County Mayo, Ireland—in November last, in consequence of seeing the advertisement in the Freeman's Journal, I wrote this letter to 94, Great Titchfield Street (for particulars)—I received in reply this lithographed circular (stating the charge for entry was 1s.)—I wrote this letter of 20th November, enclosing 1s. in stamps; I received no reply—I wrote the letter dated 9th December (asking why no reply was sent)—I received no explanation whatever I sent a stamped envelope—the police communicated with me, in consequence of which I came to London.

Cross-examined. I did not know the prisoner was in custody on the 11th—I saw O'Callaghan.

HENRY DIGBY HARROD . I am a grocer, of 40, Old Compton Street—I did not know the prisoner, nor Richards and Co., nor the British Employment Agency—I never authorised the prisoner to obtain an assistant for me—we advertise for assistants.

Cross-examined. We receive replies from all parts—we only answer personal applications.

WILLIAM PARNELL . I am a grocer, of 221 to 223, High Street, Camden Town—I do not know the prisoner—I never authorised him to obtain an assistant for me, nor the agency—we advertise for assistants—we entertain personal applications only.

Cross-examined. If we received a stamped envelope we should take no notice.

WALTER SPENCER CHAPMAN . I am a grocer, of 111, High Street, Marylebone—I do not know the prisoner—I never authorised him to obtain assistants for me, nor Richards and Co., nor the British Employment Agency—we advertise from time to time.

Cross-examined. We receive written replies—very rarely enclosing stamped envelopes—we invariably send the envelope back.

JOHN FREDERIC COPPIN . I am a grocer, of 42, Marsham Street, Westminster—before I saw the prisoner at the police-court I did not know him—I never authorised him to obtain an assistant for me, nor the British Agency—I frequently advertise—we entertain written as well as personal applications.

Cross-examined. We do not invariably reply to written applications—if we received a stamped envelope we should write that we were engaged.

FREDERICK WILLIAM PLANT MARTIN . I am a grocer, of 1 and 2, Tulse Hill—I did not know the prisoner before I saw him in custody—I never instructed him nor the British Employment Agency to obtain an assistant for me—we advertise.

Cross-examined. We seldom pay any attention to written replies—I have never replied to one in my business career.

GEORGE WILLIAM JAMES . I am a grocer, of 232, High Street, Shoreditch—before I saw him at the police-court I did not know the prisoner—I never authorised him to obtain assistants for me, nor Richards and Co., nor the Agency Company.

Cross-examined. We advertise—we pay no attention to written applications—they very rarely enclose a stamp.

ELIZABETH LINCOLN . I am the wife of Robert Lincoln, of 94, Great Titchfield Street—the end of October last, the prisoner's wife took a room in my house—they lived there for about a month—many letters came addressed Richards and Co.—he lived there under the name of Farrell—I gave the letters to Mrs. Farrell.

Cross-examined. He had one room and the use of the drawing-room—he frequently asked for another room, but I was not able to accommodate him—Mrs. Farrell is an accomplished musician.

THOMAS PARTRIDGE (Police Sergeant). On the 10th December I arrested the prisoner on the warrant produced—I read it to him—he said "I have done all I could for 0'Gorman. I have advertised for him in the papers and could do no more"—I afterwards went to 164, Great Titchtield Street—I found 310 letters similar to those produced—they are all here—59 contained a shilling's worth of postage stamps in each—some had two stamps in; others were complaints—I went to 325, Strand—I found a letter-box with a piece stuck on, "Richards and Co."—fourteen had been delivered that morning; that was the morning after his arrest—I only found the papers produced at his lodgings—I asked him if he had any papers at his lodgings, and he said "You will find them in a cupboard opposite the door leading in the front room," and that is where I found the 310 letters—as to 94, Great Titchfield Street, seven letters were handed to me by the witness Lincoln, at the police-court, after the prisoner was in custody; three had not stamps in, the others had a shilling's worth in each—I also found between 400 and 500 circular letters of the British Employment Agency—I searched for books, but could find none; the prisoner admitted he had no books.

Cross-examined. I told him I could find no books, and he said "There is no books"—"The International Agency" is written over the door of 325, Strand—I am told they charge 5s. for a letter-box; there were a row of them in the passage—Mrs. Ward, of the International Office, made a statement at the police-court that the prisoner applied for an office for an "Agency for Servants," but they declined to let him have one.

Re-examined. The passage where the boxes are is within an inner door; they are placed along the wall; you cannot see them from the street.

GUILTY .— Fifteen Months' Imprisonment.

NEW COURT.—Saturday, January 15 th, 1881.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-188
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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188. SAMUEL WILLIAMS (17) and HENRY UNDERWOOD (22) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Emma White, with intent to steal.

MR. CUNNINGHAM Prosecuted; MR. BURNIE Defended Underwood.

EMMA WHITE . I am a widow, and carry on business as a jeweller at 138, Great Portland Street—on the night of 24th December, Christmas Eve, I and my family retired to rest about 12.30—I saw every door fastened before retiring—the staircase window was closed and the blind down; I am not certain whether it was fastened—at 2.30 I was awoke by a very loud noise like the crashing of a door; I jumped out of bed, opened my door, and went out on the landing and called out "Who's there?"—I heard footsteps on the stairs, I should think of three or four persons—I was very much alarmed, and called "Police!" and "Murder!"—I went back into my bedroom, lighted my candle, and went downstairs—on going down I saw that the staircase window was open and the blind pulled up—I went down and opened the street door as quickly as possible, and I saw the policeman Ward standing at the door with one of the prisoners, I think Williams, but am not positive—he brought him into the hall—I did not miss anything; I had valuable jewellery in the shop—I had no son or any male assistant living with me at the time—the noise I heard proceeded from the door leading from the parlour to the shop, at the foot of the stairs—there is a cistern outside the staircase window, about five or six feet below it, resting on the wall that separates my house from the next—a person could get from the wall on to the cistern, and could with difficulty reach the window.

EDWAED WAKD (Policeman E 351). I was on duty in Great Portland Street on the morning of Christmas Day about 2.30—I heard cries of "Murder!" and "Police!" and at the same time I saw the two prisoners and another man running towards me—they came out of 140, Great Portland Street, which is next door to 138—I dropped back into a doorway till they got right opposite me; I then rushed out and caught Williams; the other two escaped—there is a lamp right opposite the street door where I caught them; I noticed the other two men—Underwood was one of them; the other is not yet in custody—I had known Underwood before; he had asked me to drink, I believe on the Tuesday night before, but I refused—when I caught hold of Williams I said "Which door did you come out of?" he said "I have done nothing, let me go"—I said "What is that woman calling 'Murder!' and 'Police!' for?" he said "I don't know"—I said "I shall take you back"—I did so, and saw Mrs. White open the door; she said "Oh dear, policeman, do come in"—I took Williams into the passage—he said "Will you allow me to put my top coat on?" he had it on his arm—I said "Yes"—he put his hand into the right-hand pocket and pulled out this lamp—I said "This is a nice plaything to have about you at this time of the morning"—he said "It does not belong to me"—I said "Well, it is a curious thing you should have it in your pocket if it does not belong to you"—it was not alight; my lamp was, and I had turned it on—he set, the lamp down in the right-hand corner by the door, as if he did not wish me to see it—I said "I shall see what you have about you"—he said "You will not search me here; if you search me you will take me to the station"—I insisted on searching him there, and found on him this box of silent matches—I examined the door in the passage, and found marks of a jemmy on it—I afterwards saw a jemmy which corresponded with those marks—at the station I gave a description of the two men who escaped; I did not know their names—on Sunday night I was called to see some persons in the charge room—Underwood was then placed among eight others, and I picked him out at once.

Cross-examined by Wiliams. The inspector did not say it was out of his power to book the charge against you, and I did not then say that you had taken the lantern out of your pocket—I did not take hold of the tail of your coat—I stood in a doorway thirty or forty yards from Mrs. White's when I saw you come out of 140—I heard the cries before you came out.

Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. The men who were placed with Underwood were about his own age, from 20 to 24—I did not know that he was in custody till I went into the station and saw him there—I was in a doorway when I first heard the cries of "Murder," and I went back into the same doorway when the men came out—I did not notice anybody in the street but the three men; there might have been others—it was starlight, and a very nice morning; I don't know whether it was moonlight—the men were running very fast; they did not see me; they ran past me, and I caught Williams—I should know the other man again.

Re-examined. When I went to 138 I saw that the door of 140 was wide open; I went into that house afterwards; it is a hosier's shop, not an empty house.

EMMA WHITE (Re-examined). I do not use matches like these; I use Bryant and May's—this jemmy does not belong to me—I noticed marks on the parlour door; they had tried to force it open—when I came down I found the front door fastened as I had left it with two locks and two bolts.

JOSEPH MADDOX (Police Inspector E). I took the charge against Williams when Ward brought him to the station—about 2.45 I went with Ward to Mrs. White's and examined the premises—I also went into 140; the front door was wide open and also the back door leading into the yard; I went into the yard and examined the wall; I found a great number of marks, as if a person had recently got over, a portion of whitewash on the wall and on the ground—the cistern of 138 is on the top of the wall, about four or five feet from the window; I found several burnt matches on the top of the cistern like those in the box found on Williams—I found this jemmy and this hard felt hat in the back yard of 138, and this coat in the passage—I found marks on the door leading from the passage to the back parlour, which corresponded with the jemmy; the jemmy exactly fitted the marks; they were very deep.

Cross-examined by Williams. I did not say at the station that I could not charge you; I should not have thought of letting you go; I was making an entry at the time—I showed you these matches and said, "These correspond with those found at 138," and you said "Yes."

WILLIAM CLIFFORD (Police Sergeant Y). On Sunday night 26th December, I went to 189, King's Cross Road; I there saw Underwood in the first-floor front; I had received a description from Ward of the men who were with Williams when he was arrested, and in consequence of that I went to 189, King's Cross Road—I told Underwood that I was going to take him into custody; I did not tell him what for—he said nothing, only "Let me put my coat on and finish my supper, and I will go with you;" he was in his shirt-sleeves—there were other persons in the room, and I did not want them to know what I was taking him for—when we got outside I told him he would be charged with being concerned with a man named Williams, in custody, with breaking into a jeweller's shop in Portland Road; he made no reply—I took him to the station in Tottenham

Court Road—I afterwards saw him placed among others, and Ward picked him out immediately; he went straight up to him—I had previously seen Underwood in company with Williams and another man, and followed them to 189, King's Gross Road; I saw them several times together a few weeks prior to the 26th, four or five times, in the neighbourhood of King's Cross and Euston Road.

Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. When we sot outside, Underwood was rather nasty; he wanted to be a little rough, out there were too many of us, and we told him he had best not—when Underwood was identified at the station he was placed with eight or nine others who were brought in from the street; I brought in some, and the inspector brought in others; they were about the same age, between 20 and 24, as nearly as we could get them.

JOHN TAYLOR (Policeman Y). I was with Clifford when Underwood was arrested—I had previously been to the Tottenham Court Road Station, where I saw the clothes of a man who was wanted—I was on duty at the station on Sunday night about 20 or 25 minutes after Underwood was brought there; I was in the charge room; there is a passage in which the cells are; the cells go off at a bend—Underwood, was in a cell about three cells off Williams—I could not see the cells from the charge room, but I could, hear distinctly what was said—there was only a woman and child in the, cell between the prisoners—I heard a conversation between the prisoners, and this is what I took down at the time—Williams said, "What cheer, chummy; where do you live?"—Underwood said "King's Cross"—Williams then said "Is that you, Harry?"—Underwood said "Yes"—Williams said "What are you brought in here for?"—Underwood said "That job, I suppose; did you ruck" meaning did you tell the police—Williams said "No, they would not have kept me; the inspector was going to let me go, only the copper found a lamp in my pocket; I said I picked the coat up on the footway; if I had not run I should not have been copped"—Underwood said We saw the old man yesterday and had something to drink; we have got a Counsel for you; when you go to the Court to-morrow morning swear you don't know me, and never saw me before"—Williams said "They have seen us together; where is Charlie gone?"—Underwood said "He is all right;" he afterwards said "I am going to have something to eat"—Williams said "I shall get a drag for this, meaning three months' imprisonment—Underwood said "What, for cracking two cribs; we shall get a stretch for this," that means ten years' penal servitude—Williams said "You know I was brought into this job."

Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. This is rather a busy station—I think there were only one or two jobs came in while I was there—I stood at the charge room door and heard the conversation—this was early in the morning—when Underwood was placed in the cell I only saw one cell door shut, and I heard afterwards there was a woman in there—all the other cells were open when I passed—I did not expect to hear this conversation; I did not expect that they knew each other—prisoners in the cells can hear what is said in the charge room—this is the first time I have given evidence of conversation between prisoners—I have heard prisoners talking in cells thousands of times, but I never heard two men commence business as they did directly they got into the cells—I know Williams's voice; I have had a lot of dealings with him, and I know Underwood; I know both their voices.

Cross-examined by Williams. I did not come to your cell before Underwood was brought in and ask you a lot of questions—I did not ask you who the other two men were; I knew them; I have seen you all three together at the Victoria, drinking together; I have been among you scores of times.

By the COURT. The prisoners could see each other from their cells; the passage bends at right angles—the cells are about three yards from each other, and the nearest one was about four yards from me.

Williams's Defence. I left work on Christmas Eve and went out along with my young brother and a lot of little fellows that I work with. We went and bought something extra, being Christmas Eve. We happened to be late; we were following the waits. As we came round Great Portland Street we heard some screams; the others ran and I ran with them, and being the biggest of the lot, the policeman caught hold of me. I own he found the matches on me, but not the lantern; he found that at the corner of the stairs—my father can prove that I have been at work till 9 or 10 for the last five weeks.

WILLIAM WILLIAMS . I am the prisoner's father—I am a shoemaker—my son has been at work along with me for the last five weeks up to 9 or 10 at night—on Christmas Eve he worked with me up to half-past four in the afternoon—I can't tell where he was after that.

JOSEPH MADDOX (Re-examined). There were only the prisoners and a woman in the cells on this occasion.

GUILTY . They also PLEADED GUILTY to previous convictions of felony,

WILLIAMS** in October, 1879, and UNDERWOOD** in February, 1873, at Clerkenwell.— Five Years' Penal Servitude each.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-189
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence

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189. JOHN LUCAY (24) , Feloniously wounding John Rutter, with intent to do him grievous bodily harm.

MR. DOUGLAS Prosecuted; MR. LEVY Defended.

JOHN BUTTER . I am a bricklayer, living at the stables, Linden House, Turnham Green—on the 24th December I was at the George public-house between 9 and 10 p.m.—I had drunk some 4d. ale, but was perfectly sober—a friend was with me; I saw the prisoner there—I do not know him—he took up a glass with a stirrer in it and struck me in the face—he was standing about four feet from me; he moved one step to come to me—I had said nothing to him—it cut me across the nose; the glass broke—the mark is on my nose now, and there is another on my face here and here (under the eyes)—it hurt me, but I was not insensible—I was taken to the police-station, where my wound was dressed—it has not quite healed, although it is better; I feel pain inside; it is worse inside than out.

Cross-examined. I feel no external pain, and there is not much external mark—I had been there about an hour; two friends were with me; one had been there longer—I did not notice the prisoner come in—I had not been talking to him—I did not notice his friend—I have known Maguire since—I did not notice him there—I had not been talking to Maguire—we had not been discussing political matters, nor about Ireland, or any question whatever—if a witness swears we had been discussing matters it is untrue.

Re-examined. We had been drinking 4d. ale from a pewter mug—I made no remark about anything that was going on—we drunk about two pints each.

FREDERICK MANNERS . I am a barman at the George, Turnham Green—the prosecutor had had a couple of glasses of whisky, but was not the worse for drink—the prisoner was there; he was about the same—he took a glass off the counter and struck the prosecutor—I had seen no quarrel going on—he said "Take that, you b—"this is the glass (produced)—it cut his nose, and you might have laid your finger in the wound—the prosecutor fell—I caught him, and the prisoner Attempted to run away; I followed—I saw a constable and gave him in charge—the prosecutor is a sober man; he is a customer; I have seen the prisoner two or three times.

Cross-examined. There are three bars; me and the governor look after them—there is not much business—the prisoner had been in the bar twenty minutes or half an hour; he had a friend with him—I was serving in that part of the bar all the evening—half a dozen people would fill the two bars—they are very small; this occurred in the largest bar there was a dispute between Maguire and another after this occurred—there was a dispute before it occurred—I do not know what it was—the prosecutor had been drinking about an hour—he was not excited—my attention was first drawn by hearing a scuffle.

JOSEPH GODLIMAN . I am a labourer, of 25, Devonshire Place, Chiswick—I was with the prosecutor at the George, drinking; we had four ale; we were perfectly sober—the prisoner came in afterwards; he picked up the glass and struck the prosecutor—the glass was on the counter—he hit him on the nose with great force; not a word was spoken—I caught hold of the prosecutor; me and another friend.

Cross-examined. There had been, some jangling—about five were in the bar—a Mr. Godfrey came in—we were all quite quiet till this happened; we were talking about going home the beet part of the time—we were not drinking all the time, but talking about one thing and another.

EDWARD GALE (Policeman T.R. 36). I took the prisoner into custody about 9.45 p.m., on 24th December, in the Great Western Road, Turnham Green—he was running, followed by Manners; I stopped him; Manners came up and said "He has nearly killed a man in our house"—the prisoner said "All right"—he was quite sober—this broken glass was given to another constable by the barman and brought to the station—that constable is not here.

Cross-examined. I saw the prosecutor at the station when he was attended by the doctor—he was very weak—he lived about 100 yards from the place and went home—it was about 200 yards from the public-house where I stopped the prisoner—I said at the police-court he was sober—he might have had a glass or two, he smelt of beer—he might have been drinking whisky.

TOM GEORGE CLABON , M.D. I live at Turnham Green—I was called to see the prosecutor at the police-station—I examined him; he had a very large cut across the nose, which divided the cartilage and came quite from the right side to the left, so that the lobe of the nose was resting on the right-hand side of the face, and I could easily have laid my finger in the wound—there was a punctured wound under each eye, either of which might have penetrated the eye had the glass been long enough; an artery was divided and he was bleeding pretty freely—there was a cut on the bridge of the nose and one on the forehead—he was very faint from loss of blood—I proceeded to dress the wounds—he came to see me for about a fortnight—he is a healthy man, and the wound

healed up beautifully—this broken glass might have caused the wound—I should say it was a strong blow—he appeared perfectly sober.

Cross-examined. It would have required great force to produce those injuries—I question whether falling on the glass would have had the same effect.

Witness for the Defence.

PATRICK MAGUIRE . I am a labourer, of 5, Bennett Street, Chiswiek—I went to the George Tavern on Christmas Eve between 9 and 10 o'clock—several people were in the bar; I did not know anybody; the bar was full—Rutter was there and his friend; I had seen them about the neighbourhood—I had some four ale, and had to call three times before I was served—the prisoner and a man named Godfrey came in—Rutter and his friend were standing back in the bay window or recess; when I was served I stood out of the way—the prisoner, who is a stranger to me, and Godfrey, had some words; I do not know whether they were really quarrelling—the prosecutor said "You will hear" or "see an Irish row presently"—afterwards the prosecutor said to the prisoner "Shut up that Irish row, you ought to be in your own country," or "you are not in your own country "—the prosecutor was then drinking out of a glass, and a pint pot with a spout to it stood on the counter—he immediately rushed round me and struck the prosecutor in the face with his fist, and said "What have you to do with it?"—he had the glass in his hand—it was a blow I should not like to receive—he fell and rattled among the chairs; I thought he was going through the window by the rattle—he said no more.

Cross-examined. I am not a friend of the prisoner; I do not know that he has any friends about the neighbourhood—he is a stranger—the quarrel was between Godfrey and the prosecutor—I did not hear anything of that—I cannot say whether the prosecutor hit the glass; I did not see that.

GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. — Twelve Months' Imprisonment.


Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-190
VerdictsGuilty > pleaded guilty; Not Guilty > no evidence

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190. JOHN WILLIAMS (32) PLEADED GUILTY ** to unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.— Two years' Imprisonment. There was also an indictment for feloniously uttering, upon which no evidence was offered.

Before Mr. Justice Bowen.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-191
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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191. CHARLES TAYLOR (35) , Rape on Ellen Cassidy, aged nine years and four months.

MR. RAVEN Prosecuted; MR. FILLAN Defended.


Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-192
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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192. JAMES CRAWLEY** (41) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing 4lb. of pork, the goods of Arthur John Smith, and to a conviction of felony at Chelmsford, in July, 1872.— Seven Years' Penal Sevitude. And

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-193
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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193. THOMAS WISBEY** (43) to breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Joseph Humphrey, with intent to steal, also to a conviction of felony at Chelmsford, in July, 1876.— Two Years' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-194
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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194. FLORENCE BEGAN (24) , Stealing 1l. 3s. 6d., the moneys of William Snooks, from his person.

MR. WILMOTT Prosecuted.

WILLIAM SNOOKS . I live at 6, Charlotte Street, Charlton, and am a labourer—on Christmas night at about 11.30 I was with a friend, William Fraser, passing by the Golden Cross public-house, Woolwich—I had in my pocket 1l. 3s. 6d. and some halfpence; I counted my money about that time—I met the prisoner; he was standing against a wall on the other side of the road, and he came over to me, and said "Here, give me twopence"—I would not give it to him, and he followed me—about three or four minutes after that I fell down and he got hold of me and pulled me up—I was a little the worse for drink, but not much—I got up, and he put his hand into my right-hand trousers-pocket and ran away with my money, and said "Come on, I have got the lot"—he had another man with him—he did not do anything or say anything—the prisoner ran off and my friend ran after him.

Cross-examined by the prisoner. You put your right hand into my pocket.

By the COURT. I was not so drunk as not to know what I was doing.

The Prisoner. I have not got much use of that hand; it is broken; all the tips of the fingers.

WILLIAM FRASER . I am labourer, of 23, chapel Street, Woolwich—I was with the prosecutor on Christmas night about 11.30 outside the Golden Cross public-house—he was a little the worse for drink—I was quite sober—I saw the prisoner and another man standing up against the dockyard wall; he crossed over and asked my friend for twopence; he refused to give it to him, with that he followed up—my mate tripped and fell down—he caught hold of one side of my mate's arm to help him up, and picked up his hat, and I turned round and saw him pulling his hand out of my friend's pocket, and he said, "I have got the lot"—I think it was the left pocket; he had got his two hands in, and I saw him pull them out like that (describing)—I then ran after him, but I lost the run of him—I have seen him about Woolwich, and knew his name—he said to the prosecutor "Old man, give me twopence"—I saw Snooks count his money outside the Golden Cross—we had just left the Mitre Music Hall—his money was twenty-three shillings in silver, and sixpence or sevenpence in coppers—we saw the prisoner the next morning and recognised him—we gave a descritption of him.

Cross-examined. I think it was your left hand that you put in Snook's pocket.

By the JURY. I had been with Snooks all day—he was sober when I met him, and so was I—he had been drinking; I had not that day—I had been a teetotaller for a month—I cannot say whether the prisoner could see Snooks count his money—I did not see the prisoner at that time; that was about fifty yards from where it happened.

EDWIN GLADWELL (Policeman R 281). On the night in question the prosecutor gave information at the police-station, which I received on the morning of the 26th from the inspector with the prisoner's description and name—at 10 o'clock the next morning I saw the prisoner and told

him I should take him into custody on suspicion of robbing a man on Saturday night at 10.30—he said "I have not committed no highway robbery"—I took him to the station and fetched the prosecutor and Fraser, who identified him; they said they knew him well before, but had not been in his company—he was not placed with others—I searched him and found one shilling in silver and threepence three farthings in bronze, and a knife.

The Prisoner in his defence said that he met Snooks and Fraser; that Snooks was on the ground raving drunk, and Fraser was dragging him along the road; that he walked home and went to bed.

WILLIAM SNOOKS (Re-examined). My money was loose—I lost everything—I got it by work—I belong to two clubs—the prisoner was on my right side when he helped me up.

GUILTY .*— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-195
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty; Not Guilty > unknown

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195. HENRY GEORGE MATHESON (30) and THOMAS HENRY BROWN (20) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Kate Watts, and stealing therein 550 cigars, value 3l. 10s., and other goods, to which BROWN PLEADED GUILTY .

MR. PURCELL Prosecuted; MR. LEVEY defended Matheson.

WILLIAM GEORGE WATTS . I am the son of Mrs. Kate Watts, proprietress of the Bow Water-house, Woolwich—on Monday, 6th December, I left the house at 11.15 p.m., when the doors were securely closed and the property safe—about 9.30 next morning I found the back room leading into the store broken open—the door was kept permanently nailed up—I missed about a dozen bottles of brandy and nine handkerchiefs out of a desk; also 500 cigars out of the cupboard where the brandy was—the cupboard was not locked; the goods were taken from the store-Bow Water-house is a dwelling-house, and has a store attached to it, but, there is a door leading into the dwelling-house from the store—the property was taken from the ground-floor—I also missed a silver cup and corkscrew, and receipt stamps—I had bought five shillings' worth the night before, and perhaps a few had been used—they were in the drawer on the right of the desk—Brown was occasionally employed by us about the house.

Cross-examined. The house is to the right as you face the street; to the right of the store and right of the public-house, leaving the store in the middle—a street runs between the public-house and the store there is a doorway which leads into the passage of the private house, the same as a billiard-room would be built in your own house—I sent a man named George Fairhead over to the store at 12 o'clock on the night in question—I know a man named Cooper who has been employed by us—he did not go to the store with Fairhead that evening—there was some suspicion at the time on the part of the detectives that Cooper had been to the store—a search was matde at Cooper's house—I believe Cooper knows Brown—he lives about fifty yards from Brown's house—both houses are about fifty yards from the store.

Re-examined. I have recognised everything that was taken away.

BENJAMIN FORMAN . I am clerk at the District Post-office, Woolwich—on Tuesday, the 7th December, Matheson came to the post-office about 5 p.m.—he asked me to change about five shillings' worth of receipt stamps for him—before, he came in I had received certain information, in consequence of which I sent for the police—in order to keep him quiet I passed the stamps back to him to count—he tried to leave the office twice—I said "Where did you get them from?" he said

"From a fellow who was going to India"—I said "You will have to wait for a few minutes"—he said "I will call again; I have somewhere else to go to;" leaving the stamps with me—he walked towards the door; I had already stationed a messenger there, and I made a signal and he shut the door—he returned to corner of the office and stood there for a few minutes; then he said "Give me the stamps back and I will call again"—I said "I cannot do that; you must wait a few minutes"—he then returned to the place in the corner of the office, where he was previously standing, and waited there until the constable came.

Cross-examined. The post-office is not a trading shop at all—I did not say anything at the police-court about the boy messenger; I was not asked—I have not seen him here to-day—I had to go round and instruct the messenger to let everybody in and out but Matheson—I did not show him the boy, and he did not know he was there to my knowledge—there were several people coming in and out—the messenger was in uniform—if he had made a bolt from the shop I could not have caught him, the counter being between us; the counter opens by a flap and a door—if he had made a bolt form the shop I think I should have caught him—I did not hear you ask me anything about catching him before—he might have been out of the office before me, but I should have been able to catch him—there is a front door and a door leading to the counter, and there is a side door which is continually kept shut, and no one can gain admittance to it without ringing the bell—you can open it from the inside; there is no guard there—there is a door between the counter where Matheson was, leading to this other door, and the door leading to it cannot be opened from the public side of the counter—there is an outer door, which was closed, by my instructions, by the messenger.

Re-examined. There is a window in the office with iron bars.

JOHN NAIRN (Policeman RR 28). On the day in question, about 5.15 p.m., I was fetched from the police-station to the post-office, where I found Matheson—the clerk told me in his hearing that a detective had been there that morning about some receipt stamps—I said to Matheson "How do you account for having the stamps in your possession?" he said "Gunner Whitlock, of the Royal Artillery, went away to India this morning and gave them tome"—I told him he would have to come to the police-station with me—the stamps were on the counter, and the clerk said that Matheson came there to change them—Matheson said "What shall I be charged with?" I said "With the unlawful possession of the stamps"—after I took him to the staiton Detective Morgan was sent for—I did not know as a matter of fact then what he would be charged with.

Cross-examined. When I went into the office, Matheson was standing leaning on the counter—there was a messenger inside the door, and as soon as I went up he opened it and I went in; one door was fastened and one not—I did not ask the prisoner to make a statement; I did not caution him—our instructions are to caution people if they make a statement; those are the instructions through the force—I had my uniform on.

WILLIAM MORGAN (Police Sergeant R). On the morning of the 7th December I received certain information, in consequence of which I went to the post-office and made a communication to the clerk—I previously went to examine the house of Mrs. Watts, where I found the back door

of the store had been opened by a skeleton key or a false key—a man on entering would have to get over the gates where the vans are kept, and open the store door—the door that was nailed up is the one that leads up into James Place, a passage running alongside of the shed; you would not open that to get into the shed—the door in the shed was nailed up from within, and I found marks on the door as if this piece of iron had been used (produced)—I went that morning with Inspector Clark to Brown's lodgings, which are two doors off the prosecutrix's—I told him I was given to understand that he had some person in the house last night—he said he ad not, and he invited me and the inspector up to examine the room, which we did—we found nothing that morning, and went away—about 5.30 the same evening I was sent for to the police-station, when Matheson was brought in—the stamps were shown to me, and I said "How do you account for these?" he said that Gunner Whitlock, of the Depot Brigade, had left for India that morning, and had given them to him—I said "Where did you sleep last night?"—he said "In the depot barracks"—I made inquiries, in consequence of which I came back and said to the prisoner "From inquiries I have made I find your statement is false as to where you slept last night;" he said "I am very sorry I have told you a lie about the stamps; Gunner Whitlock did not give them to me; I picked them up by Mrs. Watts's urinal"—I said "The stamps are perfectly clean"—he took a handkerchief out of his pocket, and said he picked that up there also—I said "This is also clean"—he made no answer to that—I then told him he would be charged with committing this burglary, enumerating the articles at the time—he said "I did not steal them; I was in Brown's room when he brought the property in, and he gave me the handkerchief and stamps"—on searching Matheson I found on him a pocketbook, and in it this note. (Read: "Harry,—Meet me at Dockyard Station at 6 o'clock to-night.—Yours truly, H. T. B. P.S.—Do not come to house.") I do not know whether Brown's initials are T. H. B. or H. T. B.—I called his attention to the note, and asked him where he got it from; he said that Brown had sent it to him by a little red-headed boy—I asked him if he knew the boy's name, and he said "No"—about 10.15 the same night I and Inspector Phillips met Brown in Frances Street, and apprehended him—I showed him this note—I afterwards accompanied Phillips to Brown's house, where the inspector found the property—I found two keys, one of which opened a private door of a house next door to the store—since then I have ascertained Brown had that key from a place at Blackheath, where he was in service.

Cross-examined. I knew Matheson before; I live near him; he lives with his parents, I believe—I know nothing against his character—I have been in the district 13 years—I know his father keeps a grocer's shop and is respectable—Matheson has been to sea, and I have heard that his father was going to send him again; his ship had been wrecked.

Re-examined. Brown made a certain statement when I took him in—charge.

HENRY PHILLIPS (Police Inspector R). On Tuesday, December 7th, I went with Sergeant Morgan to 28, Frances Street; about 10.15 we met Brown in the street and had a conversation with him, and ultimately I went into his room on the second floor—after moving some boxes I found that the floor had the appearance of having been recently opened; I took up the boards and found 13 bottles of spirits and wines, champagne and

brandy, and 460 cigars—they were in the joists of the floor, and were packed in so neatly that they seemed almost as if they were made for them, and the cigars were laid in loosely—I also found three brushes, six pocket-handkerchiefs, a corkscrew, and a silver cup. (Samples of the property were produced.) While I was in the room Brown made a further statement to me.

Cross-examined. That is practically the whole of the property charged in the indictment, with the exception of the handkerchiefs and stamps—the value of the property would be 8l. to 10l.

WILLIAM GEOROE WATTS (Re-examined). These articles are the property of my mother—the cup is mine; it bears my name on it; It was presented to me by the Yeomanry—the handkerchiefs are mine, also the brushes and corkscrew—the total value of the property, without the cup, would be perhaps about 10l.; the value of the stamps and handkerchief found on Matheson would be 5s. 7d.—I bought the handkerchiefs at Deptford.

EDWARD BEACH . I am a musician, of the Royal Artillery Band—on the morning of the 7th December, about 12.25, I was returning home near the premises of Mrs. Watts when I met the prisoners, who I had seen before; I knew them personally; they were near the Dockyard Station, which is near Mrs. Watts's house; I spoke to them.

Cross-examined. I was walking pretty briskly, and so were they—they were going from Mrs. Watts's house—they were not carrying anything—I then lost sight of them—I went to school with Matheson, and I always found him a very respectable, honest boy—he has been to sea, and his father told me he was going again—I saw him two or three months before the 6th December; I do not Know whether he has been employed during that time—his father is a grocer in large business.

ELIZABETH MURRAY . I am the wife of Robert Henry Murray; I live at 28, Frances Street, Woolwich, where Brown lodges; my bedroom is below his—on Monday night, the 6th December, I heard Brown come in about 12 o'clock, and I heard two persons come down out of Brown's room between 12 and 1; they went out at the front door—about 2 o'clock I heard somebody call to Brown by name, and Brown answered; I know Brown's voice; I know the time by hearing the clock strike—after the men came in I heard somebody walking about the room; there was no particular noise; I heard one of the parties come out of Brown's room and go out about 7 o'clock; I saw Brown go out about 8.30, just as the soldiers were going to India; there was a band playing; there were two ships going that night—I was in bed and had been dozing-somebody may have gone in before.

MATHESON received a good character. NOT GUILTY .

BROWN— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.


Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-196
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence

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196. GEORGE VICKERS (43) , Feloniously wounding Catherine Vickers, with intent to do her grievous bodily harm.


CATHERINE VICKERS . I am the prisoner's wife—he is a tailor-we

lived together at 56, Charmouth Road, near Great Dover Street, Borough—we have been married eighteen years; we have no family—on the 21st December I was out with the prisoner from about 6.30 till 9 p.m.—we were not sober; we went home; we went to our bedroom; he lay on the bed a few minutes; that was about 9—he got up and said "Where is my purse?"—I said "It is in your pocket"—he said it was not—I said "It must be, George"—he put his hand to hit me; I did not see the knife; I felt as if I was hit in the left side—that was the second blow—I felt my fingers cut first—Mrs. Holmes came into the room; then I found I was stabbed in the left side—a doctor came to see me twice—I did not use a knife to the prisoner—he would not do it if he was sober—there is no table in the bedroom—the prisoner uses this knife (produced) in his trade, or one similar to it—he had been drinking during the week—he is never right when he has had drink.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. It happened in the bedroom close to the cupboard—I had not got your money—we had a pint of mild and bitter and a pint of whisky to take home—I knew we had not been out of the place to lose the money—I had had threepenny worth and twopennyworth of whisky; that was all.

ELIZABETH HOLMES . I am the wife of George Holmes, of 56, Charmouth Road—the prisoner and his wife are my lodgers—on the 21st December, about 9.15 p.m., I heard screams upstairs; I went up into the prisoner's bedroom; I saw him and the prosecutrix; the man stood at the bottom of the bed; the woman was near the cupboard with her hand streaming with blood—I heard a few words before I went up, but I took no notice—I took the prosecutrix downstairs, my husband fetched a policeman, and the prisoner was taken into custody—they had been drinking.

THOMAS RIDGWAY (Policeman MR 13). At 10.30 p.m. on 21st December I was fetched to this house—I found the prisoner and his wife in the back kitchen; the prosecutrix's hand was smothered with blood; I asked her what was the matter—she said "My husband has stabbed me"—he said "I have not; you have stabbed yourself"—I asked her if she was stabbed anywhere else—she said "I feel great pain here; I do not know whether I am stabbed or not; I think I must be "—he said "You took my purse and money while I was asleep upstairs; what have you done with it? "—she said "I have not had your purse or your money; it must be upstairs now"—I asked the landlady to examine her; she did so, and found she was stabbed—I took the prisoner into custody—I asked him if he had a knife; he said he had not, only a packet-knife—I asked him if he had it; he said no, it must be upstairs—I went upstairs, but did not find the knife—I searched him at the police-station, and found this knife in his right-hand waistcoat pocket—I noticed blood upon it—the prisoner was the worse for drink; the woman was sober.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not notice any blood on your hand.

GEORGE AUSTEN (Police Inspector). About 12 p.m. on 21st December I went to 56, Charmouth Road; I saw the prisoner's wife—she was bleeding; she appeared to be sober—I searched the front room; on the mantel-piece I found a purse and 13s., and some whisky in the corner—I afterwards read the charge to the prisoner at the police-station—he made a statement which I have put down in writing as follows: "I asked my wife where my money was, meaning my purse; she said, 'I do not know.'

I said, 'Let me have some supper.' She took a knife in her hand, and threw it at me. I guarded the blow off. She took a second knife. I saw blood; I let her go. She then ran downstairs, and fell down. I saw no more until the policeman took me in charge."

JOHN ALEXANDER , M.D. I went to this house about 11 o'clock on the 21st December; the prosecutrix was sitting in a chair in the kitchen—I examined her; I found three wounds, two on the fingers and one on the thumb; they were deep, and bad been bleeding for some time—she had evidently lost a good deal of blood; she fainted four times while I was there—the wounds might be inflicted by the knife produced—I examined her side; I found an incised wound three-quarters of an inch in length in an oblique direction inwards not bleeding at all; there was no wound in the lung—it was half an inch deep, as far as I can tell; it might be caused by the knife produced—she was sober, but the wounds might have sobered her; they were not dangerous wounds—she has got on well.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "She is in the habit of throwing knives and plates and scissors at me; she has not been, sober two days in the week for the last two years; she is a wicked and boisterous woman when in drink."

The prisoner, in his defence, stated that they had been drinking, and when he came home he asked for his supper and for his money, which he believed she had taken, and she would not give it to him. It was the third or fourth time she had attempted to take his life, and that he had done his best to keep her from drink, but could not do it.

GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. — Nine Months' Imprisonment.

Before Mr. Justice Grove.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-197
VerdictGuilty > manslaughter
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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197. PATRICK HARRINGTON (48) was indicted for the wilful murder of Hannah Harrington. He was also charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with the manslaughter of the same person.


ANN BREADMORE . I live at 21, Mint Street, Borough; Mr. Peakallis the landlord of; that house—I occupy a room behind the shop on the ground floor; I knew the deceased woman Hannah Harrington—she and her husband, the prisoner, lived in one room on the first-floor back; they had lived there about four months—the prisoner is a labourer—the deceased worked at botton-hole making—on Saturday night, the 20th of November, at about 7 o'clock, they were at home—I heard them quarreling in their own room; I was in my room—I heard the deceased say "Don't beat me, Charley; what have I done?"—the quarrel lasted about a quarter of an hour; during that time I heard scuffling about the room, and a window broken; I couldn't hear the blows—about 10 minutes afterwards I heard the deceased come downstairs and go out—she returned in about half an hour, and went up to her room; she tried to get in, but could not—the prisoner was in the room—I heard her say it was a shame she should be locked out of her own room—she was crying; she tried the door again, but did not get in—she sat at the top of the stairs against our own door, crying—a little while after that, about 9 o'clock, I heard her scream, and then she fell very heavily down the stairs—she did not strike against anything; she fell in the passage—I went and picked

her up; she was lying on her left side facing my door, which is on the left-hand side at the bottom of the passage—the stairs have no balustrades—she was in a very bad state; she could not get up herself—she then walked upstairs to her own room door; she tried to get in, but did not—she sat on the stairs for about 10 minutes—the prisoner then opened the door, and told her sharply to come in; they were then fighting again, but I could not hear what was said—I heard them scuffling about the room; I heard nothing more that night—she was not drunk; she walked upstairs herself, and she had got her husband's supper before that; he was very drunk at 10 o'clock next morning the deceased came downstairs for a pail of water; she was groaning very much—she said "For God's sake, Charley, come and fetch this pail, for you know I cannot carry it"—he came down, and carried it up—I did not see or hear anything more of her till the 30th—I did not notice the room door on the Sunday—during all the week the padlock was on the door, and the door was shut; I noticed the padlock on the door every day—I heard the prisoner go out every morning; I did not hear or see any one else go in—I never heard or saw the deceased; I tried the door twice during the week, but got no answer—on the 30th Mrs. White called me in; I went upstairs; the door was then unfastened, and we went into the room—I saw the deceased lying on the bed in a very dirty state, and she was very ill; she could not get out of bed or sit up, and the bed was wet and filthy—she made a statement to me—the prisoner was not present—I took her up some port wine in the evenin about 7 o'clock that evening I saw the prisoner in the room, and the deceased was sitting up in a chair in her shift; she was very dirty—I advised the prisoner to get a doctor for her—I asked him why he aid not send for me or call me; he said he did not know where to get a doctor—I asked him to make her a fire, and get her some tea there was no fire in the room—he did not answer me—I made the bed, and tried to put her into it again; he would not let me—he said she did not want to go to bed, she had been lying in bed all day—I told him to go to the relieving officer, or to the police-station in the Borough, then he would see Mr. Cluny there, and he would give him an order for the doctor—he said he would go, but he did not—I then left the room for the night—next day, the 1st December, about 11 o'clock, I attended to her; the prisoner was then at his work—he had been out since the early morning she was then in bed, and in a bad state—in the evening I went for the landlord, and he sent for a policeman about 7 o'clock the prisoner came home in a very drunken state; I grumbled at him for not getting a doctor—he said he did not know where to get a doctor—the deceased said "you told him the night before where to get one," and she called him a beast and a vagabond—he moved towards the bed, and she screeched, and said "Don't let him come near me "—I then went downstairs-next morning the landlord gave me a letter to the relieving officer, and she was taken to the Infirmary—on the night that I picked her up I did not see any wet or any other mess on the stairs.

Cross-examined. On the Saturday I heard what appeared to be a scuffling in the room; it was after that that I heard the window broken, and then the deceased went out for about half or three-quarters of an hour, and then I heard her trying to get into her room; it was shortly afterwards that I heard her fall in a lump against my door; my door was shut; I could not see how she fell-in about a quarter of an hour

she got into her room again, and I immediately heard them quarrelling again and scuffling—she had had some drink that night, but not enough to make her intoxicated; she had had too much, she was slightly under the influence of drink—there is no balustrade to the stairs on the lower part; there is a square landing outside the prisoner's room, and then the stairs; there are one or two rails on the top; those only go for about two steps down, and then there are no others—I hadn't seen the deceased in the course of the Saturday; she had been to work—I never saw her intoxicated; she would get too much to drink on a Saturday night; this was on a Saturday night—the prisoner frequently took too much—she was groaning very much when she came down for the pail of water; I can't say whether it was empty or full—on the evening of the 30th I tried twice to put her into bed, but he would not let me; he did not forcibly prevent me; he said she did not wish to go to bed, because she had been in bed all day—the prisoner was in the habit of going to his work, and coming home in the evening; he generally came home drunk; he was very drunk on the 30th—I frequently heard them quarrelling in their room, and generally fighting.

By the JURY. I found nothing in the room but a piece of dry bread when I went in on the 30th—the fighting was on his side; the deceased was very frightened of him; I could hear her say, "Don't hit me, Charlie; what have I done?"—I heard her say that several times.

THOMAS JAMES READ . I am a painter, and live at 21, Mint Street; I occupy the room underneath the prisoner's—on 20th November, about 6 or 7, I heard his voice; I could not swear to the distinct words; they were quarrelling, I could tell by their voices; I heard a scuffling, and then I heard a window broken, and I heard something fall over my head as if some one had fallen on the floor—I heard the door open—I don't remember hearing the deceased speak—I heard the prisoner say, "If you don't go out I will kick you out," and then I heard the deceased say, "Give me my bonnet and shawl, and I will go;" I heard that said several times—I heard no more that night—I went out next morning about 10, and heard the deceased come downstairs, go into the yard, and draw a pail of water; she brought it back as far as my door, and then she said, "For God's sake, Charley, come and fetch this pail of water; you know I cannot carry it any farther," and I heard her groaning very much—I had seen her during the week, but I cannot say on what day—she appeared to be in a perfect state of health before this Saturday night—I don't think she was at all a delicate person, nothing particular any way, a person in ordinary health—on the night of the 29th I was in my room, and I heard the prisoner get up, as if from the fireplace, and walk across the room towards the bed, and I heard the deceased say, "For God's sake, Charley, mind my legs," and she groaned very much all that night.

Cross-examined. I cannot say which of them came home first on the night of the 20th; I believe they were both in when I came in—the first I heard was the quarrelling; they were at high words—I did not see the deceased or the prisoner at all that night—I did not open my door and come out when I heard the fall—I had been in the house seven or eight weeks—the woman always seemed to me to be regular in coming home at night and going out early—the prisoner was drunk nearly every night when he came home all the time I was in the place.

MRS. BREADMORE (Re-examined). The deceased came home first on the 20th; I did not see her—nothing occurred in her room to attract my attention before the prisoner came home; I did not hear anything.

ELIZABETH WHITE . I am the wife of Robert White, a rag-sorter, of 21, Mint Street—we occupy the first-floor back room, next to the prisoner—on the night of 20th November I heard some quarrelling; I went out from 9 till 12—after that for the next ten days I noticed that a padlock was on the door—on the 30th I saw the door open, and I went and called Mrs. Breadmore, and we went in—I saw the deceased in a very dirty state; I did not notice the bed; I was not in the room; I saw that the room was dirty—on the night of the 20th, between 7 and 8, I saw her as I was standing at the street door; she then appeared to be all right in health; I saw her walk upstairs.

Cross-examined. She appeared to have had too much to drink, but not incapable of taking care of herself, not incapable of walking upstairs—I never endeavoured to get into the room till the 30th—I heard quarrelling words between them on the 20th, but not to hear distinctly what was said.

By the JURY. The ordinary way of locking their door was by a padlock outside when they went out to work—I only saw it twice in the ten days—I was out at work that week—it was taken off when they were in.

MARY ANN BEAZER . I am a button-hole worker, and live at 10, Fenning's Buildings, Rotherhithe—I knew the deceased by working with me for nine months—the 20th November was the last time I worked with her—she was in pretty good health—she was bruised a great deal—she made complaints to me.

Cross-examined. I have seen her the worse for drink about twice during the nine months.

THOMAS PAY (Policeman M 82). At half-past 9 on 1st December I was called by Mr. Peakall to 21, Mint Street; I went with him and Mrs. Breadmore to the prisoner's room and saw Mrs. Harrington in bed; the prisoner was present—I asked her if she was ill—she said "Yes, I have a pain in my back"—I asked her what caused her to be in pain—she said "Me and my husband have had a few words, and he pushed me down; he won't allow me to see any doctor"—I said "You had better send for the parish doctor"—Mrs. Breadmore said "It is too late now; I will fetch him in the morning "—the prisoner appeared to be recovering from the effects of drink—I asked the woman if she wished to charge her husband, and she refused.

Cross-examined. I asked her if she was afraid of her husband, afraid to stay with him—she said "No, all I want is to see a doctor"—I saw no marks of violence upon her—I did not examine her.

ALFRED MATCHAM . I am medical officer of the parish of St. George's, Southwark—on 2nd December, in the middle of the day, I was fetched to 21, Mint Street; I went into a bedroom on the first—floor back and found the deceased in bed there; she was very low and ill; she complained to me—in consequence of her state I had her removed to the infirmary at once, and marked the order "Urgent"—she made a statement to me concerning the prisoner; he was not present; it was partly on account of that statement that I moved her to the infirmary.

Cross-examined. I noticed her face; it was red, swollen, and suffused, as if she had been drinking—it might be produced by other causes—I did not examine her at all; she was too ill.

AMELIA KERR . I am night nurse at the Newington Infirmary—on 13th December I received the deceased under my care; she was in a very exhausted state; she gradually got lower, and died on 18th December at half-past 2 in the morning—she made a complaint to me; she said she was in a dying state; she said she believed she could not get over it; that she felt herself sinking—the doctor told her she could not get over it, and after that she said she believed she was in a dying state—I could see from the first that she could not get over it—she said that her husband had most brutally ill—used her for the last four years, and on her dying bed that night she exclaimed "Thank God I am out of his reach forever."

JOHN WELLS (Police Sergeant M). I tried to find the prisoner—on the morning of 17th December I searched the whole of the wharves along the waterside where he generally works; I found him at Mark Brown's Wharf; I told him I was a police-officer, and was going to take him into custody for violently assaulting his wife—he said "I am not the man; my wife has been dead years"—I said "Then the woman you have been living with in the Mint"—he said "I don't know anything about it; I am not the man"—as I was bringing him out of the wharf Constable Pay said "That is the man"—the prisoner said "It is a mistake; I don't know anything about it"—I cautioned him, and said he was not obliged to say anything, but what he did say would be used against him at his trial—on the way to the station he said "She was drunk when I got home; the woman that lives downstairs told me she had fallen downstairs. I can prove I was at work at the time this happened. She was drinking that day with a man named Connor, at the Horse and Cart, Tooley Street"—I took him to the Newington Infirmary, and the doctor of the infirmary, Dr. Grosse, as the prisoner and I stood close to the deceased's bed, asked the deceased, "Do you know this man?"—she said "Yes, sir, he is my husband"—the doctor said "Is this the man that injured ypu?"—she said "Yes, sir"—he said "Are you quite sure this is the man that injured you?"—she said "Quite sure, sir"—the prisoner then took hold of her hand and said "I did not kick you downstairs, my dear, did I?"—she said "Yes you did; you know you did,"—I was present when Mr. Bridge, the Magistrate, attended for the purpose of taking her statement—the prisoner was present, and had an opportunity of asking her questions, and he did ask her several questions. (The statement was read as follows:" Hannah Harrington on her oath says; The prisoner now present is my husband. I lived at 21, Mint Street. He has ill used me and knocked me about. On Saturday night I was upstairs and he kicked me downstairs and broke a pane of glass. I was not drunk. I fell on my left side and he kicked me on the lower part of my person (pointing to her right hip). It was between 9 and 10 o'clock. I was sitting indoors when he came in, between 8 and 9 o'clock; he was very drunk. We had some words about some clothing when he came home. I had bought a shawl, and then came home and got some supper, and then he came in and pushed me downstairs; that is the truth. He was tipsy and he began with his bullying. I had had a glass. He had been home about half an hour before he knocked me down; it is a straight stair; I was on the stairs waiting for him. He had gone out with his son-in-law drinking; he had locked me out of the room at the first commencement. I sat on the stairs. I stopped outside till he came

in again. He left me sitting on the stairs when he locked me out. He was away three-quarters of an hour. I said 'You think more of your son-in-law than you do of me.' He began kicking like a donkey; he gave me several kicks; he had boots on. I was perfectly well and right before he kicked me. He has several times kicked me before. I have been married four years next March. I am sure these injuries were not done by falling downstairs. I came upstairs after he pushed me down, and then the worst began. There were other persons in the house, but nobody came to my assistance. This happened last Saturday fortnight; it was nearly a fortnight before I came here. I screamed out dreadfully. I am all over bruises.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not get drunk. I did not drink with Connor. The woman downstairs did not tell you what was the matter with me when you first came home. I did not fall down before you came home. I was not lying on the stairs when you came home, it is false; you locked me out. I did not then go to the public-house. Q. 'When I locked you out did not you go to the public-house?' A. 'No, I remained on the stairs.' I was not in Tooney Street that day, I was in Bermondsey. I was not in the Horse and Cart that day. I only had half a pint of stout at the Valentine. I did not ease myself on the stairs. I did not drop my purse out of my bosom. By the Magistrate. I believe I am in a dying state now. At the Prisoner's request. I don't want my husband to be punished wrongfully. He was always ill using me.")

ANN BREADMORE (Re-examined). I did not see the deceased fall down stairs on the 20th before the prisoner came home—I did not tell him when he came home that his wife had fallen downstairs; I neither saw him or spoke to him—I did not know that she was locked in the room till I found her there—I am not aware whether she had any food during that time—I tried the door twice.

CHARLES GROSSE . I am medical superintendent of St. Saviour's Infirmary, and am a M.E.C.S. and L.C.P.—on 2nd December I saw the deceased in the Infirmary—she was in a very bad state; in great pain—she was not able to move; I examined her—there was a very severe inflamed bruise on the right buttock, about eighteen inches by twelve, extending over the whole of the buttock on the right side; there were two very severe bruises over the sacrum, at the bottom of the spine; they were inflamed; the skin was broken; each of them were about as large as the hand—there was a bruise over the left buttock about as big as the palm of the hand, on the outer side of the thigh; a long bruise by the knee-joint, about three inches to one and a half, apparently caused by a kick—there was another bruise just outside the knee-joint, below the other, and several bruises all about both legs and the body; the akin was not broken—there was a cut over the left eyebrow, about an inch and a half long, nearly healed—it would require considerable violence to cause those bruises; they could be done by kicking—I should say they were about a fortnight old—at that time she was able to take nourishment fairly well—but suppuration set in with the more severe bruises—she was not emaciated, but she complained of being very hungry and not having any food—she rapidly got worse, weaker and weaker—a great quantity of pus was discharged from the wounds—the right buttock sloughed largely and very deep, and there was also much sloughing in the bruise over the sacrum—that was caused

by the violence that had been used—large abscesses formed, and a great deal of matter was discharged—the places were black with a great deal of red bruising around—if proper care and attention had been paid I do not think abscesses would have formed; not to such an extent—I don't mean that there would not be some—she died on 18th December; fourteen hours after I made a post—mortem examination with Mr. Jackson—I have the notes of the examination—Mr. Jackson took them down—she was a perfectly healthy woman—there was nothing to account for death except the bruises, and the shock and exhaustion consequent thereon.

Cross-examined. The sloughing arose from the wounds—a bad atmosphere and dirty surroundings would produce excessive sloughing; it would aggravate it—there were no injuries to account for death apart from the sloughing; the injuries were not such as in themselves would be mortal; not if properly treated; they did not affect any vital part; it was the non—treatment or the bad treatment that probably caused death—pyaemia like that would not be caused by simply living in an unsanitary condition; you would expect it in the joints—I have no doubt if properly treated under good conditions she might have got better; of course I cannot say she would; I think she would have stood a very good chance of getting better.

By the JURY. From her statement to me and from her manner I should say that she had not had sufficient food, that of course would be another condition that would lead to this bad state—she was not in a state of starvation; there was a great deal of fat about the body; there were no signs of drink in the internal organs—the stomach and liver were perfectly healthy—she was not a drunkard; she had not a drunkard's liver—habitual drunkards have a peculiar state of the liver and stomach.

GUILTY of manslaughter. — Twenty Years' Penal Servitude.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-198
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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198. JOHN SULLIVAN (40) , Feloniously wounding Charlotte Davis, with intent to murder. Second Count, with intent to do grievous bodily harm.


CHARLOTTE DAVIS . I am the wife of Robert Davis, a costermonger, and live with him at 22, Delf Street, Tabard Street—I am an unfortunate—I have known the prisoner five or six years; I lived with him for some time—on the 27th December, about 5.15, I was in Tabard Street with two female friends, and met the prisoner in Kent Street—I had ceased to live with him for some little time before—I went into a public-house with my two friends; the prisoner followed me in—I had a baby in my arms; he asked me how long I had been a mother—I did not make any answer—it was not my own baby; it was a friend's—he asked me if I was going home; I said I did not want to go with him any more; he followed me out of the public-house into the street, and kept threatening me—he said if I did not go home how he would serve me—he said something about chiving, that he would chiv me if I did not go with him—I suppose chiv means a knife—he followed me up to the Bricklayers' Arms; he said nothing about my husband—I and my two friends went into the Bricklayers' Arms and had a pot of beer; the prisoner came in and again asked me if I was not coming home—I said "No"—we left the Bricklayers' Arms and went towards home—the prisoner followed me up to the Castle public-house—my friend Emily Roberts left me to go home, and

while I was standing outside the Castle the prisoner stabbed me twice in the front of the head—he had a knife in his hand; he took it from his right-hand coat pocket—I did not see him open it; I saw it in his hand—I think it was then he stabbed me in two places on the left side of my head, and then he drew the knife right round my neck—my neck was cut and my mouth—he did not say anything when he did this—I had the baby in my arms as I fell back—I put up my hand to my head and my finger was cut—he ran away, and I went the best way I could to Mrs. Roberta's house, and was then taken to the hospital and my wounds were strapped up—I am still suffering from the effects.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. When I first met you I told you I would come home at 7 o'clock—I did not say to you "You will get murdered if they find out who you are"—I did not tell the Magistrate that I did not see the knife in your hand—you said you had done it with an oyster-shell.

Re-examined. I was not living with my husband at this time; I had returned to him on the day this occurred.

EMILY ROBERTS . I am the wife of Charles Roberts, a carman, of 22, Delf Street, Tabard Street, Borough—the prosecutrix was living there with her husband—I was with her and Mrs. Dove on the evening of the 27th December, about 4 o'clock, at the Bricklayers' Arms—I heard him say to her "Charlotte, if you don't come home with me I will chiv you"—I left her at the corner of the Castle public—house; she was sober—about five minutes afterwards she came home bleeding.

CAROLINE DOVE . I am the wife of Richard Dove, a basket maker—I was with Mrs. Davis and the last witness on that evening; she had my baby—I afterwards saw a slight scratch on the baby's eye, as if it had been done with a pin—when we were in the Bricklayers' Arms the prisoner called her out—she came in again, and he said if she did not come home he would chiv her.

RICHARD STEVENS (Police Sergeant M). I took the prisoner into custody on the morning of the 28th December, at 49, Milk Street, a common lodging-house—I asked if his name was not Sullivan; he said "No, I have only just returned from Portsmouth about a fortnight"—I said "You answer the description of the man I want, for cutting and wounding a woman of the name of Davis"—he said nothing in answer to the charge—I fetched the prosecutrix; he was placed between others, and she picked him out—I told him to turn his pockets out, and among other things I found this knife—it was shut; it appeared to have been freshly rubbed on some hard substance and made very sharp—after being charged he said "I done it, and I am very sorry"—he afterwards said he did it with an oyster—shell.

GEORGE HALSTEY (Police Inspector M). I was at the station on the morning of the 28th December, when the prisoner was there—he made a statement, which I took down and read over, and he signed it—this is it. (Read: "When I saw her I said 'Charlotte, what are you going to do?' 8he said 'Keep away, you butcher, or you will get murdered.' I said 'What for?' She said 'Stop away; I will be at home at 7.' I went into a public-house. I had a share of what they were drinking.")

JOHN SIDDON BROOK . I was house surgeon at Guy's Hospital—on 27th December I saw the prosecutrix there at 5.30; she had a long clean cut on the right corner of her mouth, backwards and downwards across

the jaw and down the side of the neck; it was then continued for about 3 inches more—the first part, for 3 inches, was through the skin, and about one-eighth of an inch into the tissues beneath—there were two cuts on the head, one on the front part, left side, one below the eye, one about an inch long and the other an inch and a half, separate stabe—the one on the side of the face has not healed yet, those on the head have—there was a small wound on the back of the third finger of the right hand; there was another small cut on the lower lip, about half an inch long—they might have been done with the knife—they could not be done with an oyster-shell—the wounds were not serious of themselves, but the head and neck are dangerous parts—the wound on the neck would be produced by drawing the knife along—she was sober.

Cross-examined. It must have been done with a very sharp instrument a good many fish-shells are sharp—I saw no blood on the Knife.

The prisoner produced a written defence stating that the prosecutrix called him beastly names and provoked him, and he struck her two or three times with an oyster-shell, for which he was very sorry.

GUILTY on the Second Count. — Seven Years' Penal Servitude.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-199
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

Related Material

199. FRANCIS HENRY CROOK (19) , Feloniously cutting and wounding Annie Ripper, with intent to murder her. Second Count, to do her grievous bodily harm.


ANNIE RIPPER . I live with my sister Eliza at 19, St. Margaret's Court; we occupy the second-floor front room—I have been there four months—I work at rabbit skins—the prisoner has kept company with me two years—he used to come and visit us, and on 15th December he had no lodging, and I allowed him to lie down before the fire all night—he was dressed—he went outside while I undressed—next morning at 10 o'clock my sister and I were going to work, and I told the prisoner, who was sitting in a chair, that it was time for him to go to work—he said he could not go because he had the toothache, and wanted the fire lit—I told him I would not have it lit—he insisted on lighting it, and I threw some water over it and over him too from a milk-jug, which dropped out of my hand and broke—I told him to go out, as I did not wish to keep his company any longer—he said he would go out when we came home at night—we then left, leaving him there—we returned at a quarter to 8 o'clock at night; he was asleep before the fire, which was going out—my sister woke him up and asked him where the matches were; he said that he did not know—I said "You have not gone out?" he said "No"—I could see that he had been drinking, and told him he had better go—he made no answer—my sister tried to light the lamp, but it went out again—I missed a dress, and asked him where it was—I did. not hear him make any answer, and told him if he did not tell me where it was I would give him in custody—he said nothing—I sat down; he stood by the fireplace—he came over to me and said "Annie, I want to speak to you"—I said "I don't want to speak to you, "and pushed him away, and told him if he did not go out I would fetch Mrs. Collins, the landlady, up, and have him ordered out, and that I did not wish to speak to him, as I had somebody else to keep company with—I got up, he caught me round my waist and threw me down on some wood at the foot of the bed, and put his hand out as if to get a knife off the table, and I felt him draw a knife across

my throat—he was down at my side—I struggled and held the knife in my hand while he held it, and asked him to have mercy on me—it cut my thumb—he said "I will," and put the knife down—my sister took me downstairs—I found my throat and hand bleeding—I was taken to Guy's Hospital, and remained there 12 days as an in—patient—I am an out-patient still—my sister brought me this pawnticket (produced) to the hospital—I went to the pawnbroker's with the inspector and saw the dress there which I missed—I have not got it out.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not begin blackguarding you when I called you in the morning—you had bought the coals.

ELIZA RIPPER . I am the sister of the last witness—the prisoner slept in our room on the night of 15th December, and we went to work next morning, leaving him there—we came home at 7.45, went up into the room, but could not see him, as the room was in darkness—I went towards the mantelpiece to find a match, and kicked against him—I said, "Who is that?"—he said, "It is me"—I said, "Frank, where are the matches?"—he said, "I don't know"—he got up and found a piece of paper, and put it in the fire and blowed it till it came to a light, and I lit the lamp; there was no oil in it, the cotton was just glimmering—while I was lighting it he said, "Annie, I want you"—she said, "Wait a minute till Eliza gets a light"—she did not happen to come at the time, and he got up and walked towards her, got hold of her round the waist, and throw her down against some wood and tried to strangle her—I screamed and said, "Frank, let her get up"—he made no reply; he let her get up—she looked over the line and missed her dress; she said, "Frank, where is my dress, you thief? If you don't tell me I will lock you up"—he jumped up and rushed towards her, got hold of her the second time, threw her down, and fell on her—I saw him put his left hand into his left trousers pocket, and draw out a knife and put it to her throat-before I had time to get her away he had her throat cut—he went, to make a second attempt; she put up her hand and caught the knife, and in trying to get it away she cut her thumb—while I was pulling him off he said, "If you don't mind I will do the same to you"—I got him off; my sister crawled up, and I had her taken downstairs—she was bleeding from her neck and hand—I met Mrs. Collins on the stairs, who assisted her, and she was sent to the hospital—I met a constable in the court and sent him to the house—when I went back I saw a quantity of blood on the floor, table, and bed, and the prisoner was sitting on the bed—I found the duplicate in a vase on the mantelpiece.

Cross-examined. You threw her down twice—you said in the morning that you would sell everything in the house and have both our lives—you used very bad language to my sister—she has lived there four months, and I have lived with her two months; you have slept about a week while I have been there—my sister had not time to sit down when she came home; she was just taking off her hat when you spoke to her.

SARAH COLLINS . I keep this house—on the morning of 16th December I heard a noise in Ripper's room, and saw the girls go out—after that I saw the prisoner twice, but not to speak to—he came in at 5.45, went upstairs, and lit the fire—he said to me about 12 o'clock, "Mrs. Collins, did you hear the set—out this morning?"—I said, "Yes, Frank, I could not be off hearing it"—he said, "I am now going to buy some glass to do the windows upstairs; they are broken, four windows"—after that he went out, saying, "She shall suffer for this," but he did not say who—he

returned twice during the day—the girls returned at about 7.45, after which I was hanging up my clothes on the first—floor, and heard terrible screams for some minutes, and heard the sister say, "For God's sake, Frank, don't, you are murdering her"—I said, "For God's sake, Frank, you are murdering those girls"—I went on to the stairs; the door opened and the girls came down, and I caught Annie in my arms—she was covered with blood, and so was I—I took her down to the street door—I also heard Annie say, "Where is my dress off the line, you thief? you have stolen it"—he said, "Yes, you b—cow, I have pawned that out of revenge to you."

Cross-examined. The door was shut from the time they entered the room.

FREDERICK BOWLET (Policeman N 244). Eliza Kipper fetched me to 19, Margaret's Court—I met the prosecutrix in the court on her way to the hospital—I went up to the second-floor front room; Mrs. Collins gave me a lighted candle, and a man named Hollingshead followed me upstairs—I was in uniform—the prisoner was sitting on the bed crying; he said "I have done it, and I am sorry for it; it was all through another chap that I did it"—I said "Did what?"—he said "Cut her throat, I suppose"—I saw some blood on the floor and on the bed; I asked the prisoner how the blood came on the bed—he said "That is where I threw her when I did it; it was all through that chap standing there, "pointing to Hollings-head—I saw a few spots of blood leading to this knife, which was lying on the table; there were a few spots of wet blood on the blade and handle—I said "Is this the knife?"—he said "Yes"—Eliza Ripper came into the room, and he said to her "If I could get at you I would serve you the same as I have served your sister"—I took him in custody, and told him it was for cutting his sweetheart's throat—he said "Yes, I know I did it, I am sorry for it"—the fourth finger of his left hand was bleeding; it was dressed by a doctor at the station, who said that he believed it was done with a hairpin—the prisoner said "No, it was done with the knife"—it was such a mark as might be done with a hairpin; it out the flesh a little way in.

Cross-examined. I found a black—handled knife in a drawer, quite clean; this one was on the table, and has blood on it.

CHARLES PERCIVAL (Police Inspector M): On 16th December, about 7.45 p.m., the prisoner was brought to the station and charged; I cautioned him—he said "I did it; it was through jealousy; she wanted to get rid of me, and I could not live without her"—I read the charge to him, and he made this statement, and signed it in my presence: "I was called up at 10 o'clock this morning; when I got up Annie Ripper started calling me a thief, and then she told me I was to go out of the place, and find a lodging somewhere else. I told her I would not go out if I had paid for a week's lodging; I should not be in want of a bed for her; with that she picked up a milk jug, a glass one, and threatened to throw it at my face. I spoke another word. I came home at 4 o'clock, and laid down in front of the fire. I was woke up by the sister. She said, 'Who is here?' I said 'Me.' She said 'Frank, where are the matches?' They went to look for them, when Annie began jawing. She said 'You have taken the dress, I will lock you up.' I said nothing, but took the knife off the table, and threw Annie on the bed. I was going to cut some bread when I took it up. I could not stand her

jaw, and told her; that is all. You have not got down that she smashed the jug on the table."

HENRY HOWARD BOVIL . I was house surgeon at Guy's Hospital on 16th December—I saw Annie Kipper when she was brought in; she had a wound on the right side of her throat, from the lower part extending to the side downwards towards the middle line to the chest, and then extending with a scratch across the chest—it was about four inches long, cutting through the skin, and then ran an inch and a half, and a scratch beyond; the upper part was about an inch and a half deep—it had cut slopingly through the skin—she was an in-patient till 28th December—the wound might have been serious, but it was not, and she went on very satisfactorily—it might have been inflicted with a knife of this description—the lower part of her left thumb was cut for about an inch and a half; such a wound might be inflicted by her putting her hand against the knife.

Cross-examined. I should say that the wound on the neck was not caused in a struggle; the other might be.

Prisoner's Defence. I was called up by Annie Ripper at 10 o'clock. I said that I should not go to work because my face was swollen. I went to light the fire to make my breakfast; she filled the milk-jug with water and threw it over me, and swore she would open me with it. I said nothing to her. She said "Go out of my place; I have had enough to do with you." I said I would not go home. She began swearing at me, and said "Go to your b—old mother for a lodging." They went out to work. The sister blamed me for threatening both their lives, and saying I would pawn everything in the place. When they came home I was lying down in front of the fire. I bought a half-pound of steak and coals, and made a fire and cooked the steak. The bread was on the table, and she threw it at me. I went to cut some bread. She said "Ain't you gone?" I said "No." She rushed at me again, and clawed me down my face. The marks are on my face. I pushed her away, she rushed at me again, and caught hold of my waistcoat, which is all torn. I felt myself going and put my arm on the table. In the struggle she said "Frank, have mercy upon me." I said "Well, I will; what have I done?" She said "He has cut my throat," and when I saw that I began to cry. The policeman walked into the room and said "Where has this blood come from?" I said "I suppose from my finger. "He said "You have cut her throat." I said "I suppose I have." Joe Hollingshead came up, and I said "What do you want in the room?" The first witness said that I used no bad names. This is how it was done. When she pulled me I went to put my arm on the table. Eliza Ripper says that I took the knife from my pocket, and the sister says I took it from the table. I felt myself going, and swung my arm round to put the knife on the table.

GUILTY on the Second Count. — Seven Years' Penal Servitude.

Before Mr. Justice Bowen.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-200
VerdictMiscellaneous > unfit to plead
SentenceImprisonment > insanity

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200. MARY ANN CHALKER (32) , Feloniously cutting and wounding Annie Chalker, with intent to murder her.

Upon the evidence of MR. JOHN ROWLAND GIBSON, surgeon of Newgate, the Jury found the prisoner insane and unfit to plead. Ordered to be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-201
VerdictNot Guilty > non compos mentis
SentenceImprisonment > insanity

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201. SARAH NORMAN (21) , For the wilful murder of her female child.

MR. RAVEN Prosecuted; MR. WILMOT Defended.

MARY ANN MORLEY . I am the wife of Edward Morley, of Longfield Street, Redhill—I am a midwife; I went to see the prisoner on 9th December, to attend her; she gave birth to a child at 11.30 that night; it was a fine, full-grown female child—I attended her from the 9th to the 14th December daily, and Mrs. Charwood, her mother-in-law, undertook the charge of the baby from the 14th—no doctor attended the prisoner—she was in excellent health and very good spirits—I have known her and her husband fifteen or sixteen months—after the 14th I saw her next upon Friday, the 17th—I was sent for and went at once to her house in Milk Street; I went up to her room and found her in bed, looking very wild and strange about the eyes—I saw blood on the floor, and asked her how it came there; she said "It is where I cut the baby with the scissors"—she said that she took the scissors from a nail over her sister's portrait, and had put them on the mantelshelf—I saw them there covered with blood—Mrs. Charwood was there in a fainting fit in a chair and Mrs. Constance also—I saw the child dead and lying on a pillow—I saw that it was quite dead—I waited till the sergeant came, and then I removed it to the back room—Mr. Kelsey, the doctor, came with the sergeant.

Cross-examined. I had known the prisoner some time—she is a married woman, but I do not know how long she has been married—she is a respectable woman, industrious, steady, and quiet—she has had children before, but I don't know how many—I had attended her before in a premature confinement—she did not suffer much at that time—I do not know whether she has had more than one premature confinement—that one was on the 8th July, 1879—this was a fine, beautiful baby, and she was in perfect health up to the time of its birth—I was with her every day—she was kind and attentive to the child and exceedingly proud of it—I had not noticed anything strange about her till this occurrence, not the slightest—I went in and found her in that strange wild state, and when I spoke to her she was a long while before she answered; she answered fairly clear, but still there was an amount of strangeness about her—when I asked her the reason she had done it, she said that the baby was so tiresome and wanted to keep sucking so—she had not complained of her breasts to me; she was to let me know if anything was the matter—I have attended many cases of confinement, and have seen cases of puerperal mania before; it comes on suddenly.

ARTHUR KELSEY . I am a registered medical practitioner at Red Hill—on Friday, December 17, about the middle of the day, I was called to a house in Milk Street to see Mrs. Norman—I went upstairs into her" room and saw her sitting up in bed very pale and in a very excited state of mind—I had not seen the child then—I spoke to her before I saw the child—I knew that she had killed the child, and I asked her why she had done it—I said "Why did you do this? why did you kill your child?" and after repeating the question several times she said "Because it cried"—I asked her if that was the only reason—she said "Two nights ago I thought I should kill it"—I asked her if something told her she must get out of bed and kill the child—she said "No; I got out of bed because it cried, and I put the scissors into its brain"—she also said that

her husband had been out late at night, and that she had told him that she should kill the child—while speaking to her I was noticing the condition she was in; she seemed not to be able to collect her ideas, in fact she seemed to have no ideas at all; she did not seem to be all affected by the crime she had done—it did not seem to make the slightest impression upon her—having had that conversation with her I came to the conclusion that she was suffering from puerperal mania—that is frequently attendant upon confinements; it generally comes on from twenty-four hours to a fortnight after the confinement, and very suddenly, without any warning—there are no premonitory symptoms at all—I have attended her since, and saw her on various occasions—I was examined at the police-court, and said "I am of opinion that the prisoner is still suffering from puerperal insanity"—I saw the child immediately after I put those questions to the mother—it was then lying in a corner of the room on a pillow covered up with some sheets; it was burnt; nearly the whole of the skin of the body was charred and blackened, and its head had a wound on the top penetrating the whole depth of the brain; that was the cause of instantaneous death.

Cross-examined. I have reason to hope she will get right again—it is only a temporary malady—she is a great deal better than when I last saw her, and I hope she will be perfectly well in a short time, and in a perfectly sound state of mind—she was not accountable for her actions when she committed this crime—I do not think she knew that what she was doing was wrong, as when she did it she was not of sound mind.

NOT GUILTY on the ground of insanity. — To be detained till Her Majesty's pleasure be known.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-202
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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202. RICHARD BODDY (38) , Feloniously cutting and wounding Clara Grace Body, with intent to murder her. Second Count—To do her some grievous bodily harm.

MR. JARVIS Prosecuted; MR. J. P. GRAIN Defended.

CLARA GRACE BODDY . I am the prisoner's wife; we were married on 20th October last—at that time my name was Parks—I had known the prisoner previously—I had a joint interest under my late husband's will in a considerable sum of money, which was secured to myself—I have not lived very happily with the prisoner, and negotiations for a separation were going on—I lived with him up to 14th December, and on that day I went out with Mrs. Palmer in the afternoon—I was about to leave the prisoner on that day, and there was an appointment at my solicitor's the following day to execute the deed of separation—on returning home to Mrs. Palmer's room, the prisoner was there, seated not very far from the fire—he wanted me to sign a paper wanting me to go and live with him for twelve months—he did not produce the paper, but he said so—I refused to do so—he said "Repeat that again," and I repeated it—he said "Say it again"—I refused to sign it, and said that I could not, and with that he jumped on me and stabbed me in two places on my chest, and also on my arm—Mrs. Palmer was in the room—I do not know distinctly what happened after that; I fainted two or three times, and then I got to the door and rushed out and went to a public-house close by, and from there my brother-in-law took me to Guy's Hospital—the prisoner and I have lived very unhappily.

Cross-examined. I knew him seventeen years before—we are first

cousins—he was in the navy, and afterwards steward in several passenger vessels; after which he was a turnkey at Hong Kong—he has professed love for me.

By the COURT. I did not see any knife in his hand before I was struck.

MARY ANN PALMER . I live at 16, Charlotte Street, Blackfriars Road, and am the aunt of the prosecutrix—we were out together on 14th December, and when we came into my room the prisoner was there—he wished her to sign a paper; she refused three times, and then he made a spring at her and they both fell on the floor—I tried to get him away, but was not able, and the neighbours, hearing her cry, came and pulled him from her and she ran away—I then saw blood on the Hour—I saw no knife.

CHARLOTTE ELIZABETH DAVIS . I live in Charlotte Street, Blackfriars Road—on 14th December I went to Mrs. Palmer's room because I heard screams of "Murder!"—I saw Mr. Boddy on top of Mrs. Boddy, and his hands going up and down—I released her, and held him by the collar and arm—she was bleeding very much—she ran away—the table was pulled over, and the tablecloth was on fire.

Cross-examined. The lamp had been pulled off, and that had set fire to the tablecloth.

HENRY EDWARD WILKINSON . I live at 16, Charlotte Street, Blackfriars Road—on 14th December I heard screams of "Murder!" went into Mrs. Palmer's room, and saw the prisoner lying on his wife with a knife in his hand, and his other hand on her throat—Mrs. Palmer told me to pull him off, but seeing the knife in his hand I went back to the door again, and she ran for a policeman—I went out, but could not see one—I believe this (produced) is the prisoner's knife, but I could only see the blade, which was about three inches long.

STEWART GIBSON (Policeman M 161). I was called to Mrs. Palmer's room, which was full of smoke—four or five people were there, and the prisoner was holding up his right hand, bleeding—some one said "This man has stabbed his wife, and tried to set fire to the house"—I told him I should take him in charge—he said that he was sorry he did it; it was in the irritation of the moment—I got another constable, went to a public-house, and found Mrs. Boddy supported by two men, bleeding from a wound on her breast and another on her arm, and in a fainting condition—I sent her to the hospital, and took the prisoner to the station.

Cross-examined. He said on the way to the station that he had done it in a moment of irritation, and was very sorry, and that he should like to go back and kiss his wife.

CONNINGTON (Police Sergeant M R 3). I went to Mrs. Palmer's room, and found this knife in the grate—the blade is engraved "C. Parks"—there were marks of blood on the floor, and the table was overturned—a portion of a female's dress had been burnt—the lamp was overturned, and the room in confusion.

HENRY HOWARD BOVILL . I was house surgeon at Guy's—on 14th December Mrs. Boddy was brought in, stabbed in two places on her chest, and on her right side between the second and third ribs, and on the left side was a similar wound, and a jagged wound on the upper part of the left arm—the first wound went into the chest wall, but how deep I cannot say

I could trace it three-quarters of an inch, and it was three-quarters of inch long—it was not safe to trace it deeper—the second wound was only quarter of an inch deep, because it struck the collar-bone—the wound on. her arm simply went through the skin and tissue of fat below, but did not separate the tissues—there was a large wound on the front of the forearm transversely across it for three and a quarter inches, and from above downward it was four inches—it injured the nerve and affected the muscles of the forefinger—the upper portion was three inches deep—she was very faint from loss of blood, and very exhausted, and was laid up until 1st January is the hospital—she suffered four or five days from fever, and we were uncertain what course it would take—the wounds were dangerous when I admitted her—the wound on her right arm will, I think, impair the movement of her fingers from the laceration of the muscles—this penknife would produce the wounds.

Cross-examined. The knife had run up the arm towards the elbow; instead of going straight it started up.

By the JURY. There was no possibility of any of the wounds being inflicted by the broken glass of the lamp—no important artery was cut; it made a midway course between them.

MARY ANN PALMER (Re-examined). When I went into the room I saw the prisoner's hand closed, but saw no knife until the woman was struck.

GUILTY on the Second Count. Recommended to mercy by the prosecutrix. — Five Years' Penal Servitude.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-203
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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203. THOMAS TAYLOR (24) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.— Nine Months' Imprisonment. And

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-204
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceNo Punishment > sentence respited

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204. FRANK WILSHIRE (39) to unlawfully incurring debts and liabilities by fraud to the amounts of 6l., 2l. 15s., and 7l. 10s.— Judgment Respited. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-205
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence

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205. JOHN HARWOOD (25) , Feloniously cutting and wounding Catherine Herring, with intent to do her grievous bodily harm.


CATHERINE HERRING . I live at 6, Metcalfe Court, Bermondsey—on 1st January, about 4 o'clock, I went into the Ship Aground, London Street, with Mary Ann Kelly, when a man treated us to some whisky—the prisoner came in and drank with us—I knew him previously—we afterwards had several pots of beer; the strange man had some rings on his fingers, and the prisoner said that he would cut them off, but the man did not hear him—hearing that Kelly and I took the man away; and left the prisoner there; we went to the Feathers public-house, Dockhead; we left the man there, and went back to the Ship Aground—the prisoner, who was still sitting there, said "You have done it; have not you?"—I said "Yes," and he struck me with his open hand on the side of my face, saying "You are very clever to take the gentleman away"—Kelly came in between us, and she had to strike him to make him leave off beating me—he had a white—handled penknife in his hand open trimming his nails with it, and he struck me twice on my arm with it; it bled—I said that I was cut, and he ran out—I went to the hospital—I knew where the prisoner lived, and went to him next morning, and asked him why he did it—he said that he was drunk—he was drunk, but not so bad as not to

know what he was about—I got a policeman, and gave him in custody—he said that he knew nothing about it.

MARY ANN KELLY . I live at 2, George's Court, Hickman's Folly, and am a wood chopper—on the afternoon of January 1st I was drinking with Herring and a man in the Ship Aground; the prisoner came in, and in consequence of what he said we took the man to the Ship Aground, and went back without him—the prisoner said to Herring "You have done it"—she said "Yes," and he smacked her in the face, and caught hold of her by the shoulders with both hands—I struck him to make him let go—she said "Mary Ann, I am cut"—I looked up her sleeve, and saw her arm bleeding—she went to the hospital.

WILLIAM LAWRENCE (Policeman M 128). The prosecutrix complained to me, and I went to Metcalfe Court and found the prisoner in bed—I told him the charge—he said "I know nothing about it; I did not do it"—I examined the house but could not find any knife.

JOHN WILLIAM SAUNDERS . I am house surgeon at Guy's Hospital—I examined the prosecutrix on 2nd January and found two wounds on her arm—one was a deep cut two inches above her elbow and an inch long—higherup there was a smaller out—they were two distinct incised wounds, done by a knife.

Prisoner's Defence. I walked out and left two of them drinking with the man. I went home and stopped there till 11 o'clock. She stopped there till nearly 11 o'clock and never mentioned that she was stabbed or that I had done it. I said "If I had done it, would not you have had me locked up? "When she came back from the hospital she did not know who had done it. Why did not she halloa out for a policeman? She was drinking there when I left. I never touched her with a knife.

GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. — Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

Before Mr. Recorder.

10th January 1881
Reference Numbert18810110-206
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence

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206. ALFRED FOREY (19) , Feloniously knowing and abusing Alice Maud Gildon, aged two years and nine months.

GUILTY of the attempt. — Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.


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