Old Bailey Proceedings.
31st July 1882
Reference Number: t18820731

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Old Bailey Proceedings front matter.
31st July 1882
Reference Numberf18820731

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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, July 31st, 1882, and following days,

BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. JOHN WHITTAKER ELLIS, BART., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; The Hon. Sir JAMES FITZJAMES STEPHEN, Knt., one of the Justices of the High Court of Justice; THOMAS QUESTED FINNIS, ESQ., Sir ROBERT WALTER CABDEN, Knt., M.P., sir THOMAS GABRIEL , Bart., Sir JAMES CLARKE LAURENCE,, Bart., M.P., Sir ANDREW LUSK,, Bart.; M.P., and Sir THOMAS SCAMBLER OWDEN, Kent F.R.G.S., aldermen of the said City Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q.C., M.P., Recorder of the said City; JOHN STAPLES , Esq., and ROBERT NICHOLAS FOWLER , Esq., M.P., 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., LLD., Judge of the sheriffs' Court: Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer, and General Gaol Delivery, 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—a dagger (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age,


OLD COURT.—Monday, July 31st, 1882.

Before Mr. Recorder.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-725
VerdictNot Guilty > no evidence

Related Material

725. WILLIAM GILDER was indicted for feloniously marrying Ellen Elizabeth Smith, his wife being then alive.

MR. F. H. LEWIS, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.


31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-725A
VerdictNot Guilty > no evidence

Related Material

725A. JUDAH MOSELEY, Wilful and corrupt perjury. MR. BESLIY, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.


31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-725B
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceNo Punishment > sentence respited

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725B. THOMAS WILLIAM HANDY (23) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing whilst employed in the Post-office a post letter containing 72 stamps the property of the Postmaster-General .— Judgment respited.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-726
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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726. THEOPHILUS BARRETT (28) , Unlawfully obtaining 150l. from Tom Powell by false pretences. Second Count for obtaining 2l. from Harry Ingham.

MR. J. P. GRAIN Prosecuted; MR. BURNIE Defended. TOM POWELL. I live at 14, Kensington Park Road—I saw this advertisement in the Daily Telegraph: "Clerk wanted by an established auctioneer, surveyor, and tavern valuer; a permanent appointment guaranteed to a gentleman advancing 100l. on good security. Address Peter, Hanway Street, Oxford Street"—in consequence of seeing that I wrote to that address, to which I received an answer on 1st September—I came to London some weeks after, and saw the defendant at 105, Great Russell Street—he had a clerk there—I asked him if he was satisfied with his present clerk—after some little conversation he asked me if I would call again in a few days—J did so—he then said "I have a good business that is bringing me in 800l. a year, and if I can get a young gentleman who will assist and help me in my business, I think I ought to make 1,200l. a year"—I referred to his letter, and asked him how much money he required—he said if I advanced him 150l. he would give me 3l. per week—he then showed me a book purporting to be a cash-book, showing that in the last three months his receipts were so much, and that it would make up close on 800l. a year—he said he had received

that money in his business—I was to call again, which I did in a week or ten days with a friend—lie then showed us the same book, and the next day I believe he came to where I was lodging in Adam Street with this copy of an agreement, which I had written out for him—my mother and sister were with me at the time, and we talked the matter over, and the agreement was signed—he said he had a very good business, and it would be my own fault if I did not make a fortune—after some time I gave him a cheque for 150l.; that cheque was duly met—I parted with that cheque on the faith of his representations as to his business—he gave me at the same time this promissory note for the 150l.—I then entered on the office at 105, Great Russell Street—I never saw any business done there; a few people came there, but they only came for money—I remained there three or four months, till lie was turned out of the office in January—a distress was put in—all I had to do was to address two or three envelopes, and several of them were never posted—he used to come there every morning; he used to write letters, and stand before the fire and look over a lot of papers that he had there, and he would go out at luncheon time; that was all I saw; I never saw any business—I spoke to him about my 150l. once or twice; I told him I thought it was a swindle; he always said that he would pay me every penny if he paid no one else—I saw him afterwards when he went to Oxford Street, and asked him to make arrangements to pay me or a part of it, and he wrote me this letter of 10th February. (This stated that his brother was about to take to the business, when he hoped to arrange for the repayment of the money.) I have never had a penny; I got 3l. a week for the first two or three weeks and sundry amounts of 3s. or 5s. afterwards—I ultimately took proceedings at Bow Street.

Cross-examined. I believe this cash-book was produced by my solicitor at the police-court—I looked at it when the prisoner showed it me—it contains these amounts: "In July, 1881: receipts 13l., expenditure 8l. 4s. 4d.; August, receipts 8l. 7s., expenditure 10l. 1s. 3d.; September, receipts 156l. 13s., expenditure 101l. 3s.; October, receipts 24l. 12s., expenditure 26l. 12s. "—he said he was making those amounts in three months—I did not look at. the amounts; he only showed me the amount at the bottom of the page—he did not say that Mr. Simpson, of whom he took the business, was making 450l. a year—he said nothing about Mr. Simpson—it was on the faith of what he told me that I advanced the 150l.—I have been a brewer by trade, not a public-house auctioneer's clerk; that is work carried on both in and out of the office—it might have been a month after I entered the office that I first spoke to the prisoner about this; it might have been a little more—people came pretty nearly every day asking for money—I was in the office during the whole time I was there; the prisoner said something to me one day about going out, but he never gave me any money to do so, and I could not go about to public-houses without money—he never sold a house during the time I was there—I don't know that it was a slack time—the money entered in the book as received was not money received in the business, but by pawning his clothes and the money he had from me—Mr. Hare was the friend who went with me to see the prisoner; he is not here—he asked the prisoner a few questions and looked at the cash-book.

WALTER MORTLOCK . I live at Elmswood, Penge—on 31st August last year I saw an advertisement in the Daily Telegraph—I answered it, and afterwards saw the prisoner in Great Russell Street—I spoke to him

about it, and he asked me to deposit 100l.—I asked him the nature of the business and the amount he was doing—he said he had not been there very long, but he was doing about 500l. or 600l. a year—I asked what security he would give for the deposit of the money—he said he had none, only on the business—I told I him did not think that was good enough, but I would go and see my solicitor about it—I did so, and afterwards saw the prisoner on the Monday morning—he asked me to pay the whole of the money down then, which I would not do—I paid him 10l. then and 65l. on the Thursday—I then went to the office—I wrote two or three letters a day—he never did any business while I was with him—1 was there six weeks—I believe it was the beginning of November when I left—I left the day before Powell was coming in—before that, when Powell came there, the prisoner asked me to leave the room—I had my money back after Powell came there—I had previously demanded it back or I should take proceedings against him—I got my money out of Powell's cheque; the prisoner gave me the cheque to cash, and I cashed it and paid myself and the landlord's rent out of it, and gave the prisoner the balance—he authorised me to do that—people used to come for payment while I was there.

Cross-examined. He told me that the business would make between 500l. and 600l.—he told me that he had bought the business from Mr. Simpson in July—he did not say that Mr. Simpson had given him a guarantee that the business would make 450l. a year—he made no reference to what Mr. Simpson had told him.

JAMES ALFRED MATTHEWS . I am a solicitor, and am landlord of 105, Great Russell Street—I let out such parts as I do not use—about three years ago I let a portion to Mr. Simpson at 50l. a year—he was there three years, and then introduced the prisoner to me as a person who would take the premises, as he was about leaving; I think that was in the beginning of last July—I think Simpson had a pretty good business the first two years, but it fell off very much; it is well known that public-house brokers have been doing very little for the last year or two—he owed me three quarters' rent when he left; he gave me his acceptance for 50l. for it, and I gave him 10l., and I had security on the interest of the prisoner's wife in some land—the bill was dishonoured—I received the first quarter's rent out of Powell's 150l. cheque at the beginning of November—I cashed it and took my rent out of it, and paid Mortlock 80l. I think and the balance to the prisoner—the Christmas rent was not paid, and I distrained about the end of January, and the prisoner left the premises.

GEORGE FOULKES Ilive at Westbourne Terrace North—I am employed by Messrs. Campbell, dyers, of 39 and 41, New Oxford Street —the prisoner hired some premises there in January last, he left about 29th March—he paid about 8l rent, there was 88l due when he left—we distrained for that—there was some powder there not made up but there was nothing substantial to distrain upon—I took possession of the book produced and several others.

ALFRED BROWN (Police Sergeant). On 27th May I took the prisoner into custody; I read the warrant to him—he said "All right, I can get out of this."

GUILTY Four Months' Hard Labour —There was another indictment against the prisoner

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-727
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour; Imprisonment > hard labour

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727. MICHAEL RUSSELL (28), JAMES RONAN . (28), and THOMAS RONAN (18), Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Louis de Solat, and stealing two photographs, a medal, and 9s. 7 1/2 d.



LOIUS DE SOLAT . I live at 10, Parson's Green Lane, and am a provision dealer—on 22nd June I went to bed as usual, about a quarter past ten, leaving the premises all right—I was awoke by a noise about a quarter past one; I saw a light on the wall and got up and went on to the landing—I saw some one I did not know strike a light in the house, the light disappeared on my opening the bedroom door on the first floor—I heard a noise on the floor above and the breaking of glass, I called out, and two constables came outside directly—I subsequently saw the prisoners at the station—I missed from my till 9s. 71/2d., 8$. 6d. in silver, and the rest in copper, also some coins and some photographs—I know all the prisoners; they live in the neighbourhood—I don't know whether they were companions or not, I have seen them sometimes together and sometimes separate—on examining my premises I found the down stain back parlour, the room at the back of the shop, and which looks on the yard, was open and glass broken—I found the garden door unlocked and two bolts drawn back; in the back room on the same floor as my bedroom the window was open, and a portion of the wood work broken—I had fastened all the other windows and doors except that window before I went bed—in the yard was a ladder by means of which any one could reach the window—I identify these coins and photographs (produced)—I described them before they were found.

Cross-examined. I last saw those coins and photographs safe the day before.

JOHN BARRY . I live at 9, Jordan Place, Fulham, and am a watchman—I have known the three prisoners as long as I have known myself; I had seen them together before 22nd of June—on the night of 22nd June, about five minutes past one, I saw Thomas Ronan drop off the wall of the end house, number 10, four doors from the prosecutor's—just before that I saw another man drop off from the parapet through the top window, four doors from the prosecutor's shop—I saw three men on the roof, but I don't know what became of the three men; I heard a crash of tiles—I can't say whether the man who got on to the window had anything on his feet—Thomas Konan dropped into a sand heap; he had no boots on—when he dropped he said, "I am not going to be b——well locked up for you "—I don't know who he said it to—I used to go to school with James Konan.

Cross-examined. When I saw the men on the top of the house, all three were coming along the roof together—I could not swear that one of the three men was James Konan—Thomas is the one I saw drop off the house—I was about five or six yards from the house; it was a dark night—I was not more than six yards away—I was patrolling the premises that I was looking after—I was talking to Mr. Howard at the time I saw Thomas Konan drop.

EDWARD HOWARD . I live at 6, Ackmore Road, Walham Green—on 22ad June, a little after one, I heard a disturbance; I came out of my house and saw the witness Barry; I heard some tiles falling—I saw a man drop off a parapet of the house on to a sand heap against the wall—I do not identify the man—he said, "The b—have not got me yet"—I

believe he had got no shoes on—he ran up the Ackmore Road—I have known the Ronans the last four or five months.

Cross-examined. I was not talking to Barry at the time he dropped off the wall, I spoke to him afterwards.

JOHN WILLIAM CLARK . I am a labourer living at 6, Parsons Green Lane, the end house—on the night of 21st June I went to bed at 10 minutes to 10 in the front room top floor; there are two windows to the room—I slept, and suddenly a man was in my room, and he got into bed with me—I didn't know who the man was—later on the police came into the room and took. the man into custody—he put on my boots and went off with them by mistake; they were very nearly new boots, I had not had them many weeks—I missed them when I got up in the morning—when I came home to breakfast I found a pair of boots under my bed; I had to take my landlord's boots to go to work in—I was asleep when the man took off his clothes, not when he got into bed—I did not ask him what he did there, I did not know but that he was one of the lodgers.

RICHARD TURVEY (Policeman T 374). On the morning of 22nd June, about one o'clock, I was in Parson's Green Lane, within 70 yards of the prosecutor's house, when I heard a smashing of glass; I went up to the house, the prosecutor spoke to me and let me in—I found the house broken open as he has described—afterwards from information received I went to 6, Parson's Green Lane, the end house, about two o'clock in the morning, where I found James Ronan in bed with Clark—I told him to get up, I wanted him to come with me to the station—he said, "What for? I have been in bed since 10 o'clock "—I told him I wanted him for being in company with others in breaking into the shop at 10—he then got up and walked to the station—I found on him 8s. 6d. in silver, and It. 1 1/2 d. in copper, and these two small photographs and 16 medals—at 10 minutes past 12 o'clock that night I saw the prisoner Russell in Parson's Green Lane, he was wearing a white hat similar to this (produced)—he was with James Bonan.

Cross-examined. This is in the Hammersmith district—a great many bricklayers' labourers live there—I have not seen any wearing a hat Hke this—I have seen some like it, but not down there—I don't swear this is the hat, but one similar to it.

Re-examined. I also found these two pairs of boots (produced) in a passage at the back of the prosecutor's shop.

ROBERT SHORTHOUSE (Policeman). On 22nd June I was on duty in Parson's Green Lane, and heard the prosecutor cry out—I went to the house, and in the garret I found that hat.

ALFRED KNIGHT (Policeman). At 10 minutes past 1 on the morning of 22nd June I went to the proseccutor's house, and there found the two constables, 374 T and another—I examined the premises, and found an entry had apparently been effected through the window of the first floor back room by means of a ladder—the till was partly open, a pane of glass broken, and the door unfastened—from information received, I directed the constables to take James Ronan and Russell into custody—I afterwards apprehended Thomas Ronan—James Ronan was taken from Clark's, where he was in bed—he said he was in bed at 10—Thomas Ronan said in reply to the charge, "Very well"—Russell said nothing—I told them the charge in detail—on that evening, about 10. 10, I saw James Bona close to the prosecutor's house—after Russell and James Ronan were in custody I took Thomas Ronan—when he was brought to the station I

saw a pair of boots taken off his feet—I saw sand and dirt at the bottom of his feet; sand similar to the sand where he was seen to jump—he lives at 5, Parson's Green Lane, immediately opposite the prosecutor's—the boots worn by James Ronan were identified by Clark.

Cross-examined. When I took Russell into custody I went to his house with Ellis, 575—I knocked at the door, and said I wanted Russell—some female opened the door—I had to force the door, and 1 then saw Russell on the staircase with his trousers and shirt on, I am not sure whether he had his boots on or not—I did not hear him say at the police-court that he knew nothing about it.

THOMAS ELLIS (Policeman 575). I was in Parson's Green about 11 o'clock on the night of 21st "June—I saw James Ron an and Russell standing in the lane—I saw them again that night at 10 minutes past 12 come out of the Rose and Crown—Russell had a white hat on resembling the one produced—I was shown that hat by Shorthouse—in consequence of what Shorthouse said I went and arrested Russell in Crown Street, about two hundred yards from the prosecutor's—it was about half past 3 in the morning—he was on the stairs in his trousers and shirt—he had a black fiat hat on going to the station—I told him the charge—he said he knew nothing about it, or something to that effect.

Cross-examined. I did not quite notice what he said—I am sure ho had no boots on on the staircase—I saw he had stockings on—I did not particularly notice them—I did not swear at the police-court that he had his boots on—I found him on the stairs with his face towards me, in his trousers and boots—before I got into the house I had been knocking for some time at the door—there may be hundreds of these white hats in Hammersmith.

JOHN ROSE SHORT . I keep the Rose and Crown beer-house in Parson's Green Lane, about forty yards from the prosecutor's—on the night of 21st June I saw Russell and James Ronan drinking together in my house from about half-past 11 to about a quarter past 12—they left together—Russell was wearing a light hat similar in colour to this one.

Cross-examined. These men are sometimes in my house in the evening, not always—it was not an unusual thing to see them drinking together—I have seen hundreds of hats like that—there is nothing particular about it—the two Ronans are cousins.

EDWARD BLAKE (Policeman T. R. 24). I understand surveying, and am accustomed to make plans—this plan was made by me—it is not made to scale, but is correct.

Witnesses for the Defence. MRS. RONAN. I am the mother of James Ronan—I left him half a sovereign in gold, and he changed it on the Wednesday to redeem a coat and waistcoat—I have got the ticket here—he told me he got some beer and tobacco out of the change—I blew him up for changing it.

Cross-examined. He generally sleeps at home—I know nothing about where he slept on the night of 21st June till the next morning—I did not know he was going to sleep with James Clark; my door was locked and he could not get in—he sleeps at the back, and I did not hear him knock, and he went to his cousin's.

HONORA RONAN . I am the mother of Thomas Ronan; he is a cousin of James Ronan—he came in with Lavy at 10.30 p. m.—I opened the door and let him in, and left his supper on the table, and went upstairs to my husband to bed, and I did not know anything till the policeman

came and took him at 3.40—my son was in the house from 10.30 till then as far as I know.

Cross-examined. I generally go to bed about 11 o'clock.

MARGARET RUSSELL . I am the mother of Michael Russell—I remember my son coming home at 7.30 on the evening of 21st June—after that he went out, and said he was going out and would be back at 10 o'clock to have a bit of supper—he said he was going as far as Mr. Short's, and he would not stay long—I was awake when he came back—I said "Mike, is that you?"—he said "Yes, mother"—I said "What is the reason you have been so long away?"—he said " I met a few workmen, and we got some money for James Ronan, who is going to Australia, and if I can get to go with him, I will go as well"—I said "What time is it now?"—he said "Half-past 12; I was at Mr. Short's at a quarter past 12 "—I am a poor widow; he is my support—from the time he came in at 12.30 he never left the house—the bat he wore is in the bedroom where he sleeps.

Cross-examined. It is not here; I did not know it was wanted—I went to the police-court when he was there—I did not take the hat there—I know nothing about the hat.

GUILTY . RUSSELL** and JAMES RONAN**— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour each. THOMAS RONAN— Six Months' Hard Labour.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-728
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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728. COLIN ROBERT FARQUHARSON (35) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of John Edward Thompson with intent to steal.

MR. A. METCALFE Prosecuted; MR. THORNE COLE Defended. JOSEPH DOYLE. I live at 78, Belsize Road, Hampstead, and am a clerk—at 12 o'clock on 29th June I was sitting in the back dining-room when my attention was attracted by the noise of the sash of the front area window in the kitchen, and about a minute afterwards the shutters were forced open—I heard both noises distinctly—I listened for a minute, and I took off my shoes and went downstairs and found the prisoner in the kitchen, after finishing lowering of the sash and bolting the shutters as he found them previous to entering—there was no light in the kitchen at that time—I could see him—I fetched a candle down—I said "What brought you here?"—he said "I broke in to obtain a night's lodging, thinking the premises to be empty "—I collared him. fetched him upstairs, and left him in charge of Mr. Thompson's two eldest sons whilst I fetched the policeman and gave him into custody—I afterwards searched the kitchen—nothing had been removed; he had no opportunity—there were plate and valuables in the kitchen—it is Mr. Thompson's house—nobody else was in the house but myself—I was waiting up to see Mr. Thompson—I did not fasten the windows; I had seen them fastened—there is a gate to the area—there is a little garden in front and four steps descending to the window, and in the area—the gate opens with a spring handle—1 did not notice whether it had been opened.

Cross-examined. There was no catch to the sash—the prisoner was sober—I saw him searched; no housebreaking implements were found on him.

JOHN EDWARD THOMPSON . I am the owner of 78, Belsize Road—I returned home about 12 o'clock—the prisoner was then in custody.

JOSEPH BREMNER (Policeman S 457). I was called to 78, Belsize Road

about midnight on 29th June—the prisoner was given into my custody—I examined the kitchen window; there was no catch on the window, and at that time the sash and shutter were closed, the clasp was bent from being forced open—it was a bar with a spring clasp—it was not much bent—the prisoner said when given into custody "I thought the house was empty, and went in to have a rest "—he was sober—he had had some drink.

Cross-examined. What he said was "I did not mean any harm; I came in only to get a night's lodging "—I found no housebreaking implements on him at the station—I found some window bills—I did not notice the name of Mr. Beeves on them—he gave the address 26, Lecompt Road; he was known there as a carpenter.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I had been out all day seeking employment, and became very tired. I thought the house was an empty one, and that is how I went outside."

The prisoner received a good character.


NEW COURT. —Monday, July 31st, 1882.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-729
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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729. CHARLES SEYMOUR (55) PLEADED GUILTY ** to feloniously uttering counterfeit coin.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-730
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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730. WALTER FLOWERS (19) to unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.— Twelve Months Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-731
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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731. EDWARD BROWN to unlawfully having counterfeit coin in his possession with intent to utter it.— Nine Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-732
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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732. ELIZABETH HARVEY (53) to unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.— Six Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-733
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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733. ANN CONNOR (39) to a like offence, having other counterfeit coin in her possession.— Nine Months'; Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-734
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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734. EDWARD GREEN (31) to unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin. (He was indicted for a like offence last Session in the name of John Lucas, and acquitted. See page 335.)— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-735
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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735. JAMES MURRAY (21) , Unlawfully having counterfeit coin in his possession with intent to utter it.


KATE HOWARD . My husband is a tobacconist, of 20, Panton Street—on 19th April I sold the prisoner a pennyworth of tobacco—he gave me a bad florin—I did not touch it, but saw it was bad—my husband came and gave him in custody.

HENRY HOWARD . On 19th April my wife showed me this florin—I saw that it was bad, walked round between the prisoner and the door, and said "Have you any more?" he said "No"—I said "Where did you get it?" he said "I got it in change from an omnibus conductor "—I gave him in charge with the florin—he was remanded, and then discharged.

JOHN BELCHER (Policeman C 313). On 19th April I took the prisoner, and said "Where did you get this from?" he said "Of an omnibus conductor "—I said "Do you know it is bad?" he said "No"—I searched him at the station, and found a shilling and a penny—he was taken before a Magistrate next day, and discharged.

HENRY JENNER (Policeman E 401). On 13th June, about midnight,

I met the prisoner coming up Villiers Street, Strand-—when he saw me be ran up York Place—I pursued him, and while crossing Buckingham Street I saw him throw something away, and heard money rattle—I took him about 25 yards from that spot, took him back there, and asked him what he had thrown away; he said "Nothing "—I told him that I heard money rattle, and said "I suspect you have some counterfeit coin in your possession, and I wish to search you "—I did so, and found about two pounds' worth of good silver, mostly sixpences, and about four shillings' worth of copper in his right-hand trousers pocket—I was unable to find what he threw away, and let him go, and after he got four or five yards he ran—I followed him, and about five yards off I saw a shilling, and a few yards farther on a handkerchief in which were tied up 12 shillings—that was the spot where I heard money chink—I could not catch him, but on the 21st Wakeling brought him to me—he was charged, and said "I know nothing about the coin."

Cross-examined. I did not find the coin at first because it was thrown farther up the street than I expected.

ALFRED WAKELING (Policeman ER 49). On 13th June, at midnight, I saw the prisoner in Buckingham Street, Strand, in Jenner's custody, who asked me to stop by him—I did so, and saw Jenner and another officer searching with lanterns—Jenner let the prisoner go—on 21st June the prisoner came to me at the top of Villiers Street, and said "The constable had good cheek stopping me the other night and searching me;" I said "You just walk down here along with nae, will you?" and as we went I said "Have you any counterfeit coin in your possession?" he said "Tee, I have"—I called Jenner across, who identified him—I took him to the station, and found on him a half-sovereign, five florins, 13 shillings, 17 sixpences, and two pence, all good, but no counterfeit coin.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to Her Majesty's Mint—the florin uttered is bad, and these 13 shillings also.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "The two-shilling piece I got from a conductor. The policeman searched me in the street too, and a week afterwards came and told me he had found 13 bad shillings."

GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-736
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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736. JOHN DAY (18) , Stealing a cart and a mare and harness, the property of Frederick Fuller.

MR. HEWICK Prosecuted.

FREDERICK FULLER . I am a coach-builder, of 69, Market Street, Edgware Road—on Saturday, 1st July, about 4 p. m., I was out with my pony and cart, and the prisoner, who was standing reading a book, said to me "I will mind your pony, sir "—I did not know him—I said "All right, young man, I shan't be long"—I was absent 10 minutes or a quarter of an hour, and when I came back they had gone add the prisoner too—next morning I received a telegram, went to Bow Street, and saw my pony and cart—they are worth 30l.

SAMUEL BATKMAN (City Policeman 185). On Sunday, 2nd July, I saw the prisoner in Bath Street, St. Luke's, about 10 a. m., driving a pony and cart—I stopped him and said "Where did you get the pony and trap from?"—ho said "It belongs to my uncle, of Hatton Garden "—I said["How long have you had it out this morning?"—he said "Since 7 o'clock "—I said "I shall take; you to the station and charge

you with stealing it"—on the way he said "This Las nothing to do with my uncle; I found it in the Strand about 1 o'clock;" and afterwards he said "I and another man found it at the back of Covent Garden Market; we took it to Hatton Garden and then drove it to a delivery yard in Golden Lane."

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "While with the cart I had to go to the urinal, and when I came back it was gone. I afterwards found two men with it in the Strand; they said they were going to sell it. I said that they had better not do that. They said they knew the owner, and told me to go to Golden Lane with them; we did so and went to a public-house."

Prisoner's Defence. When I was left to mind it I got in the cart and fell asleep. These two chaps said they knew the owner; they took me to a public-house and I went towards the Strand with them. They said "All right, we know the owner; you come along with us," and I drove about with them trying to find the owner out, till the constable stopped me.

GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of the temptation. Three Months' Hard Labour.

OLD COURT.—Tuesday, August 1st, 1882.

Before Mr. Justice Stephen.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-737
VerdictGuilty > unknown

Related Material

737. WILLIAM MERTENS (30) was indicted for unlawfully publishing, on 13th May, in a newspaper called the Freiheit, a scandalous, wicked, malicious, and immoral libel. Second Count, by such libel encouraging persons to murder certain subjects of the Queen.


Prosecuted; MESSRS. BENNETT and THOMPSTON Defended.

CHARLES HAGEN (Police Inspector). On Tuesday, 16th May, I went to 54, Whitfield Street, Tottenham Court Road, about 7 p. m.—it is a private house—I knocked at the outer door, a little girl opened it, and I went into the passage and knocked at the door of the front parlour; the prisoner opened if; I knew him before by sight and by name—I said "Mr. Mertens, I have a warrant for your apprehension, which I will read to you "—I read, him the warrant in English—ho said "Will you please repeat it to me in German, and state the charge?"—I did so—he said "What do you want of me? I have nothing to do with the writing of the Freiheit, I am only a workman and paid by wages; I certainly rent this room and the workshop?"—he said lie worked at the printing—I then went with him into the workroom, the back room on the same floor, which was three steps raised—I saw there another man at work on one side of the printer's case; there are two sides to it—this man was Louis Laing, who was afterwards examined as a witness before the Magistrate—he was not here last Session, and I can't find him—he was actually at work at the printer's case when I went into the room—I said to him in the prisoner's presence "Are you engaged in the printing of the Freiheit?"—he said "Yes"—I took from his hand a composing stick and a piece of paper, and asked him if it was for the Freiheit of the next issue, and he said "Yes"—I then told the prisoner "You must get ready and come with me "—I went with him into the front room, leaving Inspector Aitkens in the

back shop—the prisoner put his coat on—his wife was there, and he said to her in German "Go to the others and say to them I am arrested on the same charge as Most was; also go to the Central News and see Mr. Burley, and tell him the same, and if you want any money he will give it you "—I took him to Tottenham Court Eoad Police-station, and he was charged there—the charge was read over to him in German, and he made no reply to it—I left him there and went hack to 54, Whitfield Street and found the offices as I had left them—I found in the back room, the workshop, fourteen printed copies of the Freiheit of 13th May; some of these are produced—I also found some type set up in the same back room, and I took possession of them and of the type for the article on which the prisoner is charged—I had a printer at Scotland Yard to take off an impression from the type so set up, and it is the front page of the article—I also found some receipts—this one marked "C "I found in a small desk in the workshop—I understand German thoroughly—I have made a translation of the heading of this paper and of the article; the word "Freiheit" means liberty—on the heading of the paper, to the right, there is " All letters and post-office orders are to be sent to John Neave, 22, Percy Street, Tottenham Court Road, London, West"—the paper appears every Friday evening—the motto is "Against tyrants all means are lawful;" and at the end of the paper, the place where the publisher's name is put, is, in German, "Published l»y the Communistic Workmen's Improvement Society in London: printed at the printing office of the Social Democratic Society, Freiheit, 51, Whitfield Street"—this is the accurate translation of the part of the article which is in the indictment—I knew the prisoner before by name and by sight—I had arrested Herr Most in March, 4881, at 101, Titchfield Street, Oxford Market, which was then the printing and publishing office of the Freiheit—when I arrested Most the prisoner was present; he was the printer of the Freiheit, and was engaged at the compositor's case at the time, and Most handed him some of his papers and some of his things, and he was a witness at the trial—Most was convicted here in the spring of last year—I examined the things at the workshop; part of the issue of 20th May was set up in type there—the case Laing was working at was a double one; one man could work on one side and one on the other—Laing was working on one side, but no ono at the other side—there was a composing stick lying there ready to work.

Cross-examined. I was a witness in Most's case—I think I remember what I said then—I said that when I apprehended Most, the prisoner Neave and the compositor Mertens were present—I was under the impression that Neave had something to do with the printing; but Neave was a carpenter, he knew nothing at all about printing—after Most's apprehension a letter was received at Scotland Yard, asking for the type that had been seized, and written by John Neave—I have not got the letter here—I have seen John Neave's name in several copies of the Freiheit since that seizure as the person to whom all letters are to be addressed—it is on this copy, in small letters, to the right of "Freiheit "—I was well acquainted with Neave by sight—I never inquired if he really lived at 22, Percy Street—I know 22, Percy Street as a Bohemian lodging-house, but I do not know whether he lived there—the room in which I saw Mertens was a residential room; there was a

bed in the corner; the workshop was not entirely apart—these rooms open into one another by large folding-doors—I believe there was a separate entrance in the-yard to it, so as to allow entrance otherwise than through the private room—when I saw Mertens I made a mistake and said "Mr. Neave, I have a warrant for you"—I had no warrant for Neave—all I have had to do with offences of this kind has been in connection with Host's and Schlemn's cases.

Re-examined. A warrant has been issued for Neave, but he cannot be found.

NICHOLAS COURT (Policeman). On 16th May I went to 54, Whitfield Street—I saw the prisoner; I said to him in German "I should very much like to have seen the Freiheit of the previous Saturday, 13th May, No. 19"—he said, partly in German and partly in English, "If you go to the paper-shop in Foley Street, two doors from the corner, you will be able to get it"—I went to 29, Foley Street, two doors from the corner; I asked for the Freihei, and received the copy of 13th May, which is marked "A."

Cross-examined. The prisoner did not sell me the paper; he said he had none left, and that I must go elsewhere, and recommended me to the newspaper shop—when he came into the room he was in his shirtsleeves, and was apparently eating his breakfast; it was a quarter past 10 o'clock in the morning—he said "We have not got any left" in German—I don't think I stated at the police-court that the prisoner said that—I said that the conversation was partly in German and partly in English—I got the copy of the paper at Foley Street.

CHARLES DIXHEISMER . I live at 87, Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square, and am landlord of 54, Whitfield Street—I know the prisoner by the name of Mertens—I let him the two rooms at 54, the front and back rooms, on 23rd December, 1881, at 12s. a week—he told me he wanted them as a printer, and I gave him possession, and he continued there, paving me the rent, up to the time he was taken into custody—he said he was a printer—I asked him if he would be making a noise, and he said it would be mostly setting the type, he went there to live with his wife—I do not know Neave.

Cross-examined. There was a front room used for living in, a bedroom, and a back room used as a workshop—I don't know whether it was used as a living-room as well; I was never in it—there was an alteration made with regard to the entrance; some steps were made to go up from the yard, so that there was a separate entrance to the workshop without going through the private room—those steps were put up not by me, but by the prisoner—no explanation was made to me why they were put up; be did not mention that he had sublet a portion of the place—I never entered the place since Mertens had it.

ALFRED BALE . I am a member of the firm of John Bale and Son, printers, of 87, Great Titchfield Street—I printed copies of the Freiheit from time to time—at that time it was published at Titchfield Street, since I knew the prisoner the type of the Freiheit was not set up at our place; it was brought ready set up week by week—we printed this copy of 13th May—it was a stranger who brought the type on that occasion, a man I had not seen before—the prisoner has brought it—I have seen him in connection with the Freiheit several times—we machined it; we

did not print it, we passed it through the machine—we found the paper—we printed 1,600 copies of 13th May.

Cross-examined. I first saw the prisoner in connection with the Freiheit when he was employed as a compositor by ourselves, when we printed it—we then set up the type—printing is a term that would imply the whole proceeding; those who brought the formes we should regard as the printers—we printed the Freiheit from its first issue, about four years ago; we printed it, I think, for twelve months, supplying the paper and everything, and allowed the account to run against Mr. Most—I don't remember how the prisoner came into our employment; I have an impression that he was recommended to us by the person for whom we printed the paper in the first instance—I am uncertain whether we advertised or whether it was as I have stated—I don't remember inserting an advertisement in the Daily Chronicle—I may have done it; we have frequently done so—I believe the prisoner set up for us the first number of the Freiheit—we also had another German compositor at the time, named Englebricht, and those were the two compositors who set up the matter in the Freiheit—it did not take up the whole of their time; they were on other matter, regular work—we set up and machined a number of periodicals—I think this (produced) is one of our periodicals; it is called the British Flag and Christian Sentinel, with the motto, "For God, our Queen, and Country "—I think we set that up at the same time as the Freiheit—the prisoner and Englebricht were probably engaged on that work; I can't say positively—I did not hold him responsible for the contents of the Freiheit or the British Flag—I did not ask him to watch the British Flag to see if there were any immoral libels in that; that was in English, and I could not do it in the Freiheit, because it was in German—l did not ask him to watch the contents of the Freiheit, or hold him any more responsible than any ordinary man—at that time Most was the person with whom we had to deal—I did not arrange with him personally to start the paper; I think we did the printing, composing, and supplying the paper for five guineas a week, allowing the account to run. and it has been running ever since, unfortunately—I can't say that I sunk capital in it, but there is an account still owing—I was not frightened when Most was apprehended; I did not think that I had been running close to the wind; at that time we were only machining the paper—I know John Neave—when Most was apprehended we entered into an arrangement with Neave to continue machining the paper, on the understanding that no such articles as that of Most should appear again—I should not have machined the paper unless I had had such a stipulation; I would not have gone on with it because I did not think it right to do such a thing—I made no stipulation with the prisoner—I think we only set up the type for the Freiheit for twelve months; after that it was not set up at our place—I heard that Most bought the type for himself and started a small printing business—the prisoner and Engelbricht left us at that time; I believe the reason of their leaving was that they were to continue on the paper, and I had no more German work for them at that time; Most had commenced to have the German work set up himself; we did other German work for Most, and he printed other work besides the Freiheit; he printed a German grammar, which we machined—I suppose you might call Most a general printer in German—there are not many

German printers in London; we had some difficulty in getting German compositors; we generally advertise for them if we want them—after Most was apprehended I saw Neave, and continued to deal with him—it was an understanding that it was to be paid for weekly—Neave's account was to be paid for weekly, and I think it was almost without exception—I think on one or two occasions it might run over for a fortnight, but I think not longer—I have not my ledger here, only my receipt-book—Most's account is still one for which I look to Neave for payment; he has paid me one or two sums on account of it—Neave was the man we sent to if we wanted to know anything; for instance, if the paper was late—I did not know the prisoner in any other capacity than that of a compositor—I stipulated with Neave that the money for each week should be sent along with the paper, and most frequently the man who brought the paper also brought the money—I should not put a compositor to that work; I suppose they would rather do it in small establishments than stand still—sometimes the formes, the paper, and the money were brought together, by the prisoner or one of the other men—I didn't see him on the occasion when this number was printed—I don't know whether he had anything to do with the paper on that occasion—I have not been in communication with Neave since the prisoner's arrest—I am not sure whether the prisoner is what is called a Society man; I should suppose not; he was not when he worked for us—I am not a member of the Compositors' Society, and never was—I never was a journeyman; only journeymen are eligible—I don't suppose that when a man becomes a foreman he would leave the Society; I never heard of a master printer being eligible as a member—I said just now that I had not communicated with Neave since the prisoner's arrest, but I wrote a letter to him, to which I had no answer—I directed it to 22, Percy Street—I wrote for my account, and did not get it—I do not look to the prisoner for it.

Re-examined. I do not understand German—after the type was set up by Most, the prisoner and Englebricht went into his employ—Most printed a German Grammar, that is, he set it up and we machined it—he also set up the Freiheit from time to time which we machined.

By the COURT. Q. When a compositor sets up any matter do you expect him to do it mechanically and without paying attention to the subject matter, or do you expect that he will know and attend to what he is setting up.? A. We look to those men who will not set it up in a purely mechanical manner, but unfortunately we seldom get them—a man will set up a galley of matter and not know what it is about—he acts more or less as a machine—we look for more intelligent ones, but seldom get them.

By the SOLICITOR-GENERAL. After the type is set up and printed a reader corrects it, and then it goes back to the compositor—this type when brought to us was all ready to be printed off, we had no means of correcting it or reading it, we merely machined it—how it was read I don't know, we had nothing to do with that—I do not know Neave's handwriting, I don't know that I ever saw his signature. (The article in question being read was headed "Against Tyrants all means are Legitimate. "It alluded to the recent murders of Lord Frederick Cavendish and Mr. Burke in the Phoenix Park, Dublin, and described as" an execution," "an admirable deed, heroically bold," and advocated the same measures towards others holding similar views.)

EKICH ENOLEBRICHT . I am a compositor, and worked with the prisoner first at Schweitzer's, in St. Mary Axe, the printer of a German newspaper called the London Journal, that was some time ago—I remember seeing an advertisement in the Daily Chronicle for German compositors, and I called Merten's attention to it—he had left work some weeks before that; on my suggestion he called and was engaged on it at Bale's, in Great Titchfield Street; I was also engaged about one or two weeks afterwards, I was engaged on the Freiheit and other work; when the Freiheit was done we did English work, whatever our master gave us to do—we never refused to do any work; if we refused it would simply be because it was very bad copy, and we decided not to work at all; apart from that we had no right to refuse to do any work that was given to us—there was no work and so we left—I am not a member of the compositors' society—when Bale ceased to set up the Freiheit Most printed it, and afterwards Neave—I continued to work at Bale's for a time—after wards I worked on the Freiheit for Most—I used to go on of an evening with Mertens, we were fellow-workmen—I did not regard Mertens as my master; I was not engaged by him at that time, Mr. Most engaged me, and then I came to Mr. Neave—Germans have a distinct mode of addressing friends and masters—I addressed Mertens in the second person singular, and Neave in the second person plural; we were paid by piece work—Neave is a German—other persons were employed besides me and Mertens, sometimes we were four persons—we had several other works besides the Freiheit, whatever we could get to do—I know that Neave paid the rent of the room; we wrote our bills out and gave them to Neave, and he came in the course of the afternoon and paid them, and he paid the rent, 6s. a week—he paid Mertens 6s. a week more because of the room which he had sublet.

Cross-examined. I think I went to work at 54 Whitfield Street, about the commencement of 1880-1 don't remember the date exactly—I worked at the setting up of the number of 13th May, and so did Laing—I do not know whether Mertens set up some, because he had some other work—I only went there of an evening for a few hours after I left my city office—Laing did the first page, and I did some of the second and third nacres—the proofs were given to Neave and he returned them read—I don't know who set up the fourth page; I don't know whether Mertens set up anything—I saw him there—I don't know what was done in the day time Laing used to work late, sometimes till 10 o'clock; he used to work in the day time too-Mertens also worked I in the day' toe-in the number of 13th May there appears, "By Mertens, 4s. 6d."—that was for members of our party who had to leave their work in Germany, because they belonged to our party, and their families were supported by this money—by "our party, "I mean the Socialist party—I am not now member of Social Democratic Club; I was, and I think Mertens was at the time I left, which was shortly before Most was arrested about 18 months ago—I subscribed to the club as long as I was a member—I do not know whether Neave was treasurer of the club; a cashier was elected every quarter and he received the subscriptions—the printing office of the Freiheit was the printing-office of the Social Democratic Club, the paper was printed there.

Re-examined. It was a social club—most of the German workman

belonged to it—the printing society had nothing to do with the club—there are about 300 members of the club; we eat and drink there and have social gatherings, social evenings during the week, and on Sunday lectures and discussions on the affairs of the club—when I first became acquainted with Mertens he was looking after work—I don't think he belonged to the club then, I did not.

By the SOLICITOR-GENERAL. I last saw Laing a week before Mertens was arrested—I have never seen him since—I don't know where he lived; I know he lived in Whitechapel when he worked with us, that is all I know.

AUGUSTE REIDER (Interpreted). I am acquainted with John Neave—I assisted in removing the printing press and other things from Charlotte Street to Whitfield Street the week before Christmas—Neave had the premises in Charlotte Street—I understood that I was taking them to Neave's place in Whitfield Street—I know that he paid the rent; I have seen him do so—I went there a few days afterwards to repair something in the printing machine for Neave, and I then saw him give Mertens 6s. for rent, and give him other moneys, the purport of which I did not know.

Cross-examined. I am not a member of the Communistic Society—I am a cabinetmaker—I went there to do something to the woodwork of the machine—I was acquainted with Neave, and through him I knew of the Freiheit and who published it—I heard Neave say to Mertens "Here is 6s. for the rent"—the other moneys I did not see, because I was at work—I knew Mertens through Neave, because he was the workman of Neave—I have known him perhaps about six months—I do not know Laing by name—I did not see anybody there besides Mertens—I was not often there—I have only been there twice; once when I helped to move, and the second time when I made the repairs—I did not see any body—there but Mertens on either occasion—I had no opportunity of seeing anybody, because it was in the afternoon when I went, the time when the workmen were absent—I saw Mertens on both occasions.

ADOLF BAIGLE (Interpreted). I am a member of the Order of Druids—that is a benefit society for sick people—John Neave has done printing for me—I know the prisoner—I have been twice in the printing office in Whitfield Street, and on each occasion saw him act as compositor—on another occasion I went there to give an order for the Druids' Society, and then the printing office was shut up, and Neave said it could not be done, and I had to go to some other place—Neave came to my house and slid the copy had been taken away by the police to Scotland yard, and I should have to go there and pay something for the translation of it, and I paid 5s. for it.

JOHN DUGGAN I am a compositor, and am a member of the Compositors' Society of London—the prisoner is also a member—I have seen him sign the unemployed claimants' book—it is a society exclusively composed of journeymen compositors and apprentices within the last year of their apprenticeship—this (produced) is the usual form of subscription to the society—foremen do not belong to it; they cease to be members when they become foremen or masters—the rule is that any man being 12 months a member, on being out of work receives 12s. per week, provided that he signs two books, one called the Unemployed Claimants' Book, and another called the Provident Book—there is a

house of call where unemployed printers wait to see whether any persons send for compositors, and he is not at liberty to refuse to respond to a call—if he does not accept any situation that offers he is brought before the committee and suspended from all benefits—I never heard of a compositor refusing to set up matter because it was libellous.

By the COURT. The setting up of type is mechanical—he must know what he is about, but he would not have the opportunity of seeing the context; he has not time to enter into the merits or demerits of the composition—he would have to take care of the punctuation and the spelling; he would have to set it up grammatically—one man would not set up the whole matter; it would depend upon the length to a great extent—compositors will often set up correctly matter in a language with which they are unacquainted—they have a rudimentary knowledge of what they set up—a man might set up Greek without being able to read it—he would simply know the alphabet—it is done simply by sight.

GUILTY .— Three Months' Imprisonment.

NEW COURT.—Tuesday, August 1st, 1882.

Before Mr. Recorder.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-738
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

738. ALFRED VICTOR ZYTOGORSKI (35) , Stealing, while employed in the Post Office, 12 letters, one of which contained an order for 5l., the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General. Other Counts for stealing other letters and envelopes.



CHARLES JOHNSON . I am overseer at the Churton Street Branch Post Office—I have been there seven years, and the prisoner has been there all that time, employed as a letter carrier—on 5th July he was on duty, and made the 11. 45 collection from the St. George's Square pillar box, the Grosvenor Road wall box, and the Belgrave Road pillar box—he had a bag to carry the letters in—he arrived at Churton Street Post Office at 11. 55—it was then his duty to empty his bag, face the letters up, and stamp them with the obliterating stamp—on this day he also had to stamp the letters brought by Blessley and Press from Lupus Street, and each collector would then take his own letters and tie them up—after mid-day Gibbs made a communication to me, and I directed him to communicate with Madden, the detective employed there—assuming the letters to have been posted at Grosvenor wall box at 11.30, they would be collected by the prisoner at 11. 45.

Cross-examined. The prisoner has been employed in the Post Office about eight years—I remember some time ago about 20 letters being sent to the post office unstamped by Mr. Radford, a merchant—I sent them back, and they were afterwards brought back stamped—if a man was in a hurry collecting letters, it would be as easy for him to slip them into his pocket—on previous occasions the prisoner has handed letters containing money and jewellery to me—there are no partitions in the room to obstruct the view—the letters are stamped on a table about six feet by 5 feet—he had many hundreds of letters to stamp that morning—there were a great many circulars.

Re-examined. Mr. Radford carries on business not very far off—he

sent a bundle of unstamped letters—there is a wire partition on the sorting table, and Gibbs's table was behind the prisoner's.

JAMES GIBBS . I am a letter carrier at Churton Street Branch—on 5th July, about 11. 45, I made a collection of the Sullivan Street. Cambridge Road, and Warwick Square boxes—I had nothing to do with the Grosvenor Road or Lupus Street or Churton Street boxes—I took my letters to the Churton Street Office, faced them up, and took them over to the prisoner to be stamped—my table was about six feet behind the prisoner's—he was standing sideways to the table—he said "You see what I have to do; put them down behind," pushing me back—he had a great many letters and circulars in front of him—I put them down behind him—I saw two letters on the table lying away from the others, with the addresses downwards—I returned to my own table and saw him pick up the two letters and put them into his inside coat pocket—I made a communication to Mr. Johnson, and then went for Madder.

Cross-examined. He was dealing with more letters than usual that morning, there were 300 or 400 circulars—when he pushed me away and said "See what I have to do," I understood him to allude to the press of work which he had before him—the table where he was standing was in view of Mr. Johnson.

By the JURY. The order is for us to have our tunics buttoned while we are at work—Mr. Johnson would see him put the letter in his pocket if he was looking—the men have their coats unbuttoned in hot weather.

Re-examined. Mr. Johnson was entering the registered letters on a sheet.

ALLEN GEORGE MADDER , I am travelling clerk attached to the Missing Letter Branch of the General Post Office—on 5th July, about 10.30, I saw Mr. Johnson in the office—I gave him same information, and went there again at 12. 5 and saw the prisoner in the office—I told him who I was, and said, "I have received information that you have been seen to place letters in your pocket this morning, what have you to say about it?"—he said, "Yes, I have put some in," and handed me twelve letters from his inside coat-pocket—I said, "Can you give me any explanation of it?"—he said, "Yes, I was in a hurry when I made my collection, and put them there and forgot to. take them out again "—I have them here—they were then unopened—two of them were unstamped, seven had 2 1/2 d. stamps, one had two 2 1/2 d. stamps, and two had two penny and one halfpenny stamp each—all those ten bear addresses to foreign countries; one of them to Miss Mortimer in Paris was opened, and contained a cheque for 5l.; another was addresed to Mr. Windus, of Hamburg—one letter was addressed to the Westminster and Lambeth Gazette—there is a mark on them, they have been stamped.

Cross-examined. The two unstamped letters bear the stamp of Mr. Ratcliff, a coal merchant—no stamps were found on the prisoner—he pulled the letters out of his pocket without hesitation.

Re-examined. Those two letters were collected by him from the pavement and wall box—deposits are made by means of stamps, and 2 1/2 d. stamps are received.

HENRY OSBORNE . I am in Mr. Mortimer's service, 78, Eccleston Square—on 5th July, about 11. 12, I posted a letter for him, addressed to Miss Mortimer; at the Churton Street office.

JOSEPH CROWTHER . I live at 88, Warwick Street—on 5th July, at 11.30.

I posted this letter at the Churton Street office—it is addressed to Carl Windus, Hamburg.

WILLIAM ROWLAND BLESLEY . I am an extra letter carrier at the Churton Street office—on 5th July I collected the letters from the receiving box, put them in the sorting office on the prisoner's table, and faced them up to be stamped.'

JOSEPH BENAULT . I am butler to Mrs. Egerton, 24. St. George's Square—I posted these two letters written by her at Lupus Street office on 5th July between 10 and 11 o'clock; one is to Mons. Arturo Consanego; at Geneva, and the other to Mons. Nutta, Monaco.

EMMA LANFORD . I am in the service of Mr. Harding;, of St. George's Square—I posted a letter addressed to Miss Lanford on 6th July at 1. 11 a. m. at Lupus Street pillar-box, of which this (produced) is the envelope.

WALTER PRESS . I am a letter carrier at Churton Street Branch Post Office—on 5th July I made the 11. 45 collection from Lupus Street Pist Office, and took it to Churton Street, where I faced them up, and put them before the prisoner for stamping; I then tied them together and put them in the bag.

Cross-examined. There were about nine others in the room where the prisoner was working—they were very close together, and nothing to hide them from each other—the table where the sorters sit is partitioned by a wire about four inches high.

FRRDERICK BICKLEY . I am manager to Radford and Co., of Grosvenor: Road—I addressed these letters, one to the Westminster and Lambeth Gazette, and the other to the Chelsea News, and gave them to Nisbet to post—each had a penny stamp.

Cross-examined. About a month ago the prisoner gave me back twenty-four circulars which I had sent out—they ought to have had halfpenny stamps, but they had no stamps then—I cannot say whether they had ever been stamped—I stamped them again without any objection—I have no doubt that they were stamped before they were sent to post.

JOHN NESBIT . I am a stationer, of 18, Home Road—on 13th July, I was at Messrs. Badford's about 11.30, and Mr. Bickley gave me three circulars to post—these (produced) are two of them—I took them to the pillar-box just across the road—I am certain they bore stamps—I had them in my possession about half a minute.

GEORGE HENRY FEY . I am a police-officer at the General Post-office—on 5th July I took the prisoner and asked him where he lived—he said, "31, Bessborbugh Place, Pimlico"—I went there, searched his bedroom, and found in an old clergy list in a cupboard, 28 half-penny, 16 penny, 18 twopence-halfpenny, 6 fivepenny, and 3 sixpenny stamps, value 10s. 3d.—they are separate and have apparently been taken off letters—some of them are actually adhering to pieces of paper—they were between folds of blotting paper—I also found a number of obliterated stamps, three savings bank books, and some forms for deposits of one shilling in the savings bank, on which people can put adhesive stamps—one of the savings bank books was in the prisoner's name, and the amount was 16l.

Cross-examined. These stamps have been on letters; one has some printing on the back, it has been on a circular—these have been used, and these have not.

Re-examined. By being used I mean that they have been stuck on, but they have not been obliterated—they have no gum on the back—these three forms have been used by the prisoner, the others are specimens.

GUILTY. Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of his long service. Twelve Months' Hard Labour.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-739
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

Related Material

739. WILLIAM JONES (21) PLEADED GUILTY ** to stealing a watch from the person of George Cutler, after a conviction of felony at Clerken-well.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-740
VerdictsNot Guilty > unknown; Not Guilty > no evidence

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740. EDWARD JONES (38) , Forging and uttering a receipt for the payment of 2l. 8s., with intent to defraud.

MR. F. H. LEWIS Prosecuted.

WILLIAM WOESKETT . I am in the service of Petty, Wood, and Co wholesale grocers—this receipt dated February 1st, for 56 lb. of ginger' is not signed by me or by my authority—it is a forgery, and so is the other, and the name is not spelled properly—the endorsement to this cheque for 2l. 8s. payable to Petty, Wood, and Co., is as far as I can say not their signature.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I have the books here—you were in Messrs. Fleet's service, I don't know in what capacity—we never gave you any credit; this is the cash sales book—this signature does not represent any transaction, it is fictitious altogether.

By the COURT. Fleet and Co. have been in the habit of sending to us for ginger, but they have never sent for the goods in this document it does not represent any real transaction.

BISHOP STONE . I am a butcher of Walworth Road—I have no recollection of changing this cheque for 2l. 8s. but my name is on it—I have changed a great number of cheques for Fleet and Co.—I know Jones as a customer, and have changed many cheques for him on Saturdays, coming from Fleet's—that cheque is drawn to order, and I should not have changed it if it had not been endorsed.

Cross-examined. You were in the habit of sending to me by Williams who I saw just now, and sometimes by a girl—I remember having two cheques returned unpaid; I found the money for one, and said that the other should be paid in the evening, but it was not, nor next morning, but in the evening I had a cheque for the amount, which was met—you said that you had not the money in your pocket.

JULIUS SORIS, JUN . In January, 1882, I was book-keeper to Fleet and Co.—I kept the petty cash book—the prisoner brought me these documents from Petty, Wood, and Co., as receipts for money which he had paid—I saw a receipt stamp across, and paid him these two sums—I wrote this cheque for 2l. 8s., payable to Petty, Wood, and Co.—I believe this endorsement, Petty, Wood, and Co., to be the prisoner's writing—this other cheque for 2l. 8s. is payable to Petty, Wood, and Co., or bearer.

Cross-examined. I gave you those two cheques in payment for two receipts of Petty, Wood, and Co.—you told me you had paid it in cash—the cheques are altered to "bearer"—I am sorry to say that I was extremely careless with you—you were thoroughly trusted—I had no suspicion, and if you came to me I should alter it to "bearer"—you told

me that you had a further payment to make to Petty, Wood, and Co. of 2l. 8s., and it was made payable to their order at your request—I am at a loss about dates—the cheques would be in the cash-book; no rough dash-book was kept at that time—there is a cheque for 2l. 8s. entered here—this cash-book is a precaution by Mr. Richards to check my account—he entered the cheque here before he signed it, and then returned it to me—I write a cheque, get it signed by my father, and take it to Mr. Richards, who enters it in this book, and gives it to me—the first date that Mr. Richards kept the cash-book was really January 24,1 suppose, but he has not put the date—this February 9 was entered on the day Mr. Richards gave me the cheque—that date is carried over the leaf—I have been in the habit of sending people to the factory to you to be paid—I used to draw a cheque at the end of the week—knowing that you had money in hand I used to send down to you to get you to lend me 5l. or 2l., for which I gave you I O U's, which I sometimes took up with cash and sometimes by cheques which were paid further on—a very large number of my cheques were returned on your hands, being dishonoured—it was Mr. Richards's habit on Friday night to give you cheques to raise money to pay wages—if I gave you a cheque for money paid and it was returned, the money was paid in some way or other—I always gave you an I O U for the amount, and afterwards took up the I O U, and next time I drew a cheque I paid you unless the cheque came back, which I am sorry to say a few of them did—I have sent the office-boy to borrow money of you—I recollect Wallace; I did not hide in a room while he came down—we were short of money, but there was no payment you made which was not repaid—you were facetiously called my banker—since you left us the same thing has been going on, and I believe Mr. Sewell has had two or three of my cheques back because we were short at the bank—I recollect Mr. Richards cashing a cheque for 4l. at the Aquarium—the cash was taken out of Mr. Richards's hands and put into mine, and I kept it very carelessly—I used to give cheques and not enter them, and consequently we did not know our balance at the bank—this (produced) is Messrs. Fleet's prospectus—I do not know when it started—it has been turned into a limited company—I never heard it said that as long as you were at large it was impossible to issue it—Mr. Richards said to me "You know Jones's account is overdrawn," but I do not know how much—I never looked at one of the ledgers in my life—I repaid you any money you had paid although your account was overdrawn.

Re-examined. The body of this receipt is Jones's writing, and as a matter of fact he ought to have produced this paper—they are irregular, in form—they ought to be in Petty Wood's writing or one of their clerks'—Fleet and Co. banked at John Brown and Co.'s—we had a great many bills, and bills went back from time to time—I never drew cheques which I knew would be dishonoured, unless we knew we had got to receive the money next morning—I think 10l. was the most we ever owed the prisoner at one time, certainly not more than 15l.

By the Prisoner. I recollect sending you 19l. to Folk stone, a cheque; for 10l., and one for 9l.; that was part salary, and part cash owing to you—Mr. Richards told me to draw for it although your account was overdrawn—if that cheque never appeared in my account till it came-back it was one of. my careless entries—I had not entered it in the cash-book—

we thoroughly trusted in you, and there is one I O U which I have never recovered from you—there are two or three I O U's, if not four, but I only owe you one; that was for 2l. odd—I don't know when I paid you this one (produced)—the date is 18-2-82—I gave you that on the Saturday before you were arrested.

ALGERNON TATHAM . I am one of the firm of Tatham and Son, solicitors—on 20th February I was present in a private room at Fleet and CO.'s—the examination of the books was proceeding when I went in—Mr. Soris, Mr. Bichards, and Jones were there—among other items, they went into the two which have been inquired into to-day, and 1 asked Mr. Soris in the prisoner's presence whether he could say the total amount of defalcations—he said that it must be several hundred pounds, and the prisoner said, "No, no, not so much"—Mr. Soris said that irregularities had been going on for months—the prisoner said, "No, not so long as that; since Mr. Gibson," I think it was, "left"—it was decided to charge the prisoner with this offence, and he was given in custody—he did not deny or explain anything, but before I entered the room the prisoner asked Mr. Soris whether he wanted prosecution or restitution—he made no answer.

Cross-examined. I was in the room when the detective brought you into the room—you retired from the room and came back—before I had, reason to suspect that a criminal offence had been committed, I asked you whether you had anything to propose—I do not know that the books were being investigated all Sunday, or that Mr. Soris prevented your looking at the books that day—Mr. Brown the accountant told me that you had some one there on your behalf—he called there evidently attempting some arrangement, and was referred to me—he said that probably I should receive a visit from you, but I never saw you or had any conversation with you.

The prisoner, in his defence, stated that the firm were continually coming to him for money, and he took their receipts, sometimes from 30 to 50 in a day, sent by the boy, and that when Mr. Soris or Mr. Richards asked him to pay amounts he paid them as a matter of course, and that he had no means of knowing whether the receipts were genuine or not, but if he had forged any they would be in his writing; that he was doing all he could to save the firm from the troubles which were growing up, as they were never able to pay their way.


There were two other indictments against the prisoner, one for forgery and the other for obtaining money by false pretences, upon which

MR. LEWIS offered no evidence.


31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-741
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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741. WILLIAM BRIGGS (20) , Feloniously setting fire to certain laths and wood, in a building: under such circumstances as if the building had been set fire to, he would have been guilty of felony.

MR. PALIOLOGUS Prosecuted.

LAYTON WOOD . I am care taker at Beaconsfield House, Kilburn—on 6th June, about 9.30, my wife called me into the backyard, and I saw the prisoner come from Pembroke Road across some waste ground into the yard of an unfinished house next door—I raised myself up and said, "What do you want here?"—he said, "I want to get through to the Milburn Road"—I said, "It is a funny place to come through"—he said, "Can you direct me?"—I said, "You had better get out of it"—my wife told him which way to go, and he walked away—about three-quarters of

an hour or an hour afterwards I saw him in the unfinished house with a handful of laths in his hand, which he was breaking off from a partition—I said, "Halloa, what are you doing there? what is that fire beyond you?"—there was a fire in the staircase, but the stairs were not fixed, they were turned up on edge—the flames were 3 feet high—he said, "I am here the same as you, and I was called over from the public-house to see what was the matter"—I said, "Ton come out of the house, you have no business in there"—he dropped the laths and came into the garden—I said, "Oh, you are the same man who I saw in the house before; you had better take yourself off, or I will look you up"—he walked away, and I went in and. saw flames 3 feet high, and put them out—two young men helped me and fetched a pail of water—a constable came by, and he and I went after the prisoner, and he was taken—no one else was in the house—it was blocked up.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not notice whether you had been drinking.

MARTHA ELIZABETH WOOD . I am the wife of the last witness—I have heard his evidence; it is correct.

WILLIAM LUMLEY (Policeman X 30). I was called to this unfinished house, and found the fire—I took the prisoner, and on searching him at the station this paraffin lamp (produced), quite empty, was found where he had been sitting—I took some of the laths from the house; they Were wet with water—there was no smell of paraffin in the house—I picked up quantities of matches—the staircase was not fixed; the tread of one step was burnt, but it was not fixed to the building—none of the fixtures were set fire to, but these were laths pulled off from it, and no doubt the flames would have caught it in a short time.

GUILTY .*— Nine Months' Hard Labour,

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-742
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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742. JAMES ROW (21) , Feloniously with others, assaulting David Jenkins with intent to rob him.

MR. HICKS Prosecuted,

DAVID JENKINS . I am. a porter at Billingsgate—on 29th May, at 6.30 p. m., I was with Joseph Robertson, a man of colour like myself, in Ratcliff Highway-f-we met the prisoner and two more—Allen, who was convicted last session (See page 287), tried to snatch my watch—I shoved him and told him to go away—the prisoner made a second snatch; I told him to go away, I did not want any bother with him—when his companion saw that he failed, he tried again and failed, and we managed to get into the Hoop and Grapes, as the crowd was getting large—they followed us in, and I gave my watch and chain to, the barn aid for safety—they then assaulted me and struck me—the prisoner is one of them; be struck my face several times—the landlord told us to jump over the bar; we did so, and the landlord got us into a room and locked us up for half an hour, and sent for two constables—on 30th June I picked the prisoner out at the station from, six other men.

The Prisoner. I was not in that neighbourhood all the evening.

JOSEPH ROBERTSON . I am a sailor—I was with Jenkins on 29th May—the account he has given is correct—I picked the prisoner out at the station from six others—when he was hitting me I knocked him down.

HENRY JOHNS . I am landlord of the Hoop and Grapes—I saw the two coloured men in my bar, and the prisoner and Allen came in after

them, and another man, who I do not know—Rowe and Allen were attacking Jenkins and Robertson, and trying to kick them—Robertson knocked the prisoner down by a blow under his jaw—I had seen the prisoner between 12 and 1 o'clock that morning—I have known him in Rowey for two years on and off—I called out to him repeatedly when he was in the bar, and have not the slightest doubt he is the man.

Cross-examined. I saw you after 12 o'clock—you were knocked down and fell with your head against a seat, and when you rose I saw a little blood trickling down your head, and I furnished water to bathe jour head—there is not a shadow of doubt about you in my mind.

CHARLES BROWN (Policeman H 385). I took the prisoner on 29th June, at 9.30 p. m., under a bed at 8, Earl Street—he said "What do you want me for?"—I told him, and he said "I don't know anything about it"—I found on him a doctor's certificate; he had his leg bruised.

Cross-examined. I was called in because Allen and his wife were fighting—he broke her jaw and she called me to take him—I suspected that he was hiding under the bed; I struck a lucifer and found him there.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "Last night, when the constable found me under the bed, he was called in by my sister-in-law. I asked him what he wanted me for; he said 'Highway robbery with violence. 'I said 'It is not me you want; I got under the bed to prevent my sister-in-law throwing things at me;' and this Harry Allen I don't know at all, we are quite strangers. During the time I have been out I have been watched by the detectives. "

Prisoner's Defence. I was not in the neighbourhood at all. I was with a friend who has gone to Colombo. The landlord saw me at 6 o'clock, but not afterwards. This is only because I have been in trouble once. I have seen Detective Murrell and Mr. Thompson; if I was guilty why did not they take me before?


He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of a like offence at this Court in January, 1881.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.

THIRD COURT.—Tuesday, August 1st, 1882.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-743
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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743. HENRY PERRY (20) and GEORGE ROGERS (22) , Feloniously, with a person unknown, assaulting Henry Brown, and stealing from his person 2s., his money.

MR. FRANK WHITE Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended.

HENRY BROWN . I am a packer, of 191, Jubilee Street, Mile End on the morning of 2nd of July I was passing Globe Court, Limehouse, walking towards home—when I got to the top of the court I wis knocked down by the prisoners; they held my arms and another man held my legs—I was struck in my chest and lay on my back on the ground—Rogers said "What have you been up 'to?"—I said "Nothing, what do you think I have been up to?"—he said "You frightened my old woman "—I said "How could I? there is no old woman here "—Rogers said to a third party "Go and see what he has been up to"—while he was gone I asked him to let me get up, and they let me gee up—Rogers said "Look here, you will have to b——well square us"—I said

"What have I to square you for?"—he said "Have you any money?"—I said "No"—I had 6s. or 7s.—he said "Give me 2s. "—I said "I have not got it"—he said "Give me eighteenpence"—I said "I have not got it"—Perry said "Give me a shilling," and walked away about a dozen yards—Rogers said "Do not go away yet," and said to me "You will have to b——well give me a shilling before you go"—I told him I had not got one—he said "I can hear it rattle in your pocket"—I then gave him two sixpences from my left-hand pocket, which were lying loose—he said "Think yourself b——lucky to get off like this"—I said "You may as well shake hands before you go, old fellow," and I shook hands with the prisoners and another man—I walked away, met the constables, and told them what had occurred—I went back and saw the prisoners and another one standing at the top of the court—I heard one of them say "Who is this coming?"—another said "That is him again"—I rushed forward and caught hold of Perry, but was knocked down in the road; I called "Police!" and the police came up—I had a watch and chain, but my coat was buttoned right down—Perry was taken in custody—I identified Rogers at the station and gave him in custody—I shook hands so that I should be able to identify them.

Cross-examined. I had been to Southend to our bean feast—I arrived at the railway station about 10 p. m. with the bean feasters—I went to the Cooper's Arms with them and remained till 11. 55; their wives came to meet them—I had seen them lots of times before—I then went to the Britannia with a gentleman, just to have a final wet—I was there about wo minutes—the Britannia is about ten-minutes' walk from Globe Court—I got there about 1 o'clock—I was by myself then—I did not meet a lady there, nor a female; I am positive of it—I did not enter into conversation with a female, nor did one scream—I thought it advisable not to struggle—I did not say "Pray let me go"—they did not tell me they would hold me till the third man came back, but they did hold me—I was giving them the money when the third man came up—I did not offer the money voluntarily—I never heard any screaming till I holloaed out "Police!"—I gave a shilling to each of the prisoners—I had no ring.

Re-examined. I was perfectly sober when the prisoners had done with me—I knew what I was about—I had been drinking—I was jolly—a man named Joblin was at the police-court—he was not a witness.

RICHABD BRIND (Policeman K 463). About 1 a. m. on 2nd July I was on duty with another constable in Salmon's Lane, about half a mile from Globe Court—the prisoner came up, and from what he said we went to Globe Court—the prosecutor caught hold of Perry and they fell down—Perry struck him right and left—I took hold of Perry by the collar and pulled him off Brown, who said "I shall lock him up"—Perry said "What for?"—Brown said "They got money from me by threatening me"—I told Perry the charge and took him to the station—Perry said "He gave us the money"—Rogers followed to the station—I heard him ask the other constable if Perry was locked up—he said "You had better come inside and see"—he went inside, and Brown charged him with being with Perry—the third man came to the station, but Brown would not swear he was there—Brown was perfectly sober.

Cross-examined. He could walk as straight as I could—I believe I told the Magistrate about Perry striking Brown; I would not be certain; if I did not I ought—I spoke to the third man, Joblin, at the police-.

court—a watchman was called in, but did not give any evidence—at the station Rogers said they were standing at the corner of the court and saw Brown running, that Perry took hold of one side and Rogers the other, and they said "What have you been doing?" that the third man took hold of Brown's leg and threw him on his back; he asked them what they meant, and they said "What have you been doing?" that they said to Joblin "Go back and see what is the matter?" and Joblin went back, and said he could not see anything; that Brown said "Let me go," and they said they would not; and Brown offered Rogers the money and pressed them to take it, and they took it—no mention was made at the station of a woman calling "Murder!"

By MR. PURCELL. I did not repeat this statement of Rogers at the police-court—it was taken down in writing at the station.

JOB POPE (Policeman K 147). I was on duty with Brind in Salmon's Lane when Brown made a complaint—I went with them to Globe Court—I saw three men standing with them in the alley; Brown went across the waste ground and caught hold of Perry; a struggle ensued, they fell to the ground, and Perry was taken in custody; I assisted in taking him to the station—the other men ran away—Perry was charged with assault and demanding money—he said that he held the man and gave him a shilling—altar a time Rogers came to the station and asked if we had Perry there—I said "You had better come in"—he was then identified as one of the men—I placed him in the dock and told him he was charged with assault and demanding money—he said "I held him by the coat collar and he gave me a shilling"—Brown was perfectly sober.

Cross-examined. Joblin afterwards came to the station, but Brown could not identify him—I did not see the watchman in the witness-box at the police-court.

The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Perry says: "I was just going home, and Mrs. Rogers said 'There is some one halloaing out murder.' Then we ran up, and I saw the gentleman running as hard as ever he could. Rogers stopped him, and when he placed his hand in his shoulder he fell down on his back. Then Rogers said 'Get up, we shan't hurt you;' with that he walked across the road. He then said, 'Pray let me go; I have not been doing nothing. 'We held him to see if anybody would come. One of us ran away to see if he could see the woman that had been halloaing. It was a long time before he came back. The prosecutor said 'Pray let me go; I will give you some money. 'He put his hand in his pocket and gave me a shilling. I said I did not want it. He said 'Oh, pray take it and let me go, and I will give Rogers one as well.' With that I walked away." Roger says:" I met this man Perry, and we were speaking together, when my wife runs into the court and says 'There is some one murdered in the alley.' The people halloaed out of the court' There he runs, there. 'I met the man running: down the alley as fast as he could. I caught hold of him and said 'What have you been doing of?' He was so much out of wind he could not speak for the minute. I said 'Get up, mate, nobody will hurt you, only hold you till my mate goes and sees what you have been doing of. 'I then sail 'Perry, you had better help me hold him while he goes to see what he has been doing of, and where the woman is who was halloaing out.' Then he said 'Pray let me go;

I will give you anything to let me go. 'He then walked across the road and said 'I will give you anything,' and he put a shilling into Perry's hand, and then he gave me one. Perry said 'There you axe, mate, I do not want your shilling. 'I said 'You had better take your shilling, mate; I do not want your shilling.' All I said was 'You may think yourself lucky there was not a policeman here for frightening my missis. '"

Witnesses for the Defence.

MARY GREGORY . I am the wife of Joseph Gregory, of 5, Globe Alley—I remember when the prisoners were taken up; the houses were closed; it must have been after 12 p. m.—I was indoors, and I heard a man run past my door—I went to the top of the court and saw Sogers and Ferry holding the prosecutor, while Joblin went to see what this man had done to the woman—I heard screams of "Murder" in a woman's voice—Mrs. Sogers said to her husband "George, that man has done something to a poor woman," then Sogers and Perry stopped the man running by—Brown gave them a shilling each, and said "That will do for a drop of beer to-morrow"—the court is about five feet wide—I went to the Court on Monday morning, and waited outside—some hundreds were waiting—the prisoners live next door to me in Globe Court.

Cross-examined. My husband is a tank-maker—he was in bed; I was having supper—I wait till my husband has gone to bed, then have it to myself—I had with me only my children and my baby asleep—I occupy the whole house, four rooms—it is 20 yards from the end of the court—I was near the window—my lamp was burning—there is a lamp at the top of the court—I stopped there not half an hour—I saw the prosecutor twice—when he passed my window J said to Mrs. Rogers "That is the man; I know the man before"—I joined Mrs. Rogers at the top of the court—I heard the cry of murder just as I opened the door, and the man came up—I was standing in the court when the prisoners were taken—I did not give evidence at the police-court—Joblin went there and Mrs. Sobers—they did not give evidence.

Re-examined. The police would not let us into the police-court.

ROBERT ROGERS . I live at 33, Salmon's Lane, Limehouse—I am no relation to Rogers—I am a watchman for Mr. Soul, a builder—I was. on duty near Globe Court on the Saturday night when the prisoners were taken—I was at Bridge Wharf, about 100 yards off—I heard a woman scream out "Murder!"—I saw a man run down the court—he asked me which way the woman went—I said "That way"—I went to the police court, but could not get in.

Cross-examined. It was nearer 12 than one o'clock when I heard the woman scream—I went to the police-court to give evidence—I was not called.

ANN COLLINS . I am single, and live at Ropemaker's Fields—I was standing against the David's Harp, about six yards from Globe Court, and heard screams of "Murder" and "What have I done?" in a woman's voice—then I saw the prosecutor get off the woman and run down the court, fastening his trousers—they were on the ground; I saw no more—I did not trouble myself about the matter till I was called on.

Cross-examined. I am a canvas-hand—I was not canvassing; I was talking to the watchman—the prisoner's friend, Mrs. Cloy, called on me about this on Monday evening—I did not give assistance; I went to the

top of the court—my house is about five minutes' walk off—the houses were closed—I was not at the police-court.

WILLIAM JOBLIN . I am a labourer, of 4, Princess Place, Limehouse—I was with the prisoners on this Saturday night at Harden's Corner, near Globe Court—Mrs. Rogers halloaed out "George, George," and we ran towards her—when we got to the top of the court the prosecutor ran up the court as fast as he could—Rogers and Perry took hold of him—he slipped down; they picked him up, and said, "We have got you"—he said "Let me go, I have done nothing"—Rogers said tome" Bill, run down and see what he has done?" that is, down the court—I wont down the court, saw the watchman, and asked him if he heard any one scream "Murder" and "Police"—he said "Yes"—I asked him where the girl was; he said "Run towards Limehouse"—I came back and told Rogers—Mrs. Rogers said "Come down to Mrs. Gregory," and I went with them—there was Mrs. Collins there, and the watch as well—Mrs. Rogers asked if they heard screams, and Mrs. Collins said yes, and that she saw the man knock the girl down—Brown and the prisoners stood on a piece of ruined ground called the "Wilderness"—the prosecutor fetched something out of his pocket, and gave it to Perry first, and then he fetched out two sixpences, and gave them to Rogers; then he said "Good night," and shook hands with the prisoners and went away—ho came back in about half an hour, and caught hold of Perry—I heard the prisoners were at the station—I went there—I asked a policeman if Perry was inside; he said yes, and asked me to go in, and I went in—I told the inspector that I was with the men, and that I was No. 3—Brown did not know me, and they let me go—I went to the police-court next day, and told a gentleman all I knew about it—I remained with the witnesses, but did not give evidence; the police knew I was there.

Cross-examined. The prisoners said, in answer to the Magistrate's Clerk's question if they had any witness, "Mr. William Joblin"—I was with the prisoners between 12 and 1 o'clock on this night, not before that—I heard no scream—I inquired of the watchman; he said he heard screams—he was 30 or 40 yards from where the policeman was and from where the struggle was. The prisoners received good characters.

GUILTY .— One Month's Hard Labour each.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-744
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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744. JOHN GRANSBY (27) and THOMAS LANGDALE (27) , Robbery with violence on John Murphy, and stealing 7s. 6d., his money. MR. AGABEG Prosecuted; MR. HEWICK defended Gransby.

JOHN MURPHY . I am a labourer—I have been residing at Cork—I came over to England on 25th May—I got employment under Mr. Finlay, near Barnet—on 15th July I went to the Alexandra Hotel, Barnet—1 had 13s. 9d.; 7s. 6d. was in a separate pocket, to buy a pair of second hand boots with, and the rest in my trousers pocket—I saw the prisoners—I said I could earn as much money a week as some of them, and that in coming to this country I was losing my time—I tossed a shilling, which I took from my trousers pocket—I left the hotel and went to the road to wait for a friend—Langdale followed me, and hit me with his fist in the left jaw—I fell on the ground—Gransby put his hand in my right-hand pocket; I felt the hand coming back and the money gone—I

waited for a policeman and gave Gransby in charge—two police came back with me from the station, and I gave Langdale in charge—he was leaning against the wall near the public-house door—I had two half-crowns, a florin, and six pence.

Cross-examined by MR. HEWIGE. It was between 5 and 6 p. m.—I had been in the public-house twenty minutes—I had two glasses of ale—I tossed for beer with Gransby and the other strangers—I did not want to charge another man—I do not know Skipsey nor Strikes—I was not the worse 'for drink—I had been at work at High Wycomb for half a day for 1s. 6rf. at hay-making—Gransby was drinking at the bar when taken—I did not complain till I saw a policeman, because I might have got hurt—I was sore for a week—I did not fall to the ground; one man kept me up, and they got my money—Gransby did not hit me.

Cross-examined by Langdale. You did not speak to me in the public-house; you were outside the public-house when you followed me—I have not made a mistake in the two men; I am sure it was you who hit me.

Re-examined, I gave a third man in charge—that is the man (Walter Easter).

THOMAS SIMMONS (Policeman S 46). I saw the prosecutor at the Alexandra Hotel on 15th July between 5 and 6 p. m.—I was in plain clothes—Gransby was in the house and Langdale outside—Langdale came in the house and spoke to some one, and walked out again—I saw the prosecutor go out—I saw the prosecutor sitting—on the ground—Gransby was helping him up; Langdale was a few yards away—Easter came and took Gransby in custody—I saw Gransby after that take a piece of rag off his hand and throw it away—as I examined it I saw Gransby trying to give Langdale some money—Easter and I told him he must not give anything up, as he was in custody—that was on the way to the station—Gransby said "I have got a week's money in my pocket; I want to give it up to him"—a man named Skipsey assaulted another Irishman alter Gransby was in custody—Murphy was not in the row.

Cross-examined by MR. HEWICK. Skipsey was in the public-house while Murphy was there—Gransby and Murphy were tossing—I know Gransby—I am stationed at Barnet—the Irish come hay-making—I do not know Mrs. Knight by name—I know Mrs. Boyd; I did not see her there—I vent out of the public-house about twenty minutes after Gransby and the prosecutor left—no complaint was made to me till Easter told me—this was Saturday afternoon, and there were other people there—the prosecutor had been drinking.

Cross-examined by Langdale. I do not know that you were in company—the prosecutor went out first, Gransby followed and Skipsey afterwards—the prosecutor charged a man named Grantham—you were standing against the wall—I never saw Skipsey standing against the wall—you were walking close to Gransby when he offered you money—the other constable might have seen them.

Re-examined. The prosecutor had his senses—Skipsey's row was when Gransby was On the way to the station—Skipsey was standing on the left side of the prosecutor on the opposite side of the road, and eight or nine yards away.

WALTER EASTER (Policeman S 84). I was on duty on Barnet Common on 15th July—about 6 p. m., Murphy came to me, and in cousequence

of what he told me I went to the Alexandra Hotel—I saw Gransby—I said, "The prosecutor will give you into custody for stealing 7s. 6d. "—he said, "I know nothing about any money"—he then walked inside and came out directly—I took him. in custody and took him to the station—I heard money rattle in his pockets; on the way to the station he had his hands fumbling in his pocket—he said something about a week's money he wanted to give up to Langdale—Langdale was four or five yards—off, but then came close behind the prisoner—at the station the inspector called my attention to Gransby; I heard some money jingle—I saw a half-crown or two-shilling piece, which he was trying to put in his boot, as he went in the dock at the station—the prosecutor charged him—I then searched him—I said, "You must put the money back "—he said, "The money is mine, I did not steal it"—I found on him the money produced, two half-crowns, a florin, two shillings, two sixpences, thirteenpence-halfpenny in bronze, two leather straps, and a knife—after Gransby was removed to the cell, I went with the prosecutor to the Alexandra Hotel; on the way I met Curley, who went back with me—the prosecutor pointed out Langdale, and Curley took him in custody.

Cross-examined by MR. HEWICK. Gransby said, "I know nothing about any money, I will go to the station with you"—he went quietly.

Cross-examined by Langdale. You were lying on the bank seven or nine yards from the house when I passed the house about 20 minutes to 6—I had got 150 yards when the prosecutor overtook me—I told Gransby if he wanted to make any charge of the prosecutor being drunk he should do so.

JOHN CURLEY (Policeman S 274). I was on duty near the Alexandra Hotel, Barnet, on 15th July—about C. 50, in consequence of what the prosecutor said, I took Langdale in custody—I took him to the station—the prosecutor charged him with assisting Gransby to rob him of 7s. 6d.—I searched him—I found on him fourpence in bronze and a penknife—I had been outside the Alexandra Hotel at 25 minutes to 7—Langdale was then inside the house; I was in uniform.

The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Gransby says: "I am innocent." Langdale says: "I went to bed about 12 o'clock, and did not get up till a quarter to 6. "

Witnesses for the Defence.

MARY AWN KNIGHT . I am a widow, and live opposite the Alexandra Hotel—between 5 and 6 p. m. on 15th July I was in my house—I took an errand where I am nursing, and I heard a dreadful scream, and I saw Skipsey strike Murphy—after knocking him to the ground he felt in his pockets—I know Skipsey—the prisoners were not outside then—I stood at the gate—I saw Skipsey take something out of the prosecutor's pocket and run away—the prosecutor struggled and got up again—he gave Gransby in charge—Gransby was inside the public-house—the man could not see the man he wanted, and said, "I will give you in charge"—then I saw Gransby taken away—I said to Skipsey, "What is this man taken for?"—he said, "What has that to do with you? if you do not shut your b—mouth, I will shut it for you. "

Coss-examined. I am a nurse to old Mrs. Clark in the almshouse—I have known Gransby as a neighbour about two years—I have not kept company with him, he has not taken liberties with me—I have a husband—I have nursed the old lady about seven years—Skipsey was hiding in

another person's house when I spoke to him—I was a few yards from the constable when Gransby was taken—I did not tell the constable, because I did not know what they were taking him for—I did not give evidence before the Magistrate—I was asked to come here this morning—I went to the police-court—I told Mr. Boyce, the clerk, that Skipsey was the one that robbed the man and not Gransby—-Murphy took his purse out to count his money—he was as drunk as he could be—he accused Mr. Wetherley of robbing him—I saw Simmons there—I heard his evidence—I believe it is correct—after Skipsey ran away, Gransby came out and the man was on the ground; Gransby said, "Can't you get up, old pal," and he helped him up, and went back again to the house—I aid not see Langdale about 5 or 6 o'clock.

JOHK CHEEK . I am a chimney-sweep of Bill's Hill, Barnet, close to the Alexandra Hotel—I was about 100 yards from it on 15th' July—I saw Murphy there drunk and staggering—I have been in Barnet 45 years; I was born there.

Cross-examined. I saw the prosecutor about 6.15—I saw Easter—I had been there about half an hour—I heard a disturbance, I did not see it—I saw a number of people outside the hotel, I did not go to see—I was about five yards from the prosecutor when I saw him—I saw the prosecutor stagger against the policeman.

Evidence in reply. WALTER EASTER (Re-examined). I have heard Cheek say that Murphy staggered against me; it is not true—Murphy had had a glass or two of beer, but was not drunk—with my holding him up he could walk straight.

Langdale's Defence. I had been to work and had had something to drink and went to bed. I got up and went to see the cricket match and sat opposite the public-house. I saw Murphy come out of the watering place, Skipsey came next, the prosecutor fell and Skipsey fell across him. Skipsey got up and went in the pub, Gransby came out of the watering place; the prosecutor got up and went across the road and said something to the college chaps, and they told him to get away from them, then he went down the road and fetched a constable. I walked back to see who he was going to lock up, when he gave me and Gransby in charge for robbing him. Skipsey came back and asked me to have some beer. I said I did not want any. as I had not. been in the house since Christmas. He said, "I have got 2d" He went into the house and talked to a man. When the constable said he wanted me for robbing Murphy, I said, "I will go, but I have not robbed anybody. "I am innocent.


FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, August 1st, 1882.

Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-745
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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745. WILLIAM HENRY FRANKLIN (36) , Unlawfully obtaining by false pretences from William Eglinton and another, an order for the payment of 2l. 10s. with intent to defraud.

MR. BESLEY Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.

WILLIAM ELINTON . I have a partner, and trade as "The Ross Publishing Company" at 4, Wine Office Court, Fleet Street, and am the

proprietor of the "Dictionary of Common Wants"—in June I employed the prisoner as canvasser, and supplied him with printed order forms—he was to be paid 25 per cent, on the total amount of orders he procured, which he would be entitled to on production of the order—he brought this order (produced) purporting to be signed by Bainbridge and Pound, the proprietors of some marking ink—the writing of the body of it I believe to be the prisoner's, and also that on the back—the figures 12l. have been altered into 10l.—I believe the figures to be the prisoner's—I gave him this cheque for 2l. 10s. for his commission, payable to his order, and received from him this cheque marked "C"—I believed it to be a genuine order—in consequence of something that happened I requested him by letter on 14th or 15th July to come to the office, and this letter is his answer: "50, Reperton Road, Munster Park, Fulham, 8. W. July 17th, 1882. The Ross Publishing Company, 4, Wine Office Court, Fleet Street. Gentlemen,—Your letter of Saturday duly to hand. It is impossible for me to be with you at the time named. However, to meet the case, if there are any orders introduced by me which on inquiry you cannot accept, I am quite willing to refund you the commission paid upon them out of the future commission. I hope to be in a position to hand you some first-class orders this week. Tour telegram of Friday would imply that my whereabouts had been kept secret from you, and your statement that a warrant would be issued against me is hardly the way to secure a visit from me to you.—Yours obediently, W. H. FRANKLIN. "I went to the Mansion House, and laid the facts before a Magistrate—a warrant was granted, and the prisoner was taken in custody—after he was at Clerkenwell Prison I received this letter from him (Dated July 26th, 1882, stating that he had employed a man named George Robinson, by whom the figures were altered from 12l. to 10l., and suggesting that the signatures in question were his).

Cross-examined, The prisoner is a very good canvasser—if any order turned out to be bad I deducted the commission—he brought me an order from Thornhill and Co. of New Bond Street—the commission has been paid on one quarter—he also brought me an order from Lyne and Co., of Tottenham Court Road, but the commission on that has not been paid because we were doubtful of the order—the same thing applies to Cox and Co., of Reading—I think there will be about 3l. 15s. or 4l. due to him—he was at Reading to canvass for me—I have always been of opinion that the order is in his writing, and the signature—I told him his explanation bore the impress of truth—the representation of some one connected with the prisoner made me alter my view—to the best of my belief this is his writing—I believed it to be a forgery—I could not say by whom—on application to Bainbridge and Pound I found it to be a forgery—I believe it is customary for canvassers to assist each other, but not respectable canvassers—I believed the prisoner to be respectable.

Re-examined. When I received this letter from the House of Detention the prisoner had been committed for trial—I knew of his going to Reading before I found out that Pound's order was a forgery—my attention had been directed to the writing of the words "Bainbridge and Pound" before I received this from him—we wrote this letter to him in answer to his: "July 28th, 1882. Sir,—We are in receipt of your letter of yesterday's date, and have forwarded same to our solicitors. Your explanation, we must acknowledge, bears the impress of truth, and you

will be no doubt able to prove that you received the order from the person named; but from whoever you received the order you have only yourself to thank for it, and it should be a lesson to you for the remainder of your life," &c.—he has obtained about 25l. from me by improper orders, and, counting that, there would be nothing due to him. (A letter from the prisoner to Mr. Eglinton, dated 14th July, 1882, was read, in which he reported hie visit to Reading and the business done.)

MATTHEW POUND . I carry on business under the style of Bainbridge and Found, at 60, Leather Lane, but have no partner—I am the proprietor of some patent inks—I had some transactions with the prisoner about 18 months ago, but not since, and he has not called upon me—this signature, "Bainbridge and Pound," is not written by me or by my authority—I never heard of any one calling upon me in reference to the "Dictionary of Common Wants," until they applied to me to confirm the order.

WILLIAM WRIGHT (City Detective). I received a warrant, and took the prisoner on 18th July—I read the warrant to him and he said, "I did not think Mr. Eglinton would take such sharp measures; I have had a lawsuit on, and if my solicitor had settled with me I should have seen Mr. Eglinton and settled with him"—he said that he had received a telegram from Mr. Eglinton, and that he went to Beading a few days previous to his arrest, and had written a letter to him; that he was at Reading three days, and the third day he paid his own expenses, as he did not do much business the first two days—I took him to the station.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I have nothing to say. I shall call witnesses on the trial."

Witnesses for the Defence.

THOMAS CANNON . I am a journalist and advertising agent, and have been for 30 years—I am connected with the Whitehall Review, and a number of papers—I have known the prisoner many years and also his writing—to the best of my belief this "Bainbridge and Pound" is not his writing.

Cross-examined. It was not shown to me before now.

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

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-746
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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746. WILLIAM FLETCHER (61) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Thomas Wace and stealing two opera glasses and other articles, his property.

MR. FOSTER REED Prosecuted.

THOMAS WACE . I am a salesman, of 42, Camden Road, Islington—on Friday, 23rd June, about 11. 45,1 locked up my house, and at 5.30 next morning I went down stairs and saw the dining-room and drawing-room doors open—I heard a noise down stairs, and went down and found the back kitchen door and the shutter open, with a hole cut in it—the window was open; I immediately jumped through into the back garden—I did not see any one there, and I ran round the side of the house to the front garden and saw the prisoner go out at the gate—I pursued him about 200 yards, he was in my sight all the time—when I caught him he said, "What do you want with me?"—I said, "Come back and you will see"—I brought him back, met a constable and gave him in charge—a hole had been broken in the glass of the kitchen window, just against the

catch—a square hole was cut in the shutter sufficiently large to undo the fastening—several things were removed from the drawing-room and dining-room, and placed upon the back kitchen table—two opera glasses some spoons, knives and forks, and some boots were taken from outside our bedroom door—a seal and vinaigrette were found in a garden—I identify this property (produced).

JOHN CARTWEIGHT (Policeman Y 582). On this morning I saw the prisoner and the prosecutor struggling outside a house some distance below the prosecutor's—he gave the prisoner into my custody, and I returned to the house—1 found this sheath-knife and buckle on the prisoner, but no property—I took him to the station and charged him—he said he knew nothing about it.

ALBERT JUDD (Policeman Y 546). I was passing 436, Camden Road, and found this gimlet, seal and vinaigrette, identified by the prosecutor,' lying in the front garden—afterwards I examined the house and found holes corresponding with this gimlet in the shutter, and a centre hole cut with a knife—the window was broken and the catch forced back.

Prisoner's Defence. I had been on my ship the night before, and as I had a long way to come back I stopped out till morning, when the rosecutor seized me at the gate. The gate was ajar, and it went open as I touched it.

GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-747
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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747. JAMES SMITH (32) , Stealing 54 yards of cloth, the property of Francis Howard Humphries and others.

MR. FOSTER REED Prosecuted.

SAMUEL CARTER (City Detective). On Thursday, 29th June, about 11. 50, I saw the prisoner in Middlesex Street, offering this parcel of cloth for sale in many places—I asked him where he got it—he said he bought it of Mr. Donnithorne, of Bread Street, Cheapside—I did not believe it, and told him I should take him to the station, and I charged him with unlawful possession—I afterwards saw the property identified.

FBANCIS HOWARD HUMPHRIES . I am one of the firm of Knowles, Cooke, and Co., of 18, Lawrence Lane, stuff merchants—this parcel contains a piece of Italian cloth, which I identify as ours—it was sold by us, and was in the course of delivery, and was abstracted from a truck in the street.

WILLIAM FURNEAU . I am the prosecutor's porter—about 11 o'clock on 29th June I had this parcel in Bread Street on a trolly with other pieces—I went upstairs to take two pieces, and left two in the truck, and when I came down there was only one.

The Prisoner in his defence, said that the parcel was given to him by a respectable goung man, who asked him to dispose of it for him for 3l. 10s., and told him to sag it teas bought of Donnithorne, if he were asked.

GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-748
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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748. CHARLES SPEER (20) , Robbery with violence on Thomas Farrell, and stealing from him a scarf, hat, and other articles.

MR. FOSTER REED Prosecuted.

THOMAS FARRELL . I am a comedian—on 4th July, at 1.30 a. m., I was in High Street, Islington, with a male friend, and we stopped at a coffee stall and asked for a cup of coffee—when I got it the prisoner and some

others came, and began breaking the man's things up—I said, "Let the man get a living," and he struck me, got me on the ground, kicked me, and gut away, taking from me 2s., my hat, and neck-handkerchief—I called "Police"—I held him a little while, but he was too many for me, and that is how I recognise him—I saw him again in the City Road the next night, and told a policeman to put his hand on him—he ran away, and we ran after him—he was stopped by another constable—I gave him in custody.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I spoke to a man called Marshall first—I did not want to strike one of the men—Marshall did not come up aid catch me by the arm and prevent me—I did not run across the road after one of them—it might be impossible for my hat to stop on when I was struggling with two men, or for 2s. to stop in such a pocket as this—on the night I gave you in charge I had several others with me—they had not sticks like this (produced)—I did not see you take anything from my pocket or take up my hat, I could not when I was on the ground being kicked—I tried to defend myself.

JOHN REILLY . I am a paper-stainer, of Islington—I was at. this coffee stall—some men came up with the prisoner and called for some coffee—they drank it, and started smashing the man's cups and saucers, and the prosecutor came up and said, "Don't break the man's cups and saucers, we all have to earn our living"—they said, "What has that to do with you?"—he said, "Nothing," and one of the prisoner's mates knocked him down—he got up again, and the prisoner put his leg behind him and threw him down—I went into the crowd and picked him up and put on his hat, and one of them said he would knife me—I went for a constable, and one of them ran after me with a knife—I saw the prisoner feeling for the prosecutor's pocket, and am positive he is the man.

Cross-examined. You were there from first to last—I believe I saw you cross the road first, and as soon as I saw the mob come over you came over with them too—you were standing alongside of your mates—I believe a friend of yours, called Tom Marshall, struck him first—Marshall picked the milk-jug up, and not a man with a black coat.

ANDREW LAWSON (Policeman G 107). I heard cries of "Police" in Upper Street, Islington, and I met Reilly, saying "Make haste; a man is being robbed and killed"—I went up and saw the prosecutor; has face was a mass of cuts and bruises—he said that he had lost 2s. from his pocket and a silk scarf from his throat, and a new hat—the scarf has not been found—next morning I met the prosecutor in the City Road; he and the prisoner were speaking together—he said "I am glad you have come; this is one that assaulted me last night"—they just met at the corner of Duncan Terrace—the prosecutor said "Take him"—I put my hand on him, and he said "No, you don't," and made a twist round, and ran away round by Sadler's Wells Theatre; but he was stopped by another constable—when he commenced to run he threw away this stick (produced)—I said "I shall have to take you in custody for robbing that gentleman"—he said "I have not robbed the gentleman of anything; I did not have his money or his hat or handkerchief"—I searched him at the station, and only found a few halfpence and this chain, with nothing attached to it—he said he was certainly there, but knew nothing about it.

Cross-examined. You did not say that the prosecutor had struck you

with a stick for nothing—you ran for a quarter of a mile before you were stopped—before you commenced to run the prosecutor said he should charge you.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I am perfectly innocent of the charge. The prosecutor hit me with a stick for nothing at all. He was the first to begin the row. "

Prisoner's Defence. I am perfectly innocent of the charge—I never took any part in it at all.


OLD COURT.—Tuesday, August 1st, and Wednesday, August 2nd, 1882.

Before Mr. Justice Stephen.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-749
VerdictGuilty > manslaughter
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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749. RICHARD GEORGE WELLS (48) was indicted for the wilful murder of John Carlisle. He was also charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with the like offence.


LENA SYKES . I am a married woman living apart from my husband at 6, Moor Park Road, Fulham—I occupy the whole house—I have lived there about nine months—I have known the prisoner about 18 months he has been in the habit of coming backwards and forwards to my house—he occasionally slept there—there are three bedrooms in the house; when he slept there it was in a room at the top of the house; I occupied a separate room from his—on Friday, 26th May, I went to the Oaks—I saw the prisoner on the day before, the Thursday; I did not arrange with him that day to go with him to the Oaks, I did on the Friday morning—he did not sleep there that Thursday night—I saw him between 7 and 8 o'clock on Friday morning, as near as I can remember, and it was then arranged that we were to go down to the Oaks—we went in a Hansom cab; we started about 2 o'clock; we took luncheon with us, some sandwiches in a basket; Mr. Wells packed the basket—we went in the cab on to the course, and were stationed opposite the Grand Stand, and from there saw the races—while at Epsom we met the deceased; I had not known him before; the prisoner introduced him to me—we left Epsom a little after 5 o'clock, I expect, as soon as the races had finished—while there we took our refreshments in the cab, consisting of food and champagne and beer; the deceased took some with us, and we remained together during the day, and we all three came back in the Hansom; I sat in the middle—they stopped on the road more than once for refreshment, and eventually arrived at my residence between 7 and 8 o'clock—we were all on good terms during that time—I went into the house first; previous to that I had asked Mr. Carlisle to come in; he followed me in—Mr. Wells said something to him, I don't know what it was; they came in both together—both of them appeared to have had too much to drink—they were in the drawing-room on the ground-floor for about an hour previous to that I had not sent for anything, it was in the house—I did not send for anything till after they had begun to fight; that was about three-quarters of an hour or an hour after we had got in; we were all three together in the drawing-room up to that time—they did not begin to quarrel in the drawing-room—I asked the deceased if he would like to come and see the front garden—he said, "Yes, with pleasure"—then I

asked him if he would like to come and see the back garden—he said "Yes," and when we were down in the back garden I asked him if he would kindly give me a little whisky-and-water, and Mr. Wells rushed down the stairs and came and snatched the glass of whisky out of his hand and dashed it against the wall—there was some whisky in the drawing-room; I had not had any; they had some; there was whisky on the table; Mr. Carlisle brought it to me out of the drawing-room, it was whisky-and-water—the prisoner snatched the glass out of the deceased's hands and dashed it against the wall, and he punched him in the head dreadful—he began to fight with his friend—before he snatched the glass out of his hand he said, "You are here, are you?"—then the deceased said, "If you mean fight come on," and they did fight—I ran away out into the garden to tell the people to get the police, and sent the charwoman, Susan Pape—I went into the w. c.; I was frightened—there is a window in there which looks out on to the back garden, so that I could see what was going on—I looked out of the window and saw the deceased trying to keep the prisoner down—he had got the prisoner down, but I think the prisoner got the other one down first, but the deceased got the better of him, I think, and they fought dreadful—one or the other of them said, "You shall kill me or I will kill you before I have done with you," but I could not distinguish the voices—then the police came, and Mr. Wells ran up to the top of the house and laid down on the bed when he saw the police coming—I then came out of the closet—I don't know whether I let the policeman in first or whether the charwoman did—the policeman went up with me to the room where the prisoner was, and I told the policeman to take him away, he had no right there—the prisoner said, "I shall not go, I pay the rent, I am the landlord of this house "—I told him he was not; I told the constable to take him into custody—the constable said he could not, as he had not seen the fight, and as the man said he was the landlord and paid the rent—he was not the landlord and did not pay the rent—the constable then went away, because the prisoner was quiet I went down into the drawing-room, leaving the prisoner there—Carlisle and I were in the drawing-room about three-quarters of an hour—the prisoner then came down into the drawing-room and said to the deceased, "Look what you have done to my face"—the deceased made answer, "But you struck me first, I won't be knocked about by you"—then they made it up together and shook hands—I thought they were going away together, and that Wells was going to get his hat and coat—in the meantime I wanted change to pay the charwoman, and I gave her half a sovereign and told her she had better get a bottle of whisky, although I had plenty in the house, and I could put it away—she brought me the change, and I gave her 2s.—the prisoner was not. in the room then, I don't know where he was, he went out as I thought to put on his hat and coat; I don't know what room he was in—the charwoman brought the whisky and put it on the drawing-room table—the deceased said he must go to town, he had particular business to do—the prisoner was not there then; he subsequently came into the drawing-room, and without saying one word he took up the bottle of whisky by the neck and hit his friend dreadful on the side of the head, and said, "Take that you——"—I only saw him strike him once; I ran away into the w. c., I was so frightened—after that they fought most dreadful in the passage; I could hear them

fighting; I could not see them—that went on some time, and then I heard them fighting down the stairs, and after some little time I heard the deceased cry out "Oh; he has stabbed me this time"—then the prisoner came running along the passage where 1 was in The w. c, and he pulled hold of the door, and said "I will do for you now"—I never answered—he said "Oh, you are not in here, are you?"—I did not answer, I was too frightened—he then ran down the kitchen stairs—I heard him come upstairs again and go—I do not know, in my fright, whether it was the drawing-room door or the hall door shut, after a few minutes I came out and went straight to the drawing-room, and there was Mr. Wells kneeling on a chair and looking through the side-blind—I said "Oh, look at your face"—I did not see where the deceased was at that time—I said "But you gave your friend the first blow, you know"—he said "He has broken three of my ribs"—he groaned dreadful—I said "Don't you think we had better send for a doctor?"—he said "No, no, no"—he was looking through the blind, and he said "Oh, here are the police come for me; I am done for"—he then ran out of the room—first of all he said "Don't you open the door"—I said "I shall," and then he ran upstairs—there was a Knocking at the door; I opened it at once and let in one of the constables—one of the police, I think it must have been the sergeant, went upstairs to the prisoner; I did not go up—the prisoner then came downstairs, and one of the constables said something to him about this affair, and I turned round on him and said "You struck your friend with the bottle on the head you know, you should not have done it"—he said "If you round on me I am done for"—I stopped in the drawing-room—I did not see the body of the deceased—the prisoner was taken away by the police—I had a poultry-knife in my possession; I had not taken it down to Epsom that day—I had not seen it that day before starting to Epsom—it was usually kept in the kitchen, on the dresser behind the door, in a knife-basket—I did not see that knife after we returned from the races; there were no knives in the drawing-room after we returned from the races—this (produced) is my knife—I had not seen it at all on that day—when I asked the police to remove him I said nothing to him about having paid for his clothes; I had paid for clothes for him.

Cross-examined. The prisoner did not sleep in my house on the Thursday night; I slept in the house alone that night—he came to the house between 7 and 8 o'clock next morning, or it might have been between 8 and 9 o'clock, for his letters—I did not let him in; I threw him the key—he was not then in the same clothes as he wore afterwards at Epsom, he had his old clothes—the other clothes were not kept at my house; I had no clothes belonging to him—I don't know whether he had anything to eat in the house; he might have had something downstairs in the kitchen; I don't know—I had nothing to drink with him—he stayed till he fetched the cab and went to the races—he went first for a brougham, but could not get it—with the exception of going for the cab, he was not out of the house from 8 o'clock in the morning till we started for Epsom—he went out alone for the cab—I suppose he put on the clothes at the shop in Holborn on the Thursday—he did not have the same clothes on on the Friday morning that he had on at Epsom—I don't know where he changed his clothes, except when they were bought at the shop—he may have had them on; I really did not take much

notice of his clothes—ho had on the same clothes from the time he came in the morning till we went to Epsom—I made a mistake; he must have had them on; I am positive of that—no clothes' of his were kept at my house, that I am quite certain about, neither clothes nor linen—after this matter was over the police came for his overcoat—he did not take a clean shirt away—I sent him a night-dress of my own, because they said he had got nothing to put on—I don't know how long he was out when he went for the cab, it might be a quarter of an hour or 20 minutes—I think he had some whisky and water before he started for Epsom—I think he might have taken some twice—I did not have some with him; I don't like it—we had champagne in the hamper, and we had some at the races—I afterwards asked Carlisle to bring me some whisky and water in the garden, because I was thirsty—we had whisky and bottled beer in the hamper, and about three or four bottles of champagne, I don't know how much whisky—the prisoner packed the hamper—I did not see the things put in; I saw them at Epsom—I don't know how much whisky and beer there was—no one that I know of partook of the refreshment we took to Epsom except the prisoner, myself, and the deceased—the whole of what we took there was finished before we returned—in addition to that we stopped for refreshment two or three times on the road, to Epsom—I did not take any refreshment myself at those places; the prisoner did—I don't know what he had—they went into the public-house—we had no drink on the course besides what was in the cab—the prisoner and deceased may have done so when they went betting; I don't know—we stopped, three or four times for refreshment on the road from Epsom, and on each occasion the prisoner and deceased had drink; I did not—I had none but what I had in the cab—I sent out for a bottle of whisky because I thought, being race day, they would not give the charwoman change without—I had whisky in the house for my friends, not for my own drinking—my money paid for it all—I did not get out at any of the public-houses that we stopped at—I am quite sure that when we got back to Moor Park Road the prisoner and deceased came into the house together—the front door was not closed between the prisoner going in and the deceased going in—I did not stand and talk to the deceased outside the gate—the prisoner did not say to the deceased there "I wish you good day"—it was an understood thing that he was to come in—the deceased did not say to me outside the gate "I will wish you good day"—I may have said "I wish you to come into my house to have a glass of wine;" no doubt I did—the prisoner did not put out his hand to shake hands with the deceased and say "Good-bye"—I swear he did not—he did not say to the deceased "If we part now we shall be friends; if you come inside we shall not be so, we shall be enemies"—I heard nothing of the sort—I did not push the prisoner—I rang the bell myself—the door was not slammed between the prisoner and the deceased going in; I am positive of that—I think the prisoner had possession of both the keys of the gate and the house when we were at Epsom, as I had no pocket—I remember calling the cabman into the house to pay him—that was from five to 10 minutes after we had gone into the house—I paid him, and he went away—there had been no quarrel in the drawing-room before the cabman came in—a musical box was playing; Mr. Wells set it going—up to the time the cabman went away everything was pleasant and happy; that I am sure of—the deceased was playing

the piano as well—I did not say to the prisoner in the hearing of the cabman "You are a dirty old beast; I will have you locked up; the clothes on your back are not yours"—I never said such a thing, nor any words like it; there was no necessity for it—they were talking very lively together—I did not take any particular notice of what they said—I could not have said that, and forgotten it—I saw the cabman go away, and I shut the door after him—I did not look outside—I went upstairs and took my hat off—there was no crowd at the door, only little children; I am sure of that—I don't know whether I looked—I saw no persons there, only children—I did not ask the cabman to drive away quickly, with a view of getting the crowd away—I did not ask him to drive away quickly—it was about three-quarters of an hour or an hour after the cabman left before there was any quarrel—there was no quarrel in the drawing-room at first—the first policeman, Flawn, came about nine; up to that time there had been no quarrel or disturbance; I am perfectly certain of that—Flawn did not go into the drawing-room, he went upstairs—he was in the house about 10 minutes or a quarter of an hour—I was with him all the time—the table in the drawing-room was not driven right up to the window at that time; I never noticed it—there was nothing disturbed in the first fight, two chairs in the drawing-room were not lying on their sides—there was no disturbance in the passage or in the drawing-room at that time—the globe of the gas bracket was not lying smashed on the ground at that time, nor were two chairs and a form on their sides in the hall, nor a pair of steps, a poker, and fireshovel lying in the hall—before going into the garden the prisoner did not press the deceased to go; I never heard him say so—the deceased came down into the garden with me—we had been in the drawing-room altogether about an hour—I had ample opportunity of seeing him; I don't know his age, or the prisoner's—Carlisle was very much the younger—he looked a fine, well-proportioned, strong man—I and the deceased went first into the garden—the prisoner came down about 5 or 10 minutes afterwards, it could not be more—up to that time everything had gone on pleasantly—the quarrel then commenced by Mr. Wells rushing downstairs into the garden—he did not run down into the garden from the drawing-room before I went there; the deceased did not run after him into the garden—the prisoner was not at that time trying to get away from the deceased in the drawing-room—there was no quarrelling or challenging to fight till they got into the garden; there was none in the drawing-room, that I am quite sure of—I did not say before the Magistrate, "About an hour after we got home they were in the drawing-room on the first floor and they began to quarrel; I do not know what they began to quarrel about, but they challenged each other to fight, and they went into the back garden"—I have never said such a thing, it could not be—my deposition was read over to me and I signed it, but I think that must be a mistake—I could not have said it; if I said it, it must have been a mistake—I am not in the habit of making such mistakes—I cannot account for having said it; I never said it—I did not say that the fight began in the drawing-room, because it did not, it was in the back garden—I cannot swear that I never said it—I cannot account for having said it if it is not true—the drawing-room is on the first floor—there are steps down from the hall to the garden—the drawing-room runs from the front to the back

of the house; there are folding" doors—only the front was furnished, the hinder part is only carpeted, it is not quite finished—there is one step in the hall and there is a door leading; down to the garden; that door is usually kept closed—it was shut on this afternoon—just below the one step in the hall there is a flight of steps at the back leading down to the kitchen—I went down the kitchen stairs to go into the garden—we got home from Epsom between 7 and 8 o'clock, it might have been a little later—It was between 8 and 9 o'clock when the dreadful struggle took place in the garden—it lasted very near half an hour—they were struggling as hard as it was possible for men to fight—the deceased once got the better of the struggle—the deceased was getting the worst of it at the first—the prisoner struck the first blow; I think the prisoner got the worst of it at last—the deceased got the worst of it for some minutes—I heard some shouting between them—at that time the deceased was getting the best of the struggle; he was holding the prisoner down and telling him to be quiet, I am quite sure of that; they were like two wild beasts more than anything else; both of them were shouting—I heard the deceased say, "If I let you got up will YOU be quiet?" that was at the beginning of the struggle—at that time the deceased was getting the best of it—I don't know whether he continued to get the best of it, I think it was six to one and half a dozen to the other—I could see and hear distinctly what went on from where I was—I sent for a policeman a few minutes after the struggle commenced in the garden, when I saw they would not give up fighting—the policeman came in about a quarter of an hour or 20 minutes, it might be a little longer—the prisoner ran upstairs to the bedroom at the top of the house, not stopping anywhere on the way; I am sure about that—when the policeman came he complained of the way in which he had been used; he said, "Look at my face"—I think there was blood on his face, I did not take particular notice—he also complained, of his ribs being hurt—he might have been upstairs about three-quarters of an hour after the police had gone—when the prisoner went upstairs the deceased was not left in the garden, he was in the drawing-room with me—the prisoner might have been upstairs about 20 minutes before the police went to him—during that time the deceased was in the drawingroom; he came up out of the garden into the drawing-room—he was not in the garden at all after the fight, he was in the drawing-room with me—the policeman was there about 10 minutes—after he left I returned to the drawing-room, and was there with the deceased—the deceased was upstairs with me and the policeman in the top room the whole time—I did not notice whether the door of the back kitchen was open or shut when they came up from the garden—the deceased and I were not downstairs in the kitchen at all before the prisoner came down from the top floor; the deceased never went into any of my kitchens, nor I either that day—when the prisoner came into the drawing-room he apologised to the deceased and said, "Let us befriends." or words to that effect; both of them did—the prisoner appeared desirous of being on good terms with the deceased "and me, and so was the deceased—it was about a quarter of an hour afterwards, or it might be a little longer, after, that the disturbance occurred in the drawing-room—during that time we were all on friendly terms; it was made up—until the prisoner struck the deceased with the bottle there was not an unfriendly word said—the prisoner came

straight down from the top room to the drawing-room, not going any where else to my knowledge—he was out of the drawing-room before the blow was struck by the bottle; his friend and I thought he was going to get his hat and coat to go out together; he went out of the front drawing, room into the other one to get his hat and coat; I missed him; he came back in a few minutes—he did not come from upstairs on that occasion; he came from the back drawing-room into the front—I can't say that he was in the back drawing-room all the time—I missed him—he did not come from upstairs—I may have said before the Magistrate, "We had missed the prisoner again, and he came downstairs in a dreadful passion, and asked the deceased if he was going to stop, and then they quarrelled again"—he never said that to me, nor in my presence—I was very agitated and sleepy; I had had no sleep all that night—it must be wrong; he did not say a word till he struck him with the bottle—it is not true what I said before the Magistrate the next day after this matter occurred; I had not the matter fresh in my mind, I was confused; it must be a mistake, it did not occur—I did not see anything in the deceased's hands at the time he was struck by the prisoner with the bottle—I saw him carefully; it was light; the gas was not lighted; it was between the lights; it was very light; it was a moonlight night; I suppose it would be past 10 then—the blinds were up, except the side blinds; the centre blind was up until the whole thing was over, it was not pulled down at all—it was full moonlight, as bright a moonlight as I had ever seen; I did not see the moon; there was a very bright moon—when the prisoner came downstairs from the top room I was not in the kitchen with the deceased; I am no in the habit of taking strangers into the kitchen; the prisoner did not call to us to come upstairs; we did not then come upstairs—it is not true that the prisoner and I were talking for some little time in the drawingroom while the deceased was downstairs—the deceased did not come running up from downstairs—he had nothing in his hand in the drawingroom; I did not look particularly, but I dare say I should have noticed if there had been—there was nothing particular to cause me to notice—I heard no words in the drawing-room before the blow was struck with the bottle—the deceased said he must go home; that was when Mr. Wells came in, when they made it up together—the making-up was at the prisoner's desire and the deceased's also—I dare say the prisoner first suggested it; yes, he did—from the time the blow was struck with the bottle to the time the prisoner came to me at the w. c., when all was over, was about half an hour—he came there as soon as I heard the door shut—when I left them in the drawing-room there was a dreadful fight going on between them, one was as hard at it as the other—I Went away Immediately the struggle began—I did not see anything after the blow with the bottle was struck—I did not see a poker used at any time, nor any weapon at all—during the whole half-hour I was in the water-closet the fighting in the passage was dreadful; there was no cessation of it—it was the very moment before the door was shut that I heard the words "Oh! he has stabbed me," and it was immediately after that that the prisoner came and tried the water-closet door; no interval elapsed, he came to me directly-a few minutes after the prisoner went to the door I came out and went into the drawing-room—the prisoner and I were on quite friendly terms; there was nothing to make us otherwise—I never heard

them make any fuss except in the garden—the worst struggle was in the passage—the prisoner came straight into the drawing-room from upstairs, and after that, till the whole thing was over he did not go down to my knowledge—I have been at Fulham nine months—the prisoner was not constantly there during that time, but he called frequently for his letters and papers, sometimes not once a fortnight, sometimes three weeks—he introduced me to my landlord, but he did not take the house for me—sometimes he was there once a week, and sometimes twice—be has been there several times as early as 8 or 8.30 a. m.—he was not there several times the last thing at night—I do not know how many times he has let the charwoman in at 8.30—there never was any improper intimacy between us; he came there as agent or handyman, I always paid him different amounts for it; he has had a great deal of money of me—he has never slept at my house: I mean not with me—he has slept at the top of the house two or three times to oblige him, because he said that he had no home—he did not sleep in my house two or three times in April and May, he was living in Tutville Street—he may have slept there two or three times between Christmas and May—there was more than one bed made up in the house—he made his bed himself or tumbled in anyhow; it is a spring mattress—I made my own bed sometimes, and sometimes the charwoman made it, but she did not make the prisoner's bed when he slept there; his papers were there, and she did not go up—I never saw that he left any clothes there—I do not know Seizman's Hotel in the Waterloo Road. (Mr. Seizman was called into Court)—I do not know him; I may have seen him before—I did not live at his hotel with the prisoner from 10th to 15th March, occupying No. 10 room, nor did Mrs. Seizman come upstairs and ask me if I could translate a telegram in French which came for her—it is altogether a story; I never was at Seizman's Hotel either with or without the prisoner—I do not know the Waterloo Road—I do not know Dr. Mills, of Charing Cross—Dr. Lee attended me at Moore Park Road—the name of Wells was, I think, on his bottles, but I never passed by that name—I have looked at the bottles since, and found that the medicines came in the name of Mrs. Wells—I may have had twenty or thirty bottles, but I never noticed that the name was Mrs. Wells—there was a mistake in one or two of the water bills; they might be made out to Mrs. Wallace, and I had them altered; it would have been all over the place—I never passed as Mrs. Wallace; my name is Sykes—I never heard myself addressed as Mrs. Wallace—I have had tax-papers sent in to Mrs. Wallace, and I had them altered—Dr. Lee did not address me as Mrs. Wells, but I think I remember saying to Wells that he had no business to give my name as Mrs. Wells—he said that it did not matter, as I paid for everything I had—I was never attended by any doctor at Charing Cross Hotel, but I was there with my husband some years ago—I was not staying there with this man last August, nor did he and I occupy together No. 38, nor did we pass under the name of Mr. and Mrs. Wallace; all that must be pure imagination—the prisoner did not get Dr. Mills to me one Sunday morning in room No. 38, as 1 was suffering from skin disease—I never had skin disease—I did not, on leaving Seizman's Hotel, tell the cabman to drive to Charing Cross, Mr. Seizman being present.

Re-examined. I have between 600l. and 700l. a year private income—the prisoner was a clerk to Mr. Brittell, of Woking, the solicitor who

managed my affairs, and that is how I made his acquaintance—he acted as agent for me in little minor matters, and I always paid him—it was the deceased who said "Oh! he has stabbed me this time," and then the street door was shut—I had not heard anybody go downstairs—the first time I heard anybody go downstairs was after the prisoner came to the closet door and said that he would do for me, and then I heard him go downstairs—when I came out of the closet the prisoner was in the drawing-room—some of the fighting was in the passage on the stairs level with the hall—those stairs are near the water-closet—the ballusters were broken at the top of the stairs, and one in the hall—the deceased did not go downstairs after he was struck with the bottle; I am quite sure of that—he never went down to my knowledge after he came from the garden—when the prisoner came down, and Carlisle and I had been in the drawing-room, he said "Look what you have done to my face"—the deceased said "But you struck the first blow"—they said "Well, we don't want to be badgering" and they shook hands and made it up—I cannot give any explanation of what caused them to quarrel again, but the prisoner took up the bottle, and struck his friend without saying one word—I never saw Carlisle after he was injured—I did not hear till next morning that he was dead—I was in bed an hour or two that night—I went to Hammersmith Police-court about 9 or 9.30, and next morning I gave my evidence—I was excited, sleepy, and tired—the Magistrate asked me a number of questions, and before I was examined the second time I went to the Solicitor's Office at Whitehall and made a statement.

By the COURT. The man was just a handy man about the house, to write my letters or put a lock on the door, and cast up my bills, and see that I was not cheated in any way—he came about 9 o'clock on the morning we went to the Oaks, and before we went he was looking for a cab and also writing letters in the drawing-room—he went into the kitchen and had breakfast—I have my dinner sometimes at 2 and sometimes at 6 o'clock—I had no other meal that day before I set out.

By MR. WRIGHT. I am only 29 years of age—I was examined at an inquest on the body of the late Sir Gilbert East in the Isle of Wight in 1866; that is 16 years ago—I mean to represent that at that time I was 13 years of age—there is no mistake, I was born in 1853—I gave my name as Lena Braham for the purposes of the inquest, because that was my name—I did not say that I had lived with Sir Gilbert East and passed as his wife, but I had known him all my life—I was quite a child, and too young to know whether my evidence was taken down by the Coroner—I was with Sir Gilbert East when he was drowned—he and I were alone, and I was the principal witness examined at the inquest—I may have said, "I have been acquainted with the late Sir Gilbert East between 8 and 9 years: I have lived with him and passed as his wife during the whole of that time"—I had always lived with him, but not as his wife. (The COURT here cautioned the witness that she might be indicted for perjury if she did net speak the truth.) I said "I came with him to Ryde that summer, and lived on board his yacht, the Lallah Rookh"—I did not say "I have lived with him and passed as his wife"—I did not use the word "wife"—I did not sleep with him as his wife, we had separate cabins—there was not an improper connection between us—I was with him on his yacht every season from the time I was quite a little girl—I said "On Saturday evening, August 11, I came ashore with him from his yacht

he went to Barnard's, and left me while he went to the Club: he was not sober"—my age then was 13 and S months—Barnard's is a jeweller's shop, and he left me there till 10 minutes to 1 with Mr. Barnard's daughters and his wife. (The rest of the witness's evidence before the Coroner was read, stating that she had had no quarrel with Sir Gilbert East, hut that he had left her for a few minutes on Ryde Pier in the dark, and then she found him over the railings clinging with his hands to the side of the pier; that the held his hands, and he said, "If you do not let go you must come over with me, lean swim, 1 am all right;" and that she heard him drop into the water.) I said all that when I was only 13 years old; it was all true—the Jury returned an open verdict.

Re-examined. That was between 12 and 1 at night—he was drowned—that is how I came to be a witness—I was living on board.

SUSAN PAPE . I live at 22, Francis Street, Battersea, and am a charwoman—I have been in the habit of working for Mrs. Sykes—on Friday, 26th May, I went there about a quarter to 9 in the morning—I rang the bell, and the prisoner let me in—I minded the house when Mrs. Sykes and the prisoner went to the races—the hamper was packed downstairs in the back kitchen—I cleaned the knives in the morning; they were in the knife basket on the dresser in the back kitchen—I did not see what was put in the hamper, the prisoner packed it—in the evening Mrs. Sykes and the prisoner and another man came home about half-past 7—the prisoner and the other man had had something to drink—I saw the cabman there—the hamper was taken downstairs into the back kitchen; I unpacked it—there were 2 small knives in it, not the chicken carver—afterwards, about a quarter to 9, I heard some persons in the back garden; up to that time I had heard no disturbance in the house—I saw Mrs. Sykes and this strange man, Mr. Carlisle, in the back garden; I was in the back kitchen; nobody else was in the garden when I first saw them; after some time the prisoner came down the stairs from the hall and went into the garden; to get into the garden you have to go through the scullery, not through the kitchen; when he got to the garden he took a tumbler from the deceased's hand and dashed it against the wall, and broke the glass and spilt the contents; then the prisoner and the deceased began to quarrel, they struck each other the prisoner struck the first blow; then they fought in the garden and fell on the ground—Mrs. Sykes sent me for a policeman, I was gone about half or three-quarters of an hour; when I went Mrs. Sykes was in the garden with the two men; when I returned with a policeman and came into the house all was quiet; I did not go upstairs—shortly after this Mrs. Sykes sent me out to get change, and I got a bottle of whisky, and put it on the drawing-room table; that is the front room ground floor—the deceased and Mrs. Sykes were in the room at that time; the deceased was sitting on a chair, and Mrs. Sykes was standing in the room—I left them there—I was paid, and I went away about 10 o'clock—when I left the knife basket was downstairs in the kitchen on the dresser—up to that time there had been no supper or food upstairs, and no knives upstairs at all-the next morning, Saturday, I came to the house about half-past 8, and then heard what had occurred—I looked at the knife basket, and the chicken carver was not there—before I left at 10 I had not seen any articles broken or chairs upset or the glass globe broken—I had seen no poker lying about—at the police-court I was shown a poker; it was the poker belonging to the back kitchen.

Cross-examined. I had been in the service of Mrs. Sykes about three months before the Oaks day, and I have been in her service ever since and am so now; I generally came about half-past 8 or 9 o'clock in the morning and left at 7 o'clock, I went there three days a week—the prisoner has let me in when I came, but not many times—if he has let me in half a dozen times it is as much as he has—there were two beds in the place, one in the room over the drawing-room, and the other in the top hack room, where there was a mattress and bedding; they were there before the Oaks day—I only went up to that room once or twice—I never made that bed on any single occasion; I used to make Mrs. Sykes's—I don't know whether the bed on the top floor was ever slept in, I can't say one way or the other; I slept in the house myself on two or three occasions—I then slept in the front kitchen on the sofa; only Mrs. Sykes was sleeping in the house—there was a bedding and clothes down stairs for the sofa—I let both the men in when they came back—they were the worse for drink; I should not say they were both very drunk—I did not remain upstairs from the time I let them in until the time the cabman went away; I opened the door and went downstairs, then I came up and let the cabman in for Mrs. Sykes to pay him—the two men and my mistress all came in together; I am sure about that—I heard the door slammed, but I can't say if it was slammed in the deceased's face, because I went downstairs as soon as I opened the door—I did not see the three come in at the door, I saw them come up the steps—I saw the cabman Carter in the passage and heard all that passed—I had not taken any drink into the drawing-room, I had taken some glasses-at the time I was in the passage when Mrs. Sykes paid the cabman, I did not hear high words and quarrelling in the drawing-room—I did not see any crowd outside the house; I only saw half a dozen little children in front of the house—I did not hear Mrs. Sykes call out to the prisoner, "You are a dirty old beast; the clothes you have on your back are not yours, and I will have you locked up and turned out of the house; I will not have you here any longer"—I was there the whole of the time the cabman was being paid; I don't suppose those words could have been used without my hearing them—I should think it was about a quarter to 9 when I heard them in the garden, they came home about half past 7 or a quarter to 8—I did not see anybody come down into the garden, I only heard them—I saw them through the back kitchen window—two people went into the garden together, that I am sure of, and a third one went into the garden about five or six minutes afterwards; the two went first and one followed, I distinctly remember that—I did not say before the Magistrate, "I heard three persons pass the kitchen and go into the garden"—up to that time I had been in the kitchen the whole time; I had heard no quarrelling at all in the drawingroom—I could hear in the back kitchen whether there was any noise in the drawing-room—it was about 10 minutes after they went into the garden that I went for a policeman—I went out by the area door downstairs—I don't think I went upstairs from the time the cabman went away till the time I went for the policeman; I can't be quite certain, but am almost certain I did not—Flawn was there when I got back—I did not go upstairs then—I next went upstairs, I think at a quarter to. 10, when Mrs. Sykes called me up; I did not see the prisoner then—the deceased and Mrs. Sykes were in the drawing-room—the drawing room was not very much upset.

JAMES ELIAS CARTER . I am a cabdriver living at Fulham—I drove the prisoner, Mrs. Sykes, and another man from the Oaks—I stopped at Mrs. Sykes's door; as Mrs. Sykes went in she asked the deceased to go into her house; on that the prisoner held out his hand in a position to shake hands, and said, "If we part now we shall be friends, if you come in the house we shall be enemies. ")

Cross-examined, Mrs. Sykes at that time pushed the prisoner a little on one side—she and the prisoner went into the house first and the door was slammed—I can't say whether it was pushed or blown to by the wind, the deceased was left outside—at that time he had not been in the house at all—he was outside about five minutes—he returned to ask me where he was, he seemed as though he did not know the neighbourhood—I told him he was in the Fulham Road—lie did not seem particularly annoyed at being left outside the door; he did not say to me, "If I get my foot inside the door I will go in on purpose to make the old b——wild"—he said it to another man who was holding the horse—I did not hear him, I saw him speaking to him, but did not hear the conversation—I was afterwards called into the house to be paid my fare; before I went in the door was opened and the deceased went in—I don't know if he ran up the steps—I went into the passage between the two doors and Mrs. Sykes came out and paid me; at that time I heard the sounds of high words and quarrelling in the drawing-room—only Mrs. Sykes was with me, I don't remember seeing the charwoman then—I heard Mrs. Sykes say to the A prisoner "You are a dirty old beast, I will have you locked up, the clothes on your back are not yours"—there were from 12 to 20 boys and girls round the house at that time, and Mrs. Sykes requested me to go away quickly to avoid the crowd.

Re-examined. Mrs. Sykes said, "You are a dirty old beast, the clothes on your back are not yours. I will have you locked up or turned out. Is it not dreadful that I should be upset in this way after enjoying ourselves?"

ARTHUR FLAWN (Policeman 7421). On 26th May, about 9. 80 p. m., I was on duty in King's Road—I was called to No. 6, Moore Park Road—I went there and saw the deceased—from what he said to me I went with him and Mrs. Sykes upstairs to the top back bedroom—I found the prisoner there lying on the bed—Mrs. Sykes said she wanted that man out, he had no right there, alluding to the prisoner—the deceased said in the prisoner's presence that he had been struck with a poker on the hand; he showed me his hand, and it was very much swollen and black—he also said "I am satisfied now if he is, but we shall meet again"—the prisoner's eye was black and bruised—he said the deceased had. kicked him in the ribs—the prisoner said he should not leave, as the house was his and he paid the rent of it—the deceased said "There would not have been any row had you not thrown the flower-pot at me while in the garden, and struck me on the hand with the poker when in the passage"—I had not seen any assault, so I said I could not interfere—we then went downstairs, leaving the prisoner upstairs—I should think the prisoner was drunk, the deceased appeared to have been drinking, the woman was quite sober—I went into the front room down stairs the table was driven on his legs right up to the window, and two chairs were lying on their sides; in the hall the globe of the gas-bracket was smashed on the ground and two chairs and a form were

lying on. their sides, a poker and fire-shovel were lying in the hall—the poker was bent, the portion that goes into the fire—I saw no knifewhen I came downstairs the charwoman had returned who had been to fetch another constable, and on leaving the house the constable was outside.

Cross-examined. The prisoner said he thought his ribs were fractured, and he said "Look at my face "—I saw that his face was bruised—the deceased was not very much the worse for drink; he appeared to have been drinking; he smelt of drink, he was not to say tipsy—he was the more sober of the two.

GEORGE BARTLE (Police Sergeant T 21). I was called to NQ. 6, Moore Park Road, on Friday night, 26th May—I got there about 11—I went into the front garden—the door of the house was open—I saw the deceased standing on the top step close to the doorway, and the prisoner in the hall—the deceased was bleeding from a wound on the right side of the head—he said "Oh, policeman, come on, he has stabbed me this time"—he staggered down the steps into my arms, and said "I am dying," and we both fell—about the same instant the door was slammed to by the prisoner—the deceased never spoke again, he became unconscious almost immediately—I at once sent for a doctor, and Dr. Egan came in about four minutes—I left the deceased in his care, and then knocked at the door of the house; Mrs. Sykes opened it—I went in, and went upstairs to the first-floor landing—I there saw the prisoner; he was undressed, with his shirt on only—I said "You are the man I saw in the hall just now; a serious assault has taken place here to-night, I shall have to take you to the station;" he said "Come into the bedroom; I will tell you all about it"—I followed him into the bedroom, the first-floor front—I said "What you say may be used against you at some future time"—he then said "He is not dead, is he?" I said "No"—he said "I met this man to-day at Epsom, I had previously known him, and I introduced him to the lady downstairs; we had a few bets together on the races, and drank a bottle of champagne over it; we all came home together in a cab, and arrived here about 7; we all came into the house together, and had some whisky; he came in with us; we sat talking for some time, until we got to very high words; we had a scuffle, and went out into the garden, where he kicked and struck me violently, you see how I have been served "—he pulled up his shirt at the same time and showed me his ribs and thighs—I did not really. notice the injuries—hesaid "I shall have to see a doctor; I said "you will have an opportunity of seeing a surgeon"—he said "After that we got good friends again. I went upstairs and laid down for an hour; a policeman came and went away again; just before you arrived here I came downstairs and found the man still in the house. I said to him 'I don't want you here, why don't you go?' we got to high words again, a bottle of whisky was standing on the table, I took UP the bottle of whisky, and struck him a good blow on the head and if I have killed him I don't care"—he dressed himself and we came downstairs shortly after into the front drawing-room—I there saw the broken bottle lying on the floor—the furniture of the room was upset, and there were the fragments of a glass shade—Mrs. Sykes was in the room when I came down—she said to the prisoner "This is a pretty thing you have done, I know you struck the poor fellow on the head with the bottle;" he said "If you are

going to turn round upon me I am done, "—I then left the house with, the prisoner—before leaving I saw blood running from the deceased's trousers on the steps outside—there were spots of blood on the steps and in the hall, leading as far as the drawing-room door—I took the prisoner to the station—he was searched there—I found on him a photograph of himself and Mrs. Sykes—I afterwards saw the body of the deceased at the mortuary—I examined the clothing; it was saturated with blood, and there were two holes in it through the coat, waistcoat, and shirt at the back.

Cross-examined, Four or five minutes elapsed between my first going to the house and my going inside—I lost sight of the prisoner for that four or five minutes—I was on the steps with the deceased till the doctor arrived—the door was shut—when the prisoner said they got to high words again he added that the deceased said to him "I will serve you as I did before," and that after that he took up the bottle and struck him—he said in the bedroom "Look here how lie, has treated me," pointing to his face—he had a spot or two of blood on his face—next day there was a discoloration behind the ear and an abrasion on the forehead, and he had a black eye—I don't remember his saying that he said to the deceased "If you leave the house I will forgive you"—he may have said so—I don't remember his saying,'" He accused me of shutting the gate in his face, and that was the cause of the quarrel," and I don't think he did—I don't remember saying so before the Magistrate—his shirt was slightly torn in front, and the top button broken—the furniture was upset in the drawing-room—a chair and music stool were lying on their sides, and fragments of a glass bottle were on the floor, and everything was in confusion, consistent with a terrible struggle having taken, place—I fetched the prisoner's clothes from the house to the station—there was an overcoat and, I believe, a lady's nightdress—I went to the house at the prisoner's request.

JOSEPH KELLER [Police Inspector). At 11.30 I went, to the Moore Vark Road—I there saw on the step leading up to the front door a large patch of wet blood, blood on the balustrade on the left side, and several spots on the steps leading to the front door; more blood in the passage, the drawing-room in great disorder, and a broken bottle there—my sergeant collected the portions of the broken bottle and took them to the station—at that time the prisoner was in custody at the station—I saw Mrs. Sykes there—she afterwards returned with me to the house—this knife was found there by Sergeant Brown at about 3.30—I handed it to the doctor in the same state as it was found.

Cross-examined. Brown gave the knife to me about 3.30—he had Just found it—we went to the house together on the second occasion—the knife up to that time had not been found—Brown was not in company with Mrs. Sykes except in my presence before it was found—we searched the house all through.

JOHN THOMAS BROWN (police Sergeant 718). I assisted in taking the body of the deceased to the mortuary and then went with Keller and Mrs. Sykes to 6, Moore Park Road—I made a search, and in the basket on the dresser in the kitchen on the basement I found this carving knife with other knives—I examined the knife and saw on one side stains, which appeared like blood—I handed it to the inspector.

Cross-examined, I had not been to the house before—it was about

1.45 when X went there; it was about 4 o'clock that I found the knife—I had been searching the house—that was the only knife I could see stains upon—I had been searching for a knife—I had not been talking to Mrs. Sykes—it was in consequence of Keller talking to Mrs. Sykes about the blood that I went downstairs—Mr. Keller said the blood ought to be removed, and Mrs. Sykes said there was some salt downstairs, and 1 went down for it—I was searching all the time, although I went for the salt—I got the salt as well as the knife—it was in the basket on the dresser, not at the top; it was lying amongst the others.

JOHN LAW (Police Inspector). I was on duty at the station when the prisoner was brought there—after entering and reading the charge, at about 4. 45 I said "Bring him out of the dock, I must examine his clothing"—after examining the coat, I said "Take it off; there are blood marks on the shirt sleeves, you must give it up"—he at once gave it up and said "These blood stains came on my shirt in the second affair, after I came downstairs; he knocked me down a considerable time before this happened; you see how I am knocked about. "

Cross-examined. He complained when he was first brought into the Flat ion of being badly knocked about, and he was examined by a doctor in consequence of his com plaint; his left eye was blackened; the shirt-band was broken from the button on one side, and the shirt was torn about 7 or 8 inches down the front.

GEORGE BARTLE (Re-examined). When I saw the deceased he had not his hat on, but was fully dressed—he had no overcoat on—I saw Atkinson find the deceased's hat and stick in the back drawing-room, and he handed them to Keller.

FRANCIS EGAN . I am Divisional Surgeon of Police—on the night of Friday, 26th May, I went to 6, Moore Park Road, at 11 o'clock—I went into the front garden, where I saw Bartle, and Carlisle lying down at the bottom of the steps—I examined him at once, and found him in a dying state—he did not speak, and was dead within 3 minutes: I was not more than 2 minutes coming to the house—I saw a quantity of blood on the ground—the man was injured on the temple, and on examination I found a fracture of the skull—I did not know at that time where the large quantity of blood came from—I had him removed to the Workhouse, and then to the mortuary—I examined his clothes, and afterwards made a post-mortem examination, and found my opinion confirmed that tie blow on the side of the head had fractured the skull—I also found two wounds in the back, one 41/2 inches deep 2 inches below the lower angle of the right bladebone; that was merely muscular, it appeared to have struck the bone and glanced off—it was such a wound as might have been inflicted by a blow from this knife; considerable force must have been used—there were marks corresponding in the clothes—the second wound was below the other, about an inch from the spine"—that had penetrated the cavity of the chest, and injured the lungs, liver, and diaphragm, and was 7 inches deep; that was the serious wound—it might have been done with that knife, and the blow must have been given with considerable force; it would cause death within 6 or 7 minutes—besides the fracture of the skull, the flesh was cut down to the bone—the hands were bruised, not very seriously—when I first saw him before he was removed I saw this field-glass just under his right hand on the step where he was lying; the strap was wrapped round it—at the

station I saw the prisoner, and examined him about 12 o'clock at night; he had got a bruise on the eye, and a small wound at the back of his left ear; he was not bleeding then, but had blood on his shirt—from the state I found him in I do not think the blood on his shirt could have come from his own person; I examined his ribs, they were not fractured—I did not see the knife till next day; it was given to me to make an analysis of—there was a stain on it, which I examined chemically and microscopically; it had all the appearance and characteristics of the blood of a mammal.

Cross-examined. I noticed blood down the prisoner's neck; that must have come from the wound at the back of the ear—he complained of great pain in the ribs and other parts of the body—the deceased was a man of fine physique, a tall, powerful, well-developed, muscular man, about 5 feet 10 inches, and about 30 years of age—I should say the deceased was much the more powerful man of the two-the effect of the wound the deceased's head would be momentarily to stun him, and there might afterwards be a life-and-death struggle, I should not think for to long as 20 minutes—he had one black eye, and there were marks on the other one, which afterwards became discoloured.

JOCELYN CARLISLE . I live at 7, Tredegar Square, Bow, and am a veterinary surgeon—I am brother to the deceased—on Sunday, 28th Kay, I saw his body at the Mortuary, Fulham—his name was John Carlisle, and he was 32 years of age—I had last seen him alive on the 24th May.

HENRY ROWLAND . I live at 5, Corn was Street, Fulham.

Cross-examined. On this night I was standing in the garden, and could see the garden of 6, Moore Park Road—I heard a quarrel going on at about 8 in the evening—the struggle I saw was a very desperate one; they were striking each other with their fists, and struggling on the ground—I looked on for 7 or 8 minutes, all which time the struggle was going on as desperately as ever—I heard somebody say, "If I let you up will you be quiet?"—I could not tell who said that—the same person also said, "I will do for you before I have done with you," or something to that effect—that was the first observation I heard—I can't say if they were both by the same voice; I did not take particular notice at the time.

GUILTY of Manslaughter. Penal Servitude for Life.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-750
VerdictGuilty > manslaughter
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

Related Material

750. FREDERICK WAYMARK (32) was indicted for and charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with, the wilful murder of Thomas Harrison.



THOMAS HARRISON . I am a slater, and live at 50, North Street, Lisson Grove—my father's name was Thomas—about 1 o'clock on Sunday morning, 26th June, I was in bed—I was awoke by hearing my father call me—I ran downstairs, and found my father in the passage against the front parlour door—I saw the prisoner in the passage with something bright in his hand, and I saw him stab my father with it on the top of the stomach—he said, "I am stabbed," and staggered—the prisoner ran off—I ran after him down Salisbury Street and Paul Street—I got very close to him, and he struck me on the head, I do not know whether it was with the handle of the knife or his fist—I fell in the gutter, stunned; I got up again, but could not follow him any more, I

lost sight of him—I returned home, and found some police officers there; they sent for a doctor, and my father was taken to St. Mary's Hospital—the prisoner married my sister 2 or 3 years ago—he was not living with her at the time of this occurrence; she was living at my father's the prisoner had threatened my father 2 or 3 times before this, to rip him up; the last time was about 12 months ago—the prisoner is a French polisher—I have never seen this knife {produced) in the prisoner's possession; it is not my knife.

Cross-examined. I was about three stairs up, just going to alight into the passage, when the blow was struck, about a yard and a half from my father; he was between me and the prisoner—there was a light in the passage—my mother was in the parlour—I had heard a noise as if the door flew open, and then heard my father call me—I was down in five or six seconds, and then saw my father stabbed with something bright—the prisoner must have had it in his right hand—I had not noticed it before the blow was struck, it was done so momentarily—my father and the prisoner were very good friends, he had always treated the prisoner well—the prisoner's wife was in the house at the time; he had deserted her, it was the only place she had to come to—he had got into the house before to see her, by opening a window.

Re-examined. As I came downstairs I heard the prisoner say "Where is Emily?"—I believe the prisoner used to mend shoes; I never saw him do it, but he has told me so.

HENRIETTA HARRISON . On the night of 26th June my husband and son had gone to bed, leaving me up—about 12. 15, as I was turning off the gas at the street. door, I heard the door go three times, and the prisoner came in—I said "Oh! how you frightened me"—he said "I want Emily"—that is his wife's name—my husband came downstairs instantly, and said "What is that to do with you?"—upon that the prisoner said "Take that, you b-, "and struck my husband in the stomach with a sharp instrument, I should surmise—I saw something glitter—the gas was on the full flare at the time—the moment he did it he ran out of the street door—my son pursued him instantly—in husband said to me "Mistress, he has hit me in the stomach"—I turned his shirt up and saw that he was stabbed—he seated himself in the parlour, three doctors came, and he was taken to the hospital—he subsequently died—I gave the two shirts my husband was wearing to the constable.

Cross-examined. The prisoner burst the street door open—it was the first burst of the door that caused my husband to come down—be and my son came down together, one after the other—I did not say before the Magistrate "I did not see anything in the prisoner's hand"—I did see something in his hand bright and glittering; but my trouble was so great I hardly knew what I said—my daughter had been living with us three months—the prisoner came to see her once before by lifting a window—I know that he used to mend his sister's boots, though he is a French polisher by trade—my husband always treated him with the greatest kindness.

AARON BELLINGHAM (Policeman D 147). At 3. 45 on Sunday morning I found this shoemaker's knife in Paul Street, about 100 yards from 50, North Street.

LEWIS LAIDLAW (Police Sergeant S). I have two shirts which were

given to me by Mrs. Harrison on 26th June; they were covered with blood.

WALTER THEOBALD (Police Inspector D). On 26th June, about 9.30, the prisoner came to the station and said "I understand I am wanted"—I said "What for?"—he said "For that case of stabbing in North Street yesterday"—I asked his name—he said "Frederick Waymark"—I detained him and sent for his wife and Mrs. Harrison—I asked Mrs. Harrison to state in his presence what had occurred—she did so, and the prisoner made no reply then—he afterwards said "This matter has troubled me a good deal; there were only two things for me to do, either to give myself up or cut my own throat"—I asked what was the cause of all this trouble—he said "I believe there are two Warrants out against me, one taken out by the parish for not supporting my wife and family, and one for assaulting her and not appearing to a summons; my wife is living with my father-in-law; I do not know what made me do it, I must have been mad drunk"—I found on him this clasp, knife and this handkerchief with marks of blood on it—on 1st July, at 12. 50 a.m., I was sent for to St. Mary's Hospital, where I saw the deceased, who made a statement which I took down and read over to him—he said it was correct and signed it in the presence of Mr. Wood, the doctor, who witnessed it—he was quite conscious at the time, but said he was very much worse and he believed that he was dying—on 10th July, at 3.30 a.m., I again went to the hospital; Mr. Cooke, the Magistrate, was there, and the prisoner—the deceased was sworn by Mr. Cooke, and his statement was taken down by Mr. Cooke's son—it was read over to him, but he was so extremely ill that he did not sign it then, nor cull Mr. Cooke in my presence—on the morning of the 18th, before being brought before the Magistrate, the prisoner said to me "I understand the poor man has gone"—I said "Tea, he was buried yesterday"—he said "It is a bad job, I have only a faint recollection of going to the house that Saturday night, I had been on the drink since the Thursday previous, when I broke the pledge. I had not left my work at Brighton, discharged, I have money owing me there now. I must have been mad drunk; last April twelve months I was charged at St. John's Wood with attempting suicide by stabbing myself in my stomach, and not long since I was charged at Brentford with wandering, apparently of unsound mind, and Dr. Brisbane has told me that when I am in drink I am not responsible for my actions"—I had known the prisoner for several years as a French polisher.

Cross-examined. The statement about his attemping suicide is perfectly true; also the statement about being charged as wandering about as a lunatic—I have know him seven or eight years—his general character is very good when sober; he indulges very freely in drink—he was perfectly sober when he gave himself up, not at-all excited or depressed.

THOMAS SABINE REED . I am messenger at Marylebone Police-court—on 11th July, about 11 a.m., the Magistrate gave me this deposition to take to St. Mary's Hospital, where I saw the deceased in bed—I read it to him slowly and distinctly—I asked him if he heard and understood it—he said "Yes," and he signed it—I took it back to the police-court and gave it to the Chief Clerk, and he signed it—this is Mr. Cooke's signature at the bottom.

Cross-examined. Mr. Cooke was not there when the deceased signed it, nor was the prisoner.

LEWIS EDWARD WOOD . I am house surgeon at St. Mary's Hospital—the deceased was brought there about 1 a.m. on Sunday morning, 27th—I examined him and found he had a wound in the abdomen about an inch long—he was in a state of prostration and collapse; he had great difficulty in breathing—I thought it unsafe to probe the wound—he was not bleeding much—it was a very dangerous wound—I was present on 1st July, at 12. 50 in the afternoon, when the inspector was there—I then thought the man would not live twenty-four hours—I told him how bad he was, and that his recovery was extremely doubtful—he said "Yes, I do not feel as if I should recover," or words to that effect—his statement was taken in my presence—he signed it and I signed it—he got gradually better for some days, and then he was not better for some hours or a day, he had fits of shortness of breath, and seemed as if he would die very soon—that went on till about 9th July, when he got suddenly worse, and Mr. Cooke was sent for, but I was in the country when he came, and another surgeon was on duty—I was not present when he died—I made a post-mortem—I found that the wound had penetrated the wall of the abdomen and showed no attempt to heal—it was nearly two inches deep because he was very fat—he died from blood poisoning, the effect of the wound—he was of a very full habit of body—this shoemaker's knife would inflict the wound—the stab had penetrated through both shirts—I saw three or four small brown marks on the knife, and one small smear on the other side—I tested them; there is no reasonable doubt that they were blood, but whether of a mammal I cannot say.

Cross-examined. The deceased was not exactly in a healthy condition apart from the wound; he might have lived years and years, but if he met with any accident or disease he would be more likely to die than a man who was perfectly healthy—this knife is very sharp and would penetrate easily—it would be rather difficult to do it by a stumble—it went a little to the left and down; the abdomen was very prominent, in fact globular, and the wound came as if from above—if he had slipped it would be possible to do it in the fall, but not likely—he was a taller and bigger man than the prisoner—it was rather on the upper part of the abdomen.

MR. POLAND proposing to put in the statement of the deceased as a dying declaration, and also his deposition,

MR. LEVEY submitted that neither were admissible; that, as to the declaration, it must have been made in the expectation of impending and almost immediate death, whereas the man lived for eight or nine days after making it; and as to the deposition, it was not taken as directed by the Statute, as the Magistrate did not sign it in the presence of the deponent. MR. POLAND contended that everything requisite to make it a proper deposition had been done; the only thing was that, if the deponent had desired to make a correction, the Magistrate was not there to sanction it; he would, however, not press the deposition, but would rely upon the dying declaration. The COURT was willing to admit both the declaration and the deposition, and reserve the point as to the deposition if necessary, but Ma. POLAND only put in the declaration, which was read as follows: "Thomas Harrisson, of 50, North Street, Marylebone, an in-patient, says: 'I believe I am dying. On Sunday, 25th June, at I a. m., I had just gone upstairs to bed and my wife halloaed out "For God's sake, Tom, come down; some one has broken into the house. "With that I ran downstairs with

only my shirt on, and I saw Frederick Waymark, my son-in-law, in the passage. I said "What do you want?" He said "I want Emily. "I said "What do you want with Emily? you don't want her. "He then turned round and struck me in my belly with something in his hand, and said "Take that, you b—. "I said to my son, "Tom, he has stabbed me. "My son went after him, but never caught him. '"

GUILTY of Manslaughter only. Fourteen Years' Penal Servitude.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-751
VerdictNot Guilty > no evidence

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751. THOMAS GALLAGHER (17) was charged, on the Coroner's Inquisition only, with the wilful murder of Louisa Grant. The Grand Jury having ignored the Bill, MR. POLAND, for the prosecution, offered no evidence upon the Inquisition. NOT GUILTY .

THIRD COURT—Wednesday, August 2nd, 1882.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-752
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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752. CHARLES SMITH (18) , Stealing 12s. 6d., the moneys of William Seal, from his person.

MR. LEVEY Prosecuted.

WILLIAM SEAL . I am a fishmonger, of 80, Brunswick Street, Poplar—on 18th July I was at Billingsgate Market at 7. 40—I felt some one put his hand in my pocket, saw the prisoner, and said "You have picked my pocket; I am a poor man and cannot afford to lose money; give it me back again"—he put his hand into his right-hand pocket and produced the 12s. 6d. wrapped in a piece of paper just as I had it—I had seen it safe two minutes before—I gave him in custody.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You said "I have not got your packet" at first, and not "The packet does not belong to you"—you said "If you will let me go, Sir, I will give you the money"—I knew how much was in it—I did not punch you and knock your hat off; I shoved you—I bad 1l. 2s. 6d. in the paper, and I took half a sovereign oat and put it in my pocket; directly I did that you took it—I had this waistcoat and an apron on.

WILLIAM MINOR (City Policeman 797). I was on duty; Seal gave the prisoner into my custody, and said "This man has picked my pocket of my money"—the prisoner held the packet in his hand and I took it—I said "How much is it?"—Seal said "12s. 6d"—that was before it was opened—on the way to the station the prisoner said he was very sorry, he should not have done it only he was hard up—I searched him and found 6d.—I said "You are not hard up; you have got 6d. left"—he said ho had that given to him in the market—I asked him his address—he said "I have no home. "

Cross-examined. You said Seal had struck you—I did not notice that your eye was swollen; you spoke about it—Seal told me he had struck you in the face before you gave the money up—the money was three florins, four shillings, and a half-crown.

Prisoner's Defence. The prosecutor saw me pick the money up, and I said "The money does not belong to you," and when I asked, he could not tell me how much money was in the packet—he did not say there was 12s. 6d. till he got to the station.

GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY * to a conviction of felony in December, 1860, at this Court, in the name of Charles Pool— Five Years' Penal Servitude.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-753
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown; Guilty > lesser offence
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude; Imprisonment > hard labour

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753. PATRICK O'SHEA (21), HENRY ELGAR (21), WILLIAM HICKEY (20), Robbery with violence on Harriet Rinka, and stealing from her person ¼ lb. of tea and ¼ lb. of butter, her goods.

MR. &SMYTHIES Prosecuted; MR. KEITH FRITH defended Elgar and Hickey and MR. HEWICK defended O'Shea.

HARRIET RINKA . I am the wife of John Rinka, of 11, Buller Road, a labourer at the gasworks—on Saturday, 24th June, about 12 p. m., I was walking towards home, in the Imperial Road, Fulham—I had been shopping—as I passed the Imperial Cottages I received a handful of wet sand and gravel in my face—I ran to the gate—some one said "Run"—I saw four men; the prisoners are three of them; they were just inside the first gate—Hickey put his hand on my breast—I was very much hurt—I knew him by sight; he has lived in the neighbourhood for years—I said "Oh, Hickey, do you want to murder me or rob me?"—he said "F-and b—, old mother Rinka; let her go," and ran up the square—the other men tried to get hold of me, but I ran towards the first gate, and then O'Shea took me by the back of my neck—I knew O'Shea by sight—he ran in front of me, and took me by the back of my clothes, and said to Elgar "I mean business"—after some talk I did not understand, Elgar beat me on my right hand, which was very much bruised—I was carrying my parcel in my lap—I lost J lb. of tea and ¼lb. of butter—O'Shea said "Elgar, you'll make a f-fine gun"—I struck O'Shea under the chin, and made him let go of my neck;' I nearly lost my sight by his pressure—I ran away, screaming "Murder" and "Police"—when I found the police I went back about 100 yards; I was very much frightened, they following me in the shadow of the wall—O'Shea said "Here she comes now; we will lift her"—the police took O'Shea by the neck; he struck them in the face and got away, and they gave chase—the little square of cottages belong to the gasworks.

Cross-examined by MR. HE WICK. My house was about four minutes' walk off—the first shop is about twenty yards off the square—I pass that way to go to my work and back—I do not go into the square once in a twelvemonth—my husband has worked for the gas company fifteen years—Elgar took my things on the first attack—there are three gates; one in the centre for carts, and, farther on, another gate—I was outside the square on my way home; there is no thoroughfare in the square—I had passed the second and third gate—I did not feel my injury so much at the police-court as I have since—I said at the police-court that I was hurt.

Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. While I lived at 11, Diver Street, Bromley, in 1877, a woman, named Blanche, was charged with assaulting me on 29th September—she lived in Cyrus Place, Thomas Street, opposite to where 1 lived—she was sent here for trial in March, 1878—my life was despaired of—I did not give evidence, because I was not able to be taken out of bed—the doctor did not say there was nothing the matter with me, nor that I pretended to be ill—Blanche was acquitted because I was not able to give evidence—Mr. Donoghue, my husband's foreman, cannot say anything; against me; he always treated me with the greatest respect—I do not know his writing—after Blanche

was acquitted I came to live at Fulham—after that I summoned dome people named Carrington, and they were sent to prison as savages and for pulling my ear-rings out, because I would not give them a shilling—on 13th May, 1882, I went to Mr. Park for 8s. he owed me, and he Stabbed me in the face with a knife without any provocation—hewas locked up, and his wife asked me not to prosecute on account of his children—I was only paid the bread money—I begged hard for him to be let off, and the Magistrate let him go—my right name is Rinka; I was lawfully married fifteen years last Christmas Bay in a German church; my husband is a Dane—I am subject to fits—I was only married to my first husband eleven weeks when he died—I was married in Ireland first; Mr. Paul Alexander, who lived in the same street, could prove it—I have not seen him for four or five years—I was never charged with stealing; I was fined 10s. for giving a man a little beer for some wood—I told him no, and the neighbours said "Give him 2d."—he did not give it into my hand; he threw it down.

JAMES EMMENT (Policeman T 529). On Saturday, 24th June, about 12. 15, Rinka made a communication to me, in consequence of which I went down the Imperial Road, Fulham, about 10 yards behind her, and under the darkness of the wall—I saw three men about 8 yards off; O'Shea was one—I heard one man say "Here she comes; let us lift her"—she pointed out O'Shea—I caught hold of him, and told him he had better come to the station—he struck me in the month with his fist, knocked me back against some railings, and got away—I followed him half a mile, and lost sight of him—I subsequently went to Victoria Road and found him lying in the front room upstairs—1'iold him he would have to go to the station with me—he said "God blind me, I won't go"—I told him he would have to come, and my mother, who was present, persuaded him, if he had done anything wrong, to go quietly—two constables were with me—he put one sleeve of his waistcoat on, and got hold of my collar—I struck him over the knuckles—I had known him by sight—I apprehended Hickey about 12 p. m. on the 25th at his house—I said "You will be charged with three other men with assaulting and robbing a woman last night;" he said "I know nothing about it"—I then took him to the station—I had seen him about 5 minutes to 12 o'clock the previous night with Elgar and others.

Cross-examined by MR. HEWICK. That night it had been raining—I met the woman 240 yards from the men—there was no struggle when O'Shea got away—he was lying on a box with his coat and waistcoat off when I took him at his house.

Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I did not see Elgar or Hickey nearer: the woman than the Hand and Flower public-house, about 240 yards from the Imperial Road—that was at five minutes to 12—I ordered them away—they were making a noise.

GEORGE CRACKNELL (Policeman P 44). I took Elgar outside the Hand and Flower public-house, Fulham, on the 25th—I said, "I shall take you in custody for being concerned with some other men in committing a highway robbery in the Imperial Road"—he made no answer—he wanted some beer, and went into a public-house, and I fetched him out—I took him to the station with Emment's assistance, and placed him with 10 other men, and Rinka picked him out.

Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I did not threaten to strike Elgar—I believe he has been in the Navy.

Cross-examined by MR. HEWICK. Another man was charged with this offence and discharged.

HICKEY received a good character NOT GUILTY .

O'SHEA** † and ELGAR**— GUILTY of assault with intent to rob,

O'SHEA then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in January 1881, at Leicester.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.

ELGAR— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-754
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour; Imprisonment > hard labour

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754. JOHN McCLURE (30) and WILLIAM JENKINS (21) , Robbery with violence on Charles Payment, and stealing a hat, a watch, and 12s. his property.


CHARLES RAYMENT . I live at 4, Vivian Road, Old Ford—I am an omnibus conductor—on Friday, 30th July, I was at the Alexandra Park Races—I left about 7 p. m.—I was going home, and I went into a public-house opposite the entrance to the Palace—I saw the prisoners and others—I remained there about 10 minutes—I had two glasses of ale—I saw the prisoners in other houses afterwards—I went into another house at the bottom of Hornsey Lane—I drank ale—the last house I went in was the Junction Arms—I saw the prisoners there; I did not speak to them—I left about 12. 15—I was not drunk; I knew what was taking place—the prisoners followed me 100 yards from the house, where there is a spring gate to a carriage drive—McClure pushed me into the gateway, struck me with his fist and knocked me down, and took £12 out of my right-hand trousers pocket, unbuttoned my coat, and took my watch—this rag is the lining of my hat which I lost—Jenkins and others were helping McClure, pushing me and knot-king me down—I was stunned—the men ran away—I went to the Kentish Town Police-station and gave information—I have not since seen my hat, my watch, or my money—I identified the prisoners the following Monday—I saw Jenkins at Marylebone on the Tuesday.

Cross-examined. I had been at the races since 2 o'clock—I had not been betting—I had had a holiday—I had more than usual to drink—I treated one, Webster, who gave the orders for drink to the others, and I paid—there were. five or six altogether—the same thing went on at all the publics—I had 13l. in the morning, and I spent 1l.—that is how I fix the 12l.—I felt them take my watch—I had seen it about an hour before—I was. going towards Highgate Road; that was the way home—I fell, and they fell on me—the others must have held my arms.

Re-examined. I saw my watch taken and a large sum of money. CHARLES MILLER (Police Sergeant Y). On Saturday, Ist July, I received information from Kay men t, made inquiries, and on Monday, 3rd July, I went to a public-house in the Kentish Town Road, where Rayment pointed out McClure as one of the men who knocked him down—I said, "You will be charged with others with stealing a watch and about 12l. in money on the morning of the 1st"—he said, "I had been with him, but I was not there at the finish"—the next morning at 11. 15 in the lobby at the Marylebone Police-court Rayment pointed out Jenkins—I arrested him, and told him he would be charged with McClure and others—he said, "You have made a mistake, I was home before that time. "

Cross-examined. From 14 to 20 people were in the bar when Rayment said, "That man standing there is known as Scotty, and is one of them," not "I think that is one of them. "

ROBERT MONDE . I am potman and billiard marker at the Junction Tavern—on Friday, 30th June, about 12. 25,1 was called by my mistress to call time—McClure and five or six others were there, and the prosecutor—the prosecutor went out first; the others followed together, and went towards the Bull and Gate—about 100 yarls off I saw a rush into the gateway—I saw one or two run.

Cross-examined. I was called down from the billiard-room—it was about closing time—Rayment had had a drop, but they went out of the house very quietly—five or ten minutes after I went to see what had occurred, and made inquiries.

EDWARD STEVENS . I live at 18, Fortis Grove, and sell fish—on Friday night, 30th June, I was out at 12. 15—1 met Jenkins and McClure, who is called Scotty, opposite the Tally-ho public-house.

Cross-examined. I did not see the prosecutor.

GEORGE STEVENS . I am 10 years old—I live at 18, Fortis Grove—I saw the prisoners on Saturday, 1st July, about 9 a. m.—Jenkins told me to put my hat in my pocket and wear one he showed me down to the Oxford—it was a black, hard felt hat—I went down to the Oxford—he took the hat away from me and gave it to McClure—McClure gave me a different hat, and said I must wear it for two or three days because he stole it, and he gave me this lining and told me I could have it stitched in; it was clean then—he gave me 2d., took the hat away, and left the lining with me.

Cross-examined. I go to school—my father is a coal man—I know it was Saturday, four weeks ago—we get a whole holiday on Saturday—my sister cleaned the fender with the lining, and made it dirty—it has got in it, "393, Oxford Street;" lean see it; I noticed that on it four weeks ago—I gave the hat back to Jenkins; if I have said McClure it is a mistake.

The statement of each Prisoner before the Magistrate was, "I have nothing to do with it; I was not there. "

Witnesses for the Defence.

JOHN PEAT . I went with the prosecutor to the Alexandra Palace—I remained in his company six hours and a half—I left him about 11. 45 p. m.—he was very much the worse for driuk and not able to take care of himself—he asked me to take care of him; we had been drinking together—it was the drunk leading the drunk—I asked him it he wanted to come home with me—he said, "Here, do a dive in there for it," meaning for his money, and he pulled it out—I did not do a dice- he was standing drink to all of us—he stood about two pints of gin at the first house.—he gave two men a shilling for fighting; he also stood brandy—I had six "three's" of brandy myself, and the prisoners had a lot of ale that the prosecutor stood.

Cross-examined. I knew what I was about—I did not know that the prosecutor went to Kentish Town Police-station—I saw some silver and coppers.

HENRY GREEN . I know the prosecutor; I saw him as we were coming out of the gates of the Alexandra Palace—I left him between 9 and 10; he was drinking—we called at several houses, end the more we called at the more people got mixed up in the company, and became friendly with the prosecutor, singing and dancing all about.

Cross-examined. I left him at the Railway Tavern, Hornsey Road—it was the first day of the Alexandra Park Races.

Re-examined. The following Monday I asked him what became of him when he left me; he said that he had got mixed up with thieves and robbers, and they had robbed him.


JENKINS then PLEADED GUILTY*† to a conviction of felony at Clerkenwell, in February, 1880.— Eighteen Months' Bard Labour, McCLURE†.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.

NEW COURT.—Wednesday, August 2nd, 1882.

Before Mr. Recorder.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-755
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceNo Punishment > sentence respited

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755. GEORGE STANLEY BROWN (43) PLEADED GUILTY to embezzling 12s. 6d. the moneys of Henry Avern and others, his masters.— He received a good character.— Judgment respited.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-756
VerdictsGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentencesImprisonment > hard labour

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756. JOHN READ (53) to feloniously assaulting Henry Hazel with intent to prevent his lawful apprehension, also to stealing 10s. the moneys of Benjamin Israel— Eighteen Months Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-757
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty

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757. ISABELLA MARY ANN HILLIARD (30) to feloniously marrying William Morris, her husband being alive.— Three Days', Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-758
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceMiscellaneous > military naval duty; No Punishment > sentence respited

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758. HENRY KENT (13) aid HENRY SMITH (17) to receiving 16 sheets and other articles the property of John Twyford, knowing them to have been stolen. ( MR. FRITH stated that Kent would be sent to sea.)— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment respited. And

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-759
VerdictsGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentencesImprisonment > hard labour; Imprisonment > penal servitude

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759. HENRY BAKER (19) and WILLIAM GIBBS (19) to burglarly in the dwelling-house of William Barrett and stealing a coat and other articles, his property, also to stealing a coat and other articles the property of Edward Ayling, having both been before convicted. BAKER*.— Six Months' Hard Labour. GIBBS***.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-760
VerdictGuilty > unknown; Guilty > lesser offence
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude; Imprisonment > penal servitude

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760. WILLIAM AMBRIDGE (19), GEORGE BAKER (22), and JAMES YOUNG (34) , Breaking and entering the warehouse of Samuel Attridge and stealing 214 lb. of silk, his property. Second Count, feloniously receiving the same.

MR. SAUNDERS Prosecuted;

MR. GEOOHEGAN defended Baker.

SAMUEL ATTRIDGE . I am a silk dealer, of 3 and 4, Great Winchester Buildings, City—on 20th June about 160l. worth of raw silk was stolen from my warehouse; it was in a bag.

ALFRED JAMES ATTRIDGE . I am the son of the last witness—on 20th June, about 1. 45,1 shut up the Office, leaving the silk safe—I returned about 4.30, put the key to the door, and found it open; the bag of silk was gone and this jemmy was behind the door.

JAMES NYE . I am housekeeper, at 3, Great Winchester Buildings—on 20th June, about 2. 10, I saw Baker coming from the office with a small parcel under his arm—I asked him if Mr. Attridge was gone—he said, "No, they are going directly," and went away—three days afterwards I picked him out at the station from eight or nine others—I have no doubt he is the man.

Cross-examined. He was dressed as he is now—the man I met had a brown coat on, and so had I believe one of the 8 or 9 men.

ROBERT OUTRAM (City Detective Sergeant). I received information and went with Wright and Coslin to Vittoria Street, Barnsbury, and saw Baker and Ambridge walking towards me—I caught hold of them and; after a smart struggle Baker escaped, and was pursued by Wright and

Coslin—I took Ambridge into 35, Vittoria Street, and told him he was charged with stealing some silk in the City—he said, "All right"—Baker was brought back and we took them into the front room ground floor, where Wright opened a large box which was full of silk—this is a portion of it (produced)—I said, "That is the silk you will be charged with stealing "—they said, "All right"—I found on Ambridge these skeleton keys, which open the street door of 35, Victoria Street—we took the prisoners to the station, and I got six young men from the street about the same age and description, placed them all in the yard, and Nye came in and picked out Baker—he refused to give his address—on the way to the police-court he said, "The reason I got away from you was I had seen Young about the silk, we both had been in the room and seen the stuff there; the housekeeper has made a mistake in identifying me; it was done by three men and the man behind" (Ambridge) "is one of them"—Young was not then in custody, but that was his room.

WILLIAM WRIGHT (City Detective). I was with Outram and saw Coslin stop Baker—I said, "What did you run away for?"—he said, "It was enough to make any man run "—I said, "I don't see anything to run for "—he said, "I see a great deal "—we took him to 35, Vittoria Street, where we found Outram and Ambridge, and I looked in a box and found the silk in a bag, and told the prisoners they would be charged with breaking into Messrs, Attridge's warehouse on the 20th—Ambridge said, "Yes, Sir", I know, that is all right"—Baker made no reply—next morning Baker Bent for me and said, "I wish to give you some information "—he at first said that he did pot wish it mentioned in Court, but afterwards that he did—he said, "The housekeeper has made a mistake; the man Young, of 35, Vittoria Street, keeps a stall in Chapel Street, Islington, he told me he had some silk and things stolen, and that he was minding them for three men"—he gave me three names, and Ambridge was one of the three—I saw Young at the station the same day, 13th July—I produced the bag, box, and Bilk, and told him I found them, in his room, 35, Vittoria Street, on 23rd of last month, and said, "Is this your box?"—he said, "No"—I said, "Your sister said it was "—he pointed to two bags and said, "Those are the bags the silk was brought to my place in "—I said, "When was it brought there?"—he said," On Tuesday afternoon; and on Friday afternoon, when I was in Covent Garden Market, I heard that two young men were in custody for it "—I said, "From whom did you receive the silk?"—he said, "I would not tell you for 10,000l.; it is no good my saying anything, for all the barristers in the world would not get me out of it; I knew the silk was stolen, and I had no business to have it at my place"—I told him he would be charged with receiving it well knowing it to,. have been stolen—he made no reply—I said, "You have not been home since the 23rd of last month"—he said, "No, or you would have apprehended me before; I did not wish to get locked up. "

Cross-examined. What Baker said was "The man Young, who keeps a stall in Chapel Street, told me he had some things which were stolen at his house; I went there and saw the silk, and that is why I ran away; the job was done by three men," and then he gave me the names, I have them in my book—he gave me an address—two of the names were of persons in the G division, with which I have communicated, and I believe they are the names of living men—as far as I know he gave me correct information.

Re-examined. He gave me an address which was wrong.

HENRY COSLIN (City Detective). On 23rd June I watched 35, Vittoria Street, and after some time saw Baker and Am bridge and a man not in custody pass down Edward Street by the top of Vittoria Street, where they stopped and conversed, and Baker and Ambridge left the other man—Ambridge passed something to Baker, which I believe was a key—they went down Vittoria Street, and Baker opened the door and went in; they remained there a few minutes, and came out about 20 yards from the door—Sergeant Outram took hold of them—Baker got away from him, but I took him—on 13th July I was with Smith, a City officer, in the New North Road, and saw Young in the Bricklayers' Arms public-house—I asked him if his name was Jemmy Young; he said "Yes, all right, governor, I know what you want"—I said "I am a detective officer; you will be charged with two men now on remand with breaking and entering 3 and 4, Great Winchester Buildings, and stealing about 2cwt. of silk and a quantity of money;" he said "All right, governor, there is no getting out of it for me, I am bound to go away; will give you credit for getting me; I have had three weeks' good run; I know I was a fool to have taken the stuff to 35, Vittoria Street "—when the charge was read over to him he said "I shall say nothing till I am fully committed. "

HENRY PARSONS. I am a modeller, of 36, Vittoria Street, Barnsbury, and am the landlord of No. 35, where Young rented the front parlour for four months till he was taken.

Cross-examined. I have heard a good character of you.

Young's Statement before the Magistrate. "I plead guilty to minding the silk. The gentleman who asked me to mind it said he was going to sea on Friday. "

Witness for Baker.

JOSEPH HEMMING . I keep the King's Arms, Clerkenwell—on 20th June, about 3 p. m., Baker came and stayed till 5 p. m.—my house is I mile and a half from Great Winchester Street.

Cross-examined. I said before the Magistrate that he came from 3 o'clock to half-past, or very likely I said 4 o'clock—I say to-day that it was 3 o'clock because a tobacco traveller called that day and brought me a supply of cigars, and I asked Baker what he thought of them; he said "I am no judge, I never smoked in my life. "

Re-examined. I swear Baker was there at 3 o'clock, and if the case was put back I could prove it was 2 o'clock, because I have asked the traveller, and he says so.

AMBRIDGE* and BAKER*— GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servituds each.

YOUNG*— GUILTY of receiving. Five Years' Penal Servitude.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-761
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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761. RICHARD PUSEY (18) , Robbery with violence on Ann Coleman, and stealing 10 1/2 d. her money.

MR. FILLAN Prosecuted.

ANN COLEMAN. My husband is a tailor, of 30, Sea Street, Queen's Park—on 7th July I was on Sandbrook Terrace at 6 p. m., and the prisoner put his hand in my pocket, and took my purse, containing 101/2d.—I seized his hand—he dashed me down in the road, and ran off—I got up, ran alter him, and saw him taken—another man was with him.

THOMAS DARRELL (Policeman Sergeant X). On 6th July I saw the

prisoner and another man running—I caught the prisoner by his collar—he twisted away and ran—I caught him again, and he threw me down—as we got up he took a purse from his trousers pocket, and threw it into the road—the prosecutrix came up and identified the purse and the man.

GUILTY Four Months' Hard Labour,

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-762
VerdictsGuilty > pleaded guilty; Guilty > unknown
SentencesImprisonment > hard labour

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762. HENRY ADAMS (30) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully obtaining a situation by a false character. He was further indicted for that he being a servant to Thomas Andrews, did steal 5s., his money.

MR. BESLEY Prosecuted.

ROBERT SAGE (Detective Sergeant E). It was put in communication with the prosecutor, and on 17th June marked some silver coins, an among them several shillings, which I gave to my wife and to Elizabeth Holland and Frank Toomer, and about 6.35 p. m. I went to the prisoner, who was upstairs lying on a bed—I said "I am a police-officer, and hold a warrant for your arrest for obtaining a situation by a false character, have you cot any money about you?"—he did not speak, but handed me two packets wrapped up together—one contained 2l. In silver and the other 5s.—from the 21. packet I picked out three marked shillings, and laid "These are three marked shillings which have been paid over the bar "—he said "Show me the marks;" I said "No "—Sergeant Revell looked at the five-shilling packet, and showed me two marked shillings which had been left behind the bar, and which had been marked at the same time—I took all the dates.

MARY SAGE . I am the wife of the last witness—he gave mo three shillings—I went to the Carpenter' Arms, Shoreditch, about 6.30 p. m., and bought a quartern of brandy and a glass of sherry, and drank a glass of stout, and gave the coins to the prisoner, who was acting as barman.

ELIZABETH HOLLAND . Sergeant Sage gave me a shilling, which I paid to the prisoner for some whisky at the Carpenters' Arms between 5 and 6 o'clock on Saturday, 17th June.

FRANK TOOMER . I live at 5, George Yard, Islington—on 17th June Sergeant Sage gave me a shilling—I went to the Carpenters' Arms about 2. 28 p. m., and gave it to the prisoner for a pint of ale.

THOMAS ANDREWS . I keep the Carpenters' Arms—on Wednesday, 24th June, I took the prisoner into my service as barman, and between then and the Saturday I noticed a considerable difference in the takings—I applied to the police, and the coins were marked with my consent.

The prisoner produced a written defence stating that he borrowed 5s. from the till, which he owed to a friend who he expected to call, but that he intended to replace them.

GUILTY .**— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-763
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceMiscellaneous > sureties

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763. FRANK GREEN (19) , Unlawfully writing and publishing an obscene, filthy, and indecent libel in a letter adressed to Miss L. Barber. MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and GILL Prosecuted.

GUILTY . The COURT entertaining doubt whether there was any publication, on account of the letter being opened by a different person to whom it was addressed, admitted the prisoner to bail on his own recognisances to come up for judgment if called upon.

OLD COURT—Thusday August 3rd, 1882.

Before Mr. Justice Stephen.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-764
VerdictGuilty > manslaughter
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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764. JOHN ANDERSON (31) was indicted for the wilful murder of John Francis on the high seas.

MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MESSRS. EDWARD CLARKE, Q. C., and BESLEY Defended. ALEXANDER JANSEN. I am a German—I am a sailmaker, now staying at the Sailors' Home, Whitechapel—on 16th May, 1880, I joined the British ship Cutty Sark, Captain Wallis, in London—the prisoner was chief mate—I knew him by the name of Smith—we sailed from London Cardiff, where a coloured man named John Francis joined as an able seaman—we sailed for Japan at the beginning of June—on the way out We found that Francis was not able to do his duty as an able seaman, and I often heard the mate say to him "Go out of my sight; jump overboard "—he would stand looking at the mate, and would do no work—about the middle of July I saw the mate striking him, and the blood was running out of his nose and ear, and he said "Iam not an impostor, sir," and he complained to the captain—one night, about 9th or 10th August, after we had rounded the Cape, I was in the mate's watch—Francis was on tire forecastle on the look out—it, was a dark stormy night—about 9.30 we were, hauling the sails round—the fore lazy tack was fast—the prisoner sung out twice "Let go that lazy tack!"—I don't know, whether Francis did not or would not hear it—then all the watch sang out "Lot „ go that fore lazy tack!"—he then let it go, and the end of it went overboard—the prisoner went round to Francis and said "Why did you let; go that lazy tack?"—he said, "You told me to let it got and I let it go "—if he had let it go properly the end would not have gone over, but he. was no sailor and knew nothing about it—the prisoner said to the watch "The b-r-.—did that out of spite," and he said to the, deceased, "You nigger to hell, I will come forward and knock you overboard"—Francis said "You come on this forecastle to heave me overboard; I have got a capstan bar waiting for you "—the prisoner then took a capstan bar from the windlass under the forecastle and ran on to the forecastle—I" saw a little struggle, and saw the capstan bar in the air, and heard a flop, and the man fell down from the forecastle on the deck—it was a. heavy bar, made of teak, about 3 1l. 2 feet long—a foot of it was broken off—I paw Francis stretch out his hand to get bold of the bar from the mate—I did not see anything in his hand—he never spoke after he fell—the prisoner said to me "You saw that nigger lift the capstan bar against me?"—I said "No, sir"—he said "Well, he will lift no more capstan bars against me; I have done for him" Francis lay there all covered with blood—I went aft and fetched the carpenter and steward, and the captain came with a lamp—he was carried down between decks in a sail-cloth, and the captain cut his hair and dressed his wound—I saw the wound—it was right across the top of his head, about four inches long—he was left there all night in his wet clothes—next day he was moved to his bunk, and the prisoner brought some of his own blankets and put them over him—lie, died that night—during the day the prisoner said to me and another man "I knocked him down like a bullock; he never gave a kick "—I saw the two south-westers that Francis was wearing at the time, and they were

both full of blood and broken at the top—the capstan bar was kept in the forecastle for a time, but the captain dropped it overboard about four weeks afterwards—he did it on purpose—Francis was properly buried at sea; the captain read the prayers—the prisoner was taken' off duty after this occurred—he left the ship when we got to Auger, a Dutch port—we afterwards sailed to Singapore, and on the way the captain jumped overboard and drowned himself—-we got a pilot at Singapore, and I was seen by a Magistrate there—I remained with the Cutty Sark till she was paid off at New York—this (produced) is the official log——I signed it; the captain made me do so.

Cross-examined. I got the carpenter to witness that I would not sign it—I did sign it; it is not correct—the captain read it out before I signed it—this was a tea clipper of about 1,000 tons burthen, very narrow in the beam, a ship that wants to be cleverly and smartly handled in dirty weather—I shipped as sailmaker—there were 10 so-called able seamen on board, the captain and first and second mates, but only 6 or 7 of the men were really able seamen—among the watch on the night this occurred there was only one able seaman—I had to work as a seaman—the wind had caught the sails, and we were going round on another tack—the result of Francis not letting go the lazy tack was that we did not get the sails round—I had not seen any handspike on the forecastle; there was not one there—there was one underneath the capstan under the windlass; there were six capstan spokes there and hand-spikes—When the man had been struck the prisoner went aft to the captain, and told him he had struck the man down, and the captain came back with him.

FREDERICK CLARK . I joined the Cutty Sark as an able seaman on 15th May, 1880—Francis joined at Cardiff—in July, during the morning watch, I heard the prisoner speak to Francis about moving so slowly—he made some insolent reply, and the prisoner struck him with his fist or hand, and some blood flowed from his ears and nostrils—Francis went aft and told the captain, and the captain said it served him right, he should do his work in a manly manner—Francis went to his bonk and took a knife from it, and went to the grindstone and sharpened it, and he walked up towards the prisoner and said, "By G—d, Mr. Smith, you look out for me, or I will murder you yet," and he dashed the knife (town on deck—he also threatened him at another time the same day, and then broke the knife in three pieces, saying "By. G—d, I will finish you yet"—the prisoner asked him what he meant; he made no answer, jut walked into the forecastle—he often threatened him in the fore castle in the presence of the seamen there, saying what he Would do, and we told him to hold his tongue—on the night this happened the prisoner was in charge of the watch from 8 to 12; the wind shifted, and orders were given to trim the sails—Francis was on the look-out on the forecastle head—the prisoner called out to him to let go the" lazy fore tack; he sang it out two or three times, and then all the Watch sang it out; then he let it go, and it went overboard—I could not hear exactly what Francis said, but it sounded like either "Very well," or "Go to h——I "—the prisoner walked forward and asked Francis what he let go the lazy tack for; he said, "You told me to let it go, and I let it go;" the prisoner said, "If you give me any more of your jaw I will murder you yet"—I heard Francis say something, but what it was

I could not say; it was in an insolent tone of voice—the prisoner said "If I come up there I will throw you overboard, you d——d nigger;" Francis said, "If you come up here to throw me overboard I have a capstan bar ready for you, you will find I am not Reynolds "—that wag alluding to a previous disturbance; Reynolds was another coloured seaman on board—this was a very dark night, it was blowing and raining very hard—I heard a blow struck, as if a man had been struck with the hand on his back with his waterproof on—I heard no more till the prisoner came aft and asked the watch if they saw that nigger lift a handspike to him; we all said "No;" he said, "Well, he won't lift another one to me in a hurry "—we then went below—on going forward I stumbled over the body of Francis, and I said to the prisoner, "You have done a fine thing now "—he ordered us to carry the body on to the fore hatch—he then went aft and told the captain—I afterwards saw the capstan bar picked up by one of the seamen on the main deck about 10 or 12 feet from the forecastle head—it was broken.

Grots-examined. It was kept on the forecastle head by the mate's orders for a special purpose, to prevent the lazy fore tack slipping; after Francis had let go the lazy fore tack there was nothing to use the capstan bar for; it would be thrown on the forecastle head, anybody could take it up.

MR. CLARKE at this stage of the ease submitted that the charge of murder could not be supported. MR. JUSTICE STEPHEN expressing the same opinion, MR. CLARKE stated that he could not resist a verdict of manslaughter. MR . POLAND acquiescing in that view, the Jury found the prisoner GUILTY of Manslaughter. A number of witnesses deposed to his good character for humanity, and kindness of disposition.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-765
VerdictNot Guilty > fault

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765. RHODA SKINSLEY (38) was indicted for, and charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with, the manslaughter of Albert Archer Skinsley.

MR. POLAND Prosecuted. The identification of the body of the deceased child not being proved, tie Jury found a verdict of


31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-766
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence; Not Guilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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766. HENRY HAYES (18) and WILLIAM HOARE (11) were indicted for an unnatural offence.

MR. GILL Prosecuted; MR. POLAND (at the request of the Court)


HAYES— GUILTY of the Attempt. — Two Years' Hard Labour. HOARE— NOT GUILTY .

THIRD COURT.—Thursday, August 3rd, 1882.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-767
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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767. ELIZABETH DOILEY (32) , Unlawfully endeavouring to conceal the birth of her child.

MR. HEWICK Prosecuted; MR. LEVEY (instructed by the Court) Defended.


31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-768
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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768. JAMES DAVIS (34) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Antoine Marcour with intent to steal.


ANTOINE MARCOUR (Interpreted). I am a provision merchant, of 13 Great Newport Street, Leicester Square—on 3rd July I went to bed a 12.30—I had locked up the house—I heard a noise about 1.30 from the top part of the yard, which is covered; it was like somebody walking on the skylight—the roof is on the slant—I looked out of the window; I saw a man go straight to another window and break a pane of glass; he lowered the top part of the window and came into the room—I next saw him coming down from the first-floor direct to the door of the room in which I was—as the door was locked on the inside with two bolts lie could not get in; twice he tried to force open the door—I called "Police "—the man was found outside the door—I lost no property—I had 20l. in the cash-box—I never saw him before; I did not invite him to come to my house—I did not ask him to do any painting, I had none to do.

HENRY HICKS (Policeman C 98). On the evening of 13th July I was at Cranbourne Street—I heard the cry of "Police"—I went inside 13, Newport Street; I found the prisoner crouched in a corner of the courtyard on the right-hand side of the door the prosecutor said he had opened—I took him into custody; I said, "I shall charge you with burglariously entering this house"—he staggered as if he was drunk, but he walked upright enough outside.

JOHN JAMES WEBB . I am a leather seller, of 12, Great Newport Street—I locked up the premises as usual on 3rd July about 7.30 p. m.—I have an alarm bell; I found the next morning it had run down—I found two marks on one door, and a mark a little way up the passage, and the door downstairs had been attempted to be "broken into—I came at 9.30 a.m.

THOMAS BOWDEN (Detective). On 4th July I met the prisoner being taken to the police-station—he was helped along between two constables, pretending to be drunk, but when I called him by his name he looked at me and became suddenly sober—I assisted in taking him to the station—he said, "I will have a go for it now," and he became very violent, and had to be carried by four constables—he was charged after I had been and examined the premises—he said, "All right, I suppose you have made that right with the prosecutor,' and "The reason you are trying to get this up for me is because I would not put away a man that you wanted "—he was charged, and he said, "lama painter; I had been drinking with the. prosecutor, that old Frenchman; he asked me into his house with a view of doing a job for him, and I went down in the corner and got to sleep, and I knew nothing more until the policeman came and took me up"—there is a slanting roof of glass over the prosecutor's room—it was once a yard—there is a door into the shop, and a door from this room into the yard, no other exit except through the window—the gutter at the bottom of the glass roof had been walked on; the mortar was crushed from the sides, and a large pane of glass 2 feet 6 inches long had been broken directly under the bedroom window of the first-floor back—both Rashes were down—the top of the sash was marked with splints of wood broken off, as if boots had been on it—whoever entered the house must have come over the wall on to the glass roof—the pane may have been broken accidentally with the foot in trying to get at the window—in the morning I examined the premises at No. 12—I found the shop door had two large. dents on it, and I found this jemmy hid behind the door, and another door had been forced, and marks downstairs and in. the cellar, one mark corresponding with marks on the back of No. 12—a pair

of steps gives access to the back wall and the glass roof—the yard is part of No. 13.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate, "I was drinking with the prosecutor, and lie took me to the house; he took me into the back room. He asked me what it would cost to do up the room. He can speak good English. We came out and went into the Porcupine public-house; we stopped till 12; we turned back to the house. He was drunk, and so was I. We went out to the back. He went indoors, and I went to sleep where the constable found me."

GUILTY . He also PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in August, 1872, at Clerkenwell.— Eight Years Penal Servitude.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-769
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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769. ALEXANDER CURTIS (61) PLEADED GUILTY to uttering a forged bill of exchange for 1,000l.— Fifteen Months Hard Labour.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-770
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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770. WILLIAM WILLIS (20) , Robbery with violence, with persons unknown, on Reginald James Hinton, and stealing his watch and part of a chain.

MR. CUNNINGHAM Prosecuted;

MR. PURCELL Defended.

REGINALD JAMES HLNTON . I am an engineer, of 27, Maiden Lane, Covent Garden—I am deaf, and have an instrument to assist my hearing—about 12.30 on 2nd July I was in High Street, Bloomsbury, with my friend Mr. Chalmers—a drunken man spoke to us; my friend told him to go away—he came in front of me and put his hand on my left shoulder—I shook him off and said, "Hands off"—a few steps farther the prisoner appeared suddenly and put his hand on my watch—I seized him with a firm hold on his clothes—he broke my chain and took my watch—I had an india-rubber ring on it—I never saw it more—a portion of the chain and the ring went with it; this portion was left behind—while holding the prisoner I said to my friend, "Look out, this man has got my watch"—I—was struck two rapid blows on my head; the second one made me nearly insensible, and caused me to lose my hold on the prisoner—when I recovered I saw him standing against the lamp-post at the corner of New Compton Street, not three yards from where the watch was taken—I said, "There is the man that has got my watch "—I rushed to seize him, but he eluded me and ran down New Compton Street—I called out, 'Stop thief"—when I started in pursuit my hat was knocked off—between 12 and 20 were round us—my friend was engaged keeping them off and fighting for his life with a stick—I followed the prisoner about 200 yards down New Compton Street, and was gaining on him, when I was struck from behind on my bare head—I stopped, and then retraced my steps to the corner of New Compton Street, where I left my friend—he was standing at bay; when I joined him they dispersed—he was holding his stick up in a defiant attitude on guard—I gave information to the police at the bottom of Tottenham Court Road, and afterwards at Bow Street—I identified the prisoner the following Monday at 5 p. m. at Bow Street without the slightest hesitation—the value of my watch was about 30l.; it was a gold English lever.

Cross-examined. We started out that evening about 9—we went to the Albion, and left when it closed at 12—that is about half au hour's walk from the place of robbery—my description of the man was taken down at Bow Street—my friend struck the prisoner a hard blow on a

felt bat with his stick—I had a good look down the line a second time before I identified the prisoner.

WILLIAM CHALMERS . I am a private gentleman, and live at Lyme Regis—I was with the prosecutor in High Street, near St. Martin's Lane—a man, apparently drunk, came in front of us and obstructed our way—I told him to get out of the way, when he raised his arm and we were surrounded by about 20 roughs—I heard the prosecutor say "That man has got my watch," and put out his hand to catch the prisoner, who ran past me, and I hit him on the hat with my stick—the prosecutor ran after him—they tried to take my watch, and I gave some blows to some of them—after an interval my friend came back, end they dispersed—we walked to Tottenham Court Road and spoke to a policeman, and acting on his advice we went to Bow Street and stated what had occurred—the prosecutor described the appearance of the prisoner—I saw him distinctly—I subsequently went to Marlborough Street, and identified him from about half a dozen—the prosecutor had already identified him when I was in the country—I have not the slightest doubt the prisoner is the man.

Cross-examined, I did not see him take the watch, nor my friend holding him—I had but a momentary glance at the prisoner as he ran by me—he was quite a stranger—I was within hearing when my friend described the man—he walked with me to the station to identify the prisoner—I saw the prisoner in the yard—I picked him out at once from all sorts and descriptions—some looked respectable, and some did not—I looked down the row for a moment, then I saw him—not because he answered the description I had had, but I had seen him myself.

FREDERICK DICKER (Detective E). I took the prisoner into custody on 10th July—I said "I shall take you for stealing a watch and chain from a gentleman at the corner of New Compton Street on the 2nd;" he said "I thought you were getting it up for me, you would not have taken, me only I was with that lot in the public-house; I was only there to give Walker a character"—Walker had been charged at the Court opposite with attempting to pick pockets—I took the prisoner to the police-station—he was placed with six others at Bow Street Station, and the prosecutor picked him out—on the 18th Mr. Chalmers went to Marlborough Street and picked the prisoner out from six others.

Cross-examined. I apprehended the prisoner at the Marlborough Arms, opposite the Marlborough Street Police-court—I do not remember going there before—he did not say "I thought you were getting something up for me," he said "getting it up"—men were selected by Mr. Vine to place with the prisoner-r-three were prisoners from the cells—I have made inquiries—I know nothing against the prisoner's chapter.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I was not there. I know nothing about it. "

Witness for the Defence. SARAH TAMAN. My husband is not alive—I live at 27, down Street, Soho—I adoptel the prisoner when his mother died—he works as a naturalist—1 was in King's College Hospital when I heard the prisoner was taken into custody—I loft the hospital on the 6th—I was there seven weeks, and was then at home for a fortnight—I was at home on, the 2nd; that was a Sunday—the prisoner came home to his tea that evening about 5, and stopped till 6.30 or 7, when he went out—I met him at 9 o'clock at the public-house opposite where we live—I remained

in his company till 11, when he came outside and stood talking to two young men—I went to my own door, and left him talking at the corner of the public-house—I waited at my own door for him to come and help me upstairs—I was suffering from a white swelling of the knee—he came across, and we went straight upstairs—we had supper—four of us were in the room together—the clock struck 12 after we were upstairs—he never left the room that night afterwards—we went to bed about 12.30, in the same room.

Cross-examined. Till I was at the Court I did not know the offence was committed on the 2nd—I had to call my mind back to it—I was hard up on the Sunday, and had to borrow 2s. of the potman at The George, and I had to pledge the prisoner's trousers on the Monday to pay the money—I was from 9 till 11 in The George—I drank two half-pints of cooper—the prisoner's brother and my child were at supper—his brother works at Mr. Uxtable's, a portmanteau maker's in Newman Street—his master would not let him come here—my child is between and 12 years old—the clock I heard strike was in the room—I was there as a convenience till I went in the other hospital.

The prisoner received a good character.


NEW COURT.—Thursday and Friday, August 3rd and 4th, 1882.

Before Mr. Recorder.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-771
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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771. WILLIAM DIMSDALE (45) , Unlawfully obtaining divers sums of money by false pretences.


EMILE DENONBOURG . I am a lace merchant, of 51, Great Portland Street—I have known the prisoner 10 years—in January or February he told me that he was about to buy the International Music business in Regent Street, and asked me to give him a bill for 50l., which he would discount, and buy the business, and I accepted this bill (Dated March 18, 1882, for 50l. at 3 months, drawn by George Dimsdale, accepted by E. Denonbourg, and endorsed George Dimsdale)—I went to Paris, and did not see him for some time—I met him in May at Bishop's Road railway station, and asked him what he had done with the bill; he said he had got it at home, and would return it the same night—on June 3rd 1 received this letter. (This was from the House of Detention, stating that he had given the bill to Mr. Genese, who gave him 10s. on account, and he proceeded to draw cheques on him for the balance, and while doing so was arrested for obtaining money by false pretences. He requested Mr. Genese to appear next day at Marlborough Street and state that it was a men accommodation bill, which he would have paid if he had been asked) Another letter stated: "Never mind about to-morrow, I will square with you when I get out of here, as my property under my mother's will will b paid this month. 11 I paid the bill on presentation, but have received no portion of the proceeds.

Cross-examined. It was payable at the National Provincial Bank, Baker Street Branch—it fell due on June 21, on which day the money was at my bank, and it was paid—I do not know whether the prisoner has been at Chappel's; I know he was at Cramer's; they are both in the music line.

LAMSON GENESE . I am a tailor, of 20, Great Russell Street—I know the prisoner—he brought me this bill a week after it was drawn, and left it with me for me to make inquiries—I advanced him 10s. or 20s.—he had no authority to draw cheques on me—I have no colonial banking business and no private banking business, but I do a colonial trade—I discounted the bill, and it was duly met at maturity; it was payable at the National Provincial Bank—the prisoner called next day—I told him the inquiry was not good enough, and I could not do the bill—he said he would bring me another name, and he did so, but I never took it, and no other name was put on the bill—after that several cheques, drawn by the prisoner on me, came in—I refused to pay them, but I still held the bill.

Cross-examined. I paid it into my bankers for collection prior to the due date, and in the ordinary course it was presented and paid, and the 50l. was put to my credit, minus the 10s. or 20s. I gave to the prisoner; and he might suppose that I should honour any drafts of his against that bill—I have known him some years by meeting him at Mr. Campbell's office and at Captain Beal's office—after the bill was cashed one or two or more cheques came in, and I paid them; here are two of them (produced), they are signed by the prisoner.

Re-examined. I had known him some time, but I knew nothing as to his means—I should not discount a bill for anybody unless the acceptor was good.

JAMES CAVANAGH . I manage my mother's business, the Lion and Horn Tavern, Pollen Street, Hanover Square—I knew the prisoner as a customer—he came there on May 1st, and said his wife had come into some money, and he was going to give us a bed next night, that he had plenty of fizz in the house, but he wanted a dozen of port and a dozen of sherry at a moderate price, sent to Regent Street, where he was manager—he asked me to make out the bill—I said "It is no consequence now, pay when the goods arrive "—he said "I would rather pay now," and I made out the bill; it was for 4l., and he handed me this cheque (Dated 28th April, on Mr. Genese, for 6l. 6s., signed George Dimsdale)—I said "Who are these people who the cheque is drawn on?"—he said "They are colonial bankers, my brother has a large account there, it is all right"—I said "The till is cleared, and there is nothing but small change, which is necessary for the till; but I have 24s. here private cash," putting my hands in my pocket—he said "It is awkward, I have to meet some people at Brixton tonight; you can send the change with the van "—I afterwards received a telegram, in consequence of which I did not send the goods—I went to the place where the prisoner said he was employed, and found he had left there some months—I presented the cheque to Mr. Genese, and it was returned marked "No authority to draw"—I never saw him again till June 24—I believed that the cheque was genuine, and that Genese and Co. were colonial bankers.

Cross-examined. All I parted with was one sovereign—I started these proceedings—I applied to the Magistrate at Marlborough Street, and in consequence of other cases the case was afterwards taken charge of by the Public Prosecutor.

WILLIAM CHESTER MASTER . I am manager to Walmsley, Burney, and Co., wine merchants, of 51, Pall Mall—on May 15 the prisoner, who I did not know, called and gave me an order for wine amounting to 4l. 10s., to be sent to 9, Berkeley Street, and gave me this cheque for 7l. 7s. (This

was signed George Dimsdale, and was drawn on Genese and Co.)—next morning I received a telegram not to send the "wine—I had sent it, but my man came "back by accident, and I stopped it—the cheque in returned to me marked "No authority to draw."

CHARLES WILLIAMS . I am manager to William Wragner, of S3, Lein-ster Terrace, wine merchant—on May 6 the prisoner called and ordered some wine for Mrs. Dimsdale, of Cleveland Square, who is a customer of ours—it came to 5l. 6s.—he said "I am Mr. William Dimsdale, and'I wish to pay"—he asked for an invoice—I said "You need not trouble to pay, as we have an account"—he said "I am ordered to pay this, as we have ordered some other wine to test against yours "—he said that his mother had drawn this cheque, and asked if I could change it, which I did. taking off the discount, and giving him 2l. 2s. 6d. change—he said at first that it was to be sent on Monday before lunch—I said "Monday is Bank Holiday "—he said "Tuesday will do"—I afterwards received this letter, it is in the same writing as the cheque: "Gentlemen,—In consequence of great domestic affliction, please keep back the wine, and I will send you money for the cheque shortly, and oblige very much—Yours truly, W. M. Dimsdale. "On the Tuesday I sent one of my men to Mr. Genese, to inquire if the cheque was good, and it was returned unpaid.

WILLIAM GLASSE . I am manager to Brown and Wesley, wine merchants, of 17, Spring Street, Paddington—on 2nd June the prisoner ordered wine amounting to 5l. 8s. 6d. to be sent to Mr. Dimsdale, 52, Cleveland. Square, on Monday, at 2 o'clock—he gave me this cheque for 1l. Is., and I gave him 2l. 2s. 6d. change—it was returned by my banker unpaid—the wine was stopped by a letter stating there had been a family affliction.

FRANK FLEMMING . I assist my father, wine merchant, of 29A Archer Street, Bayswater—on 7th June the prisoner called and gave me an order for wine and spirits amounting to 5l. 5s. 6d. to be sent to Mr. Dimsdale, of Cleveland Square—he gave me this cheque for 7l. 7s.—I gave him 30s., and told him I would send the rest of the change—I afterwards received this lette: "Gentlemen,—In consequence of domestic trouble, please do not send the wine. I will send the money. "I parted with the money believing the cheque to be genuine.

WILLIAM WINTER . I live at 12, Connaught Street, and trade as Pratt Brothers, wine merchants—on 12th June the prisoner ordered some wine to be sent to Mr. Dimsdale, 22, Cleveland Square, and gave me a cheque for 7l. 7s.; I gave him the balance, 1s. 15s. 6d.—on the Monday evening I received this letter: "Owing to great family troubles please do not send wine ordered on Saturday. Kindly keep back cheque, and I will send the money. "—I wrote to Mr. Genese and found there were no effects.

JOHN CHICK . I am assistant to Bailey and Co., of Bathurst Street, Sussex Gardens—the prisoner ordered some wine of me to be delivered on Saturday, and gave me a cheque for 7l. 7s.; I gave him 1l. 14s. change—in the meantime I received this letter (Similar to the others)—I did riot present the cheque and did not see the prisoner again.

JOHN BARTLETT BLISS . I am a wine me chant, of 21, Seymour Street—on 12th June the prisoner ordered some wine to be sent to 32, cleve-land Square, and gave me a cheque for 7l. 7s.; I gave him 2l. 4s. 6d. change—I paid the cheque into the bank, and it was returned unpaid—I then received this note (Similar to-the others).

WILLIAM TURNBULL . I am manager to Roberts and King, wine merchants, 5, Bishop's Road, Bays-water—on 19th June the prisoner ordered? wine to the amount of 5l. 11s. to be sent to Mr. Dimsdale, Cleveland Square, and pave me a cheque for 7l. 7s.—I gave him the change, paid it in, and it was returned unpaid—I received this letter telling me not to send the wine.

JOHN LOCK . I am a wine merchant, of 37, Alexander Street—on 23rd June the prisoner gave me an order for wine to be sent to Cleveland Square amounting to 5l. 8s. 6d.—he gave me a cheque for 7l. 7s. on Messrs. Genese, and I gave him 1l. 18s. 6d. change—I paid it in the same day and it was returned unpaid—I did not part with the wine.

Cross-examined. I received all the money I parted with, at the hearing at Marlborough Street; I pointed out to Mr. Genese that he was liable for it because he had said in the witness-box that he had money of the prisoner's in hand—he admitted his liability and gave me 1l. 18s. 6d.—he did not tell me that he was willing to pay the other persons.

HENRY CORFIELD DIMSDALE . I live with my mother at 52, Cleveland Square—I do not know the prisoner; he does not live there; he is no relative of mine.

Cross-examined. I never heard that he was my cousin—I believe I am a member of the Hertfordshire family of Dimsdale; I do not know that the prisoner is connected with them—I knew nothing of him before this transaction.

WILLIAM THOMAS NEW (Policeman C). I took the prisoner on 23rd June; I told him I had a warrant against him for obtaining 1l. from Mr. Cavanagh by false pretences—he said "If Jim," meaning Cavanagh, "has not received the money on the cheque, he ought to have, as Mr. Genese has moneyof mine"—I found a cheque on him dated 21st June.

GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-772
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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772. CHARLES ALEXANDER (20) , Forging and uttering an authority for the delivery of a watch, with intent to defraud.

MR. BLACKWELL Prosecuted; MR. FRITH Defended.

DAVID Moss JACOBS. I am manager to Alfred Moss Jacobs, a watch-manufacturer, of Cross Street, Hatton Garden—on 16th June the prisoner brought a letter, I opened it, saw that it was from Mr. Walton, and said, "It is very strange; I know nearly all Mr. Walton's men, but I have never seen you about the place"—he said, "I work upstairs over Mr. Walton's head, and very seldom come down "—in consequence of the letter I let him have two silver watches, one at 7l. and the other at (6l. 13s.,—this is one of them (produced).

Cross-examined. I have seen very little of Mr. Walton's writing—the signature looked like his—I picked the prisoner out on 22nd June from six or seven others, who were all different heights, some older and some younger, and have no doubt ho is the man.

JOSEPH WALTON . I am a watchmaker, of 7, Upper Charles Street, Clerkeowell—I only know the prisoner by seeing him about the streets occasionally—he has not worked for me—I did not send him with this letter, it is not my writing, or written by my authority—the prisoner did not bring me any watches—it is about 18 months since I saw him.

JAMES COTTHELL . I am assistant to Mr. Pockett, a pawnbroker, of Exmouth Street, Clerkenweil—on 6th June the prisoner pawned this

watch for 2l. 10s., in the name of James Humphreys, 26, Rahere Street.

Cross-examined. I had never seen him before—I consider his hair light; he wore a dark tweed coat, I am almost positive—I picked him out from a number of others—he was in the shop 10 minutes, and I questioned him very closely about the watch.

JOHN ROBINSON (Policeman G). I took the prisoner on Clerkenwell Green, and told him it was on suspicion of obtaining several watches—I did not say from whom—he said, "Is it from this side of the water or the other?"—I said, "This side"—he said, "Well, I am innocent of that"—I took him to the station, he was placed with others, and Mr. Jacobs and Mr. Cotterell identified him.

Cross-examined. He was with a young woman—I was in plain clothes—I called out "Charley," and he came back and asked what it was and I took him—he denied from first to last knowing anything about it—three people failed to identify him the next day, but that was for other cases; they picked him out, but would not swear to him—the description I had from two of them applied in my mind to the same person—he was placed with others similar in height and age, and none of the three persons swore to him.

Re-examined. All the persons connected with this case identified the prisoner without hesitation.

WILLIAM PEEL (Police Inspector G). I know the prisoner and have seen him write—to the best of my belief this letter is his writing, but I cannot swear to it; his writing is generally rounder and more irregular.

Cross-examined. This letter (another) purports to have come from him at the House of Detention—it is not much more the letter of an uneducated person than the other, they are about similar—he knew that this letter was there when he was in prison.

GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at this Court in February, 1881.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-773
VerdictNot Guilty > directed

Related Material

773. HENRY REECE and HENRY BROMMETT, Stealing 19 bales of wool, the property of James Richard Fardell and others.

MR. MATHEWS Prosecuted; MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS appeared for Reece, and MR. CLARKE, Q. C., far Brommett.

GEORGE FERNALL . I am a wool merchant, of 20, Basinghall Street—on 25th May I purchased a large consignment of Adelaide wool, which was lodged for me at Messrs. Gooch and Cousins', London Wall—these (produced) are samples of it—it was to be shipped to Ostend by the Steam Navigation Company—Messrs. Fardell are their carriers.

JAMES RICHARD FARDELL . I am in business with my brother as car-men at Sparrowgate Corner, Minories—we had orders from Gooch and Cousins to transport this wool to Irongate Wharf, and on 31st May, about 7.15 a. m., I sent my two carmen for it, Sullivan driving a two mid Harris a one horse van—they were to load it at Gooch and Cousins and deliver it at Irongate Wharf, calling at our place in passing—the distance is a little over a mile—I waited at Irongate Wharf till about 10. 45, and there was no sign of either of them—I made inquiries, but tailed to trace them till the evening—I was at Irongate Wharf at a few minutes past 6 o'clock when Harris presented himself; I had some

talk with him and saw him at the office the same night—I went with him and searched the turnings on either side of the Commercial Road for Sullivan's van, hut failed to find it and returned to the office—I afterwards went with Harris to King David Lane Station, and at 11.30 p. m. to Arbour Square, where I found Sullivan's van empty; it was in charge of a policeman—Harris drove it home by my instructions.

JOHN MURRAY . I am delivery foreman to Gooch and Cousins—on 31st May, Harris and Sullivan came, one driving a one-horse and the other a two-horse van; I gave Sullivan 19 bales of wool and superintended the leading of it; he came at 8 a. m. and left at 10 with the wool; it was worth 350l.

PETER JACKSON . I am employed by Gooch and Cousins; I weighed these 19 bales of wool; the net weight of Sullivan's load was 49 cwt. 1 qr. 14 lbs.

PATRICK: KELLY (Policeman H 300). On 31st May, at 2. 15 p. m., I saw two vans in Philpot Street, Commercial Road—Harris was in charge of them; I watched them till 5. 15, they were loaded—I spoke to Harris and he drove the two-horse van up the Commercial Road, and stopped opposite the Clyde public-house—he then drove along Turner Street, which took him into Whitechapel Road—22, New York Street, is 40 yards from Philpot Street and 140 yards from where I saw the van standing.

JAMES BARNES . I am warehouseman to the General Steam Navigation Company—on 31st May, at 7. 10, I was in Bow Common Lane and paw one of Messrs. Fardell's vans standing loaded opposite the Britannia public-house—I did not see any one with it.

JOSEPH PERRY . I am a coal and coke dealer, of 52, Bow Common Lane, and have the joint use of Webster's yard next door—on 31st May, at 7 or 8 o'clock, I saw Fardell's van loaded with bales drawn up in front of my door; one or two bales were taken out and put in the road to allow the van to go under the archway, but I did not see it go in—I went away and returned at 10 p. m., the van was not there—I went into my back premises, but saw no bales, as it was dark—I saw some there next morning—I went out with my van—I returned at two o'clock, they were still there, I took my horse out and returned at 7 or 8, and they were gone.

Cross-examined by MR. CLARKE. I saw Edwards and. Harris in custody at the Mansion House; they were discharged and so was Meyer Frenchman.

WILLIAM VIGORS (Policeman H 323). On 31st May, at 11. 15, I found two horses and an empty van at the corner of Floriston Street—I took it to Arbour Square Station, where Fardell saw it.

SARAH WOOLF . I am the wife of James Woolf, of 25, Angel Lane, Stratford—on a Wednesday or Thursday late in May, or early in June, I was coming by the tram from Stratford to Mile End; the car stopped in the Mile End Road, and the prisoners got up outside, I was inside—Mr. Reece, the prisoner's brother, was with me.

Cross-examined by MR. CLARKE. I take that journey by tram car once or twice a week.

GEORGE FOSTER (Police Sergeant H). On 1st June, at 7 p. m., I was in Bow Common Lane and saw a man named Edwards driving a van; it looked laden with rags, but I went behind, put my knife across one of

the sacks, and found it was wool—the van contained 22 bags—I got up on the off shaft, spoke to the driver, and we drove on and pulled up at the Royal public-house at the corner of Bow Road and Burdett Road, where I left the van in a constable's charge, and went with Edwards to Webster's yard, Bow Common Lane—I saw a particle of wool over the entrance and some lying about, which I collected—we then went along the road till we met Mr. Charles Fardell, and drove with him to where I left the van—Edwards got on to the van by my orders, and drove to a turning out of Corbett Court, in front of Brommett's gate—he has a warehouse there joining his house—I spoke to a man standing there and was taken to the back premises, where I saw 31 bags of wool similar to that in Edwards's van—Mr. Wright was with me all the time—I sent him away with the load which I stopped Edwards with—he returned with help, and the 31 bags were removed—I arrested Meyer Frenchman, who was in charge of the premises—I was at the station when Brommett was brought in—I said, "What account do you give of the wool I found on your premises?"—he said, "I saw a man, Harry Reece, at dinner time to-day, at Union Street warehouse, and he asked me if I would buy some sweepings"—that is in Union Street, Commercial Road, a quarter of a mile from Philpot Street.

Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. I have ascertained there is such a man as Lipman—he is not a member of the Sussex Club, but his name is on the books as a visitor—there was no date to it—Frenchman was charged at the Mansion House with Brommett, his master, with receiving the property—he was dismissed—I have seen him here to-day.

Cross-examined by MR. CLARKE. Frenchman was in charge of the office—I asked for Brommett, but did not see him—Frenchman produced a quantity of bags of rags, and I afterwards found quantities of old regimental coats—the bags wore in another part of the place, where it is very dark—they lit the gas to show it me—it was about 8 p. m.

Re-examined. Reece is a member of the Sussex Club; Brommett is not—it was Reece who introduced Lipman—there is a margin in the book for members' names—the club joins the Pavilion Theatre—they meet every night.

PATRICK ENWRIGHT (Policeman). I was with Foster on June 1st—I have heard his account; it is correct.

JOSEPH NEWMAN (Police Sergeant Criminal Department). I remember this wool being taken from Brommett's, and soon after Brommett arrived, as soon as he knocked at his door, I said "Mr. Brommett?"—be said "That is my name, Sir; what can I do for you?"—I was in plain clothes—I said "You are going inside?"—he said "Yes"—I said "That is right; I want to speak to you"—he went in and I followed him—I was asked to sit down, and his wife and daughters began talking to him in Hebrew—I knew they were talking about me, as they turned round and looked at me—I said "Your good lady has already told you I belong to the police; that is right, I do; and I am directed by the inspector to ask you to be kind enough to go with me to the station—he said "Shall I come now?"—I said "If your please"—we went into the street, where his son met us and said something to him which I could not understand—Brommett then looked at me and said "They say it is something about wool; what is it all about?"—I said "Yes, it is"—he said "Well, I met a man, Reece, at Candler's warehouse this morning, and

he asked me if I could do with some sweepings"—that is an old sugar warehouse at the corner of Union Street and Commercial Road—"I told him I could do with it, but should not be able to attend to it to-day, as I was going to my club, but [ would see to it to-morrow"—I said "Do you mean Mike Reece?"—he said "No, his brother Harry"—I said "Did he show you a sample of it?"—he said "No, I have not seen it? I said "Do you mean to say you have bought it without seeing it?"—he said "I have not bought it"—I said "Well, bargained for it"—he said "No, I told him to send it in and I would attend to it to-morrow"—he was taken to the station.

Cross-examined by MR. CLARKE. He said "I said if he would send them to-day I would see them to-morrow"—he told me that that had been said to Reece before I asked (him the question of bargaining for it.

Re-examined, I said "You mean Candler's warehouse at the corner of Union Street and Commercial Road?"—he said "Yes."

FREDERIC ABBERLIKE (Police Inspector). On 1st June, at 8.30 p. m., I went to Brommett's premises and saw the detectives and Meyer Frenchman, and a quantity of wool was removed by my orders—Newman brought Brommett to the station at 9.30, and Sergeant Foster said "I am a sergeant of police, Mr. Brommett; how do you account for the wool found at your premises?"—he said "All I know is a man Harry Reece came to me to-day and said he had some sweepings for sale. I said I could not attend to it to-day, but if he sent them to my place I would attend to it to-morrow "—I afterwards went with Newman and Fardell to Reece's house, 22, North Street, Commercial Road—I said "I am an inspector of police; this is Sergeant Newman and this is Mr. Fardell. I have come to make inquiries about some wool that was stolen yesterday. Brommett, Frenchman, and Edwards are in custody for stealing and receiving it; Brommett says all he knows of it is, they came to him this morning and said they had some sweepings for Bale, and he said that he could not attend to it to-day, but if he sent it into his place he would attend to it to-morrow, and Meyer said that you came for some bags and some string, which were given you, and you afterwards sent the goods in"—he said "Oh, Brommett says that, does he? I will tell you the truth. A man, Lipman, came to me last night at the Sussex Club, and said he knew a man who had some bales of wool for sale, I said 'I cannot do with it myself, but I know some one who could. 'Lipman said the man had a dock warrant. We arranged to meet this morning at the corner of New Road, Whitechapel. We met. Brommett was with me, and a man whose name I do not know was with Lipman. We all went to Bow on a tramcar, and up a yard. Brommett saw samples of wool; Lipman cut open three or four of the bales, and Brommett looked at the wool, and he and the man whose name I do not know went into a public-house close by. They had some conversation, but I did not hear what it was. Brommett came to me and said 'We are coming home now, Harry. 'I said 'Are you going to buy it?' Brommett said 'Yes. 'I said 'I don't much like the look of it. 'Brommett said 'Oh, it is all right; I am going to have a receipt from the man belonging to the place. I shall have it repacked; you go to my place and ask Meyer to give Lipman as many bags as he wants. 'That was about noon, and after dinner I went and saw Meyer, and told him Lipman was to have as

many bags as he wanted. At that moment Brommett came in and Meyer said to him 'Is it all right?' Brommett said 'You let him hate as many bags as he wants and some string, that is all I know about it. 'I asked Brommett what he was going to give me for my trouble, and he said he would satisfy me"—I told him he would have to accompany me to the station—we went to Seething Lane Station, where Brommett was brought into the charge-room with the others—I repeated to him what Reece had said—he said "All I know is. he said he had some sweepings for sale, and I said 'I will see to it to-morrow'"—Reece was then charged with the others—I went with Sergeant Foster next morning to Brommett's and took possession of these two books, the "In" book and the "Out" book.

Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. I cannot find Lipman—Reece said that there were 19 bales of wool—I understood from Frenchman that this was his entry in Brommett's book—Reece has on his gate "Reece, Rag Merchant"—he does not deal in wool to my knowledge—Brommett is also a rag merchant.

Cross-examined by MR. CLARKE. I found a large quantity of old clothes at Brommett's, and old blankets; very likely a ton—they are very extensive premises. The COURT considered that there was no evidence against either prisoner.


31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-775
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

775. WILLIAM GEORGE TICE (90) was indicted for wilful and corrupt perjury.


REGINALD STUART BODDINGTON . I am Deputy Registrar of Marylebone County Court—I remember the action of Jack v. Tice—Tice applied to me with this affidavit (produced) for leave to defend—he was sworn before me, but I do not think he signed it in my presence—this is the original plaint-note, and this is the receipt which was given for fees—I swear that I saw the oath administered—I do not remember what he swore—judgment ultimately was for the plaintiff—I was not present at the application for a new trial, but I know that it was made and refused by the same Judge who tried the action.

Cross-examined. When Tice made this affidavit he did not state to me that Jack was in prison, but I believe it to be true, and that he did not wish the case to be heard in Jack's absence, as he had no defence on the merits—I believe Jack was in prison for not supporting his wife and children—Tice swore in the affidavit that the signature to a bill of exchange was not his.

GEORGE COWDERY . I am Chief Usher to Mr. Serjeant Wheeler at the Marylebone County Court—I administered the oath to the defendant in Jack v. Tice—he swore that the acceptance was not his signature.

Cross-examined. I do not know that he stated that he had been at Hammersmith, and threatened to give Jack in custody for forging his name—I know the Serjeant did not believe him—the Serjeant made some very strong remarks.

ROBERT WILLIAM JACK . I am the prosecutor, and am a commercial traveller, of 5, Tiverton Square, Islington—I believe the prisoner married my wife's sister—he is a dentist—some time ago he and I contemplated

partnership, and I advanced him over 30l.; but shortly afterwards, intending to leave him and go into some other business, I asked him for the return of the money or security, and this bill of exchange was drawn on the 10th April; it is dated 28th January by arrangement; the body of it is in my writing—I went to his shop in the Uxbridge Road on 10th April, and we had some little disagreement—the landlady had taken possession of the place, and it was closed for two days—I asked him to give me this bill of exchange—I drew it out there and then, and he accepted it in my presence—I solemnly say that I saw him write this "William George Tice"—it became due on 1st May, and, finding I could not get my money, I entered an action at the Marylebone County Court, which was heard on 22nd June—I then heard him swear that he did not write it, but judgment was given for me for the whole amount—I was present when an application for a new trial was made to Mr. Serjeant Wheeler and refused.

Cross-examined. I believe he married my wife's sister, but I was not present at the marriage; that was five or six years ago—ray wife's sister formerly lived with me—she had been a barmaid, and the prisoner induced her to leave home—I have no reason to doubt that he married her—about 20th February, 1882, the defendant was anxious to go into 132, Uxbridge Road—we took the house jointly—on 28th February Messrs. Weight, Nash, and Huggins discharged me from my situation—I disputed their notice—I agreed with the prisoner that I should have half the receipts from his business until I got another situation, as I had my wife and four children and my mother to support—I took half the profits for about a month—I do not remember his complaining that I was not attempting to get a situation, but living on him—he did the working part of the dentist's business, and I kept the books, and stopped in the shop when he was out—he did not come to me and say that 10l. 6s. 8d. was owing to a wholesale dental firm, and also 3l. for a quarter's rent—I positively swear that—I asked him to sign a bill for 15l.; that was not to pay any particular bills, it was for my own benefit—I pressed him very much—I did not produce a bill form in my own writing, which he offered to sign—this is the identical bill that he signed—there were two bills; he signed one and not the other—he did not sign the first—the second was a copy of the first, except that it was dated a month back from the time we took the place; it was signed 28th January—he did not sign the first bill, because he said he had lost it—he never refused to sign a bill—I have no recollection of his accusing me a few days after that of grossly insulting his wife—I heard that he had spread reports about my ill-using her—he made some remark about it in the shop; be said that I took his wife down to Liverpool and insulted her—he told a lot of ray friends that I attempted to seduce her—I never said that I had not done so, but if I had I must have been drunk at the time—he threatened that if I did not go out of the shop he would kick me out, and I went out to save a disturbance—he did not threaten to kick me out for insulting his wife—I had him taken to the station on two occasions when he pawned my property—the police refused to take the charge, but I took him before the Magistrate for an assault, and he was bound over to keep the peace—I wished to charge him with stealing a coat; he stole it, and pawned it—the police-sergeant sent down a policeman, who saw the prisoner at his house—we knocked at the door, but

could not get in—I was illegally sentenced by the Magistrate to a month's imprisonment for neglecting my wife—the evidence was false—the prisoner did not give evidence before the Magistrate, but I am certain he was the instigator of it—he conspired with his wife and his brother and the relieving officer, and if there was a man unjustly convicted it was me—I have not threatened to ruin him—I know that he went to Inspector Jones to charge mo with forging his signature about a month after the County Court action.

Re-examined. This (produced) is a certificate of character from the firm I have left—this I O U for 11l. 5s. to me is in the prisoner's writing, and so is this letter in which he sends it—this (produced) is the former bill which he did not sign—these I O U's for 1l., 10s., 3s., and 4s., are in his writing, and this is an offer to me to give him 40l., and he would clear out of the business.

ELIZABETH JACK . I am the prosecutor's wife and the prisoner's sister-in-law—this is the prisoner's signature to this bill of exchange—I have seen it once before on the shelf in my husband's bedroom—I have had letters from the prisoner—I saw him write out this document at the pawnbroker's—all these documents are in his writing—I was at the County Court on 22nd June—I had seen Tice between 10th April and 22nd June, and once or twice ho tried to extract statements from mo which I knew were false—he asked me if I had ever seen my husband imitating any one's writing—I said "No."

Cross-examined. My husband has been a good writer—I went with my sister to Mr. Payne, the prisoner's solicitor, but not to give any evidence; I never said anything—Mr. Payne said to me, "Are you a witness in this case?"—I said, "No, I am the wife"—I had seen the bill in my husband's bedroom before that—I did not tell him that I would swear it was not the prisoner's signature to the bill, or that I did not think it was like it—I swear it is his writing—I swore it at the County Court, and I swear it to-day—I lived with the prisoner a few days while my husband was in prison, but I supported myself, as he was so greatly indebted to us for money—my husband thinks he was the cause of his having a month's imprisonment—the body of this bill is written by my husband—I have never sworn or stated to Messrs. Warner that the whole of the bill, including the acceptance, was concocted by my husband—we have had no conversation about the bill—I do not know that my husband has threatened the prisoner with proceedings with regard to myself—my husband maintained him and two children for three months.

Re-examined. I was induced to leave my husband's house, and was persuaded to make myself chargeable to the parish—my husband went to the Union and offered to support me—the prisoner took from me three loads of furniture which my husband gave me—I did not have a pennyworth of the money for it.

JOHN FORD . I am a journalist and printer, of Kilburn Gate—I haw known Tice about two years, and have received letters from him—I haw seen him in rite—he has signed his name to this acceptance, William George Tice, but I never saw him write his name—this "W" and "G" bear a resemblance to his writing.

Cross-examined. "W. G. Tice" is his usual signature—I have had letters from him.

FRANK PAVEY . I am a grocer's manager at 120, Uxbridge Road—I have known Tice five or six months—I have received several communications

from him, and have seen him write—this acceptance bears a slight resemblance to his writing.

JOHN BEAUMONT LEWIS . I am a teacher of writing at 107, Pentonville Road—I have compared the signature to this bill with two or three I O U's and some other documents, and think there is a very great resemblance.

GEORGE WILLIAM MEAD . I am a pawnbroker's assistant—the prisoner signed this declaration, William George Tice, in full on the day it is dated—I can't give any opinion whose writing the acceptance to this bill is.

Cross-examined. I know Jack, and know that he is very bitter against the prisoner—Jack has pawned several things at our place—he seemed to be in desperate straits for money—I have had several transactions with the prisoner, and always found him straightforward—I knew nothing about him except pledging—I live in the same neighbourhood.

GEORGE GOSLING . I live at 5, Hopgrove Street, Shepherd's Bush—the prisoner lodged in my house six months—I have seen him write, but never saw him write his name in full—this word "Tice" looks like his writing, but I can't say about the "W" and the "G. "

Cross-examined, I said before the Magistrate, "I can't say if it is his or not, because I do not know about the Christian name"—I always found him a very upright man.

CHARLES JOSEPH WILLIAMS . I am a teacher of writing at 56, Penton-ville Road—I have seen this bill of exchange and the public declaration—in my opinion they are written by the same person because they are the same characters.

Cross-examined. I said before the Magistrate, "I consider a portion is the same, but a part is different"—I also said, "On comparing the signature on the declatation with the bill produced I don't think they are similar," but I made a mistake, I was looking at the wrong name—afterwards I said that I considered a part was the same and a part different—I only said that there was a great dissimilarity between the bill and the I O U marked E, and I did not believe they were written by the same person.

Re-examined. On the bill it is William George Tice in full, and to the best of my belief this is the same writing as the bill.

Witnesses for the Defence.

HENRY JONES (Police Inspector G). I am stationed at Hammersmith, and have been many years in the force—I know Jack and Tice—on 2nd May, Tice came to me about a bill, and asked me to take his brother in custody on a charge of forgery—I did not do so, and gave him a reason—I have only known Jack since April—he has made other charges against Tice, which the police have refused to take, and he complained to the Commissioners of Police.

FREDRICK MARSHALL TICE . I am a grocer's assistant at G, Elgin Road, Maida Vale—on 8th April, 1882, I was at the house where my brother was living, and heard a conversation between him and Jack—there was a bill between them from my brother to his landlady, and also to a wholesale firm—my brother asked Jack what was the best way to meet it, and Jack produced a bill written out, which he wanted him to sign—my brother distinctly refused to sign it; he said that he objected to bills generally, and that in a few days he should be able to pay, and I also

requested my brother to have nothing to do with it—Jack left the place in a rage, leaving the bill on the counter—it is a very small shop, about 8 feet by 6 feet, and it was impossible for any one to speak without being heard by any one in the room—when I said at the police-court that it was an ordinary-sized shop I was speaking about the frontage—the signature to this bill is not my brother's; I say so because it is so unlike.

Cross-examined. I do not know the amount that Jack advanced to him, or what arrangements were made to enable him to repay the money—this declaration is, I believe, my brother's writing—there is a very slight resemblance to his writing in these I O U's; I do not believe they were written by him; to the best of my belief they were not—the name on the declaration and on the acceptance is written in full—it was the 10th of April when Jack came to my brother's shop; I know that in consequence of a letter which I received—it was a day or two after the 10th of April that I first heard about this bill—Jack repeatedly asked my brother to sign it, and on May 1st I heard that it had been presented at the bank—I know it was 10th April because it was Bank Holiday, and I had a letter on 6th April asking me to come—I know that Jack asked my brother to get some one to back the first bill—that bill was not security for money advanced to my brother and to the partnership—Jack says that I was present when it was signed, but I was not—I have been in business in three firms, and always left them with a good character—I was never in a grocery business in the City, and never dismissed from any employment, and never employed under an assumed name—I was never threatened by my employers with a prosecution with regard to money which I had collected—I have an irreproachable character—I was in Mr. King's employment in Westbourne Grove for a month, and left on account of my health—I know Mr. Nash; I did not try to induce him to prosecute Jack—my brother did; they refused, they said it wan my place to take it up—the goods were ordered in the name of Frederick Tice, not Tice and Co.; that was without my consent or previous knowledge—my second name is Marshall; I have never taken that instead of Tice.

Re-examined. There is not a single word of truth in these statements—I am 23 years of age, and have always borne an irreproachable character—I have no objection to give the Jury the names of the firms I stayed with and the length of time—the longest time I have been in a situation is two and a half years—I heard Jack say to my brother as he went out at the door, "I will ruin you"—there were a great many family squabbles—they were at daggers drawn, as it is commonly called, and have been for a long while—the money was simply lent—Jack did not live there, but in consideration of his being out of employment my brother allowed him half the profits, my brother doing the work and lie doing all the play—I never heard a dispute as to my brother owing Jack more than the money which was advanced to the partnership—I know that he owed him money, but I do not know that it was 30l.

EDWARD HENRY VOWLER . I live-at 18, King Street, Hammersmith, and know Jack and Tice—the bill of exchange marked "A" was paw me on 28th April—I took it to the bank, and it not being endorsed, 1 saw Jack—he endorsed it, and I paid it into the bank to my account and it was returned to me, being a forgery—the prisoner came to me the tame evening, and told me that it was a forgery—I did not see Jack and Tice together in connection with this matter.

Cross-examined. I do not know Tice's writing, but he told me that it was a forgery; the bank did not say so.

The prisoner received a good character.

GUILTY Four Months' Hard Labour.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-776
VerdictsGuilty > unknown; Guilty > unknown; Guilty > unknown; Not Guilty > unknown
SentencesImprisonment > hard labour; Imprisonment > hard labour; Imprisonment > hard labour

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776. THOMAS ROSE (17) was indicted for a rape on Julia Wright, and WILLIAM WILSON (17), FREDERICK TOMKINS (17), HENRY WHEELER (17), and HENRY JAGO, Feloniously aiding and abetting him.

MR. PELLEW Prosecuted; MR. WILLES defended Wilson and Tomkins.

ROSE— GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. WILSON— GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. TOMKINS and WHEELER— GUILTY .— Nine Month' Hard Labour. JAGO— NOT GUILTY .

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-777
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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777. DENNIS MAHONEY (51) , Feloniously throwing Elizabeth Mahoney out from a window with intent to murder her.

MR. LILLEY Prosecuted.

MARY WILTON . I live at 28, Herne Street—on 3rd June I was servant to the prisoner and his wife at 5, Dove Court, Holborn—they lived and slept in one room—I was with them that evening at 6 or 7—they were both tipsy, and were disputing about money—he asked her to give, him a shilling; she said that she had not got it, she wanted it for the rent, and he kicked her on her side just above her hip—it was a alight kick—I went between them, and he said that if I did not mind my business he would chuck me out at the window, and he took me by my collar and put me outside the door on the landing—before that I heard him say to his wife, "I will settle you to-night;" she said that he would not—he shut the door and left me on the landing—I stopped a minute or so before going down, and heard a scuffle in the room, but no further words—I then went down, and saw the woman lying in the court and people picking her up—it was broad daylight, between 6 and 7 o'clock—the bedstead stood quite close to the window, about an inch from it; it was pushed close up to it, but it only occupied part of the window.

WILLIAM BEDFORD . I am a metal polisher, of 6, Dove Court, Holborn—on the evening of 3rd June I was standing opposite No. 5, and saw the prisoner's wife outside the window hanging by her hands to the second-floor window-sill, and screaming "Murder"—the prisoner was punching her hands with his fists heavily, which made her let go her hold, and she fell 20 feet on to the pavement of the court—I went to find her daughter, and when I came back she had been taken to the hospital—it was dusk, 9 o'clock, but I could see plainly—the court is 8 or 10 feet wide.

Cross-examined by the prisoner. Tour daughter did not make me. come and swear against you.

MICHAEL BANKS (Policeman Q 838). I was called, and went to the second-floor of 5, Dove Court, and found the prisoner sitting on a chair alongside the bed, and a baby on the bed—I said "Are you aware you have thrown your wife out at the window?" he said "I know nothing of it, I am quite innocent; if you wish to charge me I will go to the station with you"—I said "I shall take you to the hospital to see whether the patient is dead or alive"—we went there, and saw her lying on a stretcher waiting for the surgeon—I spoke to her, but she

was unconscious and did not answer—she remained there till the prisoner was committed.

Cross-examined. Going to the station you said that it was the second time she had attempted to throw herself out at the window.

JOHN MASON . On 3rd June I was house surgeon at St. Bartholomew's Hospital, and received Bridget Mahoney—she was very nearly insensible and very much collapsed; she had received a fracture of the pelvis and the neck of the left thigh bone—she was an in-patient till 27th July, and was discharged on the day the prisoner was committed—she is still under observation—those injuries were the result of the fall.

Cross-examined. She gave me some account of how it happened.

Witness for the Defence.

SUSAN DODD . My husband is a scavenger—we live in the same house as the prisoner, in the parlour—on June 2, between 7 and 8, I went to the door with my baby, and an opposite neighbour gave a loud scream of "Murder. "I looked up, and to my horror saw Mrs. Mahoney hanging from the window—I put my chili down, she held on for a minute and then fell—I caught her with her head towards my chest, and then dropped her, but she balanced back to me like a ball—I caught her again, and my head came in contact with a costermonger's barrow—she was picked up by two men, and taken to the hospital—I was some time before I got over it, but I saved her life.

Prisoner's Defence. I am quite innocent of it. She threw herself out, and this is the second time she has done so. At the time I heard the screams I had hold of my child. I never put a hand to her.

GUILTY .— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-778
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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778. JOHN HENRY PLADY (19) , Setting fire to a sack in a building, under such circumstances as, if the building had been set fire to, lie would have been guilty of Telony. Second Count, attempting to set fire to the building.

MR. GIFFARD Prosecuted.

JOSEPH EDWARD PAPWORTH (Policeman E 372). On July 29, about 1. 45 a.m., I was on duty in Joseph Street, St George's-in-the-East, and met the prisoner going towards the prosecutor's premises, which I had just examined, and they were quite safe—I had seen the prisoner 10 minutes before at the corner of Harding Street, close by—I spoke to Soper, and we arranged that we should follow the prisoner—Soper went down Lupus Street, and we got him in between us—I arrested him 10 paces from Mr. Waters's premises, walking away from me towards Soper—I then saw a sack burning, which was placed between the boards of the wooden wall of the stable, nailed inside, to keep the draught ont—it was partly pulled through, and the part hanging in the street was burning—Soper said "Is this the man you just saw?"—I said "Yes"—the prisoner pointed to the burning sack, and said "Take me, I did not do that; I am looking for a dos" (that is a place to lie down)—be could have got over there quite easily and had a dos if he wanted it—he said "I have only 2d., and that is not enough"—"I searched him at the station, and found 1s. 3d.

JOSEPH SOPER (Policeman.) I was in Lucas Street—Papworth spoke to me, and he went up one street and I up the other—I caught the prisoner at the end, about 10 yards from the burning sack—Papworth came up, and

I said "Is this the man you have just seen?"—he said "Yes"—I said "Take hold of him, then"—the prisoner said "Take me, I did not do that, I was only looking for a dos, pointing to the burning sack—Pap-worth said "Why did not you get a lodging somewhere?"—he said "I have only 2d. "—at the station I found in his waistcoat pocket this match (produced)—I went to the stable and found outside it under the rack these two matches, which have been struck, but which have not lighted, corresponding with the match found in his pocket—he declined to give his address—there was a horse in the stable—the boards were covered with tar, and would light easily, and so would the roof.

JOHN WATERS . I am the owner of these premises—I nailed a sack up inside to keep the draught out—the police called me up at night, and I found the sack burning—I got some water and put it out, and went in and pulled it down—there were other stables adjoining, and in 10 minutes the whole place would have been on fire—there were two horses in the next stable—I do not know the prisoner.

Prisoner's Defence. The' copper searched my pockets, but found one match only. He wants to say I made the fire. Why did he not say so to my master? I always smoke a pipe.

JOSEPH EDWARD PAPWORTH (Re-examined). He was not smoking; he had tobacco, but no pipe.

GUILTY on the Second Count Six Months' Hard Labour.

OLD COURT.—Friday, August 4, 1882.

Before Mr. Justice Stephen.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-779
VerdictNot Guilty > non compos mentis
SentenceImprisonment > insanity

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779. ROBERT MOORE COLLING (51) , Feloniously shooting at and wounding Jane Colling, with intent to murder her.

MR. HORACE AVORY Prosecuted; MR. GILL Defended.

JANE COLLING . I am the prisoner's wife, and lived with him at 13, Riversdale Road, Highbury Vale—he is by trade a steel engraver—we have been married 25 years, and have had six children—on Tuesday, June 6th, about half-past 12 in the day, I was sitting in the room with my daughter Agnes and the prisoner, reading a letter—the prisoner was sitting or standing behind me, and said he had not read the letter perfectly, for ho could not see very well—I then heard the report of a pistol, and felt myself struck in the neck and stunned—I turned round, and saw the prisoner with a small pistol in his hand—I ran into the passage, and as I was at the door I heard another report, or I think two—I went into my next door neighbour's, and was afterwards taken to the hospital—in February, 1881, my husband was injured in the Dalston railway accident; he got a knock on the left side of the head, which partially paralysed his right Bide—he brought an action, and recovered damages in consequence of the injuries he sustained—since then he has not been able to work, although he tried very hard—I have noticed a great difference in him the last few months; he got unkind to me, and suspicious and jealous, and accused me of everything that was evil.

Cross-examined. Up to the time of the accident he was always very much attached to me and his children—he was for very many years with Messrs. Waterlow and Sons—after he got about after the accident he was very anxious to try and work, and he went into the country with

his sketch-book and pencils; but when he tried to draw his hand failed he could not draw a straight line, and he said "Ma, I am done for I can't draw a line"—after that he became more depressed and hopeless—he got the idea into his head that people were against him, and that he had no friends; it was just a fancy of his—he could not read or fix his attention on anything, and suffered very much from want of sleep—after that he began to get these fancies about myself and his family; there was not the slightest shadow of foundation for it—he would catch me by the throat, and the children interfered, and then he said he was only caressing me—he seemed excited and in a frenzied state.

GEORGE EVANS (Policeman N 517). I went with Constable Smith to the prisoner's house—on going into the passage I saw him coming down, stairs bleeding from a wound on the forehead; he had his hat and boots off, and seemed as if he had been recently washed; his hair was wet—there was blood on the right sleeve of his coat—he spoke to me first, and said "I feel very ill, policeman, what is the matter?"—I said "I heard that you shot yourself and your wife"—he said "They have been tan-talising me; now that I am old, and not able to work, they want to throw me out of doors, and take my money away"—I left him in charge of the other constable and went next door, where I found Mrs. Colling, bleeding from a wound behind the ear—I took her to the Great Northern Hospital.

HENRY SMITH (Policeman N 169). I went to the house with the last witness—while the other constable went upstairs I asked where the revolver was—the prisoner said "Somewhere in that room," pointing to the back parlour—I could not find it; he again said "It is somewhere in that room, but I really cannot say where"—I then found it under the cushion of the sofa, spotted with blood; this is it (produced); it is a seren-chambered revolver—I asked the prisoner if it was loaded; he said "No, I pulled as long as it would fire; she has got one and I have got the rest"—I handed the revolver to the Inspector, and took the prisoner to the station, and then to the hospital.

JOSEPH BATEMAN (Police Inspector N). I was at the station when the prisoner was brought there with the revolver—I found that he had four wounds on the right side of his head—I extracted 7 empty cartridge easel from the revolver; they had been recently discharged—I asked him who the pistol belonged to—he said "It belongs to me"—I asked him how long he had had it—he said "It has been away"—I asked him if it had been in pawn—he made no reply—I asked if knew the name of the pawnbroker or the street—he said "I don't know; it is in a street near Finsbury Square; I don't know the name of it"—after a little time he said "What will they do with me?"—I told him to keep quiet—he then said "What a fool I must be"—a few seconds after he said "I suppose I shall have to forfeit all my property"—I afterwards examined the back parlour of the house and found three bullets, one imbedded in the wall and two on the floor.

HENRY VIDDLER . I am assistant to Mr. Walters, a pawnbroker in the City Road—this revolver was pledged with us on the 8th of May last by the prisoner for 5s.; it was then loaded; he redeemed it on 1st June—I thought he seemed rather strange and confused at that time.

ARTHUR JAMES WARRY . I was house surgeon at the Great Northern Hospital on 6th June—Mrs. Colling was brought there about 2 o'clock

in the day—I examined her, and found a small circular wound, such as would be produced by a bullet, about an inch and a half behind the right gar—it was stained with gunpowder; it extended down the neck for about 21/2 inches—I did not find any bullet—it was not dangerous; in about ten days she was quite well—the prisoner was brought in later, the same day; be had four wounds on the right side of the head, three very close together and one farther back over the parietal bone; they were bullet wounds; two bullets were afterwards extracted; they were flattened against the skull—for a short time his life was in danger from the wounds; he was bleeding profusely from them—he was very depressed—he remained in the same condition for about fifteen weeks that I had charge of him—he was suffering from want of sleep, which could not be controlled by giving chloral—I found him crying on several occasions, and on one occasion he became rather violent when speaking to me of his wife.

Cross-examined. I spoke to him on different occasions, and found him to be deficient in reasoning power—his general conduct and conversation was that of a man whose mind was affected.

By the COURT. A railway accident would be quite likely to injure the brain—if he was partially paralysed that would show mischief to the brain—it is a common symptom of madness for persons to take up causeleas suspicions, especially against those that are dearest to them.

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

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-780
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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780. BARNET EMANUEL (40) , Feloniously knowing and abusing Elizabeth Emanuel, aged 10. MESSRS. POLAND and AUSTIN METCALFE Prosecuted; MR. LEVEY (at the request of the Court) Defended.

GUILTY .— Penal Servitude for Life,

THIRD COURT.—Friday, August 4th, 1882.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-781
VerdictsGuilty > unknown
SentencesImprisonment > penal servitude

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781. JAMES SINCLAIR (43), Burglary in the dwelling-house of Ellen Campbell, and stealing a teapot and other articles. Also receiving the same.

MR. RAYMOND Prosecuted.

WILLIAM WEBB (Policeman D 34). On Saturday, 8th July, I was called to the shop of Mr. Richardson, pawnbroker, Seymour Place—I saw the prisoner and this carpet bag of plate (produced)—I said "Where did you get this plate from?"—he said "I obtained it of a man at some races"—I took him into custody—the goods have been since owned.

RICHARD FOX . I am butler to Mrs. Ellen Campbell, of 49, Victoria Road, Kensington—these articles in this bag, a silver cream-jug, silver sugar-basin, toast-rack, silver cruet-stand, silver teapot, two egg-cups, some dessert-spoons, teaspoons, forks, and knives, are her property—the bag is not mine—they are worth about 100l.—they were kept in the plate closet in the lower part of the house—I fastened the closet up safely at 11 p. m. on Thursday, 6th July, and took the key away—I was called down the next morning between 7 and 8 by the housemaid—I saw the lower part of the house in confusion—I went to the plate cupboard and found that nearly all the plate was gone—I found the meeting rod of the window had been cut though—that is adjoining the pantry—a

corner of a pane of glass was cut away, enough for a man to put his hand in and push the catch of the window back—I found this centre bit outside and this jemmy and chisel on the pantry table, and some woolen stockings in the pantry, with mud or gravel on them, as though they had been worn over boots—there were five indentations of the jemmy on the closet door—the plate closet had been forced from the outside, the lock was inside—I had put the key of the plate room on the pantry mantelpiece—I found it there and the door unlocked—I also missed a brown overcoat and a pair of trousers, a pair of buttoned boots, a brown bag, a gold locket and hair glass, my things—one pair of trousers have been recovered (produced)—the things were turned out of this bag on the pantry floor, and the silver was taken away in this carpet bag—I found in the pantry these trousers, boots, waistcoat, and a pair of old braces not mine—I went to the High Street Police-station and gave information soon after 8 the same morning—I went with Detective Brant to Camden Town and identified at a pawnbroker's the silver teapot, this brown bag, one pair of my trousers, and the button-hook which I had missed from the pantry—I had been up that night till 2 o'clock going through my accounts—I noticed the next morning the pendulum was taken off the clock on the housekeeper's room mantelpiece, and a little feather fan—the fingers were pointing to 2. 20—I have identified the spoons as the property of my mistress.

WILLIAM RICHARDSON . I am a pawnbroker, of 11, Upper George Street, Bryanston Square—on Saturday, 8th July, the prisoner brought a silver basin and milk-jug to borrow 30s. upon—I said "Are they your own property?"—he said "Yes"—I said "Give me your name and address"—he said "My name is James Sinclair; I live at 13, South Bank"—I said "How long have you had them?"—he said "I bought them on Thursday of a man named Martin at Newmarket"—I said "What did you give for them?"—he said "5l. "—I then said "What are you?"—he said "lama dealer in silver"—I said "I believe you have given me a wrong name and address"—he said "Well, I have; my right name is John Jackson, and I live at York "—I sent for a constable, who took him into custody—he had this carpet-bag—in consequence of information received from the police I searched my stock and I found these twelve plated spoons.

Cross-examined. The spoons are entered in our books on the 7th—I did not receive them.

JAMES LEWIS . I am assistant to Messrs. J. and H. Eowley, pawnbrokers, of 200, High Street, Camden Town—on 7th July the prisoner came and purchased a pair of trousers, a pair of shoes, and a carpetbag—he was wearing those trousers at the police-station—I purchased from him a pair of trousers, a pair of buttoned boots, and a leather bag (Produced, and identified by Fox)—he called again on the 8th, about 9.30 a. m., and brought this silver teapot—he said "I want you to buy this; I have got a commission from a Colonel in the Army to dispose of this teapot"—I said "Who is the Colonel?"—he said "I must not say the name"—I said "Have you got a card, that I may know with whom I am doing business?"—he said "No, I have not"—I said "Before I can entertain it I should like to know the name; I shall not give you this back again, but if you like to bring the others I will buy the lot of them," and he left the shop, and said he would return in half an hour—he did not

return—I gave information to the inspector of police, and described the man.

JOSEPH SAMMERS (Police Sergeant E). Constable 34 Brought the prisoner to the police-station on 8th July about 12 in the day—I said to the prisoner "You are the man I have been looking for"—he said "I do not think you know me "—I said "I happen to know more about you than you are aware of"—I said "Whore is the carpet-bag you had with you this morning?"—he said "I have no carpet-bag, and I know nothing about one"—I said "Well, you had one this morning at 11 o'clock "—he said "You have made a mistake this time"—I left him in charge of Constable 34—he took two knives rolled up in a piece of brown paper out of his pocket, and laid them on the table—he was taken into the charge-room—then I went to Mr. Richardson's, who handed me this carpet-bag, containing the plate—I took it back to the station, and said to the prisoner "Where did you get it from?"—he said "I bought it of a man at Shoreditch Station; I gave 5l. for it the previous night"—I said "What is the man's name, and where did he come from?"—he said "I do not know"—I said "What is your name?"—he said "My name is Jackson"—I said "Where do you live?"—he said "At York "—I said "That is not good enough for me, I know more than you are aware of"—showing him the property, I said "I have no doubt this is the proceeds of a burglary at Kensington"—he replied "I dare say you are not far out; you had better take care of me, it is not every day you get such a man as me in here"—I replied "We shall take very great care of you for some time to come, I dare say"—I then communicated with the owners of the property, and it was identified—the prisoner, was then conveyed to High Street, Kensington, Police-station and charged.

ELIZABETH HOWARD . I am lady's maid to Mrs. Campbell, of 49, Victoria Road, Kensington—on Thursday, 6th July, about 11pm., I closed up the housekeeper's room—the clock was going—the servants got up about 9.

Prisoner's Defence. I have been employed at Covent Garden as a porter. On 7th July I met some men in the market about 7 a.m. They said they had come from Newmarket, and had some property to get rid of. I told them I was doing nothing, and would go to the pawnbrokers for them. I had two glasses inside of me, and did not care what I did. I said I thought there was something wrong, but they said it was all right, and I went to the pawnbrokers' shops as I was instructed. I never thought the things were stolen till I got to the police-station. They said they represented Colonel Harvey. I recommended one to a lodging in Mill-bank Street. I do not know where the things came from. I was pushed, and had a bad suit of clothes. I have been in trouble before, and have not long been liberated. I have 18 months to do. I was led away by a glass of drink. If I get outside I will perish before I taste a drop more. Have mercy on me, I am an old man.

GUILTY . He also PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in July, 1876, at Glerkenwell.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-782
VerdictNot Guilty > directed

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782. HENRIETTA POOLE (33) , Feloniously marrying George Silas Poole during the lifetime of her husband.

MESSRS. POCOCK and B. HICKS Prosecuted; MR. HORACE AVORY Defended.

There being no evidence that the prisoner knew that her first husband was living within seven years of the second marriage, the Jury, on the direction of the COURT, found the prisoner


31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-783
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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783. WILLIAM HITCHIN (57) and HANNAH AMELIA HITCHIN (53) , Robbery with violence, together with a woman unknown, on Isaac Goldstein, and stealing 6s. from his person.

MR. WAITE Prosecuted; MR. THORNE COLE Defended. The prosecutor, a German, whose evidence was interpreted, alleged that he was robbed by a female in a brothel, and afterwards assaulted and wounded by the prisoners. The details are unfit for publication.


31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-784
VerdictNot Guilty > no evidence

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784. The prisoners were again indicted, together with CHARLES HITCHIN , for feloniously wounding the said Isaac Goldstein, with intent to prevent the apprehension of a female whose name was unknown.

No evidence was offered on this indictment.


31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-785
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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785. CHARLES HITCHIN then PLEADED GUILTY to a common assault on the said Isaac Goldstein.— Six Months' Hard Labour.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-786
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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786. SARAH JOHNSON (43) and JANE PRICE (30) , Stealing a ring and 8s. from George Moss from his person.

MR. CRANSTOUN Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended.

GEORGE MOSS . I am an engineer, of 25, Harrild Road, Upton Park, Essex—I went to Fenchurch Street to catch the 12 p. m. train, but was half a minute late—I walked round in a pondering mood; I saw lights in a public-house, and went towards it; the short prisoner walked in front of me, and both the prisoners surrounded me so that I could not get in—I lost my ring from my coat pocket—the prisoners made remarks—when I was going to pay for a glass of stout I found my money was gone—I had 8s. or 9s., which I found all right in my pocket when I left the station door—I had not spoken to any one—I was sober.

Cross-examined. The public-house was about 50 yards from the station—two porters came three minutes afterwards to the public-house—I said "I am looking for a ring, porter"—one said "Have not you it on?" I said "No, I am not wearing it"—it was a Monday night—I had been to the Houses of Parliament and to the Temple Forum in Fleet Street—I had had a little refreshment and heard a little politics; then I went direct to the station—I paid 7s. 6d. for a cab home—I did not tell the women about my loss—they knew I had lost my ring—they went in the same compartment as I did—when I found I had no money I was magic-struck, and bolted out of the house, and the prisoners ran up Fenchurch Street—at the station the inspector said the prisoners would have to be searched, and I asked him how long that would take, and I said "Can I go out?" he asked what I wanted to go out for, and I said I wanted some fresh air.

DANIEL DENNING (City Detective). I was at the east end of Fenchurch Street, when I saw the prisoners—I followed them a few yards behind—I saw them stop the prosecutor outside the East India Arms public-house in Fenchurch Street—Price was standing in front of him, preventing his passing into the public-house—they were talking a few seconds, and the prisoners went into the public-house—I saw the prosecutor looking on the ground, and Price looked out of the public-house door and went back again

—two railway porters came up and spoke to the prosecutor, and all three went into the public-house—in a few minutes the prisoners came out and went down Fenchurch Street in the direction they had come—the prosecutor ran out of the public-house in an opposite direction—I spoke to him, and in consequence of what he said to me we both went after the prisoners up Horn Alley—the prosecutor said he should give the prisoners into custody for stealing 8s.—on the way to the station the prosecutor said "I have lost a gold ring"—before that I asked him what he had lost, and he said "All I have, I was going to pay for some beer, and I had got no money"—I said to the prisoners" You are given into custody for stealing some money from this prosecutor. "

Cross-examined. I did not say at the police-court "Price put her head out and spoke to the prosecutor, and he went inside"—I was not close enough to hear her. NOT GUILTY .

OLD COURT.—Saturday, August 5th, 1882.

Before Mr. Justice Stephen.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-787
VerdictsNot Guilty > unknown; Not Guilty > no evidence

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787. FREDERICK ALLWRIGHT (19), JOSEPH PEMBERTON (25), and CHARLES COLDRIDGE (14) , Rape on Sarah Percival.



There was another indictment against the prisoners for an indecent assault upon the same person, upon which no evidence was offered.

NEW COURT. —Saturday, August 5th, 1882.

Before Mr. Recorder.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-788
VerdictNot Guilty > no evidence

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788. HUGO JOSEPH and ADOLPHE SHRODER (25) , Stealing a portmanteau, 13,000 cigars, and a cheque for 4l. 5s., the property of Emile Hammerstein, upon which MR. GILL offered no evidence. >NOT GUILTY .

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-789
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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789. EDWARD BARTON, Unlawfully obtaining by false pretences a cheque for 236l. 19s. 3d. with intent to defraud. Second Count, conspiring with Edward Hales to obtain money from Charles Edward Daniels by false pretences.

MR. GILL Prosecuted; MESSRS. WILLIS, Q. C., and J. P. GRAIN Defended.

CHARLES EDWARD DANIELS . I am a billbroker, of 26 and 27, Bush Lane—I have known Barton since 1879, and have discounted bills for him—in August, 1881, he brought me this bill (For 250l. 5s.) and asked me to discount it—he said, he had drawn it on Mr. Russell Miller in payment for hops sold by him to Mr. Miller—1 did not know Mr. Miller—I saw his name on it—I made inquiries about him—it was my invariable practice when I discounted bills for Barton to make him sign a paper similar to this (produced)—I saw him sign this—having signed it, I gave him this cheque for 236l. 19s. 3d., and it came back from my bank paid—I parted with my money on the faith of the representation he had signed that the bill was drawn in the ordinary course of his trade as a hop merchant—in the beginning of my dealings with him I believed that he

was, commercially speaking, a very weak man—I found out that he had filed his petition about a month afterwards—I was put in communication with Miller before the bill was dishonoured—I did not ascertain from Miller for a very long time that it was not his signature; he avoided the question for some time.

Cross-examined by MR. WILLIS. I have discounted bills for the prisoner from 1879, the total is over 13,000l.—they have all been paid with one exception, and that was only a momentary delay—the money I have received for discount is not greater than the amount of this bill; the nett amount of interest is very much lees; there is not commission as well—I said at the Mansion House that the gross interest which he paid me and commission was 460l., but the nett was not—he told me that he had taken this bill to the Central Bank, Tooley Street—he did not say that they refused to discount it because Mr. Miller the acceptor had no banking account—my clerk called; he is here—he told me that Mr. Gardiner, the manager of the bank, could hardly understand how Mr. Miller should accept such a bill, because he was undoubtedly a man of means—I did not learn that the reason they refused was because he had no banking account—the prisoner told me before he drew the bill that he had been to Somerset House to inquire about Mr. Miller's position, and that he found he was entitled to considerable property under his father's will, and he was quite a young man just come of age—this cheque was drawn by my clerk; my friend and a gentleman who holds the power of signing for me; I don't keep dogs and bark myself—I was within the four walls of the office when it was drawn, I can't say whether I was in the room—part of the transaction may have been carried on with my clerk, and part with myself, but I was there and was cognisant of everything—I believe I told the prisoner soon after he filed his petition that Miller had denied that the bill was his acceptance; I saw him at Mr. Mountain's office soon after he filed his petition and said that Mr. Mountain had cast a doubt on the genuineness of the acceptance; he said, "How do you know that he said that the acceptance was not his?"—I said, "I wrote and asked him to take it up"—I had the bill with me on one occasion when I went to Mountain's office and had a conversation, and it may have been on the occasion when I said I had written to him—I asked him in whose writing the words "accepted, payable at," were—he did not tell me it was Mr. Hale's writing—he said that he had no reason to believe but what it was Mr. Miller's genuine acceptance—I can't give any opinion whether the words, "Accepted, payable at the London and County Bank, Lombard Street," and "G. Russell Miller," appear to be in two different writings, but I believe they are—I asked him in whose writing the "Accepted, payable at the London and County Bank" was—he did not tell me it was Hale's writing—he distinctly said that he did not know—he did not say that it was Mr. Hale's writing, who had given him the bill for a claim against Hales—I knew Mr. Hales before I took the bill, but did not know that the prisoner had had transactions with him—I knew that they were both in business—Barton brought me a bill for over 900l. drawn on Hume, Webster, and Co.; it was drawn by Hale and I discounted it as agent, not as principal, I got it discounted—I did not discount it—I gave the cheque to Barton—Hale came to see me about that bill, and I should know him now if I saw him—I did not know that it was a hop transaction between Barton and Hale—Barton said to me,

"Did you suspect me of any complicity of knowing this to be other than a genuine bill?"—I said, "Not at all, I knew that you were innocent, or I should not have come to see you," and I would not have gone to see him if I had thought he was guilty of forgery—I am doubtful now whether he is guilty of forgery, it is only a matter of belief—I believe I said at the Mansion House, "I have all through exonerated the defendant Barton from any participation in the forgery," and I say so now—my belief is a fluctuating belief, and on the balance I do not believe Mr. Barton is a forger—that was a true expression of my belief at the time I made it, but I am doubtful now, and have been many times at various intervals—I had rather exonerate the man than convict him of forgery—I did not say, "It is that beggar Hales's doing; he shall smart for this"—I took out a warrant against Hales—Barton did not tell me he had seen Miller write the acceptance—while we were talking in the street Hales passed—I can't recollect whether he came up to us—Barton did not say, "Miller denies the signature to the bill you gave me"—I said that to Hales, and if Barton had helped me I should have given Hales in custody there and then—I did not say, "Miller does not hesitate to say that you have forged it"—I said, "Mr. Miller repudiates the signature as a forgery"—I did not charge Hales with forging it—this was in October—I went to Barton's house from time to time to see him before the bill matured, but I do not think I saw Hales before it became due—I brought an action against Miller and Barton on this bill; the action against Miller was abandoned; Barton defended it unsuccessfully on the ground that he had taken bankruptcy proceedings and was relieved by them—it was allowed to go on till June this year, when it was finally disposed of by the Bankruptcy Court restraining me from taking action on the judgment I had obtained—I took proceedings against Hales in March; Barton saw me from time to time and assisted me in trying to ascertain Mr. Hales's whereabouts—there was a summons; it was within a few days of my being examined at the Mansion House that I took proceedings—I solemnly swear I did not try to settle this matter with Mr. Barton—this letter is my writing. (This stated: "It will be my desire to avoid trouble and expense, but apparently you are indifferent to those considerations.") I wrote that to induce him to settle it; there was a civil action coming on then—I referred to the letter of 5th April (produced); I have all the letters here—I had spoken to him previously to this letter of April 12th, as to paying money on the bill; I did not ask him to do so while the legal proceedings were pending; it was not my first loss, and I do not suppose it will be my last—I knew the man was in liquidation and could not pay the money—I saw Barton on several occasions while he was trying to assist me—he regretted as I regretted that the transaction should have resulted in this, but I did not ask him for money—he told me he would do his best to pay me off, and he regretted he was mixed up with the transaction—this letter says, "I can add nothing to what I have already said"—that means that he was doing his best about paying the bill—I wanted some arrangement to be made for its payment, and I do still—I wanted him to consent to judgment and not contest the thing as he did to the very last, by every vexatious means in his power—I wrote, "You will see in the Times of to-day an advertisement offering a reward of 50l. for the apprehension of Hales. "

Re-examined. At the time I signed this cheque Barton did not mention

Mr. Hales's name—what Mr. Willis has asked me about occurred low afterwards—I brought an action and had to pay the costs of it, both against Miller and against Barton—when the money was advanced no name but Miller's was mentioned—the question as to his being of age ii not usual; Barton volunteered it.

GEORGE RUSSEL MILLER . I live at Horley, in Surrey—there is no other person of my name living there—this acceptance is not in my writing or written by my authority—I never bought any hops of Barton.

Cross-examined. I know Hales—I gave him two blank bills with my acceptance written across—they were returned to me at my request—he got them back about a week afterwards.

JOHN POLLARD LOVERINO . I am an accountant, of 77, George Street, and am trustee in the prisoner's liquidation—the amount liquidated is a little over 7,000l.—there are no assets but the furniture.

Cross-examined. He is a hop factor—the whole of the creditors passed a resolution discharging him from his liability—there was one creditor to the extent of 2,272l.—on looking into the affairs I found 10,000l. of bad debts.

ALFRED MACDONALD (Not examined in chief.) Cross-examined by MR. WILLIS. I gave this cheque to the prisoner—I went to the Central Bank to make inquiries about it first, and saw the manager—he did not tell me he declined the bill because Mr. Miller had no banking account—the bill would never have been taken in our office if we had that information—I can't remember the exact particulars; I think I heard that Mr. Miller was a young man of considerable property—the result was that he was sufficiently good to induce us to take the bill—the result of Mr. Gardiner's inquiry was not that Mr. Miller had no account at the London and County Bank—I filled up this document and gave the prisoner the cheque simultaneously—I very likely gave it to him to sign just as I gave him the cheque—here is another which the prisoner signed—here are names here, some in my writing and some in his, and some in Mr. Daniel's—I called on the prisoner two or three days before criminal proceedings were taken, but without Mr. Daniel's knowledge—the prisoner called at our office after I called at Mountain's office; I told Mr. Daniels afterwards that he had called—that would be the day I wrote a letter at Mountain's office, 26th June—I did not want to see the prisoner for the purpose of settling the monetary claim—my object was to let him know what was intended, in the hope that he would do something to prevent the criminal proceedings from being taken—this is the letter I wrote: "Dear Mr. Barton—I called privately to see you concerning a cheque which requires urgently your particular attention. If you wish to see me, write a letter to the office, and I will come to you. "

By MR. GILL I introduced the prisoner to Mr. Daniels, and I had an interest in the matter in that sense—he had an opportunity of knowing the contents of these documents before he signed them.

Witnesses for the Defence.

WILLIAM GARDINER . I am manager of the Central Bank, Tooley Street Branch—I have known Barton a long time—he has had an account there since 1874, and has paid 20,000l. or 25,000l. in and out—he brought me a bill; I have no doubt this is the same—I retained it three or four days to make inquiries—I do not remember Macdonald personally, but I remember

somebody coming from a broker—I gave him my opinion of the bill I had made inquiries—Mr. Miller had no banking account, but his mother had, and they believed that he had lately come into a considerable amount of property—I consulted with the general manager as to discounting the bill before I saw Macdonald.

Cross-examined. I would rather not discount a bill for a person who has not an account at a bank where I can discount it.

MR. WILLIS put in the proceedings in Hales's bankruptcy, in which Edward Barton was returned as an unsecured creditor for 159l. 3s., also an I O U in Hales's writing.

MOUNTAIN. I have known the prisoner for about 15 years; he has been in my employ six years, and is so still; be bears a good character—I know that he had transactions with Hales, and I have had transactions myself in hops with Hales—to the best of my belief those bills (produced) bear Mr. Hales's signature.

The prisoner received a good character.


OLD COURT.—Monday, August 7th, 1882.

Before Mr. Justice Stephen,

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-790
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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790. THOMAS WALSH (38) was indicted for feloniously compassing to deprive and depose the Queen from the style of the Imperial Grown of the United Kingdom. Second Count, for conspiring, with others, to levy war against the Queen, in order by force to change her measures and councils. The ATTORNEY-GENERAL, the SOLICITOR-GENERAL, with MESSRS. POLAND and CHALMERS, Prosecuted; MR. BIRON and Mr. HORACE AVORY Defended.

WILLIAM GEORGE SCHOUF . I live at 99, St John Street Road, Clerken-well—at the beginning of last year I had a stable to let at the back of those premises—it was detached from the house, and there wag a separate entrance to it from Rydon Crescent—a notice was put up that it was to let—the prisoner called upon me at 99, and asked the rent of the stable—I told him 10s. a week—he first called about-the beginning of the year or the end of last year, and again about a month after—he gave me no name and address the first time—he took the stables at 2l. a month from the 6th February last—he said he wanted it to store Birmingham dry Jacquer goods, or something, to that effect—that he was going to ship them to India, and wanted to store them till the ship was ready, and to store crates and packing-cases—he gave the name of Sadgrove, of (I think) 37, Charles Street, Birmingham—he said he had had stables at Cross-Street, Islington, but found they were not safe there, he had lost a parcel—I let him the stable at 2l. a month—he paid me 5s. deposit, and later on 35s., to make up the 2l.—he told me he would pay in advance—I gave him the key, and he returned it to me for safety after the deposit of the first load of boxes and crates—I saw him a week or a fortnight afterwards, when he cape with a fresh load of something heavy, and after that he kept the key—he put a padlock on, he told me he would, taking it from his former place—I saw him about two months after, when he paid me the rent up. to April 6—1 wrote him a letter to the address he gave me at Charles Street, Birmingham—it came back through the Dead Letter Office in May—Ough, a police

constable, was lodging in my house—from something that occurred, I asked him to examine the stable—he got a ladder, and opened the window to see what was in the stable—he told me what he had seen, and the police ten communicated with.

Cross-examined. It was on the second occasion he came that he com. plained of having lost a small parcel—I did say "Well, you will find my place safe enough, for I have got a policeman living in my house, and he will be able to keep an eye on your things"—upon that he took the stables. and appeared glad that there would be somebody to look after his things and keep them secure—the crates and the goods were there till June 16—I only saw Walsh there—two months' rent was in arrear in June—it was solely through the rent not being paid that I had the stable examined—I wrote to Birmingham, because the painter wanted to paint the edges of the stable doors.

Re-examined. I only saw him on two occasions; he may have beet there other times; he had free access night and day—the entrance to the stable is in Rydon Crescent, round the corner; it is a corner house—there is no entrance to the stable through the house.

By the COURT. The first load that came seemed to be empty boxes and crates—the second load seemed to be heavy—I saw no other loads.

ALFRED OUGH (Policeman G 261). I lodged at Mr. Schouf's—in con-sequence of what he said to me on Thursday, 15th June, I went into the stable in Rydon Crescent—I saw over 20 cases and barrels there—I opened two cases; I found some rifles and cartridges—I reported what I had seen to Mr. Schouf—information was given to the police—on Saturday, 17th June, I saw the prisoner about 10 p. m. at 99, St. John Street Road—he had been drinking—I asked him if his name was Sadgrove—he said "Yes"—I asked him if he was the man that rented the stables—he said "Yes"—I sent for a policeman, and the prisoner was taken into custody—the goods in the stable were taken possession of by the police—I saw the prisoner searched, and a key found on him which would open the padlock.

Cross-examined. The prisoner was not so drunk but he could walk; be spoke plainly enough—I did not see any newspaper in his hand—he did not say, "I have come to see what the bother is about my things here"—he did not say anything about it—I took him to the station with another constable—I brought no beer to him; I think two pints were brought to him; I could not say who brought it—they were all policemen in plain clothes.

CHARLES HUNT (Police Inspector G). On 17th June I was at the King's Cross Police-station about 10. 15 p. m.—the prisoner was brought there—I asked him to give his name and address—he gave the name of Thomas Southan, of 37, Charles Street, Birmingham—I searched him; I handed the contents to Inspector Peel in his presence; there was no newspaper.

Cross-examined. This was on Saturday; I saw no newspaper account of it on the Friday—Ough brought him in—Ough did not tell me he had given him the name of Sadgrove—he told me the prisoner was the man of 99, St. John Street Road, and that the stable belonged to him—the prisoner was excited; he asked me and I allowed him to have a pint of beer; he did not have another to my knowledge, or with my sanction.

WILLIAM PEEL (Police Inspector G). On Friday night, 16th June, I entered this stable with another constable by the back window, the door

being padlocked—I examined and took possession of the property—there were a number of cases, altogether 277 rifles like this (produced)—210 of them had the stock cut through at the second band like this one, so that when put together the middle band would bind the barrel to the stock—the stocks were not cut of 67—there were 276 bayonets and a large number of ball cartridges for rifles—some rifles were packed in cases, and some in crates—some were marked with a shamrock—they were ordinary military, and not sword-bayonets—the rifles are complete when they are put together—some of the stocks have the word "Tower" and a crown, and some the dates of the year—1,690 cartridges were packed with the rifles—the bore of the rifle is 5. 77, and the cartridges are for that bore—I took possession of 7,000 odd cartridges, and sent them to the Home Office Magazine at Plumstead Marshes—I also found 26 large 4. 50 revolvers, of which this produced is a specimen; 10 of the stocks of those were stamped with a shamrock and with G1, G2, and so on up to G10; three were marked D6, D7, and D8—ball cartridges for the pistols were also found—I also found the stamp of the shamrock in the stable, and stamps for the letters A to G, and dies for figures up to 10, and stencil plates for marking crates, four pistols one size smaller, and some small cartridges, some nails, spanners, a file, a hammer, and a saw, but no lacquered or general goods—I found some blank way-bills for four or five railways, the Great Northern, the Midland, and the Great Western—on the Saturday night I was at the King's Cross Police-station, when the prisoner was in custody—I saw him about 10. 15—I said, "Mr. Walsh, I am a police inspector; I have made a seizure of rifles and revolvers and a large quantity of ammunition at your stables, 99, St. John Strett Road"—he replied, "I do not deny that I took the place, and it is mine"—I said, "We will have to detain you unless you account for the possession of the property in a satisfactory manner"—he replied, "There are others besides me"—I said, "Have you any invoices for the goods?"—he replied "No"—I said, "Have you a licence to deal in firearms?"—he said "No"—I said, "Can you show me any papers or give me any reference that will lead me to believe you are engaged in an honest transaction with the property?"—he replied "No "—I made my note the same day, after the prisoner was charged; I used it at the police-court—I said, "Can you give me the names of the others you allude to?"—he said, "No"—I said "Some of the rifles have the Government mark on them"—he replied, "I did not know that"—I then showed him a rifle that had a crown, the word "Tower," and the date 1881—he said, "I did not know there was anything wrong with them, or I would not have had them"—Inspector Hunt searched him—five keys were found, one belonging to the padlock of the stable; one fitted the ware-house, No. 1, Nisbett Place, Homerton—I next saw him on Monday morning, the 18th—I said, "Have you any objection to my visiting your house?" that was to see what was there—he replied "No"—the address he gave me was 12, Charles Street, Hatton Garden—I said, "Are there any revolvers or ammunition there?"—he replied "No"—I went and searched his place on the first-floor—there is a shop underneath—I found a six-chambered revolver, a box of percussion caps, 100 small pistol cartridges, and 400 large ball cartridges like those found at the stable, also his business card, "James Walsh, practical carpet planner, No. 12, tharles Street, Hatton Garden, E. C. "—I found no books relating to the

rifle trade or the lacquer trade—he was living in this one room with his wife and children.

Cross-examined. He only had the one room—I suppose the rent of it would be about 6s. or 7s. a week—I have ascertained that he is a carpet-planner by trade, and that he has been in London over 15 years working for some of the best houses in the furnishing trade, Maple's and others—I head that he was in respectable employment.

JOSEPH WAKEFIELD (Police Sergeant G). On 17th June I went with Inspector Peel to the stable, and assisted in taking possession of some of the arms; there were five barrels and four cases of ammunition—I con-veyed them to the Government stores at Plumstead Marshes, and handed them to Inspector Cavell.

RICHARD ALLUM (Police Sergeant G). On 17th June I was at King's Cross Police-station—I saw some crates and cases brought there containing rifles and cartridges—I opened them with assistance—the rifles and cartridge were together in the cases—there were 1,700 rounds of ball cartridge altogether in the 25 cases—I handed them over to Inspector Peel, and M26th June I took them to Woolwich, and handed them to Inspector Cavell GEORGE CAVELL. I am an inspector at the Royal Arsenal at Woolwich-Wakefield brought to me five barrels and four cases containing ball cart-ridges—I put them in the Government magazine, and have had charge of them ever since.

THOMAS EDWIN HINDES . I am superintendent at the Woolwich Dock-yard—on 19th June I went with Colonel Majendie to the Home Office Magazine at Plumstead—I there found five barrels and four cases lined with tin—they were pointed out to me by some of the previous witnesses as having been seized at 99, St John Street Road—there were 400 saloon cat-ridges; they are very small, No. 7,929, all of the same bore, 5. 77 (produced and fitted to one of the rifles).

ADAM S. MATHER , I am the owner of this house in Charles Street, Hatton Garden—I let a room to the prisoner at 6s. 6d. a week, and he took possession the first week in August, 1881; he gave his correct name, Walsh—I got his card some months after as a carpet-fitter—I never heard of his having anything to do with guns and revolvers.

Cross-examined. He was 3s. 6d. in arrear when he was arrested—he to a wife and I think three children.

THOMAS LUNDY . I am coachman to Mr. Desvigne, who is dangerously ill—he manages some property called No. 1 workshop, Royal Victoria Place, Old Ford—in April, 1881, the prisoner took some stables close to the workshop in the name of Walsh—he told me that Mr. Desvigne sent him to me for the key—I unlocked the door, and he had the key from me—herequired the premises to be made secure, and a bar and a bracket were pot up—he told me the premises were for Japan goods and hardware and musical albums—he had possession of the stables about four months—I have seen crates and cases come from it—the cases came in a rough state—I have seen them go away about three times in Mr. Johnson's vans—that is the carman (Lovclock)—four or rive cases went in at one time, and the next time there might be three—I know nothing of the contents, but I once saw a musical box playing.

Cross-examined. I saw the prisoner there three days a week, perhaps four—I have seen two men come there, well-dressed and of gentlemanly

appearance, one middle-aged and the other younger—the younger one cam twice or three times, and the elder four or five times; they were frequently backwards and forwards—the cases were taken away in broad daylight.

EDWARD PINNING . I live at 22, St. James Street, Old Street—in August last I let the prisoner a workshop in Featherstone Street, Earl's Buildings, at 5s. a week—he said he wanted it for lacquering—he brought the rent to my house—he remained in possession till February this year, when he left without notice, and gave the key to another party in the building.

JOSIAH WILLIAM ANDERSON . I am a builder of 137, High Street, Homerton, and manager to Mr. Chapman—the prisoner called on me about the end of October; he referred to an advertisement about a warehouse at 1, Nisbet Place—he asked the rent; I told him. 35l. a year—he gave his name Mr. Hayest, and suggested an alteration in the stairs to make it easier for anybody to go up and down—he called again and arranged to take the place, and appointed a day to call and sign the agreement, which he did—I attested it, and he signed it "J. E. Hayest" in my presence—this is it (produced, dated 14th November, 1881)—I think he had possession before. it was signed—he paid a half quarter in advance up to Christmas, and had a padlock key given to him—he requested me to put some iron bars to the windows to make the place more safe, and he thought the windows would be better whitened so that no one could see in, which I had done—he said that he did the lacquering by a patent process, but he did not take the patent out—I saw him at the premises sometimes daily, and then there would be a week or a fortnight's interval—I have seen him come there with goods with a van, and have seen Lovelock with a van—a young man used to come there at the latter portion of the time, who I thought was his brother—the vans contained cases, which were put into the warehouse, and I have seen cases put into the tan and driven away, and the prisoner generally went with it—he has never formally given up possession; I did not know that he had left—after Christmas he paid the next quarter in advance—we have not resumed possession yet; we did not know where he had gone—I remember his being absent for a little time; I understood that he was going to Paris on business a day or two before the taster holidays—I remember his saying that he had received a good order, sufficient to last him a few weeks—I have been just inside the door, but only saw a number of packing-cases.

Cross-examined. He asked if I should like to go to Paris with him—the young man who came was a labouring man; he was not dressed as a gentleman—I saw a gentleman there several times, between,30 and 40 years of age, a man in a far superior station in life to the prisoner as regards appearance—he frequently appeared shortly before freights went away in the vans, but I cannot say always.

Re-examined. I saw the gentleman. eight or nine times—cases would go away daily for two or three weeks, and then there would be an in-terval—I should say I have seen cases go away at least thirty times, and six or seven cases at a time—the cases were about 3 feet 6 inches long, 18 inches wide and 2 feet deep—I supplied him five or six times with sufficient shavings to pack a considerable number of cases.

RICHARD GOEDECKE . I am book-keeper to C. Goedecke and Co., importer of foreign goods, Jewin Crescent, Aldersgate Street—we have

dealt with the prisoner as Walsh from November, 1876, to 9th August 1880, and I produce an account of his dealings—these were for guns. revolvers, cartridges, scissors and knives—there were Snider rifles and constabulary pistols, and bull-dogs, which are another kind of pistol knuckle-dusters, a dagger, two musical albums, 2,000 central-fire-cart ridges in December, 1879, and 2,000 more in February, 1880, and other cartridges in the same year. (The total value came to 260l.)—the rifles were not cut then, but I have seen him cutting them with a saw—he took them away in large cases at the beginning of our dealings—as a rule the rifles had long bayonets with them, but I did not see all—hemay have bought a few short Sniders—there were 189 Sniders at first; most of them had bayonets.

JAMES BARING . I am manager to Messrs. Goedecke—I have known the prisoner as a customer by the name of Thomas Walsh—in Feb-ruary, 1880, he had 60 long Sniders, and I saw him cutting a few of them while I stopped and put them into the shorter cases—I was asto-nished, and he told me it was to make smaller cases and save duty in sending them to France—he said that he was selling two or three of the revolvers, and they were used to protect people from robbers in the suburbs of London.

HENRY DEVEREUX . I am in the employ of the London and Brighton Railway—some years ago I was in Messrs. Goedecke's employ—I knot the prisoner as Thomas Walsh—he took away the first lot of goods. he had, and some of the following lots were packed on the premises—I assisted him in packing them—the cases came from Jones and Treson's, in Whitecross Street—10 rifles and bayonets were generally packed in a case, but sometimes only 5, and there was 20—Walsh brought A saw with him, and cut the stocks by the middle band—he did not tell me why—he wrote the directions there, but he nailed a piece of brown paper over the directions with tin tacks, and I never saw one of them, but I picked up a list of addresses and gave it back to him—I do not recollect the places which were on the list—when the cases were packed they were taken away in a van or carts, generally one or two at a time.

WM. WALTER MORTON . I am a gunmaker, of 8, Railway Approach, London Bridge—I know the prisoner as Thomas Walsh, of 12, Charles Street, Hatton Garden, but I did not know his address when he first dealt with me, not till six months ago—I have sold him Snider rifles and military arms from time to time-this is a copy extracted from my books of his dealings with me—the first was an ordinary fowling-piece in August, 1875; then three Warner carbines on 27th November, 1878, at 14s. each, 2l. 2s.; 18th December, 4 Warner carbines at 14s., and 8 more on 7th January, 1879; 16th April, 10 Snider rifles, with bayonets, at 16s. 6d. and a bull-dog revolver; 10th June, 1878, 29 short Sniders, with sword bayonets and in the same month 50 central-fire cartridges; 5th July, 1880, 10 Snider rifles, with bayonets, at 26s.; 9th July, 2 instructors; I cannot explain what they are as I should like, but they carry a smaller cartridge than is used with the gun; January, 1881, 12 Sniders, with sword bayonets, 80s.; 2nd January, 1882, 1,000 Snider cartridges., 5l., and 2,000 revolver cartridges, 4. 50 bore; 8th September, 2 instructors and 300 caps; 30th September, 600 cartridges, 4. 50 bore, and 1,500 Snider cartridges—Walsh purchased all those, and they were taken into

a cellar at No. 6, two or three doors lower down—they were always fetched—I once saw Walsh with a van when I went over the bridge with him—I did not see the carman—he always paid cash, except once—a tall, dark man, who appeared like a clergyman, came with him four or fire times; the prisoner did not tell me who the man was—-the man looked at the goods purchased—the prisoner did not tell me what he wanted the rifles, revolvers, and cartridges for, but he said that he was doing a Cape trade and dealing with yachts—yachts are armed, especially when they go to the Mediterranean—they were all new Enfield's—they were not converted—the stocks were perfect when I sold them.

Cross-examined. The rifles had the crown, and the Tower mark on them—it is usual for dealers to put that on; it is almost like a trade-mark—they were marked on the lock-plate with the number and the year they were made—the butts were not marked A1, B1, &c.—I should not put the Grown or Tower mark on a best Snider, I should simply put my name—dealers have private marks of their own.

Re-examined. Walsh gave me this I O U (produced)—it is his writing—I put the number of some of the cartridges in this account—this "1 m," on 9th July, stands for "1 mille," that is, 1,000. (The number of cartridges in the list cast up to 24,000)—I gave him a card to get cartridges from Eley, in addition to those I sold him—he is a cartridge manufacturer.

By MR. BIRON. In the last part of my account there is "1,000 Snider cartridges 94 D"—I charge 10s. 6d. per 100 retail—in the next page I charge only half, 5l. 10d. for 2,000, that is because I had a number "seized under the Explosives Act, and I was glad to get rid of some.

EDWARD NEALER . I have been six years shopman to Mr. Morton—I have known the prisoner four years as a customer, and up to six months ago buying rifles, pistols, and cartridges—I knew him as T. Walsh, but did not know his address—he always fetched the things away himself—they were carried into Mr. Fuller's cellar, and packed there by our boy, Izzard—I have seen a van with the name of Johnson on it.

FRANK IZZARD . I was formerly in Mr. Morton's service, I went in May, 1880, and left in December, 1881—I know the prisoner as a customer in the name of Thomas Walsh; I took rifles from the shop to Fuller's cellar, where they were packed in the prisoner's presence—the barrels were taken off the stocks, but they were not cut in my presence—I saw one which was cut in the shop, it came for repairs—about 20 were packed in one case, with bayonets complete, and the prisoner came there with a van and took them away—Lovelock is not the driver I have seen—I don't know where they were taken—I remember a young man with a dark moustache coming once with the prisoner, he took no part in the purchase, but on one occasion he took some cartridges away in a carpet bag and some on his shoulder in a parcel—I gold these instructors and 300 caps to him, he paid for them and took them away.

Cross-examined. I never saw an older man dressed as a clergyman come.

JOHN WILLIAM CROOK . I am the receiver appinted with respect to Mr. Newby's partnership—I was appointed in December, 1880, but I took charge in July, 1880—1 was aware that a large quantity of rifles were stored at Blenheim Works, Hoxton, and at Suffolk Street, Southwark—George Wenham would deliver goods if sales were effected—I sold 500 Snider rifles to McKenzie Brothers, on July 19th, 1880; 500 in January, 1881, and

500 on February 5th, and in June, 1881, 500 to Mr. Watson through Mr. Pinner—in January, 1881,1 sold some Snider cartridges to McKenzies, and in December, 1881, 10,000 cartridges were sold by Wenham—I made out the delivery orders at once; this (produced) is McKenzie's order to Purvis to deliver 500 Sniders—bayonets were attached to all the rifles, the price was 14s. 6d., including everything—they came to 1,450l.

JAMES CHRISTIE MCKENZIE . I am a merchant, of 82, Mark Lane, and trade as McKenzie Brothers—I occasionally deal in rifles, ammunition, and bayonets—I had a customer, who dealt in the name of J. R. Armstrong, Anderton's Hotel, Fleet Street—I first saw him about August, 1879—I dealt with him for long and short Sniders, with sword-bayonets for the short ones and triangular for the long ones—on 4th February, 1881, I sold him 500 long Snider rifles at 15s. 6d. making 357l. 10s.; he paid for them in cash mm notes, against the delivery order (produced)—it was signed J. Courtin, at Armstrong's request—on 28th January, 1881,1 sold to Armstrong 500 long Sniders at 15s. 6d. and gave him this delivery order for 300. (The second order for 200 was missing.) On 28th June, 1881, I sold him 500 rifles, for which he paid 362l. 10s.—I purchased them through Mr. Watson and made out the invoice to J. Courtin, at Armstrong's request—also sold Armstrong 200 rifles and 25,000 cartridges, on August 27th, 1879, and the invoice was made out in the name of Signor S. Diego—that was our first sale—Armstrong gave me the name of Diego and Co. on several occasions—Armstrong was about my height, full faced, with a gingery short stubbly beard and moustache and whiskers—he always paid me in cash; I never had any other address from him.

ALFRED BINGHAM . I am in Mr. Crook's employ—shortly before Christmas, 1881, I delivered 17 cases of rifles to the prisoner at the Blenheim Works each containing 20 rifles with bayonets—he came there with a delivery order and took them away in Johnson's van—Lovelock was the car-man—I had seen the prisoner on two or three occasions at the Blenheim Works and at Southwark Street, and knew him.

Cross-examined. I acted on the order quite disregarding who he was or what he was.

GEORGE WENHAM . I am foreman to Mr. Crook; I have known the prisoner about four years—I have seen him at Eagle Wharf Road, South-wark Street—in July, 1880, I was in Mr. Newby's employ and saw Walsh there, before Mr. Crook was appointed—I have known him take long Snider rifles with bayonets away from Mr. Newby's—in June, 1881, some rifles were lying at the Blenheim Works to Mr. Crook's orders, and the prisoner came two or three months afterwards with Johnson's van, and I delivered to him eight cases of rifles and bayonets, with 20 rifles in each—the stocks were not cut—17 other cases containing 20 each were delivered by Bingham next day—I would not say that it was after June—I also sold the prisoner 10,000 cartridges; the whole sum was 16l. 10s.—he gave me a 5l. Bank of England note as a deposit—on 7th February, 1881, he called at 106, Southwark Street, and produced a delivery order from McKenzie Brothers for 500 rifles with bayonets, and I delivered a number that day, this is his receipt (For 10 cases of 20 each for Mr. Crook; signed J. J. W, Feb. 7th.) He came again on the 19th, and received 15 more cases, making 500 rifles and bayonets—he signed the book in a way which I

cannot read—on 28th April he came again and received 25 cases containing 500 long Snider rifles and bayonets, to the order of McKenzie Brothers, and gave me this receipt. (Dated April 28th, and signed J. J. W. pro Diego and Co. or Disgo and Co.) Whatever the signature is the prisoner wrote it—he also had I think 10,000 cartridges to fit the rifles in December, 1881. EDWARD HENRY NEWBY. I traded as an Army contractor in 1881—I had a warehouse at Blenheim Works and another in the basement of 106, Southwark Street—at the dissolution of my partnership with Mr. Crook, in December, 1880, a receiver was appointed—my first transaction with the prisoner was 25th June, 1879, when I sold him 20 long Snider rifles and bayonets, price 17l., and he paid me in bank notes—he gave his address, 36, Percy Street, "West—the second transaction was on 16th April, 1880; two cases of long Sniders and bayonets at 16s., 32l., and on 2nd July, 20 long snidereand bayonets, 16l., and on 20th July, 20 more, making 120—the rest of the transactions took place with the receiver.'

Cross-examined. I did not see Armtsrong, and never had anything to do with him—I only saw the prisoner.

Re-examined. He got the goods from my place of business, Chatham Buildings, New Bridge Street.

JOHN SAMUEL MASON . I am a packing-case maker, of 72, Whitecross Street, City—I sold the prisoner in 1879 nine packing-cases; in 1880, 67; and in 1881, 40, of different sizes, some at Goedeck's, some at Morton's, and some to Johnson's Stables in Macclesfield Street, City Road, and some in Wilson Street, Finsbury—the prisoner paid for them in cash—they were intended for heavy weights—I afterwards saw three of those cases at Scotland Yard—they would hold 12 or 15 rifles.

WILLIAM FOSTER . I am a porter in the employ of Mr. Mason—I have delivered packing-cases to the prisoner in 1879, 1880, and 1881—I knew him by the name of Walsh—I don't know what they contained.

HENRY JOHNSON . I am a licensed carman, of Milk Street, Cheapside—in August, 1879, the prisoner hired a van—he afterwards gave the name of Walsh, but no address—he hired vans from time to time down to February, 1882—Lovelock was the carman who chiefly went with him—in February, 1880,1 let the prisoner a loft at 18, Wharf Road, Maccles-field Street, City Road, for a month or six weeks—I saw him there on one occasion; there were old guns there, and he was hammering them up—I believed he was in the fancy trade when I first knew him—his transactions with me were twice in 1879, 25 times in 1880, about 40 in 1381, and three in 1882—he always paid me himself in cash—the times were various.

Cross-examined. The loft was divided, and he had a key—I think I once saw another man with him.

HENRY LOVELOCK . I am a carman in Mr. Johnson's service—I know the prisoner by the name of Walsh—I have gone with him from time to time to various places with a van, among others to Mr. Goedeck's in Jewin Street—I fetched from there some heavy cases weighing about 21/2or 2 cwt,—I took them to different receiving offices for railways in London—I have also been five or six times to Mr. Morton's, at Railway Approach, London Bridge, and brought away cases from there and parcels—the prisoner went with me—I have also been to 106. Southwark Street with him, and taken cases to Old Ford, where they were put into

a workshop or stable—they were gun cases weighing heavy—I have also brought some away from that place and from Eagle Wharf, City Road with the prisoner—some of them I took to Old Ford, and some to Earl's Buildings, and I have brought things from Earl's Buildings and taken them to different railway booking offices in London—I have been with the prisoner to Nesbit Place, Homerton, seven or eight times, and taken similar cases there and brought them away, and taken them to different booking offices in the City—sometimes I took two cases, sometimes three sometimes a cask and a crate—I never noticed the address on the cases—I have taken cases to Macclesfield Street, and brought them away also—the prisoner was with me—he never told me what the cases contained or where he was sending them to—I knew he was living in Charles Street, Hatton Garden.

JACOB HOWE . I am employed at the Midland. Railway Booking-office in High Holborn—I have known the prisoner seven or eight years by the name of Watson—he was in the habit of bringing cases to the office-the first time was about seven years ago—the first one he brought, the second two we collected—I have my book here—the cases were about 4 feet long, with iron fastenings attached to them—they contained heavy goods—the one he brought on 4th May, 1879, was addressed to Anderson: Tupper Currie, from Watson, of Castle Street, Holborn—there was no consignment note; he had a receipt for it—that was forwarded in the usual way by our Company—there were others, one addressed to Kelly, of Tralee—on 9th December, 1879, I have an entry to Anderson, of Tupper Currie, from Watson, and on 18th February, 1880, another from the same to the same—on 7th August, 1880, he brought one addressed to Hamilton, Raphoe, in a van, weighing 1 cwt. 2 qrs. 20 lb.; that was forwarded on our line by St. Pancras—in consequence of a communication that was made to me I searched for Watson at Castle Street, Holborn, but could find no such person—before then I saw the prisoner and told him I wanted the consignee's full name and address—he said he was going farther, and would call and let me know—he did not do so—about four or five months afterwards he came to the office, and I told him that I had been asking for him, that I wanted the full name and address of the consignee—he said it was all right, and the subject dropped—he said the case contained rifles—that was the last case he brought—I knew him when he kept a shop in Bedford Street in the name of Watson—I never knew him by the name of Walsh.

Cross-examined. I went to the shop in Bedford Street; I did not notice any name up then—I did not find him in Castle Street—the contents of the case were charged as hardware.

ALEXANDER MOORE . I am station-master on the Great Northern of Ireland Railway at Strabane, about six miles from Raphoe—on August 10, 1880 I have an entry of a case directed to Hamilton, of Raphoe, weighing 1cwt. 2 qrs. 18 lbs., which arrived on the 11th—on the 12th I delivered that to James McDid to take to Raphoe, and he signed for it.

JAMES MCDID . I live at Raphoe, County Donegal—on August 12,1880, I went to the station at Strabane and took a case addressed to Hamilton, of Raphoe—I got this document from Mr. Hamilton, and signed for it, and took it to him.

THOMAS HAMILTON . I am a grocer and ironmonger at Raphoe—I was in the habit of receiving goods from England—on the morning of August 12,

1880 I received this advice note from Mr. Moore, the station-master at Strabane, of a box addressed to me—I sent McDid for it—I found it contained rifles, bayonets, and ammunition—I had not ordered such goods, and knew nothing about them—I put them back into the box, and sent it in charge of Head Constable Plunkett to the police-station—I made inquiries 88 to who had sent them, and in consequence of what I. heard I directed a letter to Mr. Watson, of Castle Street, Holborn, London—it came back to me through the Dead Letter Office—I afterwards received a telegram on August 18 from Belfast, in the name of Thomas Hogg, 56 and 58, Davis Street, Belfast; I knew no such person—I showed that telegram to Plunkett—I wrote to Hogg, of Belfast—that letter was not returned—I then sent a registered letter, and that came hack through the Dead Letter Office—there is no one at Raphoe carrying on business of the same kind as myself—the police came to me the day after I received the box, and they took possession of it.

Cross-examined, I a. not in a very large way of business; I am well-known in that part—I should be sure to have an intimation of any goods consigned to me—hardly a week passes without my having some consignment of goods—I was advised of this in the usual way.

WILLIAM YOUNG . (Sub-Inspector Royal. Irish Constabulary at Raphoe). On August 13, 1880, in consequence of something I heard, I went to Mr. Hamilton; I there saw a box, which I opened; it contained 10 rifles, 10 bayonets, and 200 rounds of ball cartridge—the stocks were cut in the middle band—I saw that same box and its contents at the police barracks on August 18—I eventually brought it to London—this (produced) is one of the rifles from the case—the rifles were in three pieces, cut in the middle hand, and could easily be put together—some of them had the shamrock on them, and some had figures.

HENRY JOSEPH WAKEFIELD . I am a clerk in the Globe Parcels Express at Leicester—in July last year I was at the office of the same company in St Paul's Churchyard—I have an entry in the books on July 4 of a case sent by Cooper, of Bartholomew Close, addressed to Farrell, of Castlereagh, Roscommon—the prisoner booked it, and paid 2d. for it—he gave me the name of Cooper, of Bartholomew Close—I copied the name and address that was on the case—Lovelock came with the prisoner on that occasion, and assisted with the case—previous to its being left I had seen Constable Shea—I did not see the case opened; I pointed it out to Mr. Payne, our manager.

WILLIAM PAYNE . This case was pointed out to me, and I opened it—it contained four or five revolvers, and a quantity of cartridges—the cartridges were taken out and kept, the revolvers were put back, and the case fastened down to be forwarded.

GEORGE CONNOR . I was foreman porter at Castlereagh, on the Midland Railway—I remember this case coming by train addressed to Mr. Farrell—I delivered it to his man in the presence of Constable Harvey.

GEORGE HARVEY . (Constable in the Royal Irish Constabulary). On July 8 I was at the station at Castlereagh, and saw a case addressed to Mr. Farrell—I saw it delivered to his man, Tiernan—I allowed him to take it part of the way and then arrested him, and took possession of the case, and took it to the police barracks—I saw it opened; it contained five 6-chambered Colt's revolvers—I brought it to London.

ADAM COOKE NEWELL (Sub-Inspector Royal Irish Constabulary at Castle reagh I saw this case opened—it contained five 6-chambered revolvers, and four small steel clamps—the case was kept there till Harvey brought it to London—this (produced) is one of the revolvers.

JAMES FARRELL . I am a miller, of Castlereagh—I know no person of the name of Cooper, of Bartholomew Close—I never ordered any revolvers or cartridges; I should be very sorry to order them.

Cross-examined. Consignments come to me largely, and in the course of business I send my carman every morning to the station to see what is there and bring them down—this case was brought in the ordinary way—the carmen take what they can get.

SAMUEL HENRY PEARSALL . L am a clerk in the employ of the Great Western Railway, at the Gresham Receiving-office—on 14th December last a cask was brought there addressed "William Callahan, grocer, Great George Street, Cork," by two men—I do not recognise the prisoner, but Lovelock was one of the men who came with the cart; I did not see whether the second man was or was not the prisoner—I handed the consignment note back to one of the men, who filled it up as it is now, and signed it "G. Andrews, Bartholomew Close;" the second man wrote that, not Lovelock—I asked him what the cask contained; he said "Groceries and sweets"—about 10 minutes after they left Gallagher, a constable, came, and in consequence of what he said I put the cask on one side, and next day it was opened in Gallagher's presence, and found to contain rifles, bayonets, and cartridges—he took a note of the contents; it was then fastened down—it was to go via Milford—this "Via Milford" was written by the same man who wrote the other.

Cross-examined. I asked for a declaration of the contents, as it is usual to have a consignment note and to know the contents—I can't tell you exactly what extra charge there would be for arms over groceries, but it would be the highest rate we should charge; not double the groceries rate I should say, but considerably more.

DANIEL GALLAGHER (Royal Irish Constabulary). I had some information about Walsh which caused me to watch his movements for some time—on 14th December I saw him at Railway Approach, London Bridge, with Ms. Morton, the gunmaker, at his shop—they went to a public-house, and returned to Morton's shop, and then the prisoner got into a van driven by Love-lock, and drove to 106, Southwark Street, a seed warehouse with a cellar below it—I saw him come out with Wenham—they went into another public-house farther away, and After they left there the prisoner got into the van with Lovelock, and I followed them to Homerton—they got there about 4 o'clock with the van empty—they remained there about half an hour, and then came out from 1, Nesbit Street with a third person in the van, a slight young man with his face shaved all but his moustache—the van was then laden, but I did not see the things put in as it went out of my sight—it was a covered van, and it was dark; I could see there were a good many cases in it and a cask, as well—they stopped at several public-houses on the way, and then drove to the King Street stable, where they put off two cases, and then went to Gresham Street, where Pearsall was; they took off a cask there; and the prisoner and Lovelock rolled it into the office—I saw the prisoner talking there—I followed the van; they went into the yard of the

Swan with Two Necks, which is the receiving-office of the. London and North-Western Railway, and two cases were taken off there similar to those left at King Street; they were put on the raised platform, and the prisoner went on to the platform and turned one of them on its side as if to look at the address—the van drove away, and I went hack to the Gresham Street office, and Mr. Pearsall pointed out a cask as that which the second man had left; it was addressed "William Callahan, grocer, Great George Street, Cork;" I gave directions to detain it till the next day—I found it there next morning, and assisted in opening it and found in it 16 rifles and bayonets—the stocks of the rifles were cut, and the different parts were tied up together in this way—I put some of them back; the cask was not finally closed then, but I did not remove any. for police purposes—the goods were sent off, and the case was lost sight of in some way in the transit—I went back to the Swan with Two Necks, and saw the two cases there which the prisoner and Lovelock had left; one was addressed "G. R Hutton, Limerick," and the other "S. W. Achey, Limerick"—I gave directions to the manager, Mr. Stevenson, as to the delivery of these cases, and next day went back and opened one of them; they were the same size as the other; the only difference that I saw was that one had the address on the case itself, and the other was in writing—I can't say which one I opened, "but it contained rifles, bayonets, and cartridges; I can't say how many, for only one was taken out—it was put back again, and the case fastened down; it was put into a van, and I accompanied it to Euston Station that same evening, and travelled in the train with the case from London to Holyhead, and then to Dublin, and on the 16th December at Dublin I pointed out the two cases on board the boat to Keaveny and Davey, two constables—after I had been to the Swan with Two Necks I went to the receiving-house at King Street, where I had first seen the man, and found that the two cases had been sent on to Paddington Station; I saw Mr. Daniels, the clerk, there—I reported what had occurred to Head Constable Shea—I did not go to Paddington; I saw the cases when they were delivered at King Street—they appeared to be about the same size as those delivered at the Swan with Two Necks.

JOHN BRITTON . I am employed at the Swan with Two Necks, which is the office of the London and North-Western Railway—on the 14th December two cases were delivered to me, one addressed to S. W. Achey, Limerick, and the other to Hutton, of Limerick—they were brought in Johnson's van by a carman named Lovelock—they were about three feet long—I afterwards saw Gallagher, who mentioned something about them, and I opened one of the cases next day and found it contained rifles, bayonets, and cartridges—I fastened it up, and they were sent on by passenger train on 15th December—I made an entry in my book.

THOMAS KEAVENY (Royal Irish Constabulary). On 16th December I was at North Wall, Dublin—Gallagher pointed out two cases to me; I saw them placed on the quay; one was addressed to Hutton, of Limerick, the other to Achey, of Limerick—I went by the same train with them to Limerick at 1 o'clock, and saw them arrive there, and pointed them out to Hotham—they were left there in charge of the police.

BLENNERHASSET CASHAM . I am station-master at Limerick—on 17th December I saw two eases arrive directed to Hutton and Achey; they weighed 1cwt. 3qrs. each—they remained in my charge at the station till

the 21st, when Inspector Wilton took charge of them—no inquiry has ever been made for them—I know no one in Limerick named Hutton or Achey.

JOHN ROLSTON (Head Constable Royal Irish Constabulary), I am stationed at Limerick—I was made aware of the arrival of these two cases on the morning of 17th December, and caused them to be taken out and placed in the office—they were directed to Achey and Hutton, and both marked "London and North-Western Railway;" I marked them—they were not interfered with till Inspector Wilton opened them; they contained rifles, ammunition, and bayonets—I have known Limerick two years—I have made inquiry, but cannot find Achey or Hutton—no inquiry has been made for the case.

HENRY WILTON (Sub-Inspector Royal Irish Constabulary). On 21st December I took possession of these two cases—I opened them and found they contained 20 rifles with bayonets, and 380 rounds between the two of ball cartridge—the stocks of the rifles were cut obliquely across the middle band, and there was a mark of a shamrock on the butts—anybody could put them together—I have made particular inquiries, but cannot find Achey or Hutton.

JOSEPH WATTS . I am a porter at the Smithfield Station of the Great Western Railway—on 14th December I was at the King Street-office when two cases were brought; Mr. Daniel was there—they were addressed to Cahir, in Ireland; one to Mr. Doherty, and the other I do not recollect, but it was to Cahir—Mr. Daniel made an entry in a book of them—I do not know the person who brought them; I did not see the van—they were forwarded in due course to Paddington—Gallagher came and spoke to me about them the same day.

EDWARD DANIEL . I am a clerk in charge of the Great Western Booking-office, King Street, City—on 14th December two cases came, and Watts called out the names and addresses; one was addressed to Doherty, of Cahir, and the other to a different name—I saw the two men who brought the cases, but cannot recognize them—I went to Paddington the same evening, and saw the cases there.

GARRATT REDMAN (Police Sergeant Royal Irish Constabulary) I am stationed at Waterford—on 15th December I was in London, and went to Paddington Station, and travelled from there to Milford, where 1 saw two cases, one addressed "Miss Doherty, Ballydruid House, Cahir, vid Clonmel," and the other "Rev. Dr. Flanaghan, Rector, Kilvenny, Cahir Railway Station, vid Clonmel"—I saw them put on the steamer for Waterford, and afterwards saw them at the railway station, Water-ford, and in the railway truck at the goods station for Cahir—I went to Cahir, and pointed out the truck to a constable there—I afterwards saw Sub-Inspector Bourchier, and gave him the particulars of the two cases.

HENRY JAMES BOURCHIER (Sub-Inspector Royal Irish Constabulary). I am stationed at Cahir, Tipperary—on 16th December I received information from Redman, and on the 18th I saw two cases at Cahir in a railway truck from Waterford—one was addressed to the Rev. Dr. Fla-naghan, and the other to Miss Doherty—they were taken to the police barracks, Cahir, the same night, and I opened them—they contained 10 rifles, with bayonets complete, and 400 rounds of ball-cartridge in the two cases—every rifle had the stock cut through the middle band—I took possession of them, put stones in he cases, fastened them up,

and they were put back into the railway truck in exactly the same position they were in before—I directed officers to watch at the station—they were never claimed—I have one box now, stones and all—the other was taken away as ballast in a third-class carriage empty, and the train pulled up and stopped at three roads, and after watching it some considerable time, and no one coming, it was brought back, and when my men came back to the office it was gone—the one with the stones in it was taken away, as I am informed, on the tender of the engine, and dropped by the driver and one of the railway servants—I had a man watching, and the engine went on and picked up the box, dropped it further up the line, and by the time my man got there it was gone—that was Miss Doherty's—they got the stones and I got the rifles—they are all cut in the stocks, stamped with a shamrock, and bayonets attached—I brought them to London with Peter Clark—I have known Kilveney 20 years j there is no Rev. Dr. Flanaghan living there, and to my recollection there never was; I have made very close inquiry—I have known some of the Roman Catholic priests for some years, and I know the rector very well—there never has been any Rector of that name—there is a Miss Doherty; she is very old and feeble, and nearly blind; she is quite unable to travel—I went to see her, and she would not receive them.

DANIEL GALLAGHER (Re-examined). On 30th December last, about 10 a. m., I went with Gray to Homerton—about 12 I saw the prisoner driving towards the warehouse in Nisbet Street, in Johnson's van, with Lovelock, the carman—the van was backed in to the entrance of the ware-house—I did not see what was done while the van was there—when it came out the prisoner and Lovelock were still with it—it was driven towards the City—it had in it a case and a cask—I followed it to the Phoenix Railway Receiving-office in King William Street, City—the prisoner went inside, and brought out a little trolly, and took the case inside—the van then went on with the cask to the Great Western Goods-station, Smithfield, and when it came from there the cask was not in it—the prisoner then drove away—I then went into the Great Western office and saw a cask there exactly similar to the one I had seen on 14th December; it was addressed" J. T. Egan, grocer, Castle Gregory, near Tralee"—I then went to the Phoenix Receiving-office, and there saw a case similar to that which I had seen left there—that was addressed "M. Glin, Kilrush, County Clare"—I had some conversation with Mr. Limbert, the clerk in charge there—later in the day I went to the Great Western Railway-station, Paddington, and there saw that same case on a truck about to be sent off by rail—I had it taken off and put in one of the offices in the presence of Head Constable Shea, Redmond, and Gray—that same evening I went back to Smithfield and saw Mr. Stephens, the Inspector, and the cask I had left there—I had it taken it out of the truck and locked up—next morning, the 31st, I went there and opened the cask in the presence of Mr. Stephens and Gray—it contained 10 rifles, 10 bayonets, and 10 packages, each containing 20 ball-cartridges—I produce one of the rifles; it was then in pieces, cut in the middle band—it has been put together this morning—there is a shamrock mark on it—I repacked the cask and sent it on—on 3d. January I went with Shea to the Dalston June-tion about 2 in the afternoon, and there saw the prisoner and Lovelock pass in Johnson's van in the direction of Homerton—I could see a crate and a cask in it—Shea and I went by railway, and arrived there before the van

—I saw it backed in the entrance to the warehouse—I then returned to Dalston Junction, and while there I saw the van going again towards the City—I followed it to Falcon Square, where there is a receiving-house for the Midland Railway—at that time there was a third man with the van that was the man I had seen with the prisoner on 14th December—he was a slight young man, with his face all shaved, except a slight dark moustache-the prisoner and Lovelock got out of the van; the third man remained in it—Lovelock got the case on his back and carried it into the goods-station—the prisoner accompanied him—when they came out the three went into a public-house opposite—I went into the receiving-office and saw the case—it was addressed to the Rev. M. Maguire, Clare, King's County—I saw Mr. North and Mr. Foulkes at the office—next day, the 4th, I returned and saw the case there again—I opened it; it contained 10 rifles, 10 bayonets, and 10 packages, each containing 20 ball-cartridges—they were exactly the same kind of rifles as the others, and cut in the same way—I marked each rifle with a file, and the case went on its way—on 27th February I saw the prisoner and Lovelock in Johnson's van in the Kingsland Road, coming from the direction of Homerton—I followed it to Earl's Buildings, Featherstone Street—I there saw 11 cases, seven or eight small barrels, a crate, and several small brown-paper packages—the cases and barrels appeared to be fall; some of them were rolled in heavy—they appeared to be made of darker wood and larger than those I had seen before—after they had been taken out the prisoner drove away to Charles Street, Hatton Garden—I have known Belfast well for over ten years—I know no Mr. Thomas Hogg, of 56 and 58, Davis Street, Belfast—I do not know such a street as Davis Street there; there is a Dives Street—at that time there was a public-house at 56 and 58, kept by one Henry Gorman—I inquired for Thomas Hogg it that address, and could learn nothing respecting him—they denied all know-ledge of him.

Cross-examined. I was sent over here on special duty by the Dublin authorities in October, 1880—the first time I saw the prisoner was on December 14, 1881—after that I kept him under my eye occasionally, when I could—under my instructions he was watched—I had nothing to do with his arrest—there was no one acting under me; I was acting in a subordinate capacity myself.

Re-examined. I saw him twice after February 27; not with the van, it public-houses—January 14 and 27 were the only occasions on which I saw him with the van.

GEORGE REDDICK . I am checker at the Great Western Railway Office, Smithfield—on December 30 a cask was brought there, I think by the prisoner—I asked him for a consignment note—he said his hands were cold, and asked me to make one out for him—I did so, and he signed it—to gave the name of Abrahams, of St. John Street, as the sender—this is the note; I copied the address on the cask, it was "J. S. Egan, grocer, Castle Gregory, near Tralee, vid Milford and Waterford"—it was described as a cart of sundries—I asked him what it contained—he said at first groceries, then he said "Several things, better call it sundries"—it weighted 2 cwt. 3qrs 14 lbs—I saw him sign the note, but his hand shook a good deal. (The signature was illegible)—the cask was taken away to a truck; I did not see it afterwards.

THOMAS GEORGE GRAY . I am an acting constable in the Royal Irish

Constabulary—on December 30 I was with Gallagher at the Paddington Station, and saw a cask there addressed to J. S. Egan, opened; it contained 10 rifles, 10 bayonets, and 200 rounds of ball cartridge—one rifle and 20 rounds of ball cartridge were taken out—the cask was then closed up, and I travelled with it by the same train to Waterford, where I pointed it out to Davitt.

JOHN DAVITT (Royal Irish Constabulary). On January 4 I was on duty on the quay at Waterford—Gray there pointed out to me a cask addressed to J. S. Egan, Tralee—I went with it to Tralee, and gave the number of the waggon it was in to Walsh.

THOMAS WALSH (Royal Irish Constabulary, Tralee). On January 5 a cask came there addressed to J. S. Egan—Davitt pointed it out to me—it was kept there under supervision until the 9th instant—nobody inquired for it, and it was then taken to the barracks.

PATRICK WOULFB . I am store-keeper at Tralee Station—on January 5 a cask arrived there addressed to J. S. Egan; it was left in the store till January 9; no one inquired for it—it was then handed over to the police.

GEORGE HOLMES (Sub-Inspector of Royal Irish Constabulary, Tralee). At the end of December I received a communication about a cask that was expected to arrive there—on January 5 I saw a cask addressed to J. S. Egan at the station, and on the 9th I took possession of it; it was opened in my presence—it contained nine rifles and bayonets, and 180 rounds of ball ammunition—1 took it to the barracks, and brought it over here.

JAMES MCNAMEE (Royal Irish Constabulary) I am stationed at Castle Gregory, about 17 miles from Tralee—I have been there about a year—I do not know any J. S, Egan, a grocer, there; I have made inquiries—there is a John Egan, a grocer; he never claimed the cask—there is also a small farmer named J. S. Egan, of Castle Gregory—there are other Egans, but no J. S. Egau, a grocer; it is a common name there—no one has claimed the cask.

GARRETT KEDMOND (Re-examined). On December 30, between 8 and 9 at night, I was at the Great Western Station, Paddington—Gallagher pointed out to me a case addressed "M. Glin, Esq., Kilrush, County Clare"—it was moved into the office and opened—it contained 15 rifles, with bayonets, and 28 packages of 10 rounds each for Sniders—the stocks were cut and tied up, and marked with a shamrock—I took out one rifle and four packages of ammunition; the rest were re-packed in the case to be sent on—1 travelled in the same train, and saw the same case put on board the boat for Waterford, and again at Waterford, where I pointed it out to Keaveny—I produce the rifle and packet that I took out—I marked the others, and they were brought to London.

THOMAS KEAVENY . On December 30 I went to Waterford, and on January 2 saw on the quay a case addressed "M. Glin, Esq., Kilrush;" and two hours afterwards I saw it again at the railway-station—it was put into truck to be forwarded to Limerick, where I saw it again, and told a constable to look after it—Next morning I saw it alongside the wharf, and went by the steamer to Kilrush, where I saw it put on the quay, and pointed it out to a constable there.

HENRY JEORGE SUPPLE . I am local manager for the Lower Shanonn Steamship Company, Kilrush, County Clare—on January 4 I saw a case addressed to "M. Glin, Esq.", and handed it to my carman, Lillis.

THOMAS LILLIS . I am carman to Mr. Supple—oil January 4 a case addressed to "M. Glin, Esq.", was put on my car at the Koff Quay, Kil. rush, and I was driving up the street to Mr. Glin's stores when Fay came up and told me to drive with it to the police barracks.

PATRICK FAY (Head Constable Royal Irish Constabulary, Kilrush). On January 24 I saw Lillis going to Mr. Glin's stores, and having spoken to Mr. Glin, I directed him to drive the van containing the case to the police barracks—it was directed to "M. Glin, Esq., Kilrush, County Clare "—it was opened in my presence, and contained 14 rifles and bayonets, and 260 rounds of ball cartridge—the stock of each rifle was cut, and the pieces tied up together, so as to have them complete—they were all stamped at the bottom with a shamrock—I brought them to England, and produce them to-day.

MICHAEL GLIN . I am a Magistrate for County Clare, and am a mer-chant and corn dealer at Kilrush—there is no Michael Glin there but I—I know nothing of the case which was consigned to me—I heard of its arrival in January, and saw it opened.

Cross-examined. I am very well known in that district.

JOHN BURROUGHS . I am in the employ of the Midland Railway Company, Castle and Falcon receiving-house, Falcon Square—on January 31 received from the prisoner a case addressed to the "Rev. McGwire, Clara, King's County," and this consignment note—I passed it on to be forwarded, and the same day I saw Gallagher looking at it—the name of the sender was L. Ambrose, Bartholomew Close; and the note says, "One case of books—I did not know the prisoner before.

Cross-examined. He did not tell me that Ambrose was his own name—he brought the note filled up.

INSPECTOR PEEL (Re-examined). I found in the stable these 37 Midland Railway forms (produced), 42 of the Great "Western, and 49 of the Great Northern; and 37 small and three large of the London and North Western.

Cross-examined. I understand you can get way-bills at any of the stations.

BERNARD O'MALLEY (Royal Irish Constabulary). On 7th January I received orders to watch the steamer from Liverpool, and when she arrived at North Wall,-Dublin, I boarded her and found a case addressed, Rev. T. M. M'Gwire, Clara, King's County—I took it to the Midland Railway and saw it put into a store, and next day travelled down to Clara with it, and pointed it out to Callan, another constable—it was 2 feet long by 21/2 wide, and rather heavy.

THOMAS SCANLAN . I am station master at Clara Railway Station—on 9th January, I saw this case arrive, addressed to the Rev. M. M'Gwire; no one applied for it—I kept it till the 17th January and the police took it away—I wrote to the Rev. M. M'Gwire, at the address mentioned, and seat it by post; I got no reply, but the letter did not come back through the Dead Letter Office.

THOMAS CALLAN . I am a constable—I hail charge of this case till it was handed over to Inspetor Allen—I have known Clara seven months; there is no Rev. M. M'Gwire living there, but there is at a place called Tullybeg College—he has not claimed it.

INSPECTOR PEEL (Re-examined). I only found four saloon pistols; this is one—it is a single barrel—I have seen no cartridges to fit it.

Cross-examined. I saw some pawnbroker's duplicates at the prisoners lodging; I did not take possession of them, and cannot say whether these (produced) are them. (These related to a watch pledged for 5l. 10s., a carpet for 5s., and another for 7s.; a clock and other articles, in the names of Bridget and Ann Walsh.)

P. HIGHFIELD. I know the prisoner as Thomas Walsh—I livein Whisten Street—last January I had a workshop at 61/2, Cross Street, advertised in the Chronicle to let, and in the middle of January the prisoner came there and told me he wanted to warehouse some goods for a firm in the city—he gave his name as Sadgrove, of Charles Street, Hatton Garden, rod took the warehouse at 8s. a week—he occupied it about four weeks—he same to my place with a van, and I opened the door for him and saw some uses inside.

PATRICK CAVANAGH (Royal Irish Constabulary). On 30th January, 1881, I was stationed at Limerick and saw three proclamations on the walls—this is one of them. (MR. BIRON objected to this being read as there was no evidence that the prisoner was aware of the contents, but the COURT considered that it was evidence for the Jury. Read: "S. C. Proclamation.—Men of Ireland,—The country is now passing through a crisis full of danger to the national cause. The action of the British Government and of its aiders and abettors is obviously intended to provoke premature resistance. Upon you, therefore, rests the responsibility of averting defeat arid hnmiliation. You have grievous cause for revolt; but you are not yet prepared, and a crushing disaster would now leave to the next generation the task of beginning anew the great work already so far advanced. The salvation of our people lies in the achievement of national independence alone; but the time to strike has not yet come. Beware, then, of being misled by false or foolish friends or goaded by the enemy into fruitless outbreaks. The man who now incites to attempts at insurrection is doing England's work and must be held guilty of treason to Ireland. The most rigid discipline must enforced and partial outbreaks prevented. Move only by command of your officers. Our present duty is to prepare, to watch, to wait. Until the hour for action comes let your attitude be one of calm resolve, self-sacrifice, and unshaken confidence in the final triumph of our cause. By order of the Irish National Directory.

THADDEUS DUFFY (Royal Irish Constabulary). On 30th January I saw several of these proclamations posted in the City of Cork—they were not there the day before—they were posted at 12 o'clock that night—I took down 12 of them from the walls, and a great many more were posted.

JOHN KINSELLA (Royal Irish Constabulary). On 30th January I was stationed at Tralee, in Kerry, and saw six or seven of these proclamations in different parts of the town—I believe they were posted during the night.

EDWARD LACEY (Royal Irish Constabulary). On Sunday, 30th January, I was stationed at Kilrush, and saw two copies of this proclamation, one posted and another which had been torn down—I do not believe they were there on the 29th.

MICHAEL MCENERY . On 30th January, 1881,1 was stationed at Rath-cormick, County Cork, and saw posted one copy of this proclamation entire and two torn down; they had been posted in the night.

HANNAH REARDON . Up to January this year I lived at Kiskean, County

Cork, about nine miles. from Millstream—I went there in the beginning of September, 1881, and on the night of 10th September, I was returning home to Kiskean, and in a field by the road side I saw about 60 men drilling—three men, named Sullivan, Monaghan, and Gallagher, were drilling them—they had rifles in their hands—it was not dark, I could see then—I have seen 25 or 30 rifles at Gallagher's, one of the men who was drilling-they had this load in a lime kiln in the field where they were drilling—I saw 25 rifles in a field at Knockmalog—some of the rifles were darker thin this, and some brighter in the stocks—some of them had been put in a hole in the kiln.

Cross-examined. I was living at Gallagher's house in September, but it was not there, but at his uncle's house that I saw the rifles—I did not go into the field where they were drilling, I was in the road walking by; they were not more than half an hour in sight, and about the same number went out of the house; seven of them went in and the others remained outside—I first gave information of this on 14th January—I came over here hut Saturday.

MARTIN COSTELLO . I am a farmer of Dirrah, County Kerry—en 6th September, 1881, Thomas Foley, of Dirrah, asked me to join a Fenian Society, Michael Cams was present—I refused, but he persuaded me sod produced a Testament which he had with him, and administered an oath to me to be loyal to the Irish Republic, and to be ready at a monent's notice to take up arms in defence of my country, and to be obedient to my superior officers, and not to reveal anything secret which might he told me—Carns took the same oath, and Foley put down both our names on a sheet of paper, which he had with him—other names were down on it—I was to subscribe 1s. a month—I took no further action in the society.

Cross-examined. I did not pay any money or keep the oath—the oath was administered in a public-house in Ballyween, in the county of, Kern, with only me and the other man present.

This being the case for the prosecution, MR. BIRON submitted that the evidence failed to support either count of the indictment. The real gist of the offence was the intent, and he contended that the case was absolutely devoid of any evidence to warrant the supposition that the prisoner eniertained the intents alleged; nor was there any proof of the existence of any conspiracy on his part or that of any persons entertaining such intents; neither was it shown that the prisoner had any knowledge of the unlawful drilling referred to in one of the Fenian proclamations, given in evidence. The ATTORNEY-GENERAL contended that the evidence amply supported the allegation in the indictment, and came within the meaning of the statute upon which the indictment was founded. He referred to the ruling of CHIEF JUSTICE ERLN in Reg. v. Dowling, 3 Cox, p. 514, and Sessions Paper, vol. xxviii., p. 728, that of LORD CHIEF JUSTICE COCKBURN, in Reg. v. Davitt and Wilson, 11 Cox, p. 76, and Sessions Paper, vol lxxii., p. 296.

MR. JUSTICE STEPHEN, in leaving the case to the Jury, stated that it was necessary they should be satisfied: 1st, that there was a treasonable conspiracy; 2nd, that the arms were sent by the prisoner in pursuance of that conspiracy; and 3rd, that he knew when he sent them that they were meant for that purpose. GUILTY .— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.


Before Mr. Justice Stephen.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-791
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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791. HARRIET SHAKERLY (20) , Feloniously wounding Mary Ann Kirchen, with intent to murder. Second County with intent to do grievous bodily harm.


MART ANN KERCHEN . I live with my husband at Camden Villa, West Ham—the prisoner came into our service on April 20, as domestic servant—on Wednesday, April 25, my husband got up as usual a little after 6 o'clock, and went off to business—the prisoner and myself were then the only inmates of the house—ours is a detached house; the house on the other side was unoccupied—on the Friday or Saturday before this Wednesday the prisoner asked me if we were not the only persons in the row, and I said "Yes"—I got up on the Wednesday morning about half-past 7—I had on my stays, dressing-gown, and night-cap—I have no bell in my room—I was in the habit of calling a servant for water in the morning, and on this morning I called, "The water, if you please, Sarah "—she answered rather abruptly, but I could not understand what she said—I found the can of hot water outside the door, and I took it in; I did not see her, but I knew by the sound of her voice that she followed me into the room—she said "Shall I put you a sausage in the oven?"—I said "No, thank you, Sarah, I will have a piece of toast," and before the words were out of my mouth, my hand had not left the can, I was struck a blow on the back of my head with a brush—I was in a stooping position at the time, and my back was turned to her—I turned round and saw her, and said "Oh dear!"—she had this brush in her hand, her teeth were nearly clenched, and she said "Oh, o-h, I will murder you "—I said "Oh, my girl, what have I done, what have I done?"—she said "Not anything, but I will murder you"—she then said "Go down with you, go down with you," and took me by the shoulders and drove me out of the room before her—she drove me down on to the third stair, and then struck me a blow on the back of my head twice before I got to the bottom—she said nothing more at that time—when I got into the hall she repeated the blow, and I was obliged to hold up my arm to save myself, and so I got my arm very much injured—she called on me to put my arm down—I screamed out "Murder!" I thought I was a murdered woman—I got as far as the front door, with my fingers on the knob, and she drove me back, and said "You are not going there"—she said she would murder me—she pushed me, and I fell down in the hall twice with her pushing me and beating me on the head—I caught hold of the brush to get it away, but could not—she said" Leave go, leave go of the brush"—she tried to get me into the breakfast-room, and said "You wall go in here"—I said "I won't"—she pushed me in—I kept hold of the door, and put my hand on the table to save me from going down—while I was in that position she said "Have you got any money; where is it; how much?"—I said "I have only got a few coppers in the house; pat do you want money for?"—she said "I want to go to my mother"—said "How much do you want I"—she said a 1l. will do with what I have got—I said "Then you must wait till your master comes home to-night"

—she wanted to force me into the kitchen, and said "You shall p inhere"—I said "I won't"—I kept hold of the bannisters with all the strength I could, and she pushed me down and knelt on my body, and grabbed with her hands on my neck—I said "Oh dear, you hurt me, you hurt me"—she said "I don't care"—then she said "Get up, get up"—I got up as well as I could, and begged her to leave mo alone—I managed to get upstairs into my room and lock myself in—I was bleeding; my clothes were all bloody, my hands, face, head, and dressing-gown; I still had my night-capon-when she was by the breakfast-room door she said "Oh dear, I don't know what has come to me, I think I must be going mad"—my hands were bruised and bleeding; it was almost two months before the bruises were gone—she must have struck me eight or nine times on the head, I could not be positive, I was in such a state of weakness and excitement—when I was in my bedroom I opened my window and called out for some one to come and help me—there was a woman and a girl on the other side of the road, but they took no notice; I saw a gentleman passing, and I called out to him to get some one to help me—Dr. Alexander's servant, Saffill, came over; I suppose the prisoner let her in; I did not see her—I first saw Saffill when she came to my bedroom door, I unlocked the door and let her in—she attempted to wash my face and help me downstairs into the. back room, where I was afterwards seen by two doctors—Dr. Alexander and Dr. Evans—it is not true that I had a fit that morning; I never had a fit in my life, and never fell down; the prisoner inflicted all these injuries upon roe with the brush—I was better than usual that morning, for I got up earlier—we keep a cash-box in the house; I invariably take it upstairs myself into my bedroom; my husband brought money home—the cash-box was kept in a desk in the breakfast-room in the day time—there was nothing in it on this day, so I did not take it up at night—I cannot say whether the prisoner has seen me lake it up at night, but she has seen me bring it down in the morning—I had never had an unpleasant word with her—I was unable to attend before the magistrate until the end of June, and then I was propped up with pillows.

Cross-examined. My head was all wounds; it was weak and that prevented my attending—I was very well satisfied with the prisoner; I told my husband I thought she would suit—his usual time for coming home was 6 or 7 in the evening; I was left alone in the house with the prisoner till that time—I was in the passage when the prisoner stopped striking me-the last words she said were, "I won't hurt you any more, that I wont—I got upstairs myself as well as I could; she did not follow me—before I went up she said, "Don't open your windows. I will see to them"—don't remember finding the brush and giving it to the policeman; I saw it in his hands—I made a statement to him in the prisoner's presence; he said he did not wish to hear it—he asked if I wished to give her into custody—I said, "Yes"—I told him she had been beating me—he did not bring this brush out and say, "Is this the brush she struck you with?" nor did 1 say, "No"—I might have gone and fetched it, but I don't remember—I remember the Magistrate coming on the evening of the 26th, and I made a statement to him in the prisoner's presence—Mrs. Morris called on me the 25th—I might have told her that I was very delicate; I have a diseased liver—I did not tell the Magistrate I felt giddy from the smoke—I did not complain on the Sunday previous to this that I felt giddy from the smoke;

I said I was overheated from being in the kitchen, it was a very warm day—I did not complain to the prisoner of the smoke when she came up on this Wednesday morning—she did not say, "I have cleaned out the flues"—I did not tell the Magistrate that I said to her, "The smoke is choking me," or to Mrs. Morris—I did not say to Mrs. Morris that I felt one of my fits coming on; I could not say such a thing, I never had a fit—I never lived at Norwich; I don't know a Dr. Joy, of Norwich—I was never attended for disease of the spine or hip—I have rheumatics and neuralgia—I did not tell Dr. Evans or Dr. Vance, that I had been attended for disease of the spine or hip—the prisoner never saw me empty the cash-box or take money out of it—I said at the police-court that there was quite a pool of blood left where my head had been lying, but it was wiped up when I came downstairs.

ELIZA SAFFILL . I am in the service of Dr. Alexander, of Margery Road, Stratford—on Wednesday morning, 26th April, in consequence of what a man named Parrott said to me I went over to Mrs. Kerchen's, and knocked at the door, the prisoner opened it, and I went in—I said, "What is the matter with Mrs. Kerchen?"—she said, "She has fallen downstairs, she is paralysed"—I then went upstairs and knocked at the door of the front room, it was fastened—Mrs. Kerchen said, "Who's there?"—I said, "A young girl from over the way"—she then opened the door and let me in—her head and face was covered with blood—I asked her what was the matter, she told me—I bathed her head and attended to her for 15 or 20 minutes—she seemed very weak and ill—a policeman then came—I saw nothing of the prisoner during that time—I went downstairs when the policeman came—I got some more water and went up to Mrs. Kerchen again and helped her down to the back parlour and left her there with the policeman—I saw the prisoner in the kitchen and asked her to get me some hot water, she got it and I took it into the back parlour; Mrs. Kerchen was complaining of cold—I made some tea for her, and attended to her till Mrs. Alexander came—I saw a nightcap in the bedroom all over blood—I picked it off the floor, and put it on the washstand, and the police took it.

Cross-examined. The prisoner seemed quite calm and collected.

GEORGE GREEN (Policeman K 321). On Wednesday morning at quarter past 8 o'clock I went to Camden Villa, I was in uniform—the prisoner let me in—she asked who sent me there—I said her mistress had complained of being assaulted by her—she said that Mrs. Kerchen was paralysed and had fallen downstairs—Saffill assisted Mrs. Kerchen down into the back parlour—I fetched the prisoner into the room, and in her presence Mrs. Kerchen said, "At quarter to 8 o'clock this morning Sarah brought my water as usual, I took the water in; while stooping to put the water down, she struck me twice on the back of the head; I looked up; I asked her why she had done that, what had I done; she said, 'Not anything, I mean to murder you. 'She then forced me out of the room and downstairs, heating me all the time and along the passage; I got hold of the handle of the door to escape, to call for assistance, when she knocked my hand off the handle with the broom—we then went to the front parlour, where the prisoner still continued beating me, and asked me if I hid any money and where it was. I then went upstairs and locked the door; I opened the window and called for assistance from the front window"—I saw that she was very much injured—while she was making this statement the prisoner

interposed and said, "I did not, I asked you if I should put a sausage into the oven for your breakfast," and Mrs. Kerchen said, "Yes"—seeing a brush in the kitchen I asked Mrs. Kerchen, "Is that the brush she struck you with?"—she said, "No," and she went and fetched this brush from somewhere through the kitchen—it was wet, as if it had been fresh washed—Dr. Alexander came and attended to Mrs. Kerchen—I then told the prisoner that I should take her into custody on the charge of assaulting Mrs. Kerchen—she said, "All right, I will go with you where you like, I am innocent"—I took her to the station, and took the brush with me—on the way I asked her how she accounted for it being wet—she said she washed it the previous day in some soapsuds after finishing the washing—later in the day she was brought back to the house, when the Magistrate was there to take Mrs. Kerchen's statement—the prisoner afterwards said to me, "I am expecting a letter from my mother to say she is going to America. "

Cross-examined. I saw no trace of blood on the brush—I took it to the station and gave it to Inspector Clark—I did not hear Mrs. Kerchen, in her statement to the Magistrate, say that she said to the prisoner, "The smoke is choking me, I want the water," or that she felt giddy in the kitchen—she was very weak and I could hear nothing whatever—I did not see any traces of blood in the passage, or up the staircase—I went up to the bedroom and looked about; I did not see a pool of blood downstairs—I did not search the kitchen—the prisoner was wearing a clean print dress—she did not tell me where her apron was, I did not ask her—Mrs. Kerchen was not assisted into the place where she found the brush—it was wet and clean.

Re-examined. Inspector Clark has had typhoid fever and has been away from duty for some time.

JOHN LLOYD (Policeman). On 26th April, between half-past 9 and 10, I went to the house—at that time Drs. Alexander and Evans were with Mrs. Kerchen—from what they said I communicated with the Magistrate, that he might come and take her statement—in company with Inspector Clark I searched the prisoner's bedroom—I found on the corner of the bed this blue cotton dress rolled up—the sleeves appeared to be stained with blood, inside and out—there was a spot or two in front, and saturated all round the wrists.—I asked her where her apron was; she said in the copper, and I found it there rolled up dry; it appeared to have stains of blood on it—I saw Mrs. Kerchen's nightcap lying on the washstand—it was saturated with blood, and splashed with soot-marks outside—they were such marks as would be caused by this brush, which was wet and sooty at the time—I took possession of the articles, and they were taken to Dr. Drogono.

Cross-examined. I took the nightcap, the dress, and apron to the station—Inspector Clark took the brush and nightcap to Dr. Drogono—it was after I had searched the kitchen and could not find the apron that I asked the prisoner where it was—several dishes stood on the top of the copper—there was some crockery; I could not say what it was—there was nothing but the apron in the copper.

FREDERICK JOHN ALEXANDER . I am a M. RC. S. of nearly thirty years standing, and live at Margery Hall, Stratford, close to Mrs. Kerchen's—on Wednesday morning, 26th April, about 8.30, my wife, who had been over to Mrs. Kerchen's first, sent for me—I found Mrs. Kerchen bleeding from the head profusely from several wounds—she was very seriously injured, and I thought it right to have the assistance of Dr. Evans, and we have

Jointly attended her ever since, for nearly three months—there were seven wounds on the head—the first I saw was a lacerated and contused wound over the right parietal bone that was bleeding profusely; the second was a contusion over the left maxillary bone; the third was a wound over the left temple, of which there is a scar now; it has not yet healed completely, the skin was divided—the fourth was deep and lacerated over the right orbit; the artery had been wounded, and blood was pumping out—that was a most serious one; it was cut down to the bone—the fifth, both eyelids and eyes were contused and ecchymosed internally, to the front of the lobe, and also externally, so that she could not see to sign depositions—the sixth were contusions on the upper and back part of the head; there seemed to be two knocks, but they were not wounds; there was no blood from them—the seventh was over the left temple bone, just over the car; that was a wound, blood was running down on to the ear—those were such wounds as might have been caused by this brush used with violence—this brush could have inflicted all the injuries I found—there were bruises on the arms in front, as if they had been put up to protect the head—those marks could have been done with the brush or any other blunt instrument—there was a mark on the neck as if some one had grasped it—there was one clear mark of a finger-nail; there were bruises at the top of the shoulder which might also have been done with the brush—she complained very much of one finger, but that was a minor thing—the skull was fractured on the upper part of the right parietal bone—she was in a very dangerous condition, so much so that I had the Magistrate sent for in consultation with Dr. Evans—she remained for a considerable time in a dangerous condition—she was not able to go out for about two months—I did not see the slightest trace of paralysis about her—it would be quite impossible that she could have sustained all these injuries from a fall downstairs; one bruise on the forehead might—she remained rational all the time, except weak from loss of blood.

Cross-examined. I was present when the Magistrate took her deposition—I did not hear the prisoner ask her any questions—it is both on account of the number of the wounds and their position that I say they could not be caused by a fall—the wound on the top of the head was the one most unlikely to be caused by a fall; that is principally on account of its position—if a person fell downstairs head foremost I should expect the whole of the face to be knocked about—two of the wounds and one contusion were in front—I did not hear from Mrs. Kerchen at any time that there was a pool of blood in the hall—I did not examine the staircase; my aftention was attracted particularly to the patient—I have not retired from practice—I have a plate on my gate, and have had for thirty years—I am an old practitioner there—I said before the Magistrate that any one of such injuries might have been caused by falling downstairs, but not all, and I say so now.

WILLIAM EVANS I live in Romford Road, Stratford—I am an M.D. and M. R. C. S. of Edinburgh—I saw the prosecutrix on 26th April, about a quarter past 9 o'clock—Dr. Alexander was there—I have heard his evidence—he has accurately described the injuries; I should say there must have been five or six distinct blows on the upper portion of the head and face, and, with the injuries to the arms and fingers, about then altogether—I saw the marks on the injuries to the arms and fingers, about ten altogether—I saw the marks on the neck—I should say they were caused by the pressure

from fingers; the upper portion of the head was a mass of jelly—this brush applied forcibly would cause those injuries; for some time her life was in imminent danger—it is impossible that the whole of the injuries combined could have been caused by her falling downstairs; any one of them might—I never saw any symptoms of paralysis about her.

Cross-examined. I think she is upwards of 60 years of age—a blow with a brush on the head would come with a very great shock—there was con siderable loss of blood and great effusion underneath the scalp; the scalp was raised up to something resembling a pin-cushion—there were two severe wounds on the upper portion of the head; any one of the wounds separately might be caused by a fall downstairs, but I consider it impossible for the whole of them to be so caused; the convex portion of the head would prevent the two wounds being caused at the same time—a person falling down 13 stairs and striking a sharp substance at the bottom would cause considerable abrasion of the face—there was one very severe wound on the face; that could not have been caused by falling downstairs; it was upright across the orbit, from above downwards, and I fancy a person falling downstairs would Scarcely produce a wound of that sort on a carpeted staircase—I think it quite possible that five or six minutes after such a beating as I have heard described she might have got upstairs unassisted, locked the door, opened the window, and called out—I did not see Dr. Vance in consultation; he called on me, and asked if I had any objection to his accompanying me to see my patient, and out of compliment to him I said I had no objection—I allowed him to examine her head; that must have been two months after the occurrence; the wounds had then pretty well healed—she was in immediate danger from loss of blood and erysipelas and depression of the skull—the skull was decidedly fractured—the injuries were so serious that I thought it advisable to request the Magistrate's attendance—I heard the prisoner cross-examine Mrs. Kerchen when her deposition was taken—I cannot remember Mrs. Kerchen replying "I said the smoke is choking me; I want the water, Sarah"—I may have heard something about choking; I can't say positively—I believe she did refer to smoke—I can't remember her saying "On Sunday I did feel giddy from assisting you in the kitchen "—I think there was a reference to feeling faint on the previous Sunday—faintness would probably apply to the head.

WALTER ATKINS DROGONO . I am a M.R.C.S and divisional surgeon to the police—on 29th April this nightcap was brought to me—it was covered with blood all over the top, and there were some spots of soot—the brush was shown me, and I examined it—I found some soot-marks at the end—the marks on the nightcap were just such as I should expect to find if the brush was used to beat the head with—I found some reddish stains on the handle—I tested them; they were stains of blood—the end of the brush had the appearance of having been put in scalding water—I afterwards received a cotton dress from the police—I examined it; there were bloodstains on the inner side of the sleeves, and one spot in front of the breast, just above where the apron would come—I also examined the apron; there were marks of blood on that—there is no means of saying it was human blood; it was mammalian blood—I went to the house and examined the wall and the passage, and there were two separate marks of blood on the paper about 3 feet 6 inches from the floor.

Cross-examined. The bloodstains on the cotton dress might have been

produced by the person lifting an injured person up and assisting them upstairs, but the chances are by striking—the brush was brought to me by Detective Lloyd on 29th April, the apron on 2nd May, and the dress on the 12th—Inspector Clark brought the other things.

JONATHAN KERCHEN . I am the husband of Mrs. Kerchen—I left home at half-past 6 on the morning in question—she was in good health on the previous day, and when I left her—I have known her 40 years j we have been married 34—she never suffered from paralysis, and never had a fit—I used to bring money home nearly every night and put it in the cash-box, and my wife carried it upstairs—I left it with her to bring down in the morning—on the Tuesday morning I banked the money, so there was none in the cash-box.

Cross-examined. I generally came home by the 5.30 train, sometimes 6—we have a back garden—there is a side entrance through a stable; there is a back entrance out of the garden, but no entrance to the garden except through the house and stable—Knox Road runs into Margery Park Road; that is about 600 yards from the Romford Road, which is the high road to London.

JOSEPH PARROTT . I live at Forest Gate—on Wednesday morning, 26th April, at three or four minutes past 8 o'clock—I was passing through Knox Road, where Mrs. Kerchen lives—my attention was attracted by her calling out help from the upstairs front window—her face was covered with blood and her hair was all rough in front—I stood at the front gate; the prisoner was at the front door—I said "What is the matter?"—she said "She has fallen downstairs; let me go"—Mrs. Kerchen said "She has beaten me"—the prisoner had no bonnet on—I went to Dr. Alexander.

Cross-examined. I did not notice whether the prisoner had an apron on—I believe her dress was quite clean—she seemed quite cool nod collected. (Thomas Bertoli produced a plan of the premises.)

MR. GEOGHEGHAN applied that the prisoner should be permitted to make her own statement to the Jury, to which MR. JUSTICE STEPHEN acceded. The prisoner then made a similar statement to that declared by the witness George George.

Witness for the Defence.

DR. JOHN VANCE . I am a physician and surgeon at Canning Town—I am Government surgeon for all factories in that district—I have had considerable experience in accidents—on 15th June this year I saw Mrs. Kerchen with Dr. Evans—in my opinion the injuries might have been caused by a fall downstairs—there were only three wounds on the head, and no evidence of any contusion—I saw two pimples caused by matter coming from the wounds—I called Dr. Evans's attention to the twitching on the right side of her face, and noticed that she seemed to have suffered from paralysis—none of the injuries were inconsistent with her having fallen downstairs.

Cross-examined. I was asked to see this lady by Mr. Wyatt, the father of the young man to whom the prisoner is engaged, and I went to Dr. Evans, and he allowed me to see her—she had the appearance of a person who had been suffering for many years; the paralysis was indistinctly marked, by the twitching of the face and the drawing of the muscles on the right side—in some cases wounds on the head heal very rapidly—I was in the room with her ten minutes—I never saw her before or since—I did not examine her arras—she said she had an injury to her finger, but I failed to see it—I

found no trace of injury to her arms or neck—she said she had had an injury twenty-two years ago, and that a Dr. Joy had attended her for disease of the hip, and she believed that his son was living.

Re-examined. I told Dr. Evans that she was suffering from paralysis; he shook his head—she said Dr. Joy attended her for an abscess or some thing at the back or hip—I am still Government Inspector of Accidents and I am retained consultee for nearly every factory in the district and for some of the largest firms in London, to give evidence and to report on all accidents at the different hospitals.

By the COURT. I said to the lady "You have been suffering from paralysis "—Dr. Evans was standing at the bedside—I said "When were you last ill?"—She said "Some years ago "—I said "Who attended you?"—She said "Dr. Joy"—I said "Do you think he is alive now?"—She said "No, but his son is"—She said he attended her for an abscess or something at the back or hip; that was all that passed between us—I called Dr. Evans's attention to the twitchings—there was no fracture whatever of the head; I will stake my profession.

REBECCA MORRIS . I am the wife of George Morris, of 6, Gloucester Terrace, Upton—on 25th April, the day before the alleged assault, I called on Mrs. Kerchen, and had a conversation with her—the prisoner sent me to her—I have known the prisoner about 18 months; we were teachers together at a Sunday school—Mrs. Kerchen told me that she was very ill; she was suffering from fits, and the doctor said she was liable to fall down dead at any moment, she ought never to be left alone—she wanted me to make some nightcaps for her, because she was expecting to be taken ill every day—she did not know the moment she should be taken ill—the character of the prisoner is that of a very quiet respectable girl.

WILLIAM EVANS (Re-examined by the COURT). I have heard Dr. Vance's evidence—he pointed out what he called twitchings, to which I attached no importance—I did not think they were twitchings—he says that I shook my head; that is a peculiar way the profession have when they do not wish to make any remark—I saw Mrs. Kerchen twice a day for the first week or ten days, and afterwards each alternate day—I saw no signs of paralysis—Dr. Vance remarked that she was suffering from paralysis—the conversation he has stated took place, but she attached so little importance to the accident she referred to that I should not augur from it any severe illness.

MARY ANN KERCHEN (Re-examined by the COURT). Mrs. Morris called on me on 25th April—I never had a fit in my life—I did not tell her that I was ill from fits, and that I was liable to fall down dead at any moment—I said I did not like to be left alone, and I was glad I had a servant—I said I should want her to make me some nightcaps, but not about being taken ill; I should not have thought of such a thing—I was attended by Dr. Joy 50 years ago, when I was a very young girl, 7 years of age—I remember Dr. Vance coming to see me—he asked me if I ever left my feet; I said I never fell down, I never lost the use of my limbs—when I was 7 years of age I was on the ice and slipped down, and had an abscess, and Dr. Joy, my mother's doctor, attended me—I said I believed Dr. Joy was dead, but his son is living.

The prisoner received a good character.

GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-792
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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792. DANIEL CRONIN (21) was indicted for the manslaughter of Alfred Sarrell.

MR. JONES Prosecuted; MESSRS. KEITH FRITH and B. HICKS Defended. The death in this case arose from a fight, in which the deceased teas the aggressor.


Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-793
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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793. JAMES HUTTON (61) , Stealing a watch, the property of Samuel Clarke.

MR. CADMAN JONES Prosecuted.

SAMUEL CLARKE . I keep the Brewery Tap, Victoria Dock Road—on 15th June I had a silver watch which wanted cleaning and that day or the next I gave it to the prisoner, who is a watchmaker, to clean—I had known him about four days before—instead of cleaning it he pawned it—I saw him the next day—he said he had been to Clerkenwell to get a wheel for it—this is it (produced)—it has not been repaired; it is worth 4l. 10s.

EDWARD ROCK . I am assistant to Mr. Phillips, 3, Railway Place, Victoria Docks, a pawnbroker—on 15th June, the, prisoner came and asked for a loan of 10s. on this watch—he said it was his own—I advanced it and 5s. more on the 16th.

HENRY PAYNE (Detective H). I am stationed at Stepney—on 4th July, about 8 o'clock, I saw the prisoner in Mile End Road—I asked him if his name was James Hutton—he said, "Yes"—I said I should take him in custody for stealing a watch—he said he had stolen no watch—he gave his address Great Charlotte Street, Blackfriars Road, that is a lodging-house—he lodged there about a week.

Prisoner's Defence. The watch was intrusted to me. If it had been my intention to steal it I should have pledged it for the whole amount, and got as much as I could.


Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-794
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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794. GEORGE WILLIS (23) , With another person unknown, feloniously with violence assaulting Joseph Trafford and stealing two keys, a knife, and 2l. 15s.

MR. GREENFIELD Prosecuted.

JOSEPH TRAFFORD . I am a packer, of 34, Banfield Street, Islington—about 12.30 on Sunday morning, the 23rd July, I was walking close by my house, the prisoner and another accosted me—one struck me and I attempted to rim away—I was thrown forward into the gutter—I was caught by the leg—I got up and they collared me again a few yards away, and I struggled with them—one of them shouted, "Nail him, Jim"—I dragged the pair of them along; they got my arms behind me—my left-hand trousers pocket was torn out—it contained 2l. 10s., a piece of white paper, a 5s. piece and some other moneys, and two keys and a knife—I knocked two loud knocks and they ran away—I went in doors a few minutes and then went to the police-station—I gave a description of the men—about half an hour afterwards I went to the police-station, and identified the prisoner from six men as one of the men—he had something on his neck, but no hat on—this cap was given to me by a little girl—it was shown to the prisoner—he said, "It is not my cap."

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The station clerk said, "Do you see

anyone here you identify as committing an assault on you?"—I said, "Yes the man standing at the end"—I did not say I did not know who it was—I was sober, but excited—I had had four or fire half-pints of bitter six ale—I had been in three public-houses during the evening—I felt slightly heavy, but I knew what I was about.

Re-examined. The prisoner had a white shirt on, and I believe a red one as well.

GEORGE BULSON (Policeman Y 265). About 1. 20, on 23rd July, a brother constable spoke to me in the Caledonian Road—about 2 o'clock I met the prisoner with no hat on—I said," Where is your hat?"—he said, "I have left it at home"—I said, "What are you doing out here this time of the morning without a hat?"—he said, "I was sitting on my steps and went with a couple of my pals to have some coffee "—I said, "You will have to come to the station with me, you answer the description of a man that I want?"——hesaid, "All right, I have lost my cap"—he was asked to describe the cap—he said, "Mine is a cloth cap, a cloth peak, and small tassels"—this cap (produced) was shown him—he said, "Mine is not so much worn"—the prosecutor was fetched; the prisoner placed himself between six other men and he was identified—the charge was read over to him—he was at the right end of the row—shortly afterwards he said, "My hat was a black hard hat, with a blue lining, and "Hull" marked inside—about 3.30 this hat was picked up in the front garden of No. 28, Banfield Street, three doors from the prosecutor's house and brought to the station by Constable 63 Y—the prisoner said, "That is my hat."

Cross-examined. The prosecutor pointed to you, and the sergeant told him to go and touch the man he thought it was—another man was apprehended whom he could not identify—the man was discharged.

JAMES THOMAS (Policeman Y 615). I found this hat in the front garden of 28, Banfield Street, about three doors from the prosecutor's house, about 3.30 on the 23rd.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "At 12 o'clock I was turned out of a public-house, and I lost my hat in skylarking with three or four others. "

The Prisoner's Defence. The prosecutor said he could not identify me. The sergeant said "You must be sure;" then he said "I will charge that one. "He could not identify me till the policeman put the cap on me.

JAMES THOMAS (Reexamined). The prisoner was identified with nothing on his head—the cap was given to the prisoner to put on—it seemed rather small.

GUILTY .**— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-795
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour; Imprisonment > hard labour

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795. GEORGE WILLIS** (18) and CHARLES SIMPSON (19) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing 6s. 6d., the money of William Roberts, Willis having been convicted at Maidstone in April, 1882. WILLIS— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. SIMPSON— Nine Months Hard Labour.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-796
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceMiscellaneous > sureties

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796. THOMAS KELLY (48) , Feloniously demanding money with menaces of Sarah Ann Boggott and George Howard.

MR. CADMAN JONES Prosecuted.

GEORGE HOWARD . On Saturday night, 22nd July, between 11 and 12, I was at West Ham, walking with a young woman—she left me for a minute or two and went across a field while. I stayed in the road—I heard

her call out something, and the prisoner came running up to her in the field with a stick in his hand, and caught hold of her arm—I said "What are you doing there?" he said "I am a detective, and am going to lock her up"—he did not say why—lie got her on to the Beckton Road, and she asked me to go back after her bag—I did so, and then heard him say I shall want 16s. before I let you go"—I was confused, and asked him if 5s. would do; he said "Yes"—I gave him 3s. and a florin, and he went away—we met Mr. Glee and his wife, and had some conversation with them, and went back with them to where we had left the prisoner—they went into the held where the young woman had been, and I afterwards saw the prisoner there, and said "Will you return my 5s.?" he said "I am not the man"—I said "I shall have to give you in charge;" he said "I will go to the station with you," and we went there together—I gave him the 5s. to get rid of him, as I thought he would get me into some trouble.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner I was 20 yards away from the young woman when you went up to her—I cannot say whether there is a dry ditch there; there is a fence, but you have not to get over it to get to that field—the field is not higher than the road—I swear I was not by her side—you used no threats—I did not say "For heaven's sake don't hurt the young woman, if her mother knows it she will be ruined for life."

By the COURT. The exact words he addressed to her were "I shall want 16s. before I let you go"—I was close behind him—I do not know which of us he addressed.

SARAH ANN BAGGOTT . Hive at Whitewell Road, Plaistow—on 22nd July, between 10 and 11, I was with Howard in Beckton Road—I left him for a minute and went into a field; the prisoner came up to me, took hold of my arm, and said "I am going to lock you up, I am a detective "—I said "What for?" he said "I will show you what for"—I called oat to my friend, who came up and said "What is the matter?"—the prisoner had not asked me for anything then—I had left my bag in the field, and asked my friend to go back for it, and while he was gone for it the prisoner said "If you will give me 16s. or let me interfere with you I will let you go"—when Howard came back I told him that the prisoner wanted 16s. to let me go—Howard said that he had got 5s. if he could take that, and gave it to him—I saw him take it—we went away together, and about 12 o'clock I was fetched to the station, and picked the prisoner out—he held my arm all the time, and did not let it go till he got the 5s.—he had a stick in his hand.

Cross-examined. Howard was not at my side in the field; he was 20 yards from me—I was not lying down with my clothes up when you came up—you did not say that I ought to be ashamed of myself—I did not commence crying, and say that my mother would know—I said "Take me to the police station"—it was from me that you demanded the 16s.; that was before I had the bag in my hand—I had not to cross over a dry ditch; I went through the gate.

By the JURY. The bag was by my side, within a few yards of me, when he first interfered with me—it was the fear of him which caused me to leave it there.

WILLIAM GREED . I live at Union Street, Barking—on Saturday night, July 22, Howard overtook me and my wife, and I went with him into the Beckton Road, and my father and brother came behind, but did not

come up to us—my wife and I went into the field, and we had not got 30 yards when the prisoner stopped dead in front of us, walked towards us, and said "Oh, good evening"—I said "Good evening"—he said "A bundle of wood I see you have got between the two of you "—I said "Yes, a bundle of wood," which I had—he said "Rather late for young couples to be out"—I said "Yes, it is rather late"—he said "Now going home, I suppose?"—I said "Yes"—he said "Good night, I must go about my business"—I said "Did you notice a young man and a young woman half-an-hour ago or a little better?"—he said "I can't say as I did"—I said "A chap as I know has had 5s. demanded from him, and if I knew you were the man you would either have to give the 5s. up or go to the station"—he said "Do you think I am a blackguard?"—I said "No, sir, I don't think nothing about it, all I want to know is whether you are the man or not"—he said "Don't you interfere with me," and began to walk away—I called Howard and my father and brother and my sister's young man, and when the prisoner saw there were four or five of us he said he would go to the station and show us who he was—we went there—Howard pressed the charge against him, and he said that he would scorn to do such a thing.

Cross-examined. I have worked for the complainant's father—I did not say that I would knock your b—y eyes out and my b—y head off—I said that you would not get 5s. from me.

CHARLES PEARCE (Police-Sergeant K 49). About 11. 15 on this night Howard and Greed and his wife came with the prisoner to Plaistow Station—the prisoner spoke first—he said "Sergeant, I wish to speak to you; this young man accuses me of having extorted 5s. from him, and I know nothing at all about it, and I thought we had better come to the station "—Howard said "I am sure he is the man, and my friend can swear to him also"—I went into the street, got about a dozen men to come in, the prisoner was placed with them, I fetched the young woman, and she pointed him out without any hesitation—I searched him, and found a florin, 3s., 5d., this large pocket-knife, and a walking stick—he said "I am not the man, I know nothing about it, and I will carry this as far as the law will allow me"—on July 7, while taking him to West Ham Police Court, he said "It is no use my denying it, I did take the money, and I don't know whatever possessed me to do so. "

The prisoner, in his defence, said that he saw Howard and Baggott in the field in a very improper position., took her by the arm, and told her she ought to be ashamed of herself, she said "Don't say anything, if mother know it I shall be ruined;" and that Howard picked up the bag and said, "Don't my anything about it," and voluntarily gave him the money. He produced certificates from the Admiralty and the Trinity House.

CHARLES PEARCE (Re-examined). He did not give his right address at the station; he said that he did not know exactly where his wife lived, it was near the Custom House, but she had removed from there.

GUILTY .— To enter into recognizances to appear and receive judgment when called upon.


Before the Recorder.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-797
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

Related Material

797. JOSEPH BAINES, Unlawfully obtaining 2s. 6d., 2s. 6d., 2s., and other moneys by false pretences.


MR. FRITH Defended.

WILLIAM SISSIN SELBY . I am an oilman, of 184, High Street, Deptford—on June 8 the prisoner called and asked if I would give a subscription to an excursion for the Deptford Fire Brigade—I said "It is a new thing"—he said "You will find many of your neighbours down here"—I looked and saw their names, and gave him 2s., believing his statement.

Cross-examined. He did not say that it was for a Volunteer Fire Brigade—I am not sure whether he said it was a bean-feast or an excursion, but I am sure he said it was for the Deptford Fire Brigade—he was dressed in a fireman's uniform, and I had just had a fire, and I thought it was natural for them to call on me.

JAMES HONOUR . I live at Fern Villas, Dulwich—on April 13 the prisoner called on me to collect subscriptions for the Volunteer Fire. Brigade—I asked him where the Fire Station would be—he said "In the Crystal Palace Road, and we should be able to have an engine in five minutes in case of an alarm of fire"—I gave him 2s., and asked his name and address—he wrote this, "Joseph Baines, 44, Henry Street, Deptford;" and on the other side "South London Fire Brigade. Received of J. Honour 2s., being a subscription to the above brigade. J. Baines" I gave him half-a-crown—he was wearing the undress uniform; he showed me his buttons.

Cross-examined. He did not tell me it was for the South London Volunteer Fire Brigade, but that is printed on the receipt—there had been a meeting about forming a Volunteer Fire Brigade.

ALFRED FIELD POWELL . I am a member of the Stock Exchange, and live at 49, Crystal Palace Road—the prisoner called on me and said he was collecting money for a fire-station at the Lordship Lane end of the Crystal Palace Road, and that he was a fireman in the brigade at Lee Green—I gave him 2s. 6d., and he gave me this receipt, signed J. Baines—he was in uniform, and I believed it to be bond fide.

Cross-examined. I believed that the Fire Brigade was to be established and, not that it was actually established.

EMILY MILLER . I am single, and live at 212, Peckham Rye—the prisoner called on me about three months ago and asked for a subscription for a Fire Brigade to be established on Goose Green—he wore a fireman's dress—I gave him a subscription, and asked him to send me a receipt; he said he would, but he did not.

Cross-examined. He said that the station was to be established—he did not say a Volunteer Fire Brigade.

JOHN TURNBULL . I am a timber merchant at New Cross Road, Dulwich—I am a member of the East Dulwich Fire Brigade Association—the prisoner has no authority to collect money for it—ours is the only move-went I know for a fire brigade in Dulwich.

Cross-examined. I was appointed at a meeting of the neighbourhood—I have no connection with the Vestry—it was just as open to anybody

else to call themselves the East Dulwich Fire Association as to me but we got out a petition to the Metropolitan Board of Works to give us better protection for fire and life—we have 22 members, besides the president and vice-president—notices of meetings were posted on the walls, but were not sent to the inhabitants generally.

ADAM MARKS . I am a baker, of 181, Hight Street, Deptford—on 8th June, the prisoner came in fireman's clothes; he produced a book and said he wanted to collect money for the fireman's excusion—I gave him 2s. and entered it in his book.

Cross-examined. He did not tell me what fire brigade, but I meant it for the Deptford Fire Brigade.

OBED. GIBBARD . I live at 186, High Street, Deptford—on 8th June the prisoner called and said he had come to collect subscriptions for an outing for the Deptford Fire Brigade—he produced this book; I saw several names in it, and gave him 1s.—lie had a conversation with Miss Webb, who was in my shop, and I asked him who his officer was—he said, "Webb," and I asked him if he knew the young lady who had just gone out of the shop—he said, "No"—I said, "That is Mr. Webb's daughter"—he said, "That is the one who is always away"—I said, "No, she is always at home"—he said, "Well, I am a married man and live opposite"—I asked him if he was going to my next door neighbour; he said that he was at the fire and fetched the powder out of the cellar.

Cross-examined. He did not give me a receipt; he did not say he was a member of the Volunteer Fire Brigade—I have not had visits from any other firemen—he did not say he was a member of the South London Fire Brigade; he said the Deptford Fire Brigade—I am certain I am not putting the word Deptford in.

ARTHUR SARRAWAY . I am a grocer's manager, of 193, High Street, Deptford—on Wednesday evening, 7th June, the prisoner came in a fireman's uniform and said he was a member of the Deptford Fire Brigade, and was collecting subscriptions for it—I gave him 1s., and put my initials in his book—he asked me to put my name in full.

Cross-examined. I do not know whether the Deptford Fire Brigade has any particular uniform or letters—I am quite sure he said Deptford; he did not say the Volunteer or the South London Fire Brigade—he did not show me a receipt book with South London Volunteer Fire Brigade written on it.

EDWARD MURRAY WEBB . I am an engineer of the Metropolitan Fire Brigade, Deptford—the prisoner has nothing to do with it—there is no other fire brigade station at Deptford—there is an annual excursion, but no one has any right to collect for it.

Cross-examined. There is no Volunteer Fire Brigade in the neighbourhood that I know of; Lee Green is two miles on one side of New Cross Road, which is in Deptford—I believe there is a Volunteer Fire Brigade at Lee—I do not know whether the prisoner belongs to it—they may have an annual excursion.

JAMES BELCHER (Policeman R 82). On Thursday, at 10 o'clock, I saw the prisoner going from shop to shop in Deptford with this book; I stopped him and took him to the station—I found at his lodgings these loose leaves, which have been pinned into the book since.

GUILTY .— Four Months' Hard Labour.

Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-798
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > penal servitude

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798. GEORGE MORRIS (19), and HENRY LONG (22), PLEADED GUILTY to a burglary in the dwelling-house of Caroline Buck — Five Years' Penal Servitude.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-799
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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799. EDWARD BISHOP (19) , Assaulting George Symes and causing him actual bodily harm. Other Counts for assaulting Elizabeth Symes, Edward Thompson, and Elizabeth Reed.

MR. FOSTER REED Prosecuted; and KR. LILLY Defended.

GEORGE SYMES . I live at 87, Church Street, Deptford—on the afternoon of 17th June I was helping my next door neighbour to move his greengrocery business; the prisoner asked me what I was stopping the thoroughfare for—I said, "There is as much room for you as anybody else passing"—he hit me on the cheek and knocked me down and kicked one of my teeth nearly out, and kicked me on the muscle of the leg, and my ankle was broken—I cried out and my wife came to the door and said, "What are you illusing my husband for?"—he said, "That is your husband"—she said, "Yes"—he said, "Take that," with a farmyard word and began illusing her—I got up to protect her, and just as I got on to the footpath I fell down and said, "My ankle is broke"—I fainted off and was carried in doors—on the 18th I was taken to the Seamen's Hospital, and was in nine days, when I came out to appear against the prisoner—he kicked me several times.

Cross-examined. I think it was between four and five o'clock—I had been to a public-house and had a pint of beer; I had not had several pints—I was not rather unsteady on my legs—I am not a drunkard at all—the prisoner had no dog in his arms—I had not the chance to strike him or else I might—he did not push me, and I did not fall over some baskets.

ELIZABETH SYMES . I am the prosecutor's wife—I was in the parlour when through the window I saw some one stagger and fall, and heard some one call out, "Oh, my God "—I went to the door, and to my surprise it was my husband—I said to the prisoner, "Don't ill-use my husband like that"—he said, "Is that your husband?"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "Then take that," making use of a very bad expression, and struck me on the eye and again on the nose, and knocked me down and kicked me on my breast and left leg—my eye has been very bad and my leg—my eye was discoloured—I have been in a terrible condition—these things produced were under my head catching the blood from my nose and mouth—I brought up blood from my chest, and have suffered until last week.

Cross-examined. "When I went out my husband was lying on the side of the road—I did not see any baskets round there—he was helping Mr. Wilson unload the van—I keep a clothes shop; things hang up in the window—all 1 said was, "Do not illuse my husband "—I did not do anything—I did not suit the action to the word and give him one for himself—I did not see the prisoner bleeding from his head—he had no hat on when he struck me—I had nothing in my hand—I never raised my hand to him—I was knocked senseless—I was charged with violence to one of my daughters—it is false to say that I stabbed her—I believe Mrs. Wilson, my next door neighbour, struck the prisoner with a quart can—I do not know that she knocked him down, but she said so—I did not see him taken away—my husband is a blacksmith; he had been to work that day

and left off at 1 o'clock—I had never seen the prisoner to my knowledge before—there was a great quantity of baskets out there.

EDWARD THOMPSON . I live at 141, Church Street, Deptford—I saw Symes helping his next door neighbour to unload a fruit-van—the prisoner came along, a basket was on the side of the kerb, and he said "What is this doing here? clear it off"—Symes said "It is not in your way," and the prisoner pushed him over; he got up and said "Do not push me over like that again," and he pushed him over again, and he got up—when on the ground he kicked him in different parts—his wife came out, and said "Do riot knock my husband about like that," and he knocked her down with his fist, and while on the ground punched her most cruelly—I cannot say whether Symes was sober—I think the prisoner had been drinking a little.

Cross-examined. I did not sec a dog in the prisoner's arms—I heard the prisoner say "What are you stopping up the thoroughfare for?" and Symes said "There is plenty of room for you to pass"—I did not see him put his hand towards the prisoner to prevent him passing—he did not put out his hand to strike him—I was six or seven yards off—it is not very crowded just there—I did not see Symes strike the prisoner or anybody else—I had not quarrelled with the prisoner, and never knew him before—I had been into a public-house on my way home from work for about a quarter of an hour—I did not interfere to prevent him striking the women.

Re-examined. I was sober—I said "Do not be a coward" when he was striking the women, and he struck me on my eye and knocked me down, and punched me while I was down.

ELIZABETH REED . I am the wife of William Harris Reed, of Deptford—I was in Church Street, and I saw the prisoner strike Mrs. Symes—I said "Dont hit an old lady like that; she is old enough to be your mother"—he said "You b—old c—, I will serve you the same," and kicked me till I fell—I got up, put my hand up to save a blow on my face, and he kicked me on my hand—two young men took him away—I saw Mrs. Symes lying on the ground bleeding.

Cross-examined. Several young men said "Do not illuse that young woman "—Mrs. Symes was not there when this occurred.

WILLIAM JOHN SMITH . I am surgeon to the Seamen's Hospital—on 18th June, Symes was brought in suffering from a fracture on the small bone of his right leg and a great deal of swelling in the muscle—I should say it was caused by a fall.

JOHN CRAGG (Detective R). I took the prisoner, and told him he would be charged with assaulting George Symes and breaking his leg, and assaulting four other persons—he replied "All light, they are a lot of old women—he was drunk—I saw one of the prosecutors previously.

Cross-examined. I saw him the same evening about 8.30—I-took the prisoner at 10.30 the same evening.

The Prisoners statement before the Magistrate. "I shoved Symes away and he fell down. Mrs. Symes came out and hit me, and I hit her in self-defence. A young man, Thompson, came up, made a strike at me, and fell on his face."

Witnesses for the Defence.

ELLEN LILLEY . I live at Stanhope Street, Deptford, and am a woodchopper—on Saturday, 17th June, I was coming home from work, and

passed Wilson's, a greengrocer's, in Church Street—Symes and his wife live next door—they keep a rag-shop—I saw Bishop going along with a little dog in his arms, and Mr. Symes said "Put that dog down," and Bishop replied that he should not, as the dog did not belong to Symes—Symes said he should make him—Bishop said nothing, and Symes made a snatch at the dog—Bishop said "Don't do that again"—Symes made a blow at Bishop, and shoved him over some baskets; that stood outside Wilson's shop, and Mrs. Wilson rushed out and struck Bishop on the head with a quart can twice, which cut his head, causing blood to flow from his head and nose—Mrs. Symes came out from the door with a scoop which they weigh potatoes in—I got a blow on my mouth—they tore me almost to pieces—Bishop was pulled out of the mob—when they were taking him along Mrs. Reed came from across the road towards a public-house—I and a man took the prisoner home.

Cross-examined. I live in the same street as the prisoner at No. 22—the dog was lost—I did not see the prisoner kick Symes or any one else—Mrs. Symes was not present at first, I am positive—they had a quart pot at the door, and she went in—I saw Bishop shove Mr. and Mrs. Symes away, and she made to hit him with a can—as Bishop went to get up Thompson fell over him.

ROSE ANN BISHOP . I live in Stanhope Street, Deptford, and am the. prisoner's mother—he was 18 on 17th Maxell—I was at home on 17th June, when my son was brought home by Mrs. Lilley and a man smothered with Wood—I washed his head and examined it, and found two cuts—he said they all ill-used him—he is a good son, and is my chief support.

Cross-examined. When he gets a drop and is let alone he passes by and does not interfere with anybody.



Before Mr. Justice Stephen.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-800
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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800. THOMAS HALE (66) , Feloniously setting fire to the dwelling-house of Thomas Oates, he and others being therein.

MR. CRANSTOUN Prosecuted.

THOMAS OATES . I am a butcher, of 7A, Sidney Road, Stockwell—on Thursday night, 15th June, I went to bed about 10, leaving all safe—I was aroused about 1.30, and went downstairs and found flames coming from something that was put under the door; it smelt of paraffin—the floor and the door were burning; the door was shut; there was an aperture at the bottom under which something could be pushed—I extinguished the fire—I know the prisoner, he is a crossing-sweeper, and had been in the habit for two or three months of giving him odd pieces of meat and sometimes part of a meal, but from his interfering with one of my lads I ceased to do so—I told him so—I saw him on the Friday afternoon about 2, and ho told me that he was the first that gave the alarm of the fire, that he did not tell me with the anticipation' of having any reward, but as a friendly turn for favours I had shown him—I gave him in charge on Sunday morning.

CHARLES WILLIAMS . My father keeps an oil and colour shop at 64, Robsart Street, Brixton—on Thursday night, about 10.30, the prisoner came and asked if I would let him have half a pint of paraffin oil till to-morrow

—I asked my father, and he said I could give him a drop, and the prisoner gave me this bottle to put it in.

JAMES HAYHOE . I am a builder and decorator, of 2, Sidney Road Stockwell—on Friday morning, a few minutes after 6, as I was going to my work, I saw a round flat mark of oil on the pavement—I looked about and saw this bottle stuck in the shrubs inside the iron railings near No. 86—1 knew nothing about any fire—I took the bottle home, and subsequently gave it to the police.

CHARLES HOLMES . I am an officer of the Salvage Corps—a slight damage was done to the house; about three feet of the flooring was slightly burnt and charred inside.

HENRY SELLER I am a clerk, of 23, Burnaby Road, Stockwell—about 1 on Friday morning, as I was returning home, I saw flames rising from the floor of Mr. Oates's shop—I crossed the road, and looked under the doorway; the smell of paraffin almost knocked me back—I hit the shutters with my stick and shouted as loud as I could—about three-quarters of a minute after the prisoner came running up, he asked me what it was; I said "The place is on fire, you had better run as hard as you can to Spurgeon's for the escape "—I saw no one else about—I saw the prisoner again about half-past 2, after the engines had been—I said "Hallo, old man, have you not gone home yet?" he said "No, I am just going home"—I asked if he thought how the fire was done; he said he did not know, he was going for the reward money in the morning—he went off for the fire-escape when I sent him, and on his way he fell down and cut his nose; his face was covered with blood when he came back in a hansom.

GEORGE WELLS (Policeman W 65). About 1.30 on this Friday morning I was at the corner of Stockwell Park Road, and saw the prisoner running very fast—I asked what he was running for; he said there was a house in full flames in Sidney Road, a butcher's shop, would I come along with him and fetch the fire-escape—I asked if any one was there; he said "Not a b—soul"—I told him I could not go with him after the escape, but I would make haste to the fire as there was no One there, and he could go for the escape—I went to the house, and found the last witness there—I went inside—I found the place smouldering about two feet or 18 inches from the door, and found something, apparently cotton waste, burnt all to ashes—I gave it to one of the salvage men, but I think it was pretty well all in dust, and it could not be kept; it was thrown away—it very much corresponded with this (produced)—it smelt very much of paraffin.

ELLEN LOWELL . I am servant to Mr. Oates—on Thursday night, 15th June, from a quarter to half-past 11 I was returning home, and saw the prisoner standing close to the front door—I saw no one else about.

EDGAR PARROTT . I am a florist, of 137, Stockwell Park Road-on Thursday night, 15th June, I returned home about three minutes to 12, and met; the prisoner about 30 yards from Mr. Oates's house—I said to him "Old man, are you not afraid of being out at this late hour?" he said no, he had been to see his son or nephew, and he was going home—I said "Good night," and he went straight across the road towards the shop; he would pass the shop to go home.

WILLIAM MELVILLE (Detective W). I received information of this fire, and apprehended the prisoner about half-past 9 on Saturday night, 17th June, in Sidney Road—I was with Mr. Oates—I told the prisoner I was a police-officer, and asked what he knew about the fire at Mr. Oates's; he said

"All I know about it is I was coming along Robsart Street and I saw two young men knocking at the door, and seeing there was a fire I ran and fetched the escape"—I asked him if he had bought any paraffin oil that night—he said "Yes, I bought a pennyworth at an oilshop in Robsart Street"—I asked what he had it in; he said a bottle—I asked if he had got the bottle at home; he said "No, my daughter at Tooting came to see me yesterday, and she said there was very bad oil sold at Tooting, and she asked me if I could give her a bottle to take some home, so I took her to the house, and gave her that bottle"—I then went with him to his house 1, Love Lane—I asked what he had done with the oil; he said "I put it into the lamp," pointing to this lamp (produced), which was on the table, "but finding there was no wick I sent out for a candle"—I saw no other lamp there—I asked where his daughter lived; he said at Tooting—I asked her name, and after some time he said Matthews—I asked her address; he said he could not tell me—after some time he gave me the address of another daughter at Walworth, and she gave me the other daughter's address—when I took the prisoner into custody he turned round to Mr. Oates and said "You cannot prove that I set fire to the house"—I searched him, and found this cotton waste in his left-hand coat pocket, between the lining and the cloth—he said "That is what I use to clean my boots with"—on being charged he said "I can take my oath I never set fire to it"—I showed him the bottle, and he said "Yes, that is the bottle I had the oil in"—the lamp was about three-parts full of paraffin oil—there was a scum on the top, as though it had not been used for a long time, and there was some oil in the burner.

WILLIAM HARMAN . I am a fireman at Shepherd's Lane, Brixton—on Friday morning, the 16th, I was called to the fire; my escape was called before—I have an escape in Stockwell Road; the prisoner called that, and my man called me afterwards—I found the fire had been extinguished—next morning, about 9, the prisoner came and said he was the man that had called the escape first, and he came for the reward, which was half-a-crown—I paid it him, and he put his mark to the receipt.

RICHARD JONES . I am a turncock at Brixton—on June 16 the prisoner came and gave me a call for 7A, Sidney Road—I paid him half-a-crown, and got this receipt.

The prisoner, in his defence, denied all knowledge of the fire until he discovered it; he accounted for being at the place by being engaged looking after a horse and cart belonging to some persons who had been to the races.


Before Mr. Recorder.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-801
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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801. JOHN JAMES (21) , Robbery with violence on William Clark, and stealing a medal and 2s.


WILLIAM CLARK . I am a labourer—on Saturday, July 8, I was stopping at 26, Clarendon Street, Tabard Street, Southwark—between 12 and 1 that afternoon I went into the Royal Oak public-house, Kent Street, Borough—I there met the prisoner and two other men—I had occasion to go to the watering-place; I asked one of the men, not the prisoner, to show me the way; he showed me the place, which was about 10 yards round the corner, in the street—while there three men came behind me and caught me round the neck, and took half-crown out of my pocket and a silver war medal

Out of my inside coat pocket—I bad seen the men following me out and after they had let go I saw them; two went one way and one the other—I spoke to two constables that came up, and a few minutes afterwards they told me to go to the station and inform them—about 3 o'clock I saw the prisoner in the Mint Gate; I had my brother with me at the time: he looked inside the Mint Gate, and called me to see if I knew any of the men, and I said "Yes, there were two men there that got me round the neck"—my brother held the man till the policeman came—a woman brought me the medal on the Monday morning when we were at the Court—two days afterwards.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I can't swear you took the medal; I can swear you were, there.

GEORGE SIMPSON . I am a labourer, and half-brother to the last witness—I was with him at the Mint Gate on July 8—he pointed out the prisoner and another man—I seized hold of them by the collar; the one with the prisoner struck me in the eye and gave me a black eye, and got away—I held the prisoner till my brother fetched the policeman; he struck me on the road to the station.

CHARLES WITHEY (M 94). I was called to the Mint Gate—I there saw the last witness holding and struggling with the prisoner, who was given into my custody, and charged with taking a medal value 7s. 6d., and also half-a-crown, from William Clark—he said he knew nothing about it.

The Prisoner before the Magistrate said: "Will you settle the case here?"

Witnesses for the Defence.

THOMAS BALCH . I am a whitesmith, but am disabled—the prisoner is my son—he was not down Kent Street at the time this happened—I sent him on Saturday, July 8, about half-past two, to get half a pint of ale at the Mint Gate public-house—he did not come back—he had been sitting up all night with me to try and get the work done.

ALMA BALCH . I am the prisoner's mother—on the Monday a woman came to me and gave me this medal, which she said had been given to her by a man who took her furnished apartments for 2s.

GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction for felony in April, 1881, in the name of Thomas Balch.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-802
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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802. JOHN DAY PLEADED GUILTY to forging and uttering an endorsement to an order for the payment of money with intent to defraud. —Twelve Months' Hard Labour. And

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-803
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceMiscellaneous > sureties

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803. WILLIAM HARDING (42) , to publishing a malicious libel, but not to knowing it to be false.— To enter into his own, recognizances.

Before Mr. Recorder. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-804
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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804. WILLIAM COLE, Feloniously being at large without lawful excuse before the expiration of the seven years' penal servitude to which he had been sentenced. He PLEADED that he had been already convicted of this offence.


JAMES BOLTON . I am Sessions' Warder at Hollo way—I was present at Middlesex Sessions on 23rd October, 1876, when the prisoner was con victed of larceny in the name of William Cole, and sentenced to 7 years penal servitude—I produce the certificate; he is the man it refers to.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I have been called upon before to give the same evidence, and understood that you were then being tried for being an escaped convict.

SAFFRIEN ATKIN (Policeman W 104). On 1st April, 1882, I took the prisoner at the King's Head, Lower Tooting, charged with stealing money—he was committed for trial, convicted and sentenced here by the Common Serjeant to 18 months' imprisonment.

HENRY WARD . I am principal warder of Wandsworth—the prisoner has'been in that prison since May 1st for stealing money from Tooting—I produce him here under a writ of Habeas Corpus.

Prisoner's Defence. When the prosecutor made out the charge he said he was also indicted for being an escaped convict.

GUILTY . One Day's Imprisonment.—He having to go back to complete his former sentence.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-805
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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805. THOMAS MORRIS (21) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Henry Pemberton and stealing 7s., his money.


HENRY PEMBERTON . I am a cheesemonger, of 7, Charles Street, Blackfriars Road—on 23rd June, I went to bed at 11 o'clock, leaving all the doors bolted and locked—I came down next morning at 6. 45 and found the parlour door and window wide open—the window had been fastened with a secret catch at the side, so that no. one could open it without lifting it up—the centre drawer of a chest had been ransacked, but nothing taken—I went into the shop, found the till broken open, and missed about 2s. from a bowl, and 5s. in a bag—I found a chisel, a soldering iron, some matches, and a candle by the till—I had not put them there—the prisoner worked for me as a milk-carrier up to 5th June, and was acquainted with the inside of the house—I gave him notice to quit, and missed a coat about live days after he left—this is it (produced)—I went with the police and found him at a lodging-house.

TERENCE BANNAN (Policeman N 236). On 24th June Mr. Pemberton made a communication to me, and I went to a lodging-house in Black friars Road and found the prisoner in bed—I said, "Were you out late last night?"—he said, "I was in at my lodging at 11 o'clock, and I went out and came home and took my ticket"—I said, "Have you any money on you?"—he said, "No, not a half-penny"—a handkerchief was hanging out of his pocket, and I found 5s. rolled up in it—I asked him where he got it—he said, From Mr. Jones, a cabdriver in the London Road"—I found this coat there—he said, "I took this coat in mistake for my own on 5th June. Is Mr. Pemberton going to charge me?"—I said, "Yes; you are taken on suspicion of breaking and entering the premises of Mr. Pemberton and stealing about 7s. worth of property, and also a coat, value 3s. 6d. "—he said, "I am innocent," but before the Magistrate he said that he would plead guilty to stealing the coat.

THOMAS COCKS . I am night watchman at 178, Blackfriars Road, a model lodging-house, where the prisoner is in the habit of lodging—he came in on 23rd June, about 11. 10 or 11. 15—he got the money to pay by a subscription of. the people there—I believe they gathered him 7 1/2 d.—he went out before 11.30 and came in again about a quarter to one, but before that I requested him to go to bed which he did not do; he

had been out three nights all night—when he came back he had this coat on.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "plead not guilty to the burglary, but I plead guilty to the coat.

GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-806
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation
SentenceNo Punishment > sentence respited

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806. FANNY LARKINS (21) , Feloniously throwing at George Joyce a large quantity of sulphuric acid with intent to disfigure him. Second Count to do him grievous bodily harm.

MR . DOUGLAS Prosecuted; MR. STEWART "WHITE Defended.

GEORGE JOYCE . I am a carman, of 6, Back Lane, Brixton—I have known the prisoner three years—I have walked out with her sister—on 27th June, about 10.30 or 11 p m., I was standing at my door wishing a man good-night—the prisoner came up and used very obscene language; I asked her not to come and annoy me—she said that she would, and would do something else, and threw something from a bottle over my cheek—I ran to the nearest chemist as fast as I could—I felt a burning sensation, suffered great pain, and have the scar still—it has not affected my sight—she had had a conversation with me a month or six weeks pre viously, when she said, "Look out for vitriol"—we had had no quarrel, nor was any angry lauguage used on my part.

Cross-examined. I had walked out with her sister two or three times, but only once with the prisoner—she was in service up to this time—she was walking up and down—I have known her about three years—I knew her through her sister—I have no reason for this, but she has made accusations which are utterly false.

By the COURT. She accused me of being the cause of her having disease last Christmas, but I deny it utterly; I was quite healthy—I denied it, and she was very angry—she has only recently been out of service, because the people she lived with left the neighbourhood.

ADEN WHEELER (Policeman W 336). On 27th June, about 10 p. m., I was Joyce with his face injured—I afterwards took the prisoner and told her the charge—she said "I did it, and I meant to do it; I told him before that I would injure his face "—she told me where to find the bottle, and another constable found it.

Cross-examined. I took her three-quarters of an hour afterwards—she seemed rather excited—I have known Joyce some years, and have heard the report of his causing her illness—I do not know whether it is true.

GEORGE WELLS (Policeman W 65). I was present when the prisoner was arrested—she said she had thrown the bottle into a garden in Cold Harbour Lane—I went there, and after searching for an hour and a half found a bottle containing a small quantity of liquid in the garden of No. 400—I gave it to the public analyst—this is it—I saw the prisoner loitering near the prosecutor's house half an hour before.

ANDREW WATSON . I am a chemist—on Sunday night, 27th June, Joyce came to me with his face burnt by some corrosive fluid—I applied chalk and oil to neutralise the acid.

Cross-examined. It did not do him much injury, but he has the mark still; if it had gone into his eyes it would have destroyed his sight.

JOHN MUTER . I am an analytical chemist at the South London Laboratory—I received this bottle from Wells; it contained a very small

quantity of the strongest sulphuric acid—if it went into a man's eye it would blind him.

Cross-examined. It could be bought at any oilshop, but they ought not to sell it, because it is a poison under the Act.

The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. "What I have done it for is out of revenge; he has not only ruined me, but injured me for life."

GUILTY. Recommended to mercy on account of the great provocation.—Judgment respited.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-807
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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807. JOHN WOOD (60) , Unlawfully having counterfeit coin in his possession with intent to utter it.

MR. POLAND Prosecuted.

GEOEGE WHITLOCK (Sergeant P). On 24th June I. was with Sergeant Bryan, in Waterloo Road—we followed the prisoner into Stamford Street—another man was with him—I stopped the prisoner and said "I am police officer, and I suspect you of uttering; I shall search you"—he made no reply, but resisted very much—I held him—Sergeant Bryan held his right hand, and the prisoner drew this parcel from his trousers pocket—Bryan took it, and took from it these nine half-crowns wrapped up separately—I said "How do you come in possession of these?"—he said "They were given me by a man on the Thames Embankment to carry to Blackfriars Bridge; he is a stranger to me"—I took him to the station, and found on him a half-sovereign, 6s. 6d. in silver, and 31/2, all good—he gave his address, 18, Wardour Street, Oxford Street—I after wards told him I had been there, and he was not known there—he said "I knew that when I told you; I have been stopping at a coffee house in a street off Fitzroy Square—I don't know the name of it"—the other man got away.

Cross-examined by the prisoner. I have seen you in the neighbourhood of the Elephant and Castle and in the Strand within the last month or two—I was not especially appointed by a person named Booty to stand at the corner of Stamford street, on 24th June—I don't know him—I did not get behind a van to get out of the way—there was a van standing there—I followed you and Booty 150 yards, or a little more.

FRANCIS BRYAN (Police Sergeant P). I was with Whitlock when the prisoner put his hand into his pocket, and took out a packet—I found in it these four half-crowns—he resisted very much, and I had great difficulty in getting it out of his hand—he said they were given him by a man on the Thames Embankment.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to Her Majesty's Mint—these nine half-crowns are bad—they are wrapped up in this way to keep them from rubbing, and when they want to pass one they rub off this black.

The prisoner in his statement before the Magistrate, and in his defence, said that the coins were given him by Booty to carry to Blackfriars Bridge, and that he had reasons for not giving his right address.

GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of housebreaking in May, 1878, when he was sentenced to five years' penal servitude.Twelve Months Hard Labour (having to work out the rest of the former sentence).

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-808
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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808. JAMES SMITH (25) PLEADED GUILTY * to unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-809
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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809. WILLIAM WALTERS (23) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MR. HORACE AVORY Prosecuted.

HENRY BATES . I keep the New Half-Way House, Weber Street, Black-friar's Road—on Tuesday, July 18, I served the prisoner and another man with half a pint of ale each—the prisoner tendered half-a-crown; I gave him. 2s. 4d. change, and put it in the till:—no other half-crown was in the till—five minutes afterwards I found this half-crown (produced)—I showed it to my wife, and put it on one side—on Thursday, the 20th, I saw the prisoner being served, and sent for a constable—my wife brought me a half. crown—I tried it in my teeth, and said "I give this man in charge for uttering a bad half-crown"—he said "I did not tender it"—the man who was with him escaped—the prisoner tried to get away, but the constable pushed him back—we gave the two half-crowns to the constable—these are them.

JESSIE BATES . I am the wife of Henry Bates—on Thursday, July 20, about 12.15, I saw the prisoner with another man in our house—the prisoner tendered this half-crown for a pint of ale—I tried it in my teeth—it seemed gritty—I shewed it to my husband, and we gave the prisoner into custody, with the coin—I stopped him at the door; the other ran away; I ran after him—I was not in the bar on the Tuesday—I did not give the prisoner any change—the beer was not paid for.

ALFRED BECKWITH (M 53). I was called, and the landlord gave the prisoner into my custody—he made a desperate rush to get out several times—the landlord gave me one half-crown and the landlady the other.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . These coins are bad, and of different moulds.

The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. I never uttered the first coin on Monday—a gentleman named Howes asked me to carry his baggage, and we went to New Cross between 1 and 2 by train—took train to Stroud, and got there after 5, and went to Chatham—I put up at a coffee tavern; it was then nearly 6—I stayed out late, and went to the Cross Keys; the landlord sprained his ankle—I sat up till 2, bathing his foot—on Tuesday I left at 10.30 p.m., and got to London at 12; the people at the coffee tavern and the Cross Keys can prove that—The coffee tavern is the only one in Chatham.

Witnesses for the Defence.

THOMAS MCDONALD , I keep the Cross Keys, Chatham—the prisoner came there on Monday fortnight at 11 p. m. and asked for a bed—he said "You remember me, I stopped here on a former occasion with a friend"—I said "Yes"—I was skylarking with my wife that night, a stranger might call it. a quarrel so it was of a sort, but it was just a bit of bantering—she pushed me, and I sprained my ankle—the prisoner helped me downstairs and put my foot under the tap, and then helped me upstairs—I said "Come up and have a glass"—he sat up with inc till 2 o'clock that night—I have not seen him from that, time till now.

Cross-examined. I didn't come on the Tuesday till the afternoon-the prisoner had gone then.

ALICE MILES . I am servant at the Cross Keys—I saw the prisoner on Tuesday, the, 18th, about 9 a. m.; also between 7 and 8 p. m.—I had just come out of the bootmaker's shop; I had been buying my governor a pan of boots for his sprained ankle.

Cross-examined. A shorter man, who was older, had a moustache, and

was fair, was with the prisoner—it was nearer 7 than 8—I said "I thought you were going away this morning?"—he said "I am going away now"—he had his hat on—I was in a hurry, and didn't stay to say any more—I saw him leave the Cross Keys in the morning—I saw him in High Street, Chatham, 10 minutes' or a quarter of an hour's walk from the station.

THOMAS MCDONALD (Cross-examined by MR. AVORY). There is a train from Chatham by the South Eastern at 8.20 to London Bridger—It is not a fast train.

HENRY BATES (Re-examined). I was in the bar parlour when I sent for the constable—I had no knowledge then of the second bad half-crown—the man who was with the prisoner was older and shorter.

Prisoner's Defence. The witness who could prove I was at the coffee tavern is not here. He did not start from his house before 10, and arrive in London before 12. I asked the magistrate to bring this witness, and he said he would. I did not stay at the coffee tavern that night because it was shut. I lost the train, and had to wait till the last train.

GUILTY **—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Newington in January, 1876, in the name of William Coles.

Twelve Months' Hard Labour.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-810
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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810. WILLIAM OWEN (19) and BENJAMIN SHIPLEY (19) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of William. Austin, and stealing 121b. of cheese and 6lb. of bacon, his property.

MR. CRANSTOUN Prosecuted.

WILLIAM AUSTIN . I live at 57, Bond Street, Vauxhall—my father keeps a chandler's shop there—about 2 a. m. on Saturday, 24th June, I was aroused by the police knocking at the door—I got out of bed, went down into the front shop, and found the police with the prisoners in custody—I missed about 12lb. of cheese and 7lb. of bacon, worth about 17s., which were safe at 11 p. m.—the staples of the shop door had been wrenched—there is also a side door—the sashes were in a bad state; they were hanging loose—I had locked the door the previous night—I gave the prisoners in charge.

FREDERICK HAYTER (Policeman W 92). I was in Archer Street, Vauxhall, about 2 a. m. on the 24th—I heard something similar to the crash of a door in Bond Street—I examined the doors until I came to the prosecutor's door; I found it broken open—I saw the prisoners and. a man not in custody walking away, about 30 yards distant—I informed other constables, and we laid in ambush—the prisoners went as far as Vauxhall, stood in consultation, then went to the door that was broken open, then went towards Miles Street, about 200 yards off, turned round, came back, and stood opposite the door again a few minutes—the third man placed himself at the corner of Brunswick Passage—the prisoners entered the shop—Shipley came out with a piece of cheese under his arm, and Owen with a piece of bacon—we bounced out after them, and after a chase of 100 yards I captured Shipley—on the way to the station he said if I would let him go he would pay all the damage done to, the door, and handsomely reward me—I searched the prisoners at the station, and found this instrument.

Owen. That is for poking stones out of the donkey's feet.

Cross-examined by Shipley. You both came out together—you went as quickly as you could up Orchard Street—a porter put out his hand, and

then got out of your way, or you would have knocked him down—I did not leave off running after a man, and take hold of you—I did not low sight of you.

ALFRED PECK (Policeman W 395). I concealed myself with Hayter opposite Austin's shop—I saw them go into the shop—when they came out I pursued Owen 30 yards, and captured him—I did not lose sight of him—he said "What is this for?" I said "For breaking into a shop at the corner"—he said "What would you do if you were out of work, and had got no money"—I found the stolen articles, of which this is a specimen.

Cross-examined by Owen. I was standing opposite when you came out—you dropped the bacon the moment I caught hold of you—I picked it up.

The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Owen says: "I left off work and went to Astley's Theatre, and coming home I went to a coffee-stall at the top of the street, and three men came up and said 'There is a shop open up here, are you coming down?' and I said 'What for?' and I went with them and stood outside the door, and they handed out the bacon and cheese, and were just going in for more, when the; said 'There's two police,' and they ran away. I am very sorry. I new did such a thing before" Shipley says: "At 12.30 I was coming down the Wandsworth Road, and met Owen and three more. They asked me where I was going, and I said 'Home. 'They said 'There is a shop open down Bond Street. 'I said 'Is there?' I went down Bond Street with them, and the other three went into the shop, and handed out to us a piece of cheese and bacon. We went down the opposite turning, and two policemen rushed out upon us from a gateway, and we dropped the bacon and cheese, and tried to get away, but they caught us, and took us back. "

The prisoners repeated the above statements in their defences, Owen adding that the bacon was "shoved" on to him as the police caught him, Shipley adding that on a cry of "Stop thief" being raised, one of two porters caught hold of him, and the police took him instead of the man running.

GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour each.

Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-811
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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811. HERBERT ALLEN (19) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a post-office order for the payment of 1l. 19s. 11d., and 63 postage stamps, the property of Albion John Wiltshire.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. And

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-812
VerdictGuilty > pleaded guilty
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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812. AUGUSTUS DURANT (18) , to a burglary in the dwelling-house of Egbert Smith and stealing therein a quantity of knives, his property.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-813
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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813. WILLIAM SERGEANT was for wilful and corrupt perjury.

MR. FOSTER REED Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.

EDWIN CROSS . I am an estate agent at 75, Upper Grange Road—on 12th June I was in the Osca Arms with a client, when the defendant instructed me to seize a pony for which he signed this authority, "I authorise you to seize a pony belonging to Mr. Rolf, he not having paid the purchase money according to terms. W. SERGEANT"—I saw aim write that—I seized the pony upon this authority, and was afterwards

charged with stealing it, committed and acquitted—I heard the defendant swear in Court that he gave me no authority, and he denied the signature—he was not sober when he signed it, and he was not sober at the police court.

Cross-examined. 1 had been about two hours in the house talking about the pony—I had some bitter ale—my reason for this prosecution is to vindicate my character—I said at the police-court that I should not have taken these proceedings if he paid half my expenses at the police-court; I showed him a paper and he said it was not in his writing.


31st July 1882
Reference Numbert18820731-814
VerdictGuilty > lesser offence
SentenceImprisonment > hard labour

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814. THOMAS KENT (23) , B—y with a person unknown. MR. FOSTER REED Prosecuted.

GUILTY of the attempt. Six Months' Hard Labour.


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