The Newgate Calendar
Part II (1742 to 1799)




HENRY COOK
Notorious Horse-Stealer and Highwayman, executed at Tyburn,
16th of December, 1741

HENRY COOK committed more robberies, singly, than
Wild, Turpin or Hawke, and was long the terror of travellers on
different roads, but particularly in Essex. The story of his career
makes a long narrative of curious and daring exploits, with
hairbreadth escapes, before he was taken. Cook was the son of
creditable parents in Houndsditch, who, having given him a decent
education, apprenticed him to a leather cutter, with whom he
served his time, and then his father took the shop of a shoemaker at
Stratford, in Essex, in which he placed his son. Having some
knowledge of the shoemaking business, he was soon well
established, and married a young woman at Stratford, by whom he
had three children, before he commenced as highwayman.
However, it was not long after his marriage before the associating
with bad company and the neglect of his business involved him so
far in debt that he was obliged to quit his house in apprehension of
the bailiffs. He was afterwards obliged wholly to decline business,
and having taken up goods in the name of his father he was
ashamed to make application to him for relief in his distress.

Among the idle acquaintances that Cook had made at
Stratford was an apothecary, named Young, who was concerned
with him in robbing gardens and fishponds, and in stealing poultry.
The persons robbed offered a reward for apprehending the
offenders, and Cook having been known to sell fowls at
Leadenhall Market a warrant was granted to take him into custody;
but, having notice of it, he concealed himself two months at the
house of a relation at Grays, in Essex. During this retreat it was
determined not to execute the warrant; but Cook, learning that a
bailiff at Stratford had vowed to arrest him if he could be found,
sent the officer a letter, advising him to consult his own safety, for
he would blow his brains out if he should meet him. This threat
effectually intimidated the bailiff; and Cook, having dissipated all
his cash, went to Stratford, where he found a man so intimate with
his wife that he became enraged in the highest degree, and taking
several articles of furniture with him went to London and sold
them. This being done, he went to the house of a relation in
Shoreditch, where he was treated with civility while his money
lasted; but when that was nearly gone there was no further
appearance of friendship; and, being now driven to extremity, he
went to Moorfields, where he purchased a pair of pistols, and
having procured powder and ball went towards Newington, on his
way to which he robbed a man of fifteen shillings, and returned to
London.

Thus embarked on the highroad to destruction, he
determined to continue his dangerous trade; and on the following
day went to Finchley Common, where he stopped a gentleman, the
bridle of whose horse he seized, and ordered him to dismount on
pain of death. The rider, complying, was robbed both of his money
and horse; but he offered the highwayman three guineas if he
would send the horse to an inn at St Albans, which he promised to
do; but afterwards finding that he had a valuable acquisition in the
beast he failed to restore him.

This robbery being committed, he crossed the country to
Enfield Chase, and going to a public-house where he was known
said that he wished to hide himself lest he should be arrested.
Having continued here two days, he proceeded to Tottenham,
where he robbed a gentleman of about six pounds, and leaving his
horse at an inn in Bishopsgate Street he went to his kinsman's in
Shoreditch, where he was interrogated respecting his possessing so
much money; but he would give no satisfactory answer. On the
following day he went on the St Albans Road, and having robbed
the passengers of a stage-coach of eight pounds he went to Enfield
Chase, to the house he had frequented before; but while he was
there he read an advertisement in which his horse was so exactly
described that he determined to abscond; on which he went to
Hadley Common, near Barnet, where he robbed a gentleman, and
taking his horse, gave the gentleman his own.

Soon after this he went to an inn at Mims, where he saw a
gentleman whom he had formerly robbed, and was so terrified by
the sight of the injured party that he ran to the stable, took his
horse and galloped off with the utmost expedition. On the road
between Mims and Barnet he was met by eight men on horseback,
one of whom challenged the horse he rode, saying that a
highwayman had stolen it from a gentleman of his acquaintance.

Our adventurer replied that he had bought the horse at the
Bell, in Edmonton, of which he could give convincing proofs; on
which the whole company determined to attend him to that place.
But when he came near Edmonton he galloped up a lane, where he
was followed by all the other parties; and finding himself in danger
of being apprehended he faced his pursuers and, presenting a
pistol, swore he would fire unless they retreated. Some countrymen
coming up at this juncture, he must have been made prisoner, but,
night advancing, he quitted his horse and took shelter in a wood.

When he thought he might safely leave his lurking-place he
hastened to London, going to the house of his relation in
Shoreditch, where he was challenged with having committed
robberies on the highway; but nothing could be learned from the
answers he gave. Having dissipated his present money, he went
again upon Finchley Common. His late narrow escape, however,
made such an impression on his mind that he suffered several
persons to pass unattacked, but at length robbed an old man of his
horse and five pounds, though not till after it was dark. Soon
afterwards he met a gentleman, whom he obliged to change horses
with him; but in a few minutes the gentleman was stopped by the
owner of the stolen horse, who said a highwayman had just robbed
him of it. Enraged at this, the gentleman swore the place was
infested with thieves; however, he delivered the horse and walked
to London.

Cook, riding to his old place of resort, near the Chase,
remained there three days; but, seeing the horse he had last stolen
advertised, he rode off in fear of discovery, and had not proceeded
far before he was seized by the owner of the horse, assisted by
three other persons, who conducted him to Newgate. At the next
Old Bailey sessions he was indicted for stealing this horse; but
acquitted, because the owner would not swear to his person.

Soon after his discharge he returned to his former practices,
but, his affairs with his creditors having been by this time adjusted
by his friends, he lived at Stratford with his wife, and committed
his depredations chiefly in Epping Forest. Having acquired a booty
of thirty pounds, he showed it to a journeyman he kept, named
Taylor, and asked him how he might employ it to the best
advantage in buying leather; but Taylor, guessing how it had been 
obtained, offered to go partners with his master in committing
robberies on the highway; and the base contract was instantly
made. They now stopped a great number of coaches on the borders
of the Forest; but acted with such an uncommon degree of caution
that they were for a long time unsuspected. The neighbours being
at length terrified by such repeated outrages on the public peace, a
Captain Mawley took a place in the basket of the Colchester coach
to make discoveries; and, Cook and Taylor coming up to demand
the money of the passengers, Taylor was shot through the head; on
which Cook ran to the Captain and robbed him of his money, on
threats of instant death. The carriage driving on, Cook began to
search his deceased companion for his money; but on some of the
neighbours coming up he retired behind a hedge to listen to their
conversation; and having found that some of them knew the
deceased, and intimated that he had been accompanied by Cook, he
crossed the fields to London.

Having spent three days in riot and dissipation, he went to
his relation in Shoreditch, whom he requested to go to Stratford to
inquire the situation of affairs there. When his relation returned, he
told him there were several warrants issued against him, and
advised him to go to sea. This he promised to do, but instead
thereof he bought a horse and rode to Brentwood, in Essex, where
he heard little conversation but of Cook, the famous highwayman
of Stratford; and on the next day he followed a coach from the inn
where he had put up, and took about thirty pounds from the
passengers.

Cook now connected himself with a gang of desperate
highwaymen in London, in conjunction with whom he stopped a
coach near Bow, in which were some young gentlemen from a
boarding-school. A Mr Cruikshanks riding up at this instant, one of
the gang demanded his money; but as he hesitated to deliver it,
another of them knocked him down and killed him on the spot;
after which the robbers went to a public-house near Hackney
Marsh, and divided the spoils of the evening.

Oppressed in mind by contemplation of his crimes, and
particularly by reflecting on the murder of Mr Cruikshanks, Cook
went to St Albans, where he assumed a new name, and worked as a
journeyman shoemaker for about three weeks, when, a
highwayman being pursued through the town, the terrors of his
conscience on the occasion were such, that he hastily left the shop
and ran across the country towards Woburn, in Bedfordshire. On 
his way to Woburn he robbed a farmer of fifty pounds and his
horse, and bade him sue the county. The farmer soon raised the
hue-and-cry; but Cook escaped, and, riding as far as Birmingham,
took lodgings at a public-house, and disposed of his horse. Cook
had now taken the name of Stevens, and the landlord of the house
where he lodged telling him that there was a shop to let, he took it,
and entered into business as a shoemaker. He now hired one Mrs
Barrett as his housekeeper, but she soon became his more intimate
companion; and accompanying him to horse-races, and other
places of public diversion, his little money was soon dissipated.
Thus situated, he told his housekeeper that he had an aunt in
Hertfordshire, who allowed him a hundred per annum, which he
received in quarterly payments; and that he would go to her for his
money. Under this pretence he left her, and went to Northampton,
and from thence to Dunstable, near which place he robbed a farmer
of his horse and sixteen pounds, and then rode to Daventry.

At this last place he met with a Manchester dealer going
home from London, and, having spent the evening together, they
travelled in company next day and dined at Coventry. Cook,
having an intention of robbing his fellow-traveller, intimated that it
would be proper to conceal their money, as they had a dangerous
road to travel; and, putting his own money into his boot, the other
put a purse of gold into his side-pocket. Prosecuting their journey
till they came to a cross-road, Cook demanded his companion's
money, on pain of immediate death; and having robbed him of
thirty-five guineas he travelled immediately to Birmingham; so
Mrs Barrett imagined he had been supplied by his aunt, agreeable
to the story he had told her.

He now carried on trade as usual; but as often as he was
distressed for cash he used to have recourse to the road, and
recruited his pockets by robbing the stages. At length, a London
trader, coming to Birmingham, asked Cook how long he had lived
there, which terrified him so that he quitted the place, and travelled
towards London, and near Highgate robbed a gentleman, named
Zachary, of his horse and money. On his stolen horse he rode to
Epping Forest on the following day; and, having robbed a
gentleman, returned to London by the way of Stratford, at which
place he spoke to a number of his old acquaintances, but was not
imprudent enough to quit his horse.

Going to a house he had frequented at Newington Green,
he sent for his relation who lived near Shoreditch, who advised
him to make his escape, or he would certainly be taken into
custody. On this he went to Mims; and on his relation visiting him
Cook begged he would sell five watches for him; but the other
declined it, recommending him to dispose of them himself in
London. On the following evening, when it was almost dark, he
rode towards town, and observing a chaise behind him permitted it
to pass, and followed it to the descent of the hill towards
Holloway. There were two gentlemen in the chaise, whose money
Cook demanded; but instead of complying they drove on the faster;
on which he fired and wounded one of them in the arm; but the
report of the pistol bringing some people towards the spot he
galloped off, and went to Mims, his old place of retreat. Coming to
London next day to sell his watches, he was seen in Cheapside by a
woman who knew him, and followed him to Norton Folgate,
where, observing him to go into a public-house, she went and
procured a constable, who took him into custody, and found on
him five watches and about nine pounds in money.

On his examination before a magistrate, Mr Zachary, whom
he had robbed near Highgate, swearing to the identity of his
person, he was committed to Newgate; but not before he had
offered to become evidence against some accomplices he
pretended to have had; but this offer was rejected. He now formed
a scheme to murder the keepers and to make his escape; but, being
detected, he was confined to the cells, and, being brought to his
trial at the Old Bailey, was capitally convicted.

After sentence of death he for some time affected a gaiety
of behaviour; but when the warrant for his execution arrived he
was so struck with the idea of his approaching fate that it
occasioned convulsive fits, and he never afterwards recovered his
health.



JONATHAN BRADFORD
Executed at Oxford for a Murder he had contemplated but did not
commit

JONATHAN BRADFORD kept an inn at the city of
Oxford. A gentleman (Mr Hayes), attended by a man-servant, one
evening put up at Bradford's house, and in the night the former was
found murdered in his bed, and the landlord was apprehended on
suspicion of having committed the crime.

The evidence given against him was to the following effect.
Two gentlemen who had supped with Mr Hayes, and who retired at
the same time to their respective chambers, being alarmed in the
night with a noise in his room, and soon hearing groans as of a
wounded man, got up in order to discover the cause, and found
their landlord, with a dark lantern and a knife in his hand, in a state
of astonishment and horror, over his dying guest, who almost
instantly expired.

On this evidence the jury convicted Bradford, and he was
executed; but the fate of this man may serve as an additional lesson
to jurymen to be extremely guarded in receiving circumstantial
evidence. At a trial at Nisi Prius, and between personal right and
wrong, the jury are often directed by the judge to take into
consideration presumptive evidence where positive proof is
wanting; but in criminal charges, it seldom should, unsupported by
some oral testimony, or ocular demonstration, be sufficient to find
a verdict against the accused.

The facts attending this dreadful tragedy were not fully
brought to light until the deathbed confession of the real murderer,
a time when we must all endeavour to make our peace with God.

Mr Hayes was a man of considerable property, and greatly
respected. He had about him, when his sad destiny led him under
the roof of Bradford, a considerable sum of money. The landlord,
knowing this, determined to murder and rob him. For this horrid
purpose he proceeded with a dark lantern and a carving-knife,
intending to cut the throat of his guest, while yet sleeping; but what
must have been his astonishment and confusion to find his victim
already murdered by a servant!

The wicked and unworthy servant had also contemplated
murdering his master, and had just committed the bloody deed, and
secured his treasure, a moment before the landlord entered for the
same purpose!



JOHN BODKIN, DOMINICK BODKIN AND OTHERS
Executed in Ireland on 26th of March, 1742, for the Murder of
Eleven Persons

OLIVER BODKIN, Esq., was a gentleman who possessed
a good estate near Tuam, in Ireland. He had two sons, by two
wives. The elder son, named John, to whom this narrative chiefly
relates, was sent to Dublin to study the law; and the younger, who
was about seven years of age, remained at home with his parents.
The young student lived in a very dissipated manner at Dublin,
and, soon quitting his studies, came and resided near his father's
place of abode. The father allowed him a certain annual sum for
his support; but, as he lived beyond his allowance, he demanded
further assistance. The father, however, refusing to accede to his
wishes, he determined upon a horrible revenge, and included his
stepmother in his proposed scheme of vengeance, as he imagined
that she had induced his father to refuse him any further aid.

Having engaged his cousin, Dominick Bodkin, his father's
shepherd, John Hogan, and another ruffian of the name of Burke,
to assist him in the intended murders, they went to the house of Mr
Bodkin, senior, whose household consisted of four men and three
women servants, exclusive of Mrs Bodkin and the younger son,
and a gentleman named Lynch, who was at that time on a visit
there. They found all the members of the family at supper on their
arrival, and, having murdered them, they went into the kitchen,
where they killed three servant-maids; and, finding the men in
different parts of the house, they also sacrificed them to their brutal
and unprovoked rage. The murder of eleven persons being thus
perpetrated, they quitted the fatal spot; and when some persons
from Tuam came the next morning to speak with Mr Bodkin on
business they found the house open, and beheld the dead body of
Mr Lynch, near which lay that of Mrs Bodkin, hacked and
mangled in a shocking manner; and, at a small distance, her
husband, with his throat cut, and the child lying dead across his
breast. The throats of the maid-servants in the kitchen were all cut;
and the men-servants in another room were also found murdered.
The assassins had even been so wanton in their cruelties as to kill
all the dogs and cats in the house. The neighbours being alarmed
by such a singular instance of barbarity, a suspicion fell on John
Bodkin; who, being taken into custody, confessed all the tragical
circumstances above mentioned, and impeached his accomplices:
on which the other offenders were taken into custody, and all of
them were committed to the jail of Tuam.

When they were brought to trial John Bodkin (the
parricide), Dominick Bodkin and John Hogan pleaded guilty, and
they were all condemned and executed at Tuam, on the 26th of
March, 1742. The head of the shepherd was fixed on Tuam
market-house, and the bodies of the others gibbeted within sight of
the house where the murders had been committed.



THOMAS LYELL AND LAWRENCE SYDNEY
Swindlers, who cheated with Loaded Dice and were pilloried for
Fraud, 2nd of June, 1742

IN April, 1740, these pests to society were committed to
Newgate, charged on the oaths of several gentlemen of distinction,
with cheating and defrauding them with false and loaded dice at
the masquerade, on Thursday morning, about three o'clock, to the
amount of four hundred pounds.

It also appeared, on their examination, which lasted from
six o'clock in the morning till three in the afternoon, that they had
cheated a number of other gentlemen of upward of four thousand
pounds more. Nine pairs of dice were found upon the sharpers, and
on being cut asunder they were all, except one, loaded --that is, to
introduce a piece of lead in a direction into the die which, when
thrown, will generally turn a number suited to the owner's game.

They were brought to the bar of the Old Bailey for these
infamous practices, and after a long trial, in which such scenes of
iniquity were discovered to have been committed by sharpers of
this description as astonished the Court and jury, Lyell and Sydney
were found guilty, and sentenced to be imprisoned one year, and
during that time to be pilloried.

On the 12th of June, 1742, above two years after, Thomas
Lyell and Lawrence Sydney, the principals of the gang, were
brought out of Newgate and carried to the Haymarket, where a
pillory had been erected to receive them, facing the Opera House --
the scene of their depredation -- amid the scoffs and taunts of an
enraged populace.

The following evidence given in the Court of King's Bench,
the 29th of November, 1796, will discover some of the tricks of
this description of swindlers.

A cause came on before Lord Chief Justice Kenyon, on the
statute against gaming, and one John Shepherd being called as a
witness for the injured party, he swore that he saw hazard played at
the gaming-house of the defendant in Leicester Street. Every
person who was three times successful, paid the defendant a silver
medal, which he purchased from him, on entering the house, at
eight for a guinea, and he received six or seven of these in the
course of an hour for the Box Hands, as it was called. The people
who frequented this house always played for a considerable sum.
Sometimes twenty or thirty pounds depended on a single throw of
the dice. The witness remembered being once at the defendant's
gaming-house, about three or four o'clock in the morning, when a
gentleman came in very much in liquor. He seemed to have a great
deal of money about him. The defendant said he had not intended
to play, but now he would set to with this fellow. He then scraped a
little wax with his finger off one of the candles, and put the dice
together, so that they came seven every way. After doing this, he
dropped them into the box and threw them out, and afterwards
drew all the money away, saying he had won it. Seven was the
main and he could not throw anything but seven. The young
gentleman said he had not given him time to bar. A dispute arose
between the defendant and him; it was referred to two or three
persons round the table, and they gave it in favour of the
defendant. The gentleman said be had lost upward of seventy
pounds. The defendant said: "We have cleared him." The witness
had seen a man pawn his watch and ring, in several instances, and
once he saw a man pawn his coat and go away without it.

After the gaming-table was broken by the Bow Street
officers, the defendant said it was too good a thing to be given up,
and instantly got another table, large enough for twenty or thirty
people. The frequenters of this house used to play till daylight, and
on one or two occasions they played all the next day. This is what
the defendant called "sticking to it rarely." The guests were
furnished with wine and suppers gratis, from the funds of the
partnership, in abundance. Sunday was a grand day. The witness
had seen more than forty people there at a time. The table not
being sufficient for the whole, half-a-crown used on such
occasions to be given for a seat, and those behind looked over the
backs of the others and betted.

The person above mentioned (whose name was Smith) who
pawned his coat corroborated the above evidence; and added that
he had seen a person, after he had lost all his money, throw off his
coat, and go away, losing it also.



ROBERT RAMSEY
Highwayman, and a singular Cheat. Executed at Tyburn on the
13th of June, 1742
THIS offender was born near Grosvenor Square, and apprenticed
to an apothecary, after being liberally educated at Westminster
School. His master's circumstances becoming embarrassed,
Ramsey left him and went into the service of another gentleman of
the same profession.

He then became a professed gamester. The billiard and
hazard tables engrossed his time, and his skill being great he often
stripped his companions; yet the money he thus obtained he
dissipated in the most extravagant manner.

Having made an acquaintance with one Carr, they singled
out a clergyman who frequented the coffee-house they used as a
proper object to impose upon; and having ingratiated themselves
into his good opinion, Ramsey took the opportunity of Carr's
absence to tell the clergyman that he had a secret of the utmost
consequence to impart; and the clergyman having promised
secrecy, the other said that Carr was in love with a young widow,
who was very rich and inclined to marry him, but that the match
was opposed by her relations.

He added that the lady herself was averse to being married
at the Fleet, even if she could escape the vigilance of her relations
so far as to reach that place. The clergyman listening to the story,
Ramsey offered him twenty guineas to marry the young couple,
and it was agreed that the parties should meet at a tavern near the
Royal Exchange on the following day.

Ramsey, having told Carr what had passed, went to the
clergyman the next morning, and, observing that if the lady took
her own footman he might be known, said he would disguise
himself in livery and attend the priest. This being done, a hackney-
coach was called for the clergyman, and, Ramsey getting up
behind it, they drove to the tavern, where rich wines were called
for, of which Ramsey urged the clergyman to drink so freely that
he fell asleep, when Ramsey picked his pocket of his keys.

The gentleman, awaking, inquired for the couple that were
to be married, on which Ramsey, calling for more wine, said he
would go in search of them; but immediately calling a coach he
went to the clergyman's lodgings and, producing the keys, said he 
had been sent by the gentleman for some papers in his cabinet. The
landlady of the house, seeing the keys, permitted him to search for
what he wanted; on which he stole a diamond ring, of the value of
forty pounds, and about a hundred pounds in money, and carried
off some papers.

This being done he returned to the clergyman, said that the
young couple would attend in a short time, and desired him to
order a genteel dinner; but this last injunction was unnecessary, for
the parson had taken previous care of it; and while he was at dinner
Ramsey said he would go and order a diamond and a plain ring,
and would return immediately.

He had not been long absent when a jeweller brought the
rings, which he said were for a baronet and his lady, who were
coming to be married. The clergyman asked him to drink the
healths of the young couple; and just at this juncture Ramsey came
in and told the jeweller that he was instantly wanted at home, but
that he must return without loss of time, as his master's arrival was
immediately expected.

The jeweller was no sooner gone than Ramsey, taking up
the diamond ring, said that he had brought a wrong one, and he
would go back and rectify the mistake. In the interim the jeweller,
finding that he had not been wanted at home, began to suspect that
some undue artifice had been used; on which he hurried to the
tavern, and thought himself happy to find that the parson had not
decamped.

Having privately directed the waiter to procure a constable
he charged the clergyman with defrauding him of the rings. The
other was naturally astonished at such a charge; but the jeweller
insisted on taking him before a magistrate, where he related a tale
that, some days before, those rings had been ordered by a man
whom he supposed to be an accomplice of the person now charged.
But the clergyman, being a man of fair character, sent for some
reputable people to bail him; while the jeweller returned home,
cursing his ill fortune for the trick that had been put on him.

London being an unsafe place for Ramsey longer to reside
in, he went to Chester, where he assumed the name of Johnson,
dressed himself as a physician, and printed and dispersed
handbills, giving an account of many patients whose disorders had
yielded to his skill. By promising to cure the poor without expense,
no person doubted either the character or abilities of Dr Johnson.

A young lady who was troubled with an asthma became
one of his patients; and Ramsey, presuming that she possessed a
good fortune, insinuated himself so far into her good graces that
she would have married him, but that her uncle, in whose hands
her money was, happened to come to Chester at that juncture.

During this situation of affairs, while Ramsey was walking
without the city, he happened to see the clergyman whom he had
so much injured in London; on which he hastily retired to a public-
house in Chester, and sent a person to Park Gate, to inquire when
any ship would sail for Ireland: and the answer brought was that a
vessel would sail that very night.

On receiving this intelligence, Ramsey went and drank tea
with the young lady; and taking the opportunity of her absence
from the room he opened a drawer, whence he took a diamond ring
and fifty guineas out of eighty which were in a bag.

He then went to Dublin, and later came to the metropolis,
where he found his younger brother, who had likewise supported
himself by acts of dishonesty; and the two brothers agreed to act in
concert. Having taken a previous survey of Mr Glyn's house, at the
corner of Hatton Garden, the brothers broke into it in the night, and
carried off a quantity of plate; but, handbills being immediately
circulated, they were taken into custody while offering the plate for
sale to a Jew in Duke's Place. The Lord Mayor, on examining the
prisoners, admitted the younger brother an evidence against the
elder.

At the next sessions at the Old Bailey it was an affecting
scene to behold the one brother giving evidence against the other,
who was capitally convicted and received sentence of death. At the
place of execution Ramsey made an affecting address to the
surrounding multitude; entreating the younger part of the audience
to avoid gaming, as what would infallibly lead to destruction.

After the customary devotions on such melancholy
occasions he was turned off, and the body, having hung the usual
time, was conveyed in a hearse to Giltspur Street, and decently
interred by his friends.


JOHN JENNINGS
Executed at York, in the year 1742, on a charge of robbery, of which he
was innocent.

 THIS unfortunate man was the victim of his master, in order to
screen himself from the vengeance of the law. He was a waiter at the
Bell Inn, near Hull, in Yorkshire, kept by a villain of the name of
James Brunel.

 A robbery, had lately been committed on the highway, on an old
man, a reputed miser; and who, for greater safety, generally carried a
bag of gold about him. The old man, soon after being robbed, casually
went into the Bell; and going up to the bar, saw Brunel, the landlord,
with one of his guineas in his hand, and some shillings, which he was,
paying away to a carrier, which were all marked, so that he could
identify them. He consequently suspected that the landlord was the
robber, and related the circumstance to some other persons in the
house.

 Brunel overheard the conversation, and to secure himself,
instantly formed and executed a design to impute the robbery to his
waiter, Jennings, who had gone early to sleep, in a state of
intoxication. To this wicked end, he went to his bed, and put the
purse, taken from the old man, with the greater part of its contents,
in the unfortunate man's pocket, without waking him; and then coming
down to the company, told them, that he believed he had found the
thief. "I have," continued the villain, "long suspected Jennings, one
of my waiters, and about five hours ago I gave him a guinea to get
changed; he same back in liquor, and returned me a guinea, which I am
sure is not the same which I gave him." He then produced the guinea,
which being marked, was claimed by the old man. It was now proposed
that Jennings should be searched, which was done, and the purse being
found upon him, he was committed, tried, condemned, and executed.

 Brunel, being convicted of another, robbery, confessed these
facts.


ROBERT FULLER
Convicted of shooting Mr Bailey, June Sessions, 1743, and
pardoned because he was wrongly identified

AT the sessions held at the Old Bailey in the month of
May, 1743, Robert Fuller, of Harefield, in Middlesex, was indicted
for shooting at Francis Bailey, with a gun loaded with powder and
small stones, and demanding his money, with intent to rob him.

Mr Bailey deposed that, as he was returning from Uxbridge
Market, he saw a man near Harefield sitting on a stile, having a
gun in his hand; that he jumped off the stile, seized the horse's
bridle, clapped the gun to Mr Bailey's body, and threatened to
shoot him. Mr Bailey said: "That will do you no good, nor me
neither." He then put his hand repeatedly into Bailey's pocket; but
the latter would not submit to be robbed, and rode off. Immediately
on which, Fuller shot at him, and wounded him in the right arm, so
as to break the bone in splinters; and many stones, and bits of the
bone, were afterwards taken out of the arm: nor did the prosecutor
recover of the wound till after languishing nearly twenty weeks.
The prisoner, however, had not an opportunity of robbing Mr
Bailey, as his horse took fright and ran away at the report of the
gun.

The substance of Mr Bailey's further deposition was, that
this happened about seven o'clock in the evening, on the 24th of
February; but that, as it was a clear starlight night, he had a full
view of the prisoner, whom he had known before.

Bailey was now asked if he had ever been examined before
any Justice of the Peace in relation to the fact; to which he
answered in the negative. He was then asked if he had never
charged the crime on any other person except the prisoner, which
he steadily denied having done.

In contradiction to which, a commitment was produced, in
which Thomas Bowry was charged with assaulting Francis Bailey,
with an intent to rob, and this Bowry was continued in custody, on
the affidavit of Mr Mellish, a surgeon, that Mr Bailey was so ill of
the wounds he had received that he could not come to London
without danger of his life, but Bowry was discharged at the jail
delivery at the end of the sessions for June, 1743.

The copy of Bowry's commitment was now read, and
authenticated by Richard Akerman, clerk of the papers to his
father, and then keeper of Newgate.

On this contradictory evidence the characters of both
parties were inquired into, when that of the prosecutor appeared to
be very fair, that of the prisoner rather doubtful.

Upon considering the whole matter, the jury gave a verdict
that he was guilty, but on account of the circumstance above
mentioned, relating to the commitment of Bowry for the same
offence, on Bailey's oath, they recommended the prisoner in the
court as a proper object of the Royal clemency, and he was
accordingly pardoned.

This affair is one ot that intricate nature, which must
remain involved in mystery. It is impossible for us to say whether
the prosecutor was, or was not, mistaken in the man against whom
he swore; but we see that he had sworn the same fact, with equal
positiveness, against Bowry: and this circumstance evinces the
great propriety of the jury recommending the convict to mercy,
where there is even but a bare probability remaining of his
innocence. In doubtful cases we should always incline to the side
of mercy; and it ought to be remembered, to the credit of the court
at the Old Bailey, that this rule is constantly attended to; and it is a
known fact, that persons charged with capital offences have been
frequently heard to declare, that they would rather take their trials
at the Old Bailey, than in any other court in the kingdom.

On this occasion it may not be improper to make a remark
on the immense power that is lodged in the breasts of our judges
who go the circuits. A great deal of this power is discretionary: it
remains with then to reprieve the convict, or to leave him for
execution: an awful trust which makes the possessor of it
accountable to God and his own conscience. We have no idea but
that all the present judges exert their power in the mildest manner:
but times have been, when magistrates have wantonly sported with
their authority, to the destruction of the innocent, and the eternal
disgrace of themselves.

This circumstance should hold forth a lesson of caution,
never to trust the authority of a judge but with a man distinguished
equally by his knowledge, integrity, and humanity.



WILLIAM CHETWYND
A Curious Case of a Schoolboy who killed another Boy during a
Quarrel about a Cake, and was convicted of Manslaughter,
October, 1743

THIS unfortunate young gentleman was placed at the
academy in Soho Square, and at the same school was a youth
named Thomas Rickets, then in the nineteenth year of his age.

At the sessions held in the Old Bailey in October, 1743, the
above-named William Chetwynd, who was fifteen years of age,
was indicted for the murder of Thomas Rickets, and was likewise
indicted on the statute of stabbing.

Mr Chetwynd being in possession of a piece of cake,
Rickets asked him for some of it, on which he gave him a small
piece; but refusing to give him a second, which he desired, he cut
off a piece for himself, and laid it on a bureau, while he went to
lock up the chief part of the cake for his own use. In the interim
Rickets took the cake which had been left on the bureau, and when
Chetwynd returned and demanded it he refused to deliver it; on
which a dispute arose, and Chetwynd, having still in his hand the
knife with which he had cut the cake, wounded the other in the left
side of the belly.

Hannah Humphreys, a servant in the house, coming at that
time into the room, Rickets said that he was stabbed, and
complained much of the pain that he felt from the wound. On
which Humphreys said to Chetwynd: "You have done very well";
to which the latter replied: "If I have hurt him, I am very sorry for
it."

The wounded youth, being carried to bed, languished three
days under the hands of the surgeons, and then expired. In the
interim Chetwynd, terrified at what had happened, quitted the
school; but as soon as he heard of the death of Rickets he went to a
magistrate, to abide the equitable decision of a verdict of his
countrymen; and he was brought to his trial at the time and place
above mentioned.

The counsel on behalf of the prisoner acknowledged the
great candour of the gentlemen who were concerned for the
prosecution, in their not endeavouring to aggravate the
circumstances attending the offence. They also confessed the truth
of all that had been sworn by the witnesses; but they insisted, on
behalf of the accused party, that though his hand might have made
an unhappy blow, his heart was innocent.

The following is the substance of their arguments on the
case: They said that the fact could not amount to murder at
common law, which Lord Coke defines to be "an unlawful killing
another man aforethought," either expressed by the party, or
implied by the law. They said, that in this case, there was not the
least malice, as the young gentlemen were friends, not only at the
time, but to the close of Ricket's life, when he declared that he
forgave the other.

They said, that it being proved that there was a friendship
subsisting, it would be talking against the sense of mankind to say
the law could imply any thing contrary to what was plainly proved.
That deliberation and cruelty of disposition, make the essential
difference between manslaughter and murder; and they quoted
several legal authorities in support of this doctrine.

One of their arguments was urged in the following words:

"Shall the young boy at the bar, who was doing a lawful
act, be said to be guilty of murder? He was rescuing what was his
own: the witnesses have told you, that after he had given Rickets a
piece of cake, Rickets went to him for more; he denied to give it
him, he had a right to keep his cake, and the other had no right to
take it: and he had a right to retake it." There are cases in the books
which make a difference between murder and manslaughter. If a
man takes up a bar of iron, and throws it at another, it is murder:
and the difference in the crime lies between the person's taking it
up, and having it in his hand. Chetwynd had the knife in his hand,
and upon that a provocation ensues, for he did not take the knife
up; if he had, that would have shown an intention to do mischief. It
may be doubted, whether or no when he had this knife in his hand
for a lawful purpose, and in an instant struck the other, he
considered he had the knife in his hand; for if in his passion he
intended to strike with his hand, it is not a striking with the knife.

"At the beginning of the fray, Rickets had a knife in his
hand; and it was one continued act. And another question is,
whether there was not a struggle; here was the cake taken, and in
endeavouring to get it again, this accident happens; at the first
taking of the cake, it is in evidence, that Chetwynd was not forced
to extend his arms, unless the other was coming to take it from
him, and then a struggle is a blow.

"The counsel for the crown, submitted it to the court,
whether (since the only points insisted on by way of defence for
the prisoner, were questions at law, in which the jury were to be
guided by their opinion,) the facts proved and admitted did not
clearly, in the first place, amount to murder at common law; and in
the second place, whether there could be the least doubt in point of
law, but that the case was within the statute of 1 James I.

"Upon the first it was admitted, that to constitute murder
there must be malice.

"But it was argued, that malice was of two kinds, either
expressed and in fact, or implied by law.

"But when one person kills another without provocation, it
is murder, because the law presumes and implies malice from the
act done. And therefore, whenever any person kills another it is
murder, unless some sufficient provocation appear. But it is not
every provocation that extenuates the killing of a man from murder
into manslaughter. A slight or trivial provocation is the same as
none, and is not allowed in law to be any justification or excuse for
the death of another. And therefore no words of reproach or
infamy, whatever provoking circumstances they may be attended
with; no affronting gestures, or deriding postures, however insolent
or malicious, are allowed to be put in balance with the life of a
man, and to extenuate the offence from murder to manslaughter.

"Applying the rules of law to the present case, it was plain,
that the violent act done, bore no proportion to the provocation. All
the provocation given was taking up a piece of cake, which is not
such an offence, as can justify the prisoner's attacking the person
who took it up, with an instrument, that apparently endangered his
life, or rather carried certain death along with it.

"Mr Rickets was stabbed, having then no weapon drawn in
his hand, and not having before struck the person who stabbed
him. It is plainly within the intention; which is declared in the
preamble to have been in order to punish stabbing or killing upon
the sudden, committed in rage, or any other passion of the mind,
&c. and therefore it was submitted to the court, whether upon the
facts proved and not denied, the consequence of the law was not
clear that the prisoner was guilty within both indictments."

Mr Baron Reynolds and Mr Recorder, before whom the
prisoner was tried, taking notice of the points of law that had
arisen, the learned arguments of the counsel, and the many cases
cited upon this occasion, were of opinion that it would be proper to
have the facts found specially.

A special verdict was accordingly agreed on by all parties,
and drawn up in the usual manner -- viz. by giving a true state of
the facts as they appeared in evidence, and concluding thus: "We
find that the deceased was about the age of nineteen, and Mr
Chetwynd about the age of fifteen; and that of this wound the
deceased died on the 29th of the said September; but whether,
upon the whole, the prisoner is guilty of all or any of the said
indictment, the jurors submit to the judgment of the Court."

In consequence of this special verdict the case was argued
before the twelve judges, who deemed Chetwynd to have been
guilty of manslaughter only; whereupon he was set at liberty, after
being burned in the hand.



LYDIA ADLER
Burned in the Hand for killing her Husband, who had four Wives.

THIS woman was tried at the Old Bailey, at the sessions
held in June, 1744, for the wilful murder of her husband, John
Adler, by throwing him on the ground, kicking and stamping on
his groin, and giving him thereby a mortal bruise, of which he
languished in St Bartholomew's Hospital from the 11th till the 23rd
of May, and then died; and she was again indicted on the coroner's
inquest for manslaughter.

Hannah Adler, daughter of the deceased, swore that he told
her that his wife had given him the wounds which afterwards
occasioned his death.

Benjamin Barton deposed that the deceased came to him,
on the 11th of May, with a bloody handkerchief about his head,
and asked him for a spare bed, saying: "This infernal fiend
[meaning his wife] will be the death of me." But Barton, knowing
the woman to be of a very turbulent disposition, refused to lodge
the man. After this he visited him every other day during his
illness, and he very often said: "I wish, Mr Barton, you would be
so good as to get a warrant to secure this woman, for she will be
the death of me"; and two hours before he died he inquired if such
a warrant was procured; and desired that Barton would see her
brought to justice, which he promised he would, if it lay in his
power.

Hannah Adler, being further questioned, said that her father
died between twelve and one o'clock; that about two hours and a
half before he said: "I am a dead man, and this lady [the prisoner]
has killed me." That after this he repeatedly declared that his wife
was the person that had murdered him, and begged that she might
be brought to justice. His last declaration was made only about ten
minutes before he died.

Mr Godman, a surgeon, deposed that the husband died of a
mortification, occasioned by a blow; but acknowledged that the
deceased had a rupture, and that such a blow as he had received
would not have hurt a person in sound health.

The prisoner in her defence said that her husband had two
wives besides her; and that a quarrel happening between her and
one of the wives, the husband endeavoured to part them, and in so
doing fell down, and the other woman fell on him; but that she
herself never lifted hand or foot against him.

Joseph Steel deposed that the deceased had had four wives;
that he was kind to them all at the first, but afterwards used to beat
them severely; and that he had seen the prisoner and her husband
frequently fight together.

The jury gave a verdict of manslaughter; in consequence of
which she was burned in the hand.



PATRICK BOURKE AND GEORGE ELLIS
Executed at Tyburn, 20th of February, 1745, for Sheep-Stealing

BY an Act of Parliament passed in the fourteenth year of
the reign of King George II., for the security of farmers and
graziers, it is thus enacted:

"If any person or persons, after the first day of May, 1741,
shall feloniously drive away or in any manner feloniously steal any
sheep, or shall wilfully kill one or more sheep, with intent to steal
the whole or any part of the carcasses, the person or persons so
offending shall suffer death, without benefit of clergy."

This law denounces the punishment of death to any person
offending against it, and though the crime is frequently committed,
few are executed for sheep-stealing, as the law is seldom put in
force owing to the humanity of the judges or the prosecutors, who
probably consider that the offence is committed in consequence of
the calls of hunger, and dread of starving. The offence of these
men were not however of that description, as they destroyed whole
flocks, in order to get possession of the fat, and deserved as severe
a punishment as any other robbers.

Patrick Bourke and George Ellis were indicted at the
sessions held at the Old Bailey in December, 1744, for killing
fifteen ewe sheep, the property of John Messenger, of Kensington,
with intention to steal part of the carcasses -- to wit, the fat near the
kidneys.

Mr Messenger deposed that he had lost fifteen ewes; that
their throats were cut, their bellies ripped open, and the fat taken
out; and likewise said that he had lost twenty-seven lambs, which
were taken out of those ewes; and he deposed that the prisoners
both confessed the crime before Sir Thomas Devil on the Tuesday
following; and that Bourke acknowledged they sold the fat to a
tallow-chandler, for forty-one shillings and twopence-halfpenny.

Richard Twyford proved the finding the sheep ripped open,
and the fat taken out; and that the lambs were dragging by the sides
of them: and swore that the prisoners had owned the taking the
gates from the farm to pen the sheep up.

Joseph Agnew, a constable, swore that Ellis came to him;
and after having told him of a quarrel between him and Bourke,
who had given him two black eyes, he acknowledged that he had
been concerned with him in the commission of the crime above-
mentioned. Hereupon the constable took with him three watchmen,
and going to Bourke's lodgings, seized him in bed, and found a
clasp-knife, laying on the ground near the feet of the bed, on which
was some fat, which likewise remained when the knife was
produced in court on the trial.

Bourke, in his defence, said that he was kept drunk by the
constable in order to induce him to make a confession, but this not
being credited by the jury, and there being other proofs of the fact
having been acknowledged, they were capitally convicted, and
received sentence of death. They were hanged at Tyburn, on 20th
of February, 1745.

At the summer assizes in 1757, for the county of Lincoln, a
deaf and dumb man, called Matthew Pullen, was indicted for
sheep-stealing. The court ordered a jury to be impanelled, not to
try him for larceny, but to inquire whether he stood mute by the act
of Providence, or through obstinacy. It was proved by his father-in-
law, and some neighbours, that from his infancy he was deaf and
dumb, and the jury therefore brought in their verdict, 'that he stood
mute by the act of God,' and he was discharged in gaol delivery.

There being no punishment for the deaf and dumb, any
more than for those that are proved non compos mentis, the actions
of both ought to be kept under restraint. This deaf and dumb sheep-
stealer, must certainly have been conscious that he was doing
wrong when he stole his neighbour's sheep, and it seems
unreasonable that he should escape without some punishment, as
such a precedent may prove very injurious in its consequences, for
it implies that any person who is deaf and dumb is at liberty to
steal sheep with impunity.



MARTHA TRACY
Executed for a Street Robbery

THE melancholy fate of this unfortunate woman is another
instance of the misery occasioned by that licentiousness, which is
of all vices the most destructive of the happiness of females, and so
disgraceful to the British metropolis.

This much injured woman was a native of Bristol, and
descended from poor parents, who educated her in the best manner
in their power. Getting a place in the service of a merchant when
she was sixteen years of age, she lived with him three years, and
then came to London.

Having procured a place in a house where lodgings were let
to single gentlemen, and being a girl of an elegant appearance, and
fond of dress, she was liable to a variety of temptations.

Her vanity being even more than equal to her beauty, she at
length conceived that she had made a conquest of one of the
gentlemen-lodgers, and was foolish enough to think he would
marry her.

With a view of keeping alive the passion she thought she
had inspired, she sought every pretence of going into his chamber;
and he, having some designs against her virtue, purchased her
some new clothes, in which she went to church on the following
Sunday, where she was observed by her mistress.

On their return from church, the mistress strictly inquired
how she came to be possessed of such fine clothes; and, having
learnt the real state of the case, she was discharged from her
service on the Monday morning.

As she still thought the gentleman intended marriage, she
wrote to him, desiring he would meet her at a public-house; and,
on his attending, she wept incessantly, and complained of the
treatment she had met with from her mistress, which she attributed
to the presents she had received from him.

The seducer advised her to calm her spirits, and go into
lodgings, which he would immediately provide for her, and here he
could securely visit her till the marriage should take place.

Deluded by this artifice, she went that day to lodge at a
house in the Strand, which he said was kept by a lady who was
related to him. In this place he visited her on the following, and
several successive days; attending her to public places, and making
her presents of elegant clothes, which effectually flattered her
vanity, and lulled asleep the small remains of her virtue.

It is needless to say that her ruin followed. After a
connexion of a few months, she found him less frequent in his
visits; and, informing him that she was with child, demanded that
he would make good his promise of marriage: on which he
declared that he had never intended to marry her, and that he
would not maintain her any longer; and hinted that she should seek
another lodging.

On the following day the mistress of the house told her she
must not remain there any longer, unless she would pay for her
lodgings in advance, which being unable to do, or, perhaps,
unwilling to remain in a house where she had been so unworthily
treated, she packed up her effects, and removed to another lodging.

When she was brought to bed, the father took away the
infant, and left the wretched mother in a very distressed situation.
Having subsisted for some time by pawning her clothes, she was at
length so reduced as to listen to the advice of a woman of the town,
who persuaded her to procure a subsistence by the casual wages of
prostitution.

Having embarked in the horrid course of life, she soon
became a common street-walker, and experienced all those
calamities incident to so deplorable a situation. Being sometimes
tempted to pick pockets for a subsistence, she became an
occasional visitor at Bridewell, where her mind grew only the
more corrupt by the conversation of the abandoned wretches
confined in that place.

We now come to speak of the fact, the commission of
which forfeited her life to the violated laws of her country.

At the sessions held at the Old Bailey, in the month of
January, 1745, she was indicted for robbing William Humphreys
of a guinea on the king's highway.

The fact was, that being passing, at midnight, near
Northumberland House, in the Strand, she accosted Mr
Humphreys, who declining to hold any correspondence with her,
two fellows with whom she was connected came up, and one of
them knocking him down, they both ran away; when she robbed
him of a guinea, which she concealed in her mouth; but Mr
Humphreys seizing her, and two persons coming up, she was
conducted to the watch-house, where the guinea was found in her
mouth, as above mentioned, by the constable of the night.

At her trial it was proved that she had called the men, one
of whom knocked down the prosecutor; so that there could be no
doubt of her being an accomplice with them; whereupon the jury
brought her in guilty.

After conviction she appeared to have a proper idea of her
former guilt, and the horrors of her present situation. In fact she
was a sincere penitent, and lamented that pride of heart which had
first seduced her to destruction.

Martha Tracy was hanged at Tyburn, on the 16th of
February, 1745, behaving with the greatest decency and propriety
to the last moment of her life.

The fate of this woman affords a striking lesson to girls
against the taking pride in those personal charms which, the more
brilliant they are, will be only the more likely to lead them to
destruction. The idea she had formed of making a conquest of a
man in a rank of life superior to her own served only to assist
towards her ruin; but we cannot help thinking that he who could be
base enough to seduce her under solemn promises of marriage was
still more guilty than herself, and in some degree an accessory to
all the crimes she afterwards committed.

It seems strangely unnatural that the father should take
away the child, and leave the mother to perish, or to subsist only in
a most infamous manner, for which she had been qualified by the
gratification of his passions!

In the gay hours of festivity men may triumph in the
advantages they have gained over women in their unguarded
moments; but surely reflection must come, with all her attendant
train of horrors. Conscience will assert her rights; and the misery
the wicked seducer suffers in this life he ought to consider only as
a prelude to the more aggravated torments he has to expect in the
next.

If any one of the readers of this narrative has been guilty of
the enormous crime we are now reprobating, it will become him to
think seriously of the great work of reformation; and to repent, in
the most unfeigned manner, while Providence yet permits him the
opportunity of repentance. It ought to be remembered by offenders
of every class, that the God of mercy is also a God of justice.



MATTHEW HENDERSON
Executed in Oxford Street, 25th of February, 1746, for murdering
his Mistress, Lady Dalrymple, who was angry because he trod on
her Toe.

THIS offender was born at North Berwick, in Scotland,
where he was educated in the liberal manner customary in that
country.

Sir Hugh Dalrymple, being a Member of the British
Parliament, took Henderson into his service when fourteen years of
age, and brought him to London. Before he was nineteen years old
he married one of his master's maids; but Sir Hugh, who had a
great regard for him, did not dismiss him, though he was greatly
chagrined at this circumstance.

Some few days before the commission of the murder, Sir
Hugh, having occasion to go out of town for a month, summoned
Henderson to assist in dressing him; and, while he was thus
employed, Sir Hugh's lady going into the room, the servant
casually trod on her toe. She said not a word on the occasion, but
looked at him with a degree of rage that made him extremely
uneasy.

When Sir Hugh had taken his leave she demanded of
Henderson why he had trod on her toe; in answer to which he
made many apologies, and ascribed the circumstance to mere
accident; but she gave him a blow on the ear, and declared that she
would dismiss him from her service.

Henderson said it would be unnecessary to turn him away,
for he would go without compulsion; but, reflecting that her
passion would soon subside, he continued in his place, and was
used with as much kindness as if the accident had not taken place.

Offended by the insult that had been offered him,
Henderson began to consider how he should be revenged and at
length came to the fatal resolution of murdering his mistress.

For the particulars of this barbarous deed we refer to his
confession in Newgate, taken in writing by the ordinary, the day
before his execution.

He said his mother had been dead several years, which he
mentioned with satisfaction because, as she loved him tenderly, he
believed this affair would certainly have broken her heart.

He had lived with his master five years -- about three years
in Scotland and two years in London -- and declared no servant
could be better used than he was, and that he never had the least
dislike to the deceased, for that she was a lady of great humanity,
and greatly respected by all her servants; and his master a most
worthy gentleman. One night Mary Platt, the maid-servant, told
him she would go and see her husband, and he said she might do as
she pleased. She went, and took the key to let herself in again. He
shut the door after her, and went and cleaned some plate in the
kitchen. From thence he went up into the back-parlour, where he
used to lie, and let down his bed, in order to go to sleep. He pulled
off his shoes, and tied up his hair with his garter, and that moment
the thought came into his head to kill his lady. He went downstairs
into the kitchen, took a small iron cleaver, and went up to the first
landing-place on the stairs, and after tarrying a minute or two came
down, shocked at the crime he was about to perpetrate. He went up
again as far as the first window, and the watchman was going --
"past twelve o'clock." After the watchman had passed the door, he
entered the room a second time, went to the bedside, undrew the
curtains, and found she was fast asleep. He went twice from the
bed to the door in great perplexity of mind, the deceased being still
asleep. He continued in great agonies, but soon felt where she lay,
and made twelve or fourteen motions with the cleaver before he
struck her. He repeated his blows, and in struggling she fell out of
bed next the window, and then he thought it was time to put her
out of her misery, and struck her with all his might as she lay on
the floor.

He then went into his bedchamber again, and sat down on
his bed for about ten minutes, when it came into his head to rob the
house. He again went into the deceased's bed-chamber, and took
her pockets as they were hanging on the chair, and took a gold
watch and two diamond rings out of the drawers, with several other
things.

He was executed in Oxford Street, on 25th February, 1746.



MARY HAMILTON
A Woman who was imprisoned and whipped for marrying
Fourteen Women, 1746

POLYGAMY, or a man marrying two or more wives --
and, vice versa, a woman marrying two or more husbands -- is a
crime frequently committed; but a woman marrying a woman
according to the rites of the Established Church is something
strange and unnatural. Yet did this woman, under the outward garb
of a man, marry fourteen of her own sex!

At the Quarter Sessions held at Taunton, in Somersetshire,
this woman was brought before the Court; but under what specific
charge, or upon what penal statute she was indicted, we can neither
trace by the mention of the circumstance, nor could we frame an
indictment to meet the gross offence, because the law never
contemplated a marriage among women. She was, however, tried,
whether or not her case might have been cognisable, and Mary
Price, the fourteenth wife, appeared in evidence (in such a case as
this we must be pardoned for ambiguity) against her female
husband.

She swore that she was lawfully married to the prisoner,
and that they bedded and lived together as man and wife for more
than a quarter of a year; during all which time, so well did the
impostor assume the character of man, she still actually believed
she had married a fellow-creature of the right and proper sex.

The learned quorum of justices thus delivered their verdict:
"That the he or she prisoner at the bar is an uncommon, notorious
cheat, and we, the Court, do sentence her, or him, whichever he or
she may be, to be imprisoned six months, and during that time to
be whipped in the towns of Taunton, Glastonbury, Wells and
Shepton Mallet, and to find security for good behaviour as long as
they, the learned justices aforesaid, shall or may, in their wisdom
and judgment, require." And Mary, the monopoliser of her own
sex, was imprisoned and whipped accordingly, in the severity of
the winter of the year 1746.


THE SECOND REBELLION OF THE PRETENDER TO THE BRITISH THRONE
in the year 1745.

"Whatever private views and passions plead,
NO cause can justify so black a deed;
These, when the angry 'tempest clouds the soul,
May darken reason, and her course controul;
But when the prospect clears, her startled eye
Must, from the treacherous gulph, with horror fly,
On whose wide wave, by stormy passions tost,
So many hapless wretches have been lost. 
Then be this truth the star by which we steer,
Above ourselves, our COUNTRY should be dear."
 THOMSON.

 THE same pretext used to foment a discontent to the reigning
family, and to set up the standard of the House of Stuart, again burst
forth at this period of time, with a much more serious aspect than the
rebellion of 171 5. Having already given an account of the rise and
quelling of that public revolt, to which we again refer our reader, we
shall proceed to a more ample history of that, now before us -- the
most remarkable circumstance that had happened for some centuries.

 When England was now attacked, by the disaffected Scotchmen, she
was involved in an expensive war with her ancient enemy, France. Her
armies were fighting under the Duke of Cumberland, in Germany, and her
fleets sufficiently employed in watching the motions of their enemy.
King George, tho' then seated on the English throne, in one part of
this war, in person commanded his army, and won the celebrated battle
of Dettington, where he evinced much personal courage. When the
rebellion broke out in Scotland, the King was on a visit to his
dominions in Hanover.

 The French, being at war, with Britain, thought the time
favourable to wound its internal peace, by espousing the cause of the
Pretender. Not that they cared about him or his pretence to the crown,
but he appeared an excellent instrument for that purpose. The very same
policy they adopted when Britain was at war with her rebellious
colonies in America. The French assisted them, not from affection, but
through them to wound the crown, under which they had been fostered for
so many years.

 That government was not apprised of the preparations making to
assist the Pretender, is evident from the King's speech on the 2d of
May, 1745, the very time, they were going on, wherein he informs his
parliament, "that the posture of affairs abroad had received a very
considerable alteration, to the advantage of the common cause, and that
thereby the influence of France was much weakened and diminished, and a
way opened to restore that strength and power to our ancient and
natural allies, which would tend greatly to the re-establishment and
security of the balance of Europe." On the 10th, the King, having
placed the government of the nation in the hands of John, Lord
Archbishop of Canterbury, and nineteen other Privy Counsellors, he 
embarked at Harwich, on a visit to Hanover.

 The first notice which the British public had of the, proceedings
of the, Pretender, was from a paragraph in the General Evening Post,
which said, "The Pretender's eldest son put to sea, July 14, from
France, in an armed ship of sixty guns, provided with a large quantity
of war-like stores, together with a frigate of thirty guns, and a
number of smaller armed vessels, in order to land in Scotland, where he
expected to find twenty thousand men in arms, to make good his,
pretensions to the crown of Great Britain. He was to be joined by five
ships of the line from Brest, and 4,500 Spaniards were embarking at
Ferrol."

 Through different channels this news was confirmed, and the
nation thrown into the utmost alarm. King George II. on being apprised
of it, instantly prepared to return, and arrived in London on the 31st
of August, amid the acclamations of his loyal subjects, and a discharge
of artillery. The Park and Tower guns had fired only a week before, on
the taking of Cape Breton.

 The Pretender, followed by about fifty Scotch and Irish
adventurers, came incog. through Normandy, and on the 18th of July
embarked on board a ship of war of 18 guns, which was joined off
Belleisle by the Elizabeth and other ships. They intended to have
sailed north about, and land in Scotland. On the 20th they came up with
an English fleet of merchant vessels, under convoy of the Lion man of
war, of 58 guns, commanded by Captain Brett, who immediately bore down
upon the French line-of-battle ship, which he engaged within pistol
shot five hours, and was constantly annoyed by the smaller ships of the
enemy. The rigging of the Lion was cut to pieces; her mizen-mast,
mizen-top-mast, main-yard, and foretop-sail, were shot away; all her
lower-masts and top-masts shot through in many places, so that she lay
muzzled in the sea, and could do nothing with her sails. Thus situated,
the French ships sheered off, and the Lion could make no effort to
follow them. Captain Brett had forty-five men killed; himself, all his
lieutenants, the master, several midshipmen, and one hundred and seven
foremast men wounded. His principal antagonist, the Elizabeth; with
difficulty got back to Brest, quite disabled, and had sixty-four men
killed, one hundred and thirty-nine dangerously wounded, and a number
more slightly. She had on board 400,000l. sterling, and arms and
ammunition for several thousand men.

 The French court, the expedition thus miscarrying, pretended
ignorance of the circumstance.

 Meanwhile, the Camerons, the Macdonalds, and many other clans,
were in arms, in expectation of their friends from France. They came
down into. the low-lands in parties, and carried off, by force, many
men to fill their ranks, and committed various disorders.

 The Pretender having embarked in another ship, again sailed from
France, and eluded the English cruisers, so as to give him an
opportunity of landing, which he effected with his followers, on the
Isle of Sky, opposite to Lochaber, in the county of Inverness, about
the end of. the, month of July, and took up his residence at the house
of a Papist priest, with whom he remained three weeks, while his
emissaries were raising men for his service. At length at the head of
about two thousand he began his, march-under a standard, on which was
the motto "TANDEM TRIUMPHANS." -- "At length triumphant."

 The rebels now marched towards Fort William, where the Pretender
published a manifesto, which his father had signed at Rome; containing
abundant promises to such as would adhere to his cause; two of which
were a dissolution of the union between the two kingdoms, and a payment
of the national debt.

 This circumstance induced many of the ignorant country people to
flock to his standard, till at length his undisciplined rabble began to
assume the appearance of an army, which struck terror to the well-
affected wherever it came.

 These transactions, however, had not passed so secretly, but that
the governor of Fort William informed the Lord Justice Clerk of
Edinburgh of all he could learn of the. affair; on which the latter
dispatched an express to the north, ordering the assistance of all
officers, civil and military; and this express arrived about the time
the Pretender erected his standard.

 The Governor of Fort William having received these orders,
dispatched two companies of St. Clair's and Murray's regiments of foot,
to oppose the rebels. They were attacked by a far superior number of
Highlanders, which they contended against, until they fired away all
their ammunition; after which they were attacked in front, flank, and
rear, and near half their number killed, before they surrendered.
Captain Scott, their brave commander, was wounded; but the rebels gave
him and his remaining officers their parole of honour; the private
soldiers were sent to prison.

 In the interim the Lord Justice Clerk ordered Sir John Cope,
commander in chief of the forces in the South Scotland, to march
against the rebels; but in making the circuit of the immense mountains
of Argyleshire, the two armies failed to meet; on which Sir John went
to Inverness, to refresh his troops after the fatigue of the March.

 The armies having thus casually missed each other, the rebels
proceeded to Perth, and having taken possession of that place, the
Pretender issued his orders for all persons who were in possession of
public money, to pay it into the hands of his secretary, whose receipts
should be a full acquittal for the same.

 The rebel numbers had now greatly increased, and in September the
Pretender issued a proclamation. The provost and magistrates left the
city, and others were immediately appointed in their room. Here the
rebels were joined by the Duke of Perth, Lord George Murray, Lord
Nairn, the Hon. William Murray, Messrs. Oliphant, father and son, of
Gask, George Kelly, Esq. who, with the late bishop of Rochester, was
committed to the Tower, and thence escaped, and several other Scotch
gentlemen of influence, with their followers, making a formidable army.

 The official papers distributed began thus: "Charles, Prince of
Wales, and Regent of Scotland, England, France, and Ireland, and of the
Dominions thereto belonging."

 In the mean time general Cope sent from Inverness an express to
Aberdeen, for the transport Vessels in that harbour to be ready to
receive his troops; and embarking on the 18th of September, he
disembarked them at Dunbar.

 During these transactions General Quest, who commanded the castle
of Edinburgh, gave the magistrates of that city several pieces of
cannon for the defence of the place; and Colonel James Gardiner
repaired from Stirling to Edinburgh, with two regiments of dragoons;
but learning that General Cope had landed at Dunbar, which is twenty-
seven Miles east of Edinburgh, he proceeded lo effect a junction with
that general.

 On the 7th another party of rebels took possession of the town of
Dundee, proclaimed the Pretender, searched for arms, and levied money
on the inhabitants, giving receipts for the same. They seized a ship,
and steered her to Perth, supposing there was gunpowder on board. On
the 11th they left Perth, and marched that day to Dunblaine, twenty
miles; the next day only two, to Down. They crossed the Forth at the
fords of Frews, on the 13th, General Blakeney having destroyed the
bridge; and directed their march towards Glasgow; but the next day they
turned to the eastward, and marched by Falkirk to Cullington, four
miles from Edinburgh.

EDINBURGH TAKEN BY SURPRISE.

 The following day the Pretender proceeded through the royal park,
and took possession of Holyrood-House. The money in the bank of
Edinburgh, and the records in the public offices, were now removed to
the castle for security, and the gates of the city were kept fast
during the whole day; but five hundred of the rebels having concealed
themselves in the suburbs, took an opportunity, at four o'clock the 
next morning, to follow a  coach which was going in and seizing the
gate called the Netherbow, they maintained their ground while, the body
reached the centre of the city, and formed themselves in the Parliament
Close.

 Thus possessed of the capital, they seized two thousand stand of
arms, and, on the following day, marched to oppose the Royal army,
under the command of General Cope; and the two armies being within
sight of each other, near Preston Pans, on the evening of the 20th,
Colonel Gardiner earnestly recommended it to the general to attack them
during the night; but deaf to this advice he kept the men under arms,
till morning, though they were already greatly harassed.

 At five in the morning the rebels made a furious attack on the
royal army, and threw them into unspeakable confusion, by two regiments
of dragoons falling back on the foot. Colonel Gardiner, with 400 foot,
behaved with uncommon valour, and covered the retreat of those who
fled, but the colonel receiving a mortal wound, the rebels made
prisoners of the rest of the King's troops.

 The following account of this disaster was issued. from
Whitehall, London:

 "By an express arrived this morning, we are informed that Sir
John Cope, with the troops under his command, were attacked by the
rebels on the 21st instant, at day break, at Preston, near Seaton,
seven miles from Edinburgh; that the King's troops were defeated, and
that Sir John Cope, with about four hundred and fifty dragoons, had
retired to Lauder; Brigadier Fawkes and Colonel Lascelles, had got to
Lauder. The Earls of Loudon and Hume were at Dundee, with Sir John
Cope."

 The loss sustained by the King's troops was,
Killed
300
Wounded
450
Taken
prisoners
520
Total
1270

 The rebels did not lose more than fifty men.

 Flushed with this partial victory, the rebels returned in high
spirits to Edinburgh. They now sent foraging parties through the
country, with orders to seize all the horses and waggons they could
find: and, in the interim, a party of the insurgents attempted to throw
up an intrenchment on the castle-hill. Hereupon the governor,
necessitated to oppose the assailants, yet anxious for the safety of
the inhabitants, sent a messenger in the night, to intimate to those
who lived near the castle-hill, that they would do well to remove out
of danger.

 As soon as it was day-light, the battery of the rebels was
destroyed by a discharge of the great cannon from the half-moon, and
thirty of them killed, with three of the inhabitants, who had rashly
ventured near the spot.

 The governor being greatly deficient in provisions, a gentleman
ordered above 50 fine bullocks to be driven into the city on a pretence
that they were for the use of the rebels; and the person who drove them
leaving them on the castle-hill, the governor and five hundred men
sallied forth and drove them in at the gate, while the rebels played
their artillery with unremitting fury.

 While the rebels continued in Edinburgh, which was about seven
weeks, some noblemen and their adherents joined them; so that their
army amounted to almost ten thousand men, They now levied large
contributions; not only in Edinburgh, but through the adjacent country;
and those who furnished them received receipts, signed,

 "CHARLES, Prince Regent."

 The officers taken at the battle of Preston, were admitted to
their parole, but the privates were ill treated. Their allowance-was
only three-halfpence each per day, and their prison filthy, and 
destitute of accommodations. This was practised in order to cause them
to enlist under the banner of the Pretender and they were tampered
with, promised the best treatment, new clothing, and five guineas per
man, on their "taking St. James's Palace." One hundred and twenty,
oppressed by hunger, and tempted by allurement, were not able to
withstand either the calls or the temptation, and turned rebels and
papists: thus forfeiting their honour and their lives. It is curious to
remark, that not a man of these apostate traitors survived their newly
adopted cause, for such as were not killed in the various engagements
which took place before the rebellion could be quelled, fell into the
hands of their injured countrymen, who hanged them all on the gallows;
and thus let every traitor perish!

 About this time some ships from France arrived in the Forth,
laden with ammunition; and a person who attended the Pretender was
dignified with the title of ambassador from his most Christian Majesty.

 General Wade had now the command of some forces which had reached
Yorkshire; and some Dutch troops being sent to augment his forces, he
marched to Newcastle, with a view to deter the rebels from entering the
southern part of the kingdom.

 That celebrated prelate, the late Dr. Herring, archbishop of
York, distinguished himself gloriously on this interesting occasion.
Joining with the high sheriff to assemble the freeholders, the
archbishop preached an animated sermon to them; and then the several
parties agreed to assist each other in support of their civil and
religious rights. Many people in Yorkshire were prevented from engaging
in the rebellion by this spirited and well-timed conduct.

 The Lord President Forbes, and the Earl of Loudon, acted in a
manner equally zealous in Scotland. Having collected a number of the
loyal Highlanders into a body, many others who would have joined the
rebels were thereby deterred; and this proceeding proved of the most
essential service towards the suppression of the rebellion.

 The rebels quitted Edinburgh in the beginning of November,
marched to Dalkeith where they encamped; and a report was circulated
that they proposed to make an attack on Lerwick; but this was only a
contrivance to conceal their real designs.

 In the mean time more than a thousand of the rebels deserted, in
consequence of General Wade's publishing a pardon to such as would
return to their duty as good subjects, within a limited time. Still,
however, they had above eight thousand men able to bear arms; yet
General Wade would have marched to attack them, but that his soldiers
were ill of the flux, owing to the severity of the season, and the
fatigues they had undergone.

THE CITY OF CARLISLE BESIEGED AND TAKEN.

 Emboldened by success, and their force increased, the rebels now
determined to penetrate into England. On Saturday, the 9th of October,
about three o'clock in the afternoon, the inhabitants of that ancient
city were thrown into the greatest alarm, at seeing a body of them on
Stanwix-bank, within a quarter of a mile of them; and it being market-
day there, they mixed with the country people returning home, so that
it was not possible for the garrison to fire upon their for some time,
without risque of injuring their neighbours along with their enemies;
but in less than half an hour the country people dispersed themselves,
and then the garrison of the castle fired a ten-gun battery upon them,
which, it is believed, killed several; then, night coming on, they
retreated to a greater distance from the city and the garrison stood
all the night under arms.. At two in the morning a thick fog came on,
which remained till twelve that day, when it cleared up for about an
hour, and. then the garrison discovered the rebels approaching to
attack the city in three several ways, one at Stanwix-bank, commanded
by the Duke of Perth; another at Shading-gate-lane, commanded by the
Marquis of Tullibardine, who also had the artillery; and the third in
Blackwell-fields, where the Pretender commanded the rest of their body
facing the English-gate. Upon discovering these three parties
approaching so near to the city, the garrison fired upon them, viz. the
four-gun battery upon the Marquis of Tullibardine; who was heard to
say, "Gentlemen, we have not meta! for them, retreat;" which they
immediately did; and disappeared. The turret guns and the citadel guns
were: fired upon the Pretender's division, where the white flag was
displayed, which was seen to fall; about the same time the ten-gun
battery was fired upon the Duke of Perth's division, who also retired.
Then the thick fog struck in again, and all the inhabitants of the city
expected nothing but that a general assault would be made by the
rebels, against which the walls were well lined with men; and Sir
John.Pennington; Dr. Waugh, Chancellor Humphry Senhouse, Joseph Daire
Ralston; of Acron-bank, esquires, with several other gentlemen of note;
were all night under arms, to encourage and assist them. The militia
was also drawn up at the foot of Castle-street, to be ready in case of
a forcible attack, to relieve and reinforce the men upon the walls. On
Monday Morning, the fog still continuing thick, the garrison could not
observe the situation of the rebels, but heard their pipers playing not
far from the English-gate. About ten o'clock a man was let down from
the city walls, to reconnoitre the enemy; and he found they were
retiring towards Warwick bridge. In the afternoon other spies were
likewise detached to observe their motions, and discovered a great
number remaining about Warwick-bridge; but the Pretender, with his
guard and attendants, were advanced to Brampton; where they lodged
themselves that night; and on Tuesday they lay idle from all action,
except feats of rapine and plunder; for they spent the day in hunting
and destroying the sheep of Lord Carlisle's tenants, and bearing off
the country people's geese, and other poultry, They also seized upon
all the horses they could lay hands on, without any question relating
to value or property notwithstanding they declared the design of their
expedition was to redress grievances, and correct abuses. Tuesday night
the rebels slept quietly. On Wednesday morning about ten o'clock they
displayed the white flag at Warwick-bridge-end, to which they were
about three hours in repairing. About one o'clock the young Pretender,
attended by Lord George Murray, the Duke of Perth, and several others,
besides those called his guard, came to them; upon which they formed
themselves, and. began to march again to Carlisle, in the following
order, first, two (named Hussars) in Highland dresses, and high rough
red caps, like pioneers: next, about half a dozen of the chief leaders,
followed by a kettle-drum; then the. Pretender's son, at the head of
about 110 horse, called his guards, two and two a-breast; after these a
confused multitude of all sorts of mean people to the number, as was
supposed, of about six thousand.. In this order they advanced to the
height of Warwick-moor; where they halted about half an hour, and took
an attentive view of the city; from thence the foot took the lead, and
so marched to Carlisle about three in the afternoon, when they began a
fresh assault, and the city renewed their fire. On Thursday it was
discovered that the rebels had thrown up a trench, which intimidated
the town, and in a consultation it was resolved to capitulate, a
deputation was sent to the Pretender, at Brampton, and the town and
castle were delivered up on Friday morning.

 During this progress and success of the rebels, the English
government were not waiting the event of a battle, without making every
effort to entirely quell the rebellion. The city of London addressed
the king, in terms of great loyalty, and offered contributions for that
purpose. The example of the metropolis was followed by almost every
corporate body in the kingdom. The flower of the English army, as we
have already observed, was in Germany; had they, instead of the new
levies then engaged, fought at Preston, the issue of that battle would
most likely have terminated the rebellion.

 The King now thought fit to send for his son the Duke of
Cumberland, to command against the rebels; and with him eight
battalions and nine squadrons returned, from fighting foreign foes, to
quell a civil war at home. On his arrival he immediately took the
command; and soon followed his veteran troops towards the north. He
arrived in Staffordshire, at the time when the rebels had penetrated as
far as the town of Derby.

 Both houses of parliament now assembled, a bill was passed for
suspending the habeas corpus act for six months: by which the King was,
for that period, empowered to seize all suspected persons, and commit
them to prison, without specifying the reason of such Commitment.
[Note: The right of the writ of habeas corpus is one of the most
valuable privileges of an Englishman. By virtue of it the body cannot
be detained without shewing cause to the Court of King's Bench. It
guards us from oppressions, and is productive of many advantages in the
security of our rights and liberties. Hence its suspension is not
trusted to the King himself, except upon the most urgent necessity,
such as an invasion, rebellion, or insurrection.]

 The effects of this act were the apprehension and commitment of
many suspected persons in both kingdoms; but it did not appear to stop
the progress of the rebellion.

 The duke now expected a junction of the forces under General
Wade, who had marched from Newcastle to Darlington, and taking a
westward course, had stationed his troops near Wetherby. The rebels
having advice of this motion, it was proposed by some of them to march
into North Wales; but others opposed this on the presumption, that they
should then be surrounded by the royal army, and compelled to surrender
themselves prisoners at discretion, as they would have no opportunity
of retreating into Scotland. They therefore determined to push their
cause to the very utmost; and for this purpose advanced by more rapid
Marches to the southward; than the king's troops could have endured,
until they actually penetrated into the very heart and centre of
England.

 Liverpool was not behind London in spirit and loyalty. The
inhabitants contributed largely in assisting the royal army at this
inclement season, with warm clothing, and raised several companies of
armed men, which were called the Royal Liverpool Blues. Some of the
advanced parties of rebels having appeared in sight of the town, every,
preparation was made to resist them. Finding at length that the
pretender bent his march by another route for Manchester, the Liverpool
Blues marched in order to destroy the brides, and thereby impede their
progress, This service they effected,, breaking them down at
Warrington, over the river Mersey, as far as Stockport. They seized two
of the rebels, whom they handcuffed and, sent to Chester Gaol.

 Notwithstanding these impediments, the rebels crossed the Mersey,
at different fords, through which the Pretender waded breast high in
water. Their numbers could not be accurately ascertained, their march
being straggling and unequal, but about 9000 appeared the aggregate.
Their train of artillery, consisted of sixteen field-pieces of three
and four-pound shot, two carriages of gunpowder, a number of covered
waggons, and about 109 horses laden with ammunition. Their vanguard
consisted of about 200 cavalry, badly mounted, the horses appearing
poor and jaded.

 On entering the town of Macclesfield, they ordered the usual
bellman to go round and, give notice, that billets must forthwith be
ready for 5,000 men, their first division, on pain of military
execution. The Pretender himself constantly marched on foot, at the
head of two regiments, one of which was appropriated as his body-guard.
His dress was a light plaid, belted about with a sash of blue silk; he
wore a grey wig, with a blue bonnet and a white rose in it. He appeared
very dejected at this time. His followers were ordinary, except the two
regiments mentioned, which appeared to have been, picked, out of the
whole, to form them. The arms of the others were very  indifferent.
Some had guns, others only pistols, the remainder broad swords and
targets. They committed various depredations in their progress, seizing
all the horses, and plundering the houses and the farm-yards.

 In this manner they proceeded to Derby. At Manchester, where they
raised a regiment, it was apprehended, and not without reason, that
they might have reached the Metropolis, the duke not being fully
prepared, or by their retrograde motions might have missed them, as
happened in  the outset with Sir John Cope in the mountains of
Arglyeshire. Though we cannot consistently with the plan of our work,
occupy many more pages, yet, on a subject like this, so highly
important at the time it occurred, and new to a great portion of our
readers, a description of the behaviour of this rebellious faction in
Manchester and Derby, with the panic which seized them, and their
flight back to Scotland, cannot be unacceptable.

 On the 28th of November, an advanced party of rebels entered
Manchester, immediately beat up for volunteers, and enlisted several
papists and nonjurors, to whom they promised five guineas each, but
gave them little more than white cockades, and what they called
enlisting money. They then ordered quarters to be prepared for 10,000
men. Upon the arrival of the main body, a detachment examined the best
houses, fixed on one for the Pretender, and others for the principal
officers. They ordered the bellman to go round the town, and give
notice to all persons belonging to the excise, innkeepers, &c.
forthwith to appear, and bring their acquittances and rolls,  and all
the ready cash they had in their hands, belonging to government, on
pain of military execution.

 The Pretender was then proclaimed king Of England, and the
terrified inhabitants were ordered to illuminate their houses.

 In order to deceive the Duke of Cumberland, whose army was
augmenting in Staffordshire, sometimes they gave out that their route
was for Chester; then to Knutsford, Middlewich, and Nantwich; at other
times they pretended they were going. into Wales. The Duke, however,
took those measures which could not fail checking their progress,
should they push for London, which now was greatly apprehended; and in
short, the whole nation was in the utmost consternation. He
concentrated the troops near Northampton, a position which the rebels
could not pass by the direct road, without risking a battle. It was
still apprehended that by forced marches, and by advancing with great
rapidity, they meant to avoid the Duke by a circuitous route through
Derbyshire and Nottinghamshire. Fortunately they trifled away much time
in raising the regiments, a proposition of a Mr. Townley, who was
appointed the colonel, and afterwards taken prisoner at Carlisle, for
which, among many others he was hanged, as we shall hereafter describe.

 These daring traitors had despoiled the country as far as Derby,
before they were aware of the danger they incurred to themselves. Here
they found that the duke was waiting their further progress,
advantageously posted, and in force, which they appeared unwilling to
engage with. They had actually left Derby, and taken the road to
London, when, it was evident, a panic overcame them; for they had
barely measured a mile when they halted; held a consultation, wheeled
round, and retraced their steps to Derby. On their second visit to this
already oppressed town, they levied contributions to a large amount,
and threatened destruction to, it, unless instantly complied with. They
took what was hastily brought them, meanly plundered whatever fell in
their way, and departed sullen and dejected.

 From this moment they sought to regain Scotland, and by forced
marches the duke pursued them. However oppressive their conduct in
advancing, they committed murder and wanton mischief, and seized
whatever they could carry off in their retreat. The rebels in arms in
Scotland had, before this, been joined by some French troops, the
commander of which declared, that he invaded the British dominions in
the name of, and for, his master Louis XV.

 It is high time in our summary of this very remarkable epoch of
the British history, which might fill an interesting volume, to take a
view of. the proceedings of the gallant Duke of Cumberland. On the 6th
he was at Coventry; with horse, and the infantry encamped upon Meriden
Common where they received the warm clothing subscribed for in London,
Liverpool, and other towns. On the 9th he pushed on at the head of the
cavalry, and a thousand fresh, volunteers, mounted in pursuit of the
rebels, with a view to skirmish with, them until the foot came up, but
they fled at their utmost speed, through Ashbourn, Leek, Macclesfield,
Manchester, Leigh, Wigan, and Preston.

 In order to enable the duke, to continue his pursuit, the
gentlemen of Staffordshire provided horses to carry the foot soldiers.
The flourishing town of Birmingham followed this laudable example, and
Sir Lister Holt of Aston Hall, near thereto, furnished 450, sending
even his coach-horses on this service; for which be received the public
and. private thanks of the English commander in chief

 Field-marshal Wade with his detachment of the British army, was
at this time at Wakefield. It had been resolved, in a council of war
held on the 8th, at Ferrybridge, to march with all expedition into
Lancashire, to cut off the retreat of the rebels to Scotland: but
finding they, had proceeded too far in their flight to effect this, he
dispatched General Oglethorpe with the cavalry to hang upon, and harass
their rear.

 The French force which landed in favour of the rebels, brought
with them a train of artillery of such heavy metal as to require about
a dozen of their horses to draw an eighteen-pounder. With this train
they advanced from Montrose to Perth, by Brechin. They had every
difficulty to encounter; the season rendered the roads extremely bad,
and the country people annoyed them in all directions.

 At Preston, the rebels wearied with incessant marches for the
last three or four days, were compelled to halt a day. This being made
known to the Duke of Cumberland, he redoubled his efforts to overtake
them with his cavalry. He had seen recently joined by General
Oglethorpe, whose squadrons had moved. from Doncaster without a halt;
and in three days he gained a hundred miles over snow and ice. By
pushing the horses to the extremity, the duke entered Preston only four
hours after the rear of the rebels had left it but in turn he was now
compelled to halt and refresh.

 On the 14th General Oglethorpe was at Garstang, and took his post
at Elhilmoor, about three miles from Lancaster. The Liverpool companies
arrived at Preston on the 16th, and that town sent a deputation of four
of the principal inhabitants to his royal highness, with, offers to
supply his troops with whatever they might stand in need of.

 At Lancaster the rebels were thrown into the utmost dread on the
approach of General Oglethorpe, with the horse, who actually entered
the town at one end, as they retreated out of the other. While the
horses were feeding in the street, and the soldiers refreshing and
preparing for the attack on overtaking the fugitives, the general was
called back by an express announcing the invasion of the French. This
intelligence proving to have had no foundation, the horse were again
ordered to push on, but the rebels had got by that time so much the
start, as not to be overtaken.

 At Kendal the country rose upon the retreating rebels; they took
three of their men, two women, and several horses; in doing which three
of the people were killed. The Pretender halted at Shap that night; and
fearing to be treated in like manner at Penryth, he endeavoured to
avoid that town, in which attempt he was met by an incredible number of
incensed inhabitants on Lazenby Moor, on which they turned off to
Temple Sowerby, but were hunted and galled the whole day, and at length
driven into Orton. Here they could wait only to feed their horses in
the street, and then set forward, having pressed a guide, but were
pursued by the loyal people of Appleby and Brough, who took the Duke of
Perth's mistress and another gentlewoman, whose carriage had broke
down. As a retaliation for this interruption, the rebels committed
great spoliations as they passed, plundering houses and shops,
destroying goods, and stripping men of their shoes, stockings, breeches
-- nay, often stripping them altogether.

 After several forced marches, the Duke of Cumberland at length
came up with the rebels at Lowther Hall, which they had taken
possession of, but abandoned it on his approach, and threw themselves
into the village of Clifton, three miles from Penryth. The dragoons
immediately dismounted, and made so vigorous an attack, that in about
an hour's time the rebels were driven back, though in a strong and
defensible post. It became dark before the assault was over, and thus
it was rendered impossible to calculate their loss, or to pursue them.
Of the King's forces, forty were killed and wounded; and among the
latter were Colonel Honeywood, Captain East, and the cornets Owen and
Hamilton. These officers declared that when fallen, the rebels struck
at them with their broadswords crying, "No quarter, kill them." They
then, carried off their wounded and fled to Carlisle, which city they
held possession of since its disgraceful capitulation; and which the
English made immediate preparation to invest.

 A fresh detachment from Marshal Wade having joined. the duke,
with a train of battering cannon from Whitehaven, he began his line of
march for Carlisle, and gave orders for raising the posse comitatus,
(the whole body of the people.) Upon his near approach, he found the
main body of the rebels had abandoned the city for Scotland, leaving
behind a garrison. He however invested it in all quarters, and the
besieged fired their cannon with great fury, but little execution.

 During these operations, the Seahorse frigate captured a large
French ship, a part of a small fleet; full of troops and warlike
stores, destined for Scotland, and: brought her into Dover. On board
were twenty-two officers, all of whom were Scotch and Irish, provided
with corn, missions from the King of France, and, a proportional number
of soldiers.

 To return to Carlisle: the Duke of Cumberland threw up batteries
to bombard it, while the rebels burnt part of the suburbs, and hanged
three of the inhabitants. The batteries, which took up several days in
constructing, being complete were opened upon the city, but towards
evening, ammunition being expended, they ceased, waiting for a supply,
which, however, fortunately arrived next day, and the cannonade was
resumed, which caused the rebels to hoist the white flag, upon which,
it again ceased. In about two bows a f1ag of truce advanced with a
rebel officer, who brought a letter signed 'John Hamilton, Governor of
Carlisle.' This letter proposed hostages to be given and exchanged, in
order to prepare for a capitulation. To this the Duke of Cumberland
returned for answer, "That he would make no exchange of hostages with
rebels." Another  flag arrived from the rebel governor, desiring to
know what terms the duke would grant him and his garrison. To this was
answered, that the utmost terms he would grant, were, "not to put them
to the sword, but to reserve them for His Majesty's pleasure;"
whereupon he surrendered the city, praying the duke to intercede for
his Majesty's royal clemency, and that the officers' clothes and
baggage, might be safe; and at three in the afternoon of the 30th of
December, the King's troops once more took possession of the devoted
city of Carlisle.

 The rebel garrison consisted of the remains of the regiment they
raised at Manchester, viz. Towney, their colonel, five captains, six
lieutenants, seven ensigns, and an adjutant, who had been a barber,
with ninety-three non-commissioned officers, drummers, and private men,
chiefly Roman Catholics. The other part of the garrison of Scotch, were
the governor, six captains,. seven lieutenants, three ensigns, and one
surgeon; and 456 non-commissioned officers and private men. Last,
though not least rebellious, was found James Cappock, the Pretender's
bishop of the diocese. The French part of this contemptible garrison,
as they styled themselves, was Sir Francis Geogean, of Thoulouse, in
France, captain in Count Lally's regiment, Colonel Strictland, and Sir
John Arbuthnot, captains in the rebel Lord George Drummond's regiment;
but the real Frenchmen were, one sergeant and four private soldiers.

 These victories, however, by no means put an end to this very
formidable rebellion. We must therefore, long as our account already
is, follow the contending parties to Scotland, and when our readers
recollect, that for this crime, very considerable numbers, as we shall
hereafter shew, forfeited their lives, we cannot persuade ourselves,
that herein we make even a digression from our avowed object. The main
body of the rebels, we have observed, left Carlisle, and in haste moved
forward to Scotland, having no impediment to encounter, we pass over
their destructive march, until we find the Pretender at Glasgow, the
second city of that part of great Britain.  On his arrival at Glasgow,
the Pretender sent for the Provost (the principal officer of the city)
and demanded the names of all those who had subscribed for raising
troops against him, threatening to hang him on his refusal. To this the
Provost replied, "I will not give up the name of any one person in the
city, but myself subscribed more than any other. I thought it my duty,
and I am not afraid to die in such a cause." Here they levied a
contribution for horses, and promised payment for what they consumed,
then ordered the land-tax to be paid: but upon departure said, their
expenses should be discharged out of the pretended forfeited rents of
Kilsyth. They then marched for Stirling, in possession of the English,
commanded by the gallant General Blakeney. The gates could not be
defended; they therefore marched in, and summoned the garrison to
surrender; but the veteran commander answered, that "he would perish in
its ruins, rather than make terms with rebels." In the river of the
town were two English men of war, and the rebels, in order to prevent
their going further up, erected a battery, which the ships soon
destroyed, and caused them to retreat a mile, where they erected
another, which did little execution. They now prepared. for a vigorous
attack upon the castle, got some heavy pieces of ordnance across the
Forth, erected a battery against it, and called in all their forces.
General Blakeney fired upon them, and repeatedly drove them from their
works.

 General Hawley, at the head of such troops as he could form in
order of battle, marched to attempt to raise the siege, but the rebels
made a desperate attack, at the commencement of which his artillery
horses, terrified, broke their traces, and ran away. Some of the
dragoons seeing this, also gave way, and in short, the rebels had the
advantage. At the beginning of the battle, a violent storm of wind and
rain arose, which blew and beat in the faces of the English. General
Hawley retreated to Linlithgow. His powder was found spoiled by the
excessive rains of that and the preceding day; not a musket in five
went off, and the drivers of his waggons, running off with the
impressed horses, he was compelled to burn his tents and other stores,
and to abandon nearly the whole of his artillery.

 Edinburgh being again in the possession of the English, and fears
entertained that the rebels meant to abandon the siege of Stirling, and
proceed thither, General Hawley was ordered to post himself between
those places. The rebels, abandoning Stirling,. laid siege to Fort
William, but after a long attack, in which they fired hot bars, in
hopes of setting it on fire, they, also gave up that design.

 Various were the skirmishes in different parts of Scotland, and
frequently to the advantage of the rebels, which we shall pass over  in
order to bring our history to a close, by presenting the two armies in
order of battle, at Culloden; the result of which crushed this
rebellion. It is certain, that the rebels entertained the most sanguine
hopes of success, from their broadswords, which had already borne them
too long in their career: but, when opposed to the English bayonet of
veteran troops, they, were as a feather before the wind, nor can the
horse make any impression on that formidable weapon, in the hands of a
determined infantry. This may be called a pitched battle, for the
contending armies having taken the field, determined to abide the issue
of the day. They were respectively commanded by the Duke and the
Pretender, in their proper persons: and the following, taken from the
London Gazette, is the conqueror's account of the battle:

 "On Tuesday the 15th the rebels burnt Fort Augustus, which
convinced us of their resolution to stand an engagement with the King's
troops. We gave our men a day's halt at Nairn, and, on the 16th marched
from thence between four and five in, four columns. The three lines of
foot (reckoning the reserve for one) were broken into three from the
right, which made the three columns equal, and each of five battalions.
The artillery and baggage followed the first column upon the right, and
the cavalry made the fourth column on the left.

 "After we had marched about eight miles, our advanced guard
composed of about 40 of Kingston's, and the highlanders, led by the
quarter-master-general, perceived the rebels at some distance making a
motion towards us; upon which we immediately formed; but finding the
rebels were still a good way from us, and that the whole body did not
come forward, we put ourselves again upon our march in our former
posture, and continued it to within a mile of them, where we again
formed in the same order as before. After reconnoitering their
situation, we found them posted behind some old walls and huts, in a
line with Culloden House. As we thought our right entirely secure, Gen.
Hawley and Gen. Bland went to the left with two regiments of dragoons,
to endeavour to fall upon the right flank of the rebels, and Kingston's
horse was ordered to the reserve. The ten pieces of cannon were
disposed, two in each of the intervals of the first line, and all our
Highlanders (except about 140, which were upon the left with Gen.
Hawley, and who behaved extremely well) were left to guard the baggage.

 "When we were advanced within 500 yards of the rebels, we found
the morass upon our right was ended, which left our right flank quite
uncovered to them; his Royal Highness thereupon immediately ordered
Kingston's horse from the reserve, and a little squadron of about 60 of
Cobham's which had been patrolling, to cover our flank; and Pulteney's
regiment was ordered from the reserve to the right of the Royals.

 "We spent above half an hour after that, trying which should gain
the flank of the other; and his Royal Highness having sent Lord Bury
forward within a hundred yards of the rebels, to reconnoitre somewhat
that appeared like a battery to us, they there upon began firing their
cannon, which was extremely ill-served and ill-pointed: ours
immediately answered them, which began their confusion. They then came
running on in their wild Manner: and upon the right where his Royal
Highness placed himself, imagining the greater push would be there,
they came down three several times within a hundred yards of our men,
firing their pistols and brandishing their swords: but the Royals and
Pulteney's hardly took their firelocks from their shoulders, so that
after those faint attempts they made off, and the little squadrons on
our right were sent to pursue them. Gen. Hawley had, by the help of our
Highlanders, beat down the little stone walls, and came in upon the
right flank of their second line.

 "As their whole first line came down to attack at once, their
right somewhat out-flanked Barrel's regiment, which was our left, and
the greatest part of the little loss we sustained, was there; but
Bligh's and Sempil's giving a fire upon those who had out-flanked
Barrel's soon repulsed them, and Barrel's regiment and the left of
Monro's fairly beat them with their bayonets. There was scarce a
soldier or officer of Barrel's, and of that part of Monro's which
engaged, who did not kill one or two men each with their bayonets and
spontoons. [Note: Spontoons: The officers' half-pikes]

 The cavalry, which had charged from the right and left, met in
the centre, except two squadrons of dragoons, which we missed, and they
were gone in pursuit of the runaways: Lord Ancram was order to pursue
with the horse as far as he could; and did it with so good effect that
a very considerable number was killed in the pursuit.

 "As we were in our march to Inverness, and were nearly arrived
there, Major Gen. Bland sent the annexed papers, which he received from
the French officers and soldiers, surrendering themselves prisoners to
his Royal Highness. Major Gen. Bland had also made great slaughter, and
took about 50 French officers and soldiers prisoners in his pursuit.

 "By the best calculation that can be made, it is thought the
rebels lost 2000 men upon the field of battle, and in the pursuit. We
have here 222 French, and 326 rebel prisoners. Lieut. Col. Howard
killed an officer, who appeared to be Lord Strathallan, by the seal,
and different commissions from the Pretender, found in his pocket.

 "It is said Lord Perth, Lord Nairn, Lochiel, Keppock, and Appin
Stuart, are also killed. All their artillery and ammunition, were
taken, as well as the Pretender's and all their baggage. There were
also. twelve colours taken.

 "All the generals, officers, and soldiers, did their utmost duty
in his Majesty's service, and shewed the greatest zeal and bravery on
this occasion.

 "The Pretender's son, it is said, lay at Lord Lovat's house at
Aird, the night after the action. Brig. Mordaunt is detached with 900
volunteers this morning into the Frazier country, to attack all the
rebels he may find there. Lord Sutherland's and Lady Reay's people
continue to exert themselves, and have taken upwards of 100 rebels, who
are sent for; and there is great reason to believe Lord Cromartie and
his son are also taken. The Monroes have killed 50 of the rebels in
their flight. As it is not known where the greatest bodies of them are,
or which way they have taken in their flight, his Royal Highness has
not yet determined which way to march. On the 17th, as his Royal
Highness as at dinner, three officers, and about sixteen of Fitz-
James's regiment, who were mounted, came and surrendered themselves
prisoners.

 "The killed, wounded, and missing, of the King's troops, amount
to above 300.

 "The French officers will be all sent to Carlisle, till his
Majesty's pleasure shall be known.

 "The rebels, by their own accounts, make their loss greater by
2000 men than we have stated it. Four of their principal ladies are in
custody, viz. Lady Ogilvie, Lady Kinloch, Lady Gordon, and the Laird of
McIntosh's wife. Major Grant, the Governor of Inverness, is retaken,
and the Generals, Hawley, Lord Albemarle, Huske, and Bland, have orders
to inquire into the reasons for his surrendering of Fort George.

 "Lord Cromartie, Lord M‘Leod his son, with other prisoners, are
just brought in from Sutherland, by the Hound sloop, which his Royal
Highness had sent for them, and they are just now landing."

"To wield the broadsword, and assume the plad,
Avails but little where the cause is bad."


THE EARL OF KILMARNOCK, THE EARL OF CROMARTIE, THE LORD BALMERINO
Three of the principal rebel chiefs
"These men were once the glory of their age,
"Disinterested, just, with ev'ry Virtue
"Of civil life adorn'd, at arms excelling,
"Their only blot was this; that much inovok'd
"They rais'd their vengeful arms against their country;
"And lo! the righteous gods have now chastis'd them."
THOMPSON.
{Illustration: The Earl of Kilmarnock}

 THESE, noblemen possessed great influence, and were much
respected, previous to, the unhappy rebellion in 1745. Having already
given a correct, though abridged account, of the transactions in which
they took conspicuous part; we proceed, without farther comment, to
their trials, defence, speeches, and execution.

 On Monday, the 28th of July, 1746, about eight o clock in the
morning, the three rebel lords, prisoners in the Tower, were carried
from thence in three coaches, the Earl of Kilmarnock, with Governor 
Williamson, and another gentleman, captain of the guard, in the first,
the Earl of Cromartie; attended by Captain Marshall, in the second: and
Lord Balmerino, attended by Mr. Fowler, gentleman gaoler, who had the
axe covered by him, in the third, under a strong guard of foot-soldiers
to Westminster Hall, where the Lord High Steward and the peers having
taken their seats, proclamation was made for the Lieutenant of the
Tower of London to return the precept to him directed, with the bodies
of the prisoners: which done, the Gentleman Gaoler of the Tower brought
his prisoners to the bar; and the proclamation was made for the King's
evidence to come forth, the King's counsel, by his Grace's direction,
opened the indictment, then his Grace moved the house that he might
advance forwards for the better hearing of the evidence, (which being
done, William Earl of Kilmarnock was brought to the bar) and his bill
of indictment for high treason read, to which his lordship, pleaded
Guilty, and desired to be recommended to his Majesty for mercy. Then
George Earl of Cromartie was brought to the bar, &c, who also pleaded
Guilty and prayed for mercy, After which Arthur Lord Balmerino was
brought to the bar, &c. who pleaded Not Guilty, alleging that he was
not at Carlisle at the time specified in the indictment, whereupon six
witnesses for the crown were called in and examined, whose evidence was
distinctly repeated by the reading-clerk, proving that his Lordship
entered Carlisle (though not the same day) sword in hand, at the head
of a regiment called by his name, Elphinston's horse. To this he made
an exception, which was overruled. The Lord High Steward then asked him
if he had any witness, or any thing further to offer in his defence. To
which he replied, he was sorry he had given their lordships so much
trouble, and had nothing more to say. Hereupon their lordships retired
out of Westminster Hall to the House of Peers, where the opinion of the
judges was asked, touching the overt act, which they declaring to be
not material, as other facts were proved beyond contradiction, their
lordships returned, and his Grace putting the question to the youngest
baron, "Whether Arthur Lord Balmerino was guilty or not guilty, &c." he
clapt his right hand to his left breast, and said, "Guilty, upon my
honour, my Lord," as did all the rest of the peers. And the prisoners
being again called to the bar, the Lord High Steward declared their
resolutions: and they were ordered to be brought up on the 30th. at 11
o'clock in the morning to receive sentence.

 Written notice was given them to bring what they might have to
offer in arrest of judgment.-- There were 136 peers present.

 On the 30th the Lord High Steward went to Westminster Hall,
attended as before: and the prisoners being brought again before their
peers, the Earl of Kilmarnock made a very elegant, and pathetic speech
which was much admired, to move their lordships to intercede for him
with his Majesty. The Earl of  Cromartie spoke also to the same effect;
but Lord Balmerino, pleaded, in arrest of judgment, that his indictment
was found in the county of Surrey, and, this being a point of law,
desired that he might be allowed counsel to argue it, upon which the
lords adjourned to their chamber, to consider of it, and soon after
returned; ordered his plea to be argued on Friday next, and appointed
Messrs. Wilbrake and Forrester for his counsel. [Note:  This point was
that the bill of indictment was found on an act of parliament passed in
March last, by which prisoners, charged with high treason, were to be
tried in such county as his Majesty should appoint; but, as the treason
with which his lordship was charged, is said to be committed at
Carlisle, in the December before, he ought to have been indicted there,
and not in Surrey, because the treason alleged to be committed was
before the passing of the act, and therefore he could not be affected
by it, and consequently the whole superstructure built thereon must
fall to the ground. This objection, it is said, was suggested to all
the lords, in a letter sent to each in the Tower, by an officious
person; but the very title of the act includes "such persons as HAVE
levied, or shall levy war, against his Majesty."]

 On the 1st of August the Lord High Steward, and the peers being
come to Westminster Hall, the three rebel lords were brought to the
bar, with the axe carried before them. Then the E. of Kilmarnock and E.
of Cromartie were separately asked if they had any thing to propose why
judgment should not be passed upon them; to which they answered in the
negative. Then his Grace informed Lord Balmerino, that, having started
an objection, desired counsel, and had their assistance, he was now to
make use of it, if he thought fit, to argue that point.  His Lordship
answered, he was sorry for the trouble he had given his Grace and the
peers; that he would not have taken that step, if he had not been
persuaded there was some ground for the objection; but that his counsel
having satisfied him there was nothing in it that could tend to his
service, he declined having them heard, submitted to the court, and was
resolved to rely upon his Majesty's mercy.

 His Grace then made a speech to the prisoners, almost to the same
effect as that pronounced by Earl Cowper. But as the present rebellion
was opposed with more unanimity and zeal than the last, his Grace took
occasion to observe to their lordships, that the beginnings of the
rebellion "were so weak and unpromising, as to be capable of seducing
none but the most infected and willing minds to join in so desperate an
enterprise. -- That it  was impossible, even for the party of the
rebels to be so inconsiderate or vain as to imagine, that the body of
this free people, blest in the enjoyment of all their rights, both
civil and religious, under his Majesty's protection; secure in the
prospect of transmitting them safe to their posterity, under the
Protestant succession in his royal house, would not rise up, as one
man, to oppose and crush so flagitious, so destructive, and so
unprovoked an attempt. -- Accordingly the rebels soon saw his Majesty's
faithful subjects, conscious both of their duty and  interest,
contending to outdo one another in demonstrations of their zeal and
vigour in his service. -- Men of property, of all ranks and orders,
crowded in with liberal subscriptions, of their own motion, beyond the
examples of former times, and uncompelled by any law: and yet in the
most legal and warrantable manner, notwithstanding what has been
ignorantly and presumptuously suggested to the contrary. -- His
lordship concluded thus: It has been his Majesty's justice to bring
your lordships to legal trial and it has been his wisdom to shew, that,
as a small part of his national forces was sufficient to subdue the
rebel army in the field, so the ordinary course of his laws, is strong
enough to bring even their chiefs to justice."

 Then, after a short pause, his Grace pronounced sentence as in
cases of high treason. Afterwards breaking his staff, put an end to the
commission.

 At six o'clock a troop of life-guards, one of horse-grenadiers,
and 1000 of the foot guards, (being fifteen men out of each company,)
marched from the parade in St. James's park through the city to Tower-
hill, to attend the execution of the Earl of Kilmarnock and the Lord
Balmerino, and being arrived there, were posted in lines from the Tower
to the scaffold, and all round it. About eight o'clock the sheriffs of
London, with their under-sheriffs, and their officers, viz. six
serjeants at mace, six yeomen, and the executioner, met at the Mitre
tavern in Fenchurch-street, where they breakfasted, and went from
thence to the house lately the Transport-office on Tower-hill, near
Catherine-court, hired by them for the reception of the said lords,
before they should be conducted to the scaffold, fold, which was
erected about thirty yards from the said house. At ten o'clock the
block was fixed on the stage, and covered with black cloth, and several
sacks of sawdust were brought up to strew on it; soon after their
coffins were brought, covered with black cloth, ornamented with gilt
nails, &c. On the Earl of Kilmarnock's was a plate with this
inscription, "Gulielmus. Comes. de Kilmarnock decollatus, 18 Augusti,
1746, Ætat. suæ 42," with an earl's coronet over it, and 6 coronets
over the six handles; and on lord Balmerino's was a plate with this
inscription, "Arthurus Dominus de Balmerino decollatus, 18 Augusti,
1746, Ætat. Suæ 58," with a baronet's coronet over it, and six others
over the six handles. At a quarter after ten the sheriffs went in
procession to the outward gate of the Tower, and, after knocking at it
some time, a warder within asked, "Who's there?" The officer without
answered, "The Sheriffs of London and Middlesex." The warder then
asked, "What do they want?" The officer answered, "The bodies of Earl
of Kilmarnock, and Arthur, Lord Balmerino.", Upon which the warder
said, "I will go and inform the Lieutenant of the Tower," and in about
ten minutes the Lieutenant of the Tower, with the Earl of Kilmarnock,
and Major White with Lord Balmerino, guarded by several of. the
warders, came to the gate; the prisoners were there delivered to the
Sheriffs, who gave proper receipts for their bodies to the Lieutenant,
who, as is usual, said, "God bless King George;" to which the Earl of
Kilmarnock assented by a bow, and the Lord Balmerino said, "God bless
King James." [Note:  At the foot of the first stairs, the Earl of
Kilmarnock met and embraced Lord Balmerino, who greatly (as Mr. Foster
observes) said to him, " My Lord, I am heartily sorry to have your
company in this expedition."] Soon after, the procession, moving in a
slow and solemn manner, appeared in the following order: 1. The
Constable of the Tower-hamlets. 2. The Knight-Marshal's men and Tip-
staves. 3. The Sheriffs' officers. 4. The Sheriffs, the Prisoners, and
their Chaplains; Mr. Sheriff Blachford walking with the Earl of
Kilmarnock, and Mr. Sheriff Cockayne with the Lord Balmerino. 5. The
Tower Warders. 6. A guard of Musqueteers. 7. The two hearses and a
mourning coach. When the procession had passed through the lines into
the area of the circle formed by the guards, the passage was closed,
and the troops of horse, who were in the rear of the foot on the lines,
wheeled off, and drew up five deep behind the foot on the south side of
the hill, facing the scaffold.

 The Lords were conducted into separate apartments in the house
facing the steps of the scaffold; their friends being admitted to see
them. The Earl of Kilmarnock was attended by the Rev. Mr. Foster, a
dissenting minister, and the Rev. Mr. Hume, a near relation of the Earl
of Hume; and the. Chaplain of the Tower, and another clergyman of the
church of England, accompanied the Lord Balmerino; who, on entering the
door of the house, hearing several of the spectators ask eagerly,
"Which is Lord Balmerino?" answered, smiling, "I am Lord Balmerino,
gentlemen, at your service." The parlour and passage of the house, the
rails enclosing the way from thence to the scaffold, and the rails
about it, were all hung with black at the Sheriff's expense.

 The Lord Kilmarnock, in the apartment allotted to him, spent
about an hour in his devotions with Mr. Foster, who assisted him with
prayer and exhortation. After which Lord Balmerino, pursuant to his
request, being admitted to confer with the earl, first thanked him for
the favour, and then asked, If his lordship knew of any order signed by
the Prince (meaning the Pretender's son) to give no quarter at the
battle of Culloden. And the; earl answering, 'No,' Lord Balmerino
added, 'Nor I neither, and therefore it seems to be an invention to
justify their own murders.' The earl replied, 'he did not think this a
fair inference, because he was informed, after he was prisoner at
Inverness, by several officers, that such an order, signed George
Murray, was in the duke's custody.' -- 'George Murray,' said Lord
Balmerino, 'then they should not charge it on the Prince.' Then he took
his leave, embracing Lord Kilmarnock, with the same kind of noble and
generous compliments, as he had used before, 'My dear Lord Kilmarnock,
I am only sorry that I cannot pay this reckoning alone; once more,
farewell for ever,' and returned to his own room.

 The earl then, with the company kneeling down joined in a prayer
delivered by Mr. Foster: after which, having sat a few moments, and
taken a second refreshment of a bit of bread and a glass of wine, he
expressed a desire that Lord Balmerino might go first to the scaffold;
but being informed that this could not be, as his lordship was named
first in the warrant, he appeared satisfied, saluted his friends,
saying he should make no speech on the scaffold, but desired the
ministers to assist him in his last moments, and they accordingly, with
other friends, proceeded there with him. The multitude, who had been
long expecting to see him on such an awful occasion, on his first
appearing on the scaffold, dressed in black, with a countenance and
demeanour, testifying great contrition, shewed the deepest signs of
commiseration and pity; and his lordship, at the same time, being
struck with such, a variety of dreadful objects at once, the
multitudes, the block, his coffin, the executioner, the instrument of
death, turned about to Mr. Hume, and said, "Hume! this is terrible;"
though without changing his voice or countenance. [Note: His person was
tall and graceful, his countenance mild, and his complexion pale; and
more so, as he had been indisposed.]

 After putting up a short prayer, concluding with a petition for
his Majesty King George and the royal family, in verification of his
declaration his speech, his lordship embraced, and took his last leave
of his friend. The executioner, who before had something administered
to keep him from fainting, was so affected with his lordship's
distress, and the awfulness of the scene, that on asking him
forgiveness, he burst into tears. My lord bid him take courage, giving
him at the same time, a purse with five guineas, and telling him that
he would drop his handkerchief as a signal for the stroke. He
proceeded, with the help of his gentleman, to make ready for the block,
by taking off his coat, and the bag from his hair, which was then
tucked up under a napkin cap, but this being made up so wide as not to
keep up his long hair, the making it less occasioned a little delay;
his neck being laid bare, tucking down the collar of his shirt, and
waistcoat, he kneeled down on a. black cushion at the block, and drew
his cap over his eyes, in doing which, as well as in putting up his
hair, his hands were observed. to shake; but, either to support or for
a more convenient posture of devotion, he happened to lay both his
hands, upon the block, which the executioner observing, prayed his
lordship to let them fall, lest they should be mangled or break the
blow. He was then told, that the neck of his waistcoat was in the way,
upon which he rose, and with the help of a friend took it off, and the
neck being made bare to the shoulders, he kneeled down as before: in
the mean time, when all things were ready for the execution, and the
black baize which hung over the rails of the scaffold, having, by
direction of the colonel of  the guards or the sheriffs, been turned up
that, the people might see all the circumstances of the execution; in
about two minutes (the time he before fixed) after he kneeled down, his
lordship dropping his handkerchief, the executioner at once severed his
head from his body,. except only a small part of the skin, which was
immediately divided by a gentle stroke; the head was received in a
piece of red baize, and with the body immediately put into the coffin.
The scaffold, was then cleared from the blood, fresh sawdust strewed,
and, that no appearance of a former execution might remain, the
executioner changed such of his clothes as appeared bloody.

 In the account said to be published by the authority of the
sheriffs, it is asserted the Lord Kilmarnock requested his head might
not be held up as usual, and declared to be the head of a traitor; and
that, for this reason that part of the ceremony was omitted, as the
sentence and law did not require it; but we are assured, in Mr.
Foster's account, that his lordship made no such request; and further,
that when he was informed that his head would be held up, and such,
proclamation made, it did, not affect him and he spoke of it as a
matter of no moment. All that he wished or desired was, 1. That the
executioner might not be, as represented to his lordship, "a good, sort
of man," thinking "a rough temper would be fitter for the purpose." 2.
That his coffin, instead of remaining in the hearse, might be set upon
the stage: and, 3. That four persons might be appointed. to receive the
head, that it might not roll about the stage, but be speedily, with his
body, put into the coffin.

 While this was doing, the Lord Balmerino, after having solemnly
recommended himself to the mercy of the Almighty, conversed cheerfully
with his friends, refreshed himself twice with a bit of bread and a
glass of wine, and desired the company to drink to ain degrae to
haiven, acquainting them that he had prepared a speech which he should
read on the scaffold, and therefore should there say nothing of its
contents. The Under-sheriff coming into his lordship's apartment to let
him know the stage was ready, he prevented him by immediately asking if
the affair was over with the Lord Kilmarnock, and being answered "It
is," he inquired how the executioner performed his office, and upon
receiving the account, said it was well done; then addressing himself
to the company, said, "Gentlemen, I shall detain you no longer," and
with an easy unaffected cheerfulness he saluted his friends, and
hastened to the scaffold, which he mounted with so easy an air as
astonished the spectators; his lordship was dressed in his regimentals,
a blue coat turned up with red, trimmed with brass buttons, (and a tie-
wig,) the same which he wore at the battle of Culloden; no circumstance
in his whole deportment shewed the least sign of fear or regret, and he
frequently reproved his friends for discovering either upon his
account. He walked several times round the scaffold, bowed to the
people; went to his coffin, read the inscription, and with a nod, said,
it is right; he then examined the block, which he called his pillow of
rest. His lordship putting on his spectacles, and taking a paper out of
his pocket, read it with an audible voice, which, so far from being
filled with passionate invective, mentioned his majesty as a prince of
the greatest magnanimity and mercy, at the same time that, through
erroneous political principles, it denied him a right to the allegiance
of his people: having delivered this paper to the sheriff, he called
for the executioner, who appearing, and being about to ask his
lordship's pardon, he said, "Friend, you need not ask me forgiveness,
the execution of your duty is commendable;" upon which, his lordship
gave, him three guineas, saying, "Friend, I never was rich, this is all
the money I have now, I wish it was more, and I am sorry I can add
nothing, to it but my coat and waistcoat, which he then took off,
together with his neck-cloth, and threw them on his coffin; putting on
a flannel waistcoat, which had been provided for the purpose, and then
taking a plaid cap out of his pocket, he put it on his head, saying he
died a Scotchman; after kneeling down at the block to adjust his
posture, and shew the executioner the signal for the stroke, which was
dropping his arms, he once more turned to his friends, and took his
last farewell, and, looking round, on the crowd, said, "Perhaps some
may think my behaviour too bold, but remember, Sir, (said he to a
gentleman who, stood near him) that I now declare it is the effect of
confidence in God, and a good conscience, and I should dissemble if I
should shew any signs of fear."

 Observing, the axe in the executioner's hand as he passed him, he
took it from him, felt the, edge, and returning it, clapped the
executioner on the shoulder to encourage him; he tucked down the collar
of his shirt and waistcoat, and shewed him where to strike, desiring
him to do it resolutely, for in that, says his lordship, will consist
your kindness.

 He went to the side of the stage, and called up the warder, to
whom he gave some money, asked which was his hearse, and ordered the
man to drive near. Immediately, without trembling or changing
countenance, he again knelt down at the block, and having with his arms
stretched out, said, "O Lord, reward my friends, forgive my enemies,
and receive my soul," he gave the signal by letting them fall. But his
uncommon firmness and intrepidity, and the unexpected suddenness of the
signal so surprised the executioner, that though he struck the part
directed, the blow was not given with strength enough to wound him very
deep; on which it seemed as if he made an effort to turn his, head
towards the executioner, and the under jaw fell, and returned very
quick, like anger and gnashing the teeth; but it could not be
otherwise, the part being convulsed. A second blow immediately
succeeding the first, rendered him, however, quite insensible, and a
third finished the work.

 [Note: If we were to draw his character, abstracted from the
consideration of his being an enemy to the present happy government, we
should call him a blunt, resolute man, who would, if his principles had
not been tainted with Jacobitism, have appeared honest in the eyes of
those who love sincerity; but he was not so happy as to be loyal. His
person was very plain, his shape clumsy, but his make strong, and had
no marks about him of the polite gentleman, though his seeming
sincerity recompensed all those defects. He was illiterate in respect
of his birth, but rather from a total want of application to letters,
than want of ability: several quaint stories related of him, which seem
to be the growth of wanton and fertile imagination, which is not at all
to be wondered at ,in times that afford so much matter for invention.
He left a lady behind him, whom he called his Peggy; to whom, at his
request, His Majesty allowed 50l., a year: whether any Children, we are
not able to say.]

 His head was received in a piece of red baize, and with his body
put into the coffin, which, at his particular request, was placed on
that of the late Marquis of Tullibardines's, in St. Peter's church in
the Tower, all three lords lying in one grave.

 During the whole course of the solemnity, although the hill, the
scaffoldings, and houses, were crowded full of spectators, all persons
attended with uncommon decency, and evenness of temper; which evinces
how much the people entered into the rectitude of the execution, though
too humane to rejoice in the catastrophe.

 Lord Balmerino had but a small estate, though ground-landlord and
lord of the manor of Colcon, a long street in the suburbs of Edinburgh,
leading to Leith, and had also some other small possessions in the
shire of Fife. His lady came to London soon after him, and frequently
attended him during his confinement in the Tower, and had lodgings in
East Smithfield. She was at dinner with him when the warrant came for
his execution the Monday following, and being very much surprised, he
desired her not to be concerned at it; "If the king had given me
mercy," said he, "I should have been glad of it; but since it is
otherwise, I am very easy; for it is what I have expected, and
therefore it does not at all surprise me." His lady seemed very
disconsolate and rose immediately from table; on which he started from
his chair, and said," Pray, my lady, sit down for it shall not spoil my
dinner;" upon which her ladyship sat down again, but could not eat.

 Several more of his sayings were related as remarkable, among
others, that being advised to take care of his person, he replied, "It
would be thought very imprudent in  a man to repair an old house, when
the lease of it was so near expiring."

CHARACTER of ARTHUR LORD BALMERINO

Quique metus omnes, & inexorabile Fatum
Subjecitit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari. VIRG.

 The abhorrence of pain is a principle implanted in all animals as
the means of: their preservation. To this in Men is added the fear of
death; and that is still heightened, by apprehensions of what may
happen afterwards. Yet pain is often unavoidable; and death, with its
consequences, some time or other absolutely necessary. Hence arises the
merit of courage, which consists in facing intrepidly and suffering
cheerfully these evils, when they become either inevitable or
declinable only on unworthy terms. Great then are undoubtedly the
obligations of mankind for those who, on such occasions, treat these
terrors with the contempt they really deserve, and give us an useful
lesson and example how to behave in an emergency which we ought every
day to expect, and which we must one day certainly experience. The
Greeks and Romans, therefore, looked even on suicide in amiable light.
It was with them the consummation of a perfect character; and the
extenuation of the most faulty. Nor were they in this altogether
impolitic; hence flowed that appetite for danger; that prodigality of
life, which they knew so skilfully to direct to the publics emoluments.
But heaven-instructed Christians have unlearnt this Pagan doctrine; and
yet, amongst the primitives what was accounted more meritorious than a
courageous, calm submission to civil punishment, appears the constant
aim of the martyrs, and had the happiest effects, as to the
promulgation of their precepts.

 There has been lately seen among us a noble instance of the
superiority of a great mind to fear, which, when passion and prejudice
have subsided, will reflect honour on our times, and even be
advantageous to former, as it bestows credibility on their most
exaggerated heroical relations. I mean the death of the late Lord
Balmerino.

 But, before we proceed, it may be proper to declare, that, if I
would vindicate and extol his death, I by no means. intend to justify
or excuse his life. I give up, with all good Englishmen, the French
soldier, the Jacobite, the double rebel, concur with them in the
rectitude of his sentence, and the necessity of its execution. It is at
the Tower gate, that I (with the sheriffs) take him up:-- There the
hero commences.

 I will not injure, by comparing, as has been hitherto done, with
pusillanimity itself, a fortitude that wants no foil, which all
antiquity can scarcely parallel. Lord Balmerino's carriage in the
procession from the Tower, was easy and cheerful, his conversation in
the preparatory room, rational and pertinent; his interview with his
fellow-sufferer open and generous; when on the scaffold, he had so
little of the formal, piteous countenance there usually exhibited, that
those who were unacquainted with his person, knew not for some time
that he was there. He told the officers that he would take up but
little of their time; that he was sensible the greatest part of it was
already elapsed; that he had had frequent opportunities to look into
his future concerns, and should not settle this account in public.
Accordingly, having with composure given the necessary directions, he
prepared for the blow with the greatest alacrity, and with an
expedition, which was only interrupted by an act of generosity, and a
mistake which, to a weak mind, might have been productive of extreme
disorder, but served only to elevate his character. And though, through
the whole of this transaction, nothing appeared but intrepidity and
constancy, yet this hero confessed the man. He had his fears, but they
were glorious ones: he feared, he said, that his conduct would be
thought too bold; willingly, would he have seemed less so, but could
not play the hypocrite. So far was he from an affected ostentation of
his prodigious courage, a courage which was attended by the most
desirable effect, the most indisputable evidence. This nobleman parted
with life with such unconcern as convinced the spectators that was not
only to him, but really in itself, of no importance. The black
solemnity could not obscure his serenity, nor imprint on them a gloom
not to be dispelled by such lustre. They found there was nothing
unnatural in dying, nothing. horrible in death itself; they felt no
emotion.

 Thus greatly, unlamented, fell Arthur Lord Balmerino, a man of
the most incredible courage, the most commendable sincerity, the most
engaging simplicity, who was an honour to the worst cause, and would
have been an ornament to the best; whose faults wilt one day be
forgotten, and his virtues remembered.

 And sure the little here said (with strict truth) in his favour,
cannot possibly give offence, to the most zealous loyalist. There is a
justice surely due to the characters of gallant enemies, our law never
intends to execute reputations, and its most rigid sentence, pronounced
on the least pardonable occasion, confines the punishment to the body
merely, and in the midst of judgment remembers mercy.


CHARLES RATCLIFFE,
Who assumed the title of Earl of Derwentwater

 This gentleman was one of those who took part in the rebellion,
under a commission from the King Of France, and was taken, with many
others, on his passage to Scotland, by the Seahorse frigate. He was the
youngest brother of the Earl of Derwentwater, who was attainted and
executed in the first rebellion, and his titles and estates
consequently forfeited to the crown. He was, with his brother, taken at
Preston; tried, convicted, and, condemned, but several times respited,
and would probably have been pardoned, had he not, with thirteen
others, made his escape out of a room called the Castle in Newgate,
through a small door which had been accidentally left open, leading to
the debtors Side, where the turnkey; not knowing them, let them out of
the prison, supposing they, were persons who had come to see their
friends.

 He immediately procured a passage to France; and from thence
followed the Pretender to Rome, subsisting on such petty pension as his
master could allow him. Returning some short time afterwards, he
married the widow of Lord Newborough, by whom he had a son. In 1733 he
came to England; and resided in Pall Mall, without any molestation,
though known to the ministry. [Note: Some years after the quelling of
the last rebellion, the Pretender came in disguise to view London. This
was a natural; but dangerous curiosity, to behold the place where his
grandfather, King James II. had been on the throne. On the ministers
being apprised of this circumstance, in haste went to King George II.
with the information; and recommended his immediate apprehension. The
monarch, with one of his shrewd answers, for which he was remarkable,
replied, "No -- let the poor man satisfy his curiosity; when done, he
will quietly go back to France." The King's observation was verified.]

 He returned to France, and in 1735 again came to England to
solicit his pardon, but without success, though he appeared publicly,
and visited several families particularly in Essex. Returning again to
France, he unfortunately accepted of the French king's commission, to
act as an officer in the rebellion, and was taken as we have already
described.

 On the 22d of October, 1746, he was brought to the bar of the
Court of King's Bench and was arraigned, but refused to hold up his
hand, or acknowledge any other jurisdiction than that of the King of
France, insisting on a commission he had in his pocket from him, and
appealing to the Sicilian ambassador, who was then in court, for the
authenticity thereof. On hearing his former indictment and conviction
read; he said, that he was not the Charles Ratcliffe therein named, but
that he was the Earl of Derwentwater, and his counsel informed the
court, that such was the plea they meant to abide by, and thereupon,
issue was gained.

 Then the counsel for the prisoner moved to put off his trial,
upon his own affidavit (to which he has subscribed himself the Count de
Derwentwater,) that two of his material witnesses, naming them, were
abroad, without whose testimony he could not safely go to trial. To
which affidavit the counsel for the crown objected, as not being
entitled as in the cause before the court; nor the two witnesses sworn
to be material, in the issue then joined between the king and the
prisoner; and also, because the prisoner had not so much as undertaken
to swear for himself, that he was not the person, which, as it was a
fact entirely in his own knowledge, ought to be required of him, if he
would entitle himself to this favour from the court; this being a
proceeding very different from the trial upon a not guilty, in an
original prosecution on a charge of high treason or other crime, the
identity of the person being the single fact to be inquired of, and a
case in which the crown had a right by law to proceed instanter. Upon
this the prisoner amended his affidavit as to the witnesses, but
refused to supply it so far as to swear he was not the same person. And
the court said, this was a new precedent, there being no instance of
any application to put off the trial of a question of this sort before;
and that this was like an inquest of office, in order to inform the
conscience of the court, and what the public had a right to proceed in
instanter. And therefore that the prisoner ought to give all reasonable
satisfaction to induce them to grant such a favour as the prisoner
desired, for they could not in conscience and justice to the public
indulge him, without a reasonable satisfaction that his plea was true.
But the prisoner still refusing to swear to the truth of his plea, the
jury were called, and after two or three of the panel had been sworn,
Mr. Ratcliffe challenged the next that was called, as of right, without
assigning any reason; but upon debate of the question, how far he had
right to challenge, the court said, it had been determined, before, in
all the latter cases, and particularly in the case of one Jordan, that
the prisoner, in such a case  as this had no peremptory challenge; upon
which the rest of the jury were sworn, and after a clear evidence of
the identity of the person on the part of the crown, the prisoner
producing none on his part, the jury withdrew about ten minutes, and
then found their verdict, that he was the same Charles Ratcliffe who
was convicted of high treason, in the year 1715. Then the attorney-
general moved to have execution awarded against the prisoner on his
former judgment; to which the prisoner's counsel objected, tendering a
plea of pardon by act of parliament, in bar of execution. But the court
said, as he had already pleaded such a plea as he chose to rely on, and
as that was found against him, nothing more remained for them to do at
present but to award execution; and if his counsel had any thing to
offer in his behalf, they would have time to do it before the day of
execution; and ordered a rule to be made for the proper writs for his
execution on the  8th of next month, and remanded the prisoner to the
Tower. He was about five feet ten inches high, upwards of fifty, was
dressed in scarlet, faced with black velvet, and gold buttons, a gold-
laced waistcoat, bag wig, and had hat with a white feather.

 His design in styling himself Earl of Derwentwater, was, that he
might pass for Francis, his younger brother, who went to France before
1715; but was thought to be dead. He would not call the Lord Chief
Justice lord, because the title of earl was not given him: he refused
to hold up his hand at the bar, and being told that as a gentleman he
ought to comply, and that his own counsel would satisfy him that it was
only a form of the court, he said; I know many things, that I will not
advise with my counsel upon. On hearing the rule for his execution, he
desired time, because he and Lord Moreton (in the Bastile at Paris)
should take the same journey at the same time.

 About eight o' clock on the 8th of December, two troops of life-
guards, and one troop of horse-guards, marched through the city for
Little Tower-hill, where they were joined by a battalion of foot-
guards, to attend the execution of Charles Ratcliffe, Esq. About ten o'
clock the block, with a cushion, both covered with black, were brought
up, and fixed upon the stage; and soon after Mr. Ratcliffe's coffin,
covered with black velvet, with eight handles, on which with the nails
were gilt with gold, but there was no plate, or any inscription upon
it. At near eleven the sheriffs, Mr. Alderman Winterbottom, and Mr.
Alderman Alsop, with their officers, came to see if the scaffold was
finished, (the carpenters, &c. who had very short notice; having worked
all day on Sunday and the ensuing night,) and if every thing was
prepared for  Mr. Ratcliffe's reception; which, being to their
satisfaction, they went to the Tower, and demanded the body of Mr;
Ratcliffe, of General Williamson, deputy governor; upon being
surrendered, he was first put into a landau, and carried over the
Wharf, at the end of which he was put into a mourning coach, and
conveyed into a small booth joining to the stairs of the scaffold,
lined with black, where he spent about half an hour in devotion, and
then, preceded by the sheriffs, the divine, and some gentlemen his
friends. When he came upon the scaffold, he took leave of his friends
with great serenity and calmness of mind, and having spoken a few words
to the executioner, gave him a purse of ten guineas, put on a damask
cap, knelt down to prayers, which lasted about seven. minutes, all the
spectators on the scaffold kneeling: with him. Prayers being over, he
pulled off his clothes, and put his head to the block, from whence he
soon got up, and having spoke a few words, he knelt down to it, and
fixing his head, in about two minutes gave the signal to the
executioner, who at three blows struck it off, which was received in a
scarlet cloth, held for that purpose. He was dressed in scarlet, faced
with black velvet, trimmed with gold, a  gold-laced waistcoat, and a
white feather in his hat. He behaved with the greatest fortitude and
coolness of temper, and was no way shocked at the approach of death.

 His body was immediately put into the coffin, and carried back in
a hearse to the Tower; and the scaffold booth, and all the boards
belonging to them, were cleared away in the afternoon. He behaved
himself very alert until the 4th, when he received a letter from his
niece, the Lady Petre, which engaged him to appear in a more serious
manner, agreeably to his unhappy fate. His corpse was on the 1lth,
carried in a hearse, attended by two mourning coaches, to St. Giles in
the fields, and there interred with the remains of the late Earl of
Derwentwater, according to his desire, with this inscription on his
coffin:

 Carolus Ratcliffe, Comes de Derwentwater, decollatus die 8
Decembris, 1746; Ætatis 53 Requiescat in pace.

 It seems the Derwentwater estate was only confiscated to the
crown for the life of Charles Ratcliffe, Esq.; but by a clause in an
act of parliament passed some years since, which says, that the issue
of any person attainted of high treason, born and bred in any foreign
dominion, and a Roman Catholic, shall forfeit his reversion. Such
estate, and the. remainder shall for ever be fixed in the crown, his
son was absolutely deprived of any title or interest in the affluent
fortune of that ancient family, to the amount of more than 200,000l.

 This unhappy gentleman was the youngest brother of James Earl of
Derwentwater, who was executed in 1716; they were sons of Sir Francis
Radcliffe, by the lady Mary Tudor, natural daughter to King Charles II
by Mrs. Mary Davis.

 He died in the principles in which he had lived, and was so
zealous a Papist, that on the absurdities of some things which are held
sacred by the church of Rome being objected to him, he replied, "That
for every tenet of that church, repugnant to reason, in which she
requires an implicit belief, he wished there were twenty, that he might
thereby have a nobler opportunity of exercising and displaying his
faith."


THOMAS CAPPOCK
The rebel bishop of Carlisle.
{Illustration: Thomas Cappock}

 WE have already, in our statement of the strength of the garrison
at Carlisle, announced a bishop, created by the Pretender. Such
anecdotes of this enthusiastic rebel, as we have been able to glean
from the public prints of the year of this rebellion, we have put
together, in order to allot to this would-be Right Reverend Father in
God, a memoir independent of the treacherous group among whom he swung
on the gallows.

 On the 12th of August, 1746, the Lord Chief Baron Parker, Baron
Clarke, Judges Burnett and Dennison, arrived at Carlisle, and by virtue
of a special commission for that purpose to them directed, convened a
Court, for the purpose of trying the rebels found in arms, on the
surrender of Carlisle. On the 14th the Scotch prisoners were arraigned,
but the witnesses in behalf of the crown (also Scotchmen) refused to
swear in the form prescribed by the laws of England. The judges
therefore deferred the trial in order to consult on this contumacy; but
next morning allowed them to take the oath after the Scotch form. Bills
of indictment were found against all the officers, as well as bishop
Cappock; but the common men, amounting to near four hundred, were
ordered to cast lots; and of every twenty nineteen were to be
transported, and the twentieth put upon his trial for high treason.
Some few refused this lenity, depending upon so deceiving the evidence
as not to recognize them; for this purpose they cut off each others
hair, changed their clothing, and by every other method which they
could devise, disguised themselves.

 When the grand jury presented true bills, the whole of those
indicted were brought to the bar, whom the Lord Chief Baron told that
the Court desired them to choose what counsel they pleased, with a
solicitor -- that the Court had given orders to their clerk, to make
out subpoenas for them, gratis, and by virtue thereof, to bring forward
such witnesses as they imagined could, in any manner, tend to their
exculpation. [Note: We make here an involuntary pause upon the humanity
of the English law, extended to the utmost in this case, to men taken
in arms against their Sovereign and we rather doubt, whether the
Pretender, had he gained his cause, would have allotted his prisoners
quite so fair a trial.]

 In order to give them every chance for this end, the Judges
adjourned the Court, and proceeded to the city of York, where a number
of more rebels were in confinement, and where bills were found against
seventy-nine of them. It was near a month before they returned to
Carlisle. On the 9th of September, 1762, [they] were arraigned at the
bar of the court of the latter city, of whom fifty-nine pleaded not
guilty. On the 10th forty-five more were brought up, and all pleaded
not guilty, except three, one of whom was a desperate turbulent fellow,
a rebel captain named Robert Taylor, who had repeatedly vaunted that he
would take Edinburgh castle in three days. The next day twelve more
were arraigned, and among them was the more immediate subject of the
present page -- the rebellious bishop.

 He appeared at the bar in his gown and cassock, assumed much
confidence, and appeared to entertain no idea that he could be
convicted. He made a speech to the Court and Jury, which chiefly went
to shew, that he joined the rebels by compulsion alone. He called his
father, and one Mary Humphries, to substantiate this assertion; but
their evidence fell far short of so doing. A witness, however, proved,
that the prisoner had made an attempt to escape from the rebels. On the
other side, it was proved, that he voluntarily went with the rebels
from Manchester to Derby, and thence back to Carlisle. It further
appeared, that wherever the rebels went he read public prayers for King
James, and Charles Prince of Wales, Regent of England. At Manchester he
preached in one of the churches, and took his text from Psal. xcvii.
"The Lord is King, the earth may be glad thereof." At Carlisle he
appeared the Church Militant, with a hanger by his side, a plaid sash,
and white cockade, acting also as a Quarter Master. Another witness
proved, that this fighting bishop told him of his engaging two of the
kings soldiers, and taking them both prisoners; and he vaunted, that
his Prince had offered battle to the Duke of Cumberland, who run away;
that they (the rebels) returned to Scotland, only to join Lord George
Drummond, who had landed with many thousand French, to assist their
cause. [Note:  This gasconade had a spice of the French in it, from
whom the mock bishop doubtless acquired this Bobadil-like boasting. We
have even seen the reverse; the Duke constantly pursuing the
Pretender.] His evidence, Miss Humphries, was shewn a letter, which she
acknowledged to be the hand-writing of the bishop; wherein he had the
effrontery to tell the barefaced falsehood of the Duke of Cumberland
ordering him to be kept on half a pound of bread per day, and nasty
water, because he advised to give battle to him at Stanwix, and
protested against the surrender of Carlisle.

 The jury, notwithstanding the confidence apparent in the prisoner
through his whole trial, which lasted sit hours, in two minutes found
him guilty. The priest, it seems, still did not abandon himself to his
fate; for in a few days it was discovered, that he and six more
condemned rebels, had sawed off their irons, and were about to attempt
an escape. The instrument with which they effected this,. was prepared
for the purpose by a new and curious method. It is thus described,
"They laid a silk handkerchief singly over the mouth of a drinking-
glass, and tied it hard at the bottom, then struck the edge of a case
knife on the brim of the glass, (thus covered to prevent noise) till it
became a saw. With such knives they cut their irons, and when the teeth
were blunt, they had recourse to the glass to renew it. A knife will
not cut a handkerchief when struck upon it in this manner."

 Cappock,  with the other convicted rebels, were hanged at
Carlisle, on the 28th of October, 1746.

 [Note: Another furious non-juring priest was taken among the
rebels, of the name of Robert Lyon. This turbulent rebel, under the
gallows at Penrith, read a long and infamous libel against the King and
Government of England, and the sheriff, to his disgrace, permitted him
to harangue, in a similar strain near half an hour, with the halter
round his neck; concluding with this hardened exclamation, "If my life
was now given to me, I would still continue in the same principles, and
assist the virtuous cause of King James."]


LORD LOVAT

Beheaded for High Treason, at the age of Eighty, on 9th
of April, 1747


LORD LOVAT, who in 1715 had been a supporter of the House of
Hanover, in 1745 changed sides, and became a friend of the party
which he had before opposed.

His career in life began in the year 1692, when he was appointed
a captain in Lord Tullibardine's regiment, but he resigned his
commission in order to prosecute his claim to be the Chief of
the Frasers; in order to effect which he laid a scheme to get
possession of the heiress of Lovat, who was about to be married
to a son of Lord Salton. He raised a clan, who violently seized
the young lord, and, erecting a gibbet, showed it to him and his
father, threatening their instant deaths unless they
relinquished the contract made for the heiress of Lovat. To
this, fearing for their lives, they consented; but, still unable
to get possession of the young lady, he seized the Dowager Lady
Lovat in her own house, caused a priest to marry them against
her consent, cut her stays open with his dirk, and, assisted by
his ruffians, tore off her clothes, forced her into bed, to
which he followed her, and then called his companions to witness
the consummation of the outrageous marriage. For this breach of
the peace he was indicted, but fled from justice; but he was
nevertheless tried for rape, and for treason, in opposing the
laws with an armed force; and sentence of outlawry was
pronounced against him. Having fled to France, he turned Papist,
ingratiated himself with the Pretender, and was rewarded by him
with a commission; but he was apprehended on the remonstrance of
the English ambassador in Paris, and lodged in the Bastille,
where, having remained some years, he procured his liberty by
taking priests' orders, under colour of which he became a Jesuit
in the College of St Omer.

In the first rebellion of 1715 he returned to Scotland, and,
joining the King's troops, assisted them in seizing Inverness
from the rebels; for which service he got the title of Lovat,
was appointed to command, and had other favours conferred upon
him. In the rebellion of which we are now treating he turned
sides and joined the Pretender, a step treacherous in the
extreme. When taken, he was old, unwieldy and almost helpless;
although in that condition he had been possessed of infinite
resources to assist the rebellion. He petitioned the Duke of
Cumberland for mercy; and, hoping to work upon his feelings,
recapitulated his former services, the favours that he had
received from the Duke's grandfather, King George I., and dwelt
much upon his access to Court, saying he had carried him to whom
he now sued for life in his arms and, when a baby, held him up
while his grandsire fondled him.

On the 9th of March, 1747, however, he was taken from the Tower
to Westminster Hall for trial, and, the evidence adduced clearly
proving his guilt to be of no ordinary character, he was
convicted. He was next day brought up for judgment, and sentence
of death was pronounced.

That this sentence was not ill deserved appears from a speech of
Lord Belhaven, delivered in the last Parliament held in
Edinburgh, in 1706, in which his lordship, speaking of this
nobleman, then Captain Fraser, on occasion of the Scots plot,
commonly called Fraser's plot, says that "he deserved, if
practicable, to have been hanged five several times, in five
different places, and upon five different accounts at least: as
having been notoriously a traitor to the Court of St James's, a
traitor to the Court of St Germain's, a traitor to the Court of
Versailles and a traitor to his own country of Scotland; in
being not only an avowed and restless enemy to the peace and
quiet of its established government and constitution, both in
Church and State, but likewise, a vile Proteus-like apostate and
a seducer of others in point of religion, as the tide or wind
changed; and, moreover, that (abstracted from all those, his
multiplied acts of treason, abroad and at home) he deserved to
be hanged as a condemned criminal, outlaw and fugitive, for the
barbarous, cruel and most flagitious rape he had, with the
assistance of some of his vile and abominable band of ruffians,
violently committed on the body of a right honourable and
virtuous lady, the widow of the late Lord Lovat, and sister of
his Grace the late Duke of Atholl. Nay, so hardened was Captain
Fraser, that he audaciously erected a gallows, and threatened to
hang thereon one of the said lady's brothers and some other
gentlemen of quality who accompanied him in going to rescue him
out of that criminal's cruel hand."

On the morning fixed for his execution, 9th of April, 1747, Lord
Lovat, who was now in his eightieth year, and very large and
unwieldy in his person, awoke at about three o'clock, and was
heard to pray with great devotion. At five o'clock he arose, and
asked for a glass of wine-and-water, and at eight o'clock he
desired that his wig might be sent, that the barber might have
time to comb it out genteelly, and he then provided himself with
a purse to hold the money which he intended for the executioner.
At about half-past nine o'clock he ate heartily of minced veal,
and ordered that his friends might be provided with coffee and
chocolate, and at eleven o'clock the sheriffs came to demand his
body. He then requested his friends to retire while he said a
short prayer; but he soon called them back, and said that he was
ready.

At the bottom of the first pair of stairs, General Williamson
invited him into his room to rest himself, which he did, and on
his entrance, paid his respects to the company politely, and
talked freely. He desired of the general, in French, that he
might take leave of his lady, and thank her for her civilities:
but the general told his lordship, in the same language, that
she was too much affected with his lordship's misfortunes to
bear the shock of seeing him, and therefore hoped his lordship
would excuse her. He then took his leave, and proceeded. At the
door he bowed to the spectators, and was conveyed from thence to
the outer gate in the governor's coach, where he was delivered
to the sheriffs, who conducted him in another coach to the house
near the scaffold, in which was a room lined with black cloth,
and hung with sconces, for his reception. His friends were at
first denied entrance but, upon application made by his lordship
to the sheriffs for their admittance, it was granted. Soon
after, his lordship, addressing himself to the sheriffs, thanked
them for the favour, and taking a paper out of his pocket,
delivered it to one of them, saying he should make no speech and
that they might give the word of command when they pleased. A
gentleman present beginning to react a prayer to his lordship
while he was sitting, he called one of the warders to help him
up, that he might kneel. He then prayed silently a short time,
and afterwards sat again in his chair. Being asked by one of the 
sheriffs if he would refresh himself with a glass of wine, he
declined it, because no warm water could be had to mix with it,
and took a little burnt brandy and bitters in its stead. He
requested that his clothes might be delivered to his friends
with his corpse, and said for that reason he should give the
executioner ten guineas. He also desired of the sheriffs that
his head might be received in a cloth, and put into the coffin,
which the sheriffs, after conferring with some gentlemen
present, promised should be done; as also that the holding up
the head at the corners of the scaffold should be dispensed
with, as it had been of late years at the execution of lords.

When his lordship was going up the steps to the scaffold,
assisted by two warders, he looked round, and, seeing so great a
concourse of people, "God save us," says he, "why should there
be such a bustle about taking off an old grey head, that cannot
get up three steps without three bodies to support it?"

Turning about, and observing one of his friends much dejected,
he clapped him on the shoulder, saying: "Cheer up thy heart,
man! I am not afraid; why should you be so?" As soon as he came
upon the scaffold he asked for the executioner, and presented
him with ten guineas in a purse, and then, desiring to see the
axe, he felt the edge and said he "believed it would do." Soon
after, he rose from the chair which was placed for him and
looked at the inscription on his coffin, and on sitting down
again he repeated from Horace: "Dulce et decorum est pro patria
mori" [it is sweet and fitting to die for one's country] and
afterwards from Ovid [Met. 13. 140-1]: "Nam genus et proavos, et
quae non fecimus ipsi, Vix ea nostra voco." [As for things done
by our ancestors and other people than ourselves, I say we can
have no credit for them]

He then desired all the people to stand off, except his two
warders, who supported his lordship while he said a prayer;
after which he called his solicitor and agent in Scotland, Mr W.
Fraser, and, presenting his gold-headed cane, said, "I deliver
you this cane in token of my sense of your faithful services,
and of my committing to you all the power I have upon earth,"
and then embraced him. He also called for Mr James Fraser, and
said: "My dear James, I am going to heaven; but you must
continue to crawl a little longer in this evil world." And,
taking leave of both, he delivered his hat, wig and clothes to
Mr William Fraser, desiring him to see that the executioner did
not touch them. He ordered his cap to be put on, and, unloosing
his neckcloth and the collar of his shirt, knelt down at the
block, and pulled the cloth which was to receive his head close
to him. But, being placed too near the block, the executioner
desired him to remove a little farther back, which with the
warders' assistance was immediately done; and, his neck being
properly placed, he told the executioner he would say a short
prayer and then give the signal by dropping his handkerchief. In
this posture he remained about half-a-minute, and then, on
throwing his handkerchief on the floor, the executioner at one
blow cut off his head, which was received in the cloth, and,
with his body was put into the coffin and carried in a hearse
back to the Tower, where it was interred near the bodies of the
other lords.

His lordship professed himself a papist, and, at his request,
was attended by Mr Baker. attached to the chapel of the
Sardinian ambassador; and though he insisted much on the
services he had done the royal family in 1715, yet he declared,
but a few days before his death, that he had been concerned in
all the schemes formed for restoring the house of Stuart since
he was fifteen years old.

This nobleman's intellectual powers seem to have been
considerable and his learning extensive. He spoke Latin, French,
and English, fluently, and other modern languages intelligibly.
He studied at Aberdeen, and disputed his philosophy in Greek;
and, though he was educated a protestant, yet, after three
years' study of divinity and controversy, he turned papist. He
maintained an appearance of that facetious disposition for which
he was remarkable, to the last ; and seems to have taken great
pains to quit the stage, not only with decency, but with that
dignity which is thought to distinguish the good conscience and
the noble mind.

The following lines upon the execution of these noblemen are
said to have been repeated with great energy by Dr Johnson,
although there appears to he no ground for supposing that they
were the Doctor's own composition. They first appeared in the
Gentleman's Magazine:

Pitied by gentle minds, Kilmarnock died
The Brave, Balmerino, were on thy side;
Ratcliffe, unhappy in his crimes of youth,
Steady in what he still mistook for truth,
Beheld his death so decently unmoved,
The soft lamented, and the brave approved.
But Lovat's end indifferently we view,
True to no King, to no religion true:
No fair forgets the ruin he has done;
No child laments the tyrant of his son;
No Tory pities thinking what he was
No Whig compassions, for he left the cause;
The brave regret not, for he was not brave;
The honest mourn not, knowing him a knave."

FRANCIS TOWNLEY, JEMMY DAWSON AND OTHERS
Lesser rebels against his Majesty

 FRANCIS TOWNLEY, Late Rebel Colonel of their Manchester Regiment,
was indicted at the sessions held at St. Margaret's Hall, for the part
he had acted in the rebellion. His counsel insisted that he was not a
subject of Great Britain, being an officer in the service of the French
king; but this the judges observed was a circumstance against him; as
he had quitted his native country., and engaged in the French service,
without the consent of his lawful sovereign. Some other motions,
equally frivolous, being overruled, he was capitally convicted, and
adjudged to die.

 Colonel Townley was the son of -- Townley, Esq; of Townley-Hall
in Lancashire, who was tried for the share he had in the rebellion of
1715, but acquitted.

 Young Mr. Townley being educated in the rigid principles of
popery, went abroad in early life, and entering into the service of
France, distinguished himself in the military line, particularly at the
siege of Phillipsbourg.

 Coming to England in 1742, he associated chiefly with those of
the Catholic religion; and it was thought that he induced many of them
to take an active part in the rebellion. When the Pretender came to
Manchester, Townley offered his services: which being accepted, he was
commissioned to raise a regiment, which he soon completed; but being
made a prisoner at Carlisle, he was conducted to London.

 After conviction he behaved in the most reserved manner, scarcely
speaking to any one but his brethren in misfortune.

 John Barkwick, formerly a linen-draper of Manchester, but
afterwards a lieutenant, was the next person tried and convicted. This
man was distinguished by living elegantly in prison; and it was
remarked that the prisoners in general were amply supplied with the
necessaries of life, by the bounty of their friends. It is asserted
that they expected to be treated as prisoners of war; but it is not
credible that they could be so totally ignorant of the law of nations,
or their duty as subjects.

 James Dawson, a native of Lancashire, was genteelly born, and
liberally educated at St. John's College, in Cambridge. After leaving
the University he repaired to Manchester, where the Pretender gave him
a captain's commission. Dawson had paid his addresses to a young lady,
to whom he was to have been married immediately after his enlargement,
if the solicitations that were made for his pardon had been attended
with the desired effect.

 The circumstance of his love, and the melancholy that was
produced by his death, is so admirably touched in the following ballad
of Shenstone, that Dawson's story will probably be remembered and
regretted when that of the rest of the rebels will be forgotten. A man
must have lost all feeling who can read this beautiful ballad, equally
remarkable for its elegance, its simplicity, and its truth, and remain
unaffected.

JEMMY DAWSON, A BALLAD.

Come listen to my mournful tale,
Ye tender hearts and lovers dear; 
Nor will you scorn to heave a sigh,
Nor will you blush to shed a tear.

And thou, dear Kitty, peerless maid,
Do thou a pensive ear incline,
For thou canst weep at ev'ry woe,
And pity ev'ry plaint but mine. --

Young Dawson was a gallant youth,
A brighter never trod the plain;
And, well he lov'd one charming maid,
And dearly was he lov'd again.

One tender maid she lov'd him dear,
Of gentle blood the damsel came,
And faultless was her beauteous form;
And spotless, was her virgin fame.

But curse on party's hateful strife,
That led the faithful youth astray,
The day the rebel clans appeared:
O! had he never seen that day!

Their colours and their sash he wore,
And in their fatal dress was found; 
And now he must that death endure,
Which gives the brave the keenest wound.

How pale was then his true-love's cheek, 
When Jemmy's sentence reach'd her ear? 
For never yet did Alpine snows,
So pale, nor yet so chill appear.

Yet might sweet mercy find a place,
And bring relief to Jemmy's woes, 
O George! without a pray'r for thee,
My orisons should never close.

The gracious prince that gives him life, 
Would crown a never dying flame, 
And ev'ry tender babe I bore,
Should learn to lisp the givers name.

But though, dear youth, thou should'st be dragg'd 
To yonder ignominious tree,
Thou shalt not want a faithful friend,
To share thy bitter fate with thee.

O then her mourning coach was call'd;
The sledge mov'd slowly on before; 
Though borne in a triumphal car,
She had not lov'd her fav'rite more.

She follow'd him, prepar'd to view. 
The terrible behests of law;
And the last scene of Jemmy's woes, 
With calm and steadfast eyes she saw.

Distorted was that blooming face,
Which she had fondly lov'd so long; 
And stifled was that tuneful breath, 
Which in her praise had sweetly sung:

And sever'd was that beauteous neck,
Round which her arms had fondly clos'd; 
And mangled was that beauteous breast, 
On which her love-sick head repos'd:

And ravish'd was that constant heart,
She did to ev'ry heart prefer?
For though it could his king forget,
'Twas true and loyal still to her.

Amidst those unrelenting flames,
She bore this constant heart to see; 
But when 'twas moulder'd into dust,
Yet, yet, she cry'd, I'll follow thee,,

My death, my death, can only shew,
The pure and lasting love I bore; 
Accept, O Heav'n! of woes like ours,
And let us, let us weep no more.

The dismal scene was o'er and past,
The lover's mournful hearse retied;
The maid drew back her languid head,
And, sighing forth his name, expir'd.

Tho' Justice ever must prevail,
The tear my Kitty sheds is due: 
For seldom shall we, hear a tale;
So sad, so tender, and so true.

 Another of the parties tried on this occasion was George
Fletcher, who had been a linen-draper at Stratford near Manchester,
managing the business for his mother, who, on her knees, persuaded him
not to engage with the rebels; and offered him 10001. on the condition
that he would not embark in so desperate an enterprize; but he was deaf
to her entreaties, and so ambitious of serving the Pretender, that he
gave his secretary, Mr. Murray, fifty pounds for a captain's
commission. Fletcher having induced one Maddox to enlist, the man would
have deserted, but he produced a handful of gold, and said he should
not want money if he would fight for the Pretender; which induced
Maddox to keep his station.

 Thomas Syddall was a barber at Manchester, and had supported a
wife and five children in a creditable way, till the rebels troops
arrived at that place. His father was hanged at Manchester, for his
concern in the rebellion of 1715, and his head had remained on the
market-cross till the year 1745, when it was taken down on the arrival
of the Pretender. Syddall, who was a rigid Roman Catholic, now vowed
revenge against the Protestants, with a view to accomplish which, he
obtained an ensign's commission from the Pretender's secretary. The
attachment of this man to the Pretender was so extraordinary, that
almost in the last moment of his life, he prayed that his children
might be ready to assert the same at the hazard of their lives.

 Thomas Chadwick was tried immediately after Syddall. He was a
tallow-chandler, but had not long followed business; for, associating
with persons of Jacobitical principles, he accepted the commission of
lieutenant in the Pretender's service; and he was tried for, and
convicted of acting in that capacity. Chadwick appeared to have great
resolution; and told his friends that death, in any shape, had no
terrors for him: but his courage forsook him, and he seemed greatly
agitated on taking leave of his father the night before his execution.

 Thomas Deacon, the next person tried, was the son of a physician
of eminence. His principles of loyalty being tainted by associating
with Jacobites, he became zealous in the cause of the Pretender; and
his zeal was rewarded by the commission of lieutenant-colonel in the
Manchester regiment. Mr. Deacon had declared his resolution of joining
the rebels as soon as he heard they were in arms in Scotland; and when
they arrived at Manchester, he became one of their number. His two
brothers likewise embarked in this fatal business: and one of them was
sentenced to die with him: but being only sixteen years of age, he was
happy enough to obtain a pardon.

 The next convict on this melancholy occasion was Andrew Blood,
who had been steward to a gentleman in Yorkshire, of which county he
was a native, and descended from a respectable family. Quitting his
service, he went to Manchester to join the rebels, and received a
captains commission. He pleaded guilty to the indictment, and received
sentence with the utmost composure and resignation. The gentleman whom
he had served as steward exerted his utmost influence to procure a
pardon for him; but the Culprit being told that all endeavours were
fruitless, expressed the utmost unconcern, and said he was willing to
become a martyr for the cause he had abetted; adding that he had 
prepared for death, having entertained no hope of pardon.

 The next person brought to trial and conviction was David Morgan,
Esq. of Monmouthshire. This man had been sent by his father to study
law in the Temple; and practised a short time as a counsellor; but his
father dying, he went to reside on his estate in the country. He was
distinguished by the haughtiness of his temper, and a disposition to
quarrel with his neighbours and servants. Having met the rebels at
Manchester, he advised the Pretender to proceed immediately to London,
assuring him that the whole force to oppose him did not exceed three
thousand men. Had this advice been attended to, the rebellion might
have been crushed much sooner than it was: for, no doubt, the people 
would have arisen as one man, to oppose the progress of the lawless
insurgents.

 The Pretender having granted Morgan a warrant to search the
houses in Manchester for arms, he did this in the strictest manner, and
threatened with exemplary punishment all those who opposed him.

 A colonel's commission was offered him; but he declined the
acceptance of it, proposing rather to give his advice than his personal
assistance. When the rebels marched to Derby, he quitted them; but,
being taken into custody, he was lodged in Chester castle, and thence
conveyed to London: and conviction following commitment, he was
sentenced to die with his associates.

 After the sentence of the law was passed, the convicts declared
that they had acted according to the dictates of their consciences, and
would again act the same parts, if they were put to trial. When the
keeper informed them that the following day was ordered for their
execution, they expressed a resignation to the will of God, embraced
each other, and took an affectionate leave of their friends.

 On the following morning they breakfasted together, and having
conversed till near eleven o' clock, were conveyed from the New Gaol,
Southwark, to Kennington Common, on three sledges. The gibbet was
surrounded by a party of the guards, and a block; and a pile of
faggots, were placed near it. The faggots were set on fire while the
proper officers were removing the malefactors from the sledges.

 After near an hour employed in acts of devotion, these unhappy
men, having delivered to the sheriffs some papers, expressive of their
political sentiments, then underwent the sentence of the law. They had
not hung above five minutes, when Townley was cut down, being yet
alive, and his body being placed on the block, the executioner chopped
off his head with a cleaver. His heart and bowels were then taken out,
and thrown into the fire; and the other parts being separately treated
in the same manner, the executioner cried out "God save King George !"

 The bodies were quartered and delivered to the keeper of the New
Gaol, who buried them: the heads of some of the parties were sent to
Carlisle and Manchester, where they were exposed; but those of Townley
and Fletcher were fixed on Temple-Bar, where they remained many years,
till they fell down.

 These victims to their rashness suffered on Kennington Common, on
the 20th of July, 1746.

 Three other persons suffered soon afterwards on the same spot,
for similar offences; of which the following are such particulars as
will be interesting to the reader.

 Donald M‘Donald had joined the Pretender soon after he came to
Scotland, and had received a captain's commission. He was educated by
an uncle, who told him he would tarnish the glory of his ancestors, who
had been warmly attached to the cause, if he failed to act with
courage.

 M‘Donald was ever foremost where danger presented itself: he was
greatly distinguished at the battle of Preston Pans, and joined with
Lord Nairn in taking possession of Perth; services that greatly
recommended him to the Pretender. This man was exceedingly assiduous to
learn the art of war, and made himself of so much consequence as to be
intrusted with the command of, two thousand men. The Duke of Perth
having ordered two men, who refused to enlist, to be shot, M‘Donald
complained to his uncle, who had likewise a command in the rebel army,
of the injustice of this proceeding; but the uncle ordered the nephew
into custody, and told him that he should be shot on the following day;
and actually informed the Pretender of what had passed; but M‘Donald
was only reprimanded, and dismissed, on promise of more cautious
behaviour in future..

 After his commitment to prison, M‘Donald frequently wished that
he had been shot. Being advised to repent, he said it would be
fruitless, and he had rather hear a tune on the sweet bagpipes that
used to play before the army. He often told the keepers of the prison,
that "if they would knock off his fetters, and give him a pair of
bagpipes he would, treat them with a highland  dance."

 He said, he thought the Pretender's service very honourable when
he first engaged in it, which he would never have done if he had
thought him so ill provided for the expedition.. He likewise expressed
the utmost resentment against the French king for not supplying them
with succours.

 James Nicholson had been educated in principles averse to those
of the abettors of the house of Stuart, but had been fatally prevailed
on to change his political sentiments, by some Jacobites, who
frequented a coffeehouse which he kept at Leith with great reputation
for a considerable time.

 Having accepted a lieutenant's commission on the arrival of the
rebels at Edinburgh, he proceeded with them as far as Derby; but when
they returned to Carlisle, he was taken into custody, and sent with the
other prisoners to London.

 After conviction he was visited by his wife and children, which
afforded a scene of distress that is not to be described. He now
lamented the miseries that he had brought on his family; but his
penitence came too late!

 The county of Banff, in Scotland, gave birth to Walter Ogilvie,
who was brought up a Protestant, and taught the duty of allegiance to
the illustrious house of Brunswick; but some of his associates having
contaminated his principles, he went to Lord Lewis Gordon, and joined
the division of rebels under his command.

 Ogilvie's father represented to him the rashness and
impracticability of the scheme in which he was about to engage; but the
young man said he was persuaded of its justice; and that the Pretender
had a right to his best services.

 After conviction these unfortunate men behaved for some time with
great indifference; but on the nearer approach of death they grew more
serious. On the morning of their execution, having been visited by some
friends, they were drawn on a sledge to Kennington Common, where they
were turned off as soon as their devotions were ended; and after
hanging about a quarter of an hour, they were cut down, their heads cut
off, their bowels taken out and burnt, and their bodies conveyed to the
New Gaol, Southwark, and on the following day they were interred in one
grave, in the new burial ground belonging to the parish of Bloomsbury.

 These unfortunate men suffered at Kennington Common, on the 22d
of August, 1746.

 Alexander M‘Gruther, a lieutenant in the Duke of Perth's
regiment, and who had been very active among the rebels, was condemned
with the three parties above-mentioned, but he had the happiness to
obtain a reprieve through the interest of his friends.

 Many other of the prisoners tried and convicted in Surrey were
reprieved, as proper objects of the royal mercy; and the assizes for
that county being ended, the judges, who were furnished with a special
commission, proceeded to Carlisle to try those confined in the castle
of that city, the number of whom was no less than three hundred and
seventy.

 Orders were given that nineteen out of twenty of these should be
transported, and only the twentieth man tried for his life; and that
the chance of trial should be determined by lot; but many of them
refused to accept these merciful terms.

 Bills of indictment having been found against them, they were
informed that counsel and solicitors would be allowed them without
expense; and were told that the clerk of the peace was commissioned to
grant subpoenas for such witnesses as they thought might be of service
to them. This being done, the Judges proceeded to York Castle, to try
those there confined, and adjourned the assizes at Carlisle till the
ninth of September, that the accused parties might have time to make a
proper defence.

 In the mean time seventy were condemned of those confined at
York, the most remarkable of whom was John Hamilton, Esq. who had been
appointed Governor of Carlisle, having joined the Pretender after the
battle of Preston Pans. On the first of November, ten of the convicts
were executed at York, and eleven more on the eighth of the same month;
and four were ordered to suffer on the fifteenth, but three of these
were reprieved.

 The Judges now returned to Carlisle, and as many of the witnesses
on the behalf of the prisoners had time from Scotland, they refused to
be sworn in the English manner, and at length they were sworn according
to the custom of their own country.

 Many of the prisoners pleaded guilty, and among those who stood
the event of a trial, and were convicted, was a nonjuring clergyman
named Cappock, who had preached to the rebels at Carlisle and
Manchester;

 No less than ninety-one persons received sentence of death at
Carlisle, several of whom were people of fortune, who had abandoned
their better prospects in life to take part in this desperate
rebellion. Ten of them were hanged and quartered at Carlisle on the
18th of October, and ten more at Brampton, in Cumberland, on the 1st of
the same. month; but a number of them were transported, and several
received an unconditional pardon.

 Five other of the rebels who had been tried in Surrey, suffered
at Kennington Common, on the 28th of the month above-mentioned, one of
whom at the place of execution drank a health to the Pretender.

 In, consequence of these convictions, many estates were forfeited
to the crown; but King George the Second ordered them to be sold, and
the whole produce, above twenty years purchase, to be given to the
orphans of those who had forfeited them. The rest was employed in
establishing schools in the Highlands, and instructing the natives in
useful arts.

THE ESCAPE OF THE PRETENDER

 To enumerate the different trials of the rebels convicted and
executed would nearly fill one of our volumes; and having given the
outlines of the treason in which they were all implicated, a
recapitulation of the evidence to the same tenor, is unnecessary. Let
it therefore suffice to say, that numbers were executed in different
parts of England, and many of their heads placed on public buildings,
and others transported to America.

 Yet, we think our readers would be gratified, by a knowledge of
the escape of the leading men of this French treachery and rebellion,--
the young Pretender; and to this end, we have selected the following
interesting and genuine account:

 "That decisive engagement was fought on the 16th of April, 1746,
in which the Pretender had his horse shot under him, by one of the
troopers in the kings service, as he was endeavouring to rally his
people. After his forces were entirely defeated, he retired to the
house of a factor of Lord Lovat, about ten miles from Inverness, where
meeting with that lord, he stayed supper. After supper was over he set
out for Fort Augustus, and pursued his journey next day to Invergarry,
where he proposed to have dined; but finding no victuals, he set a boy
to fishing, who caught two salmon, on which he made a dinner, and
continued waiting there for some of his troops, who had promised to
rendezvous at that place; but being disappointed, he resolved to
proceed to Lochharciage.

 "He arrived there on the 18th, at two in the morning, where he
went to sleep, which he had not done for five days and nights. He
remained there till five o' clock in the afternoon, in hopes of
obtaining some intelligence; but gaining none, he set out from thence
on foot, and travelled to the Glen of Morar, where he arrived the 19th
at four in the morning. He set out about noon the same day for
Arrashag, where he arrived about four in the afternoon. He remained
there about seven days, waiting for Captain O'Neil, who joined him on
the 27th, and informed him, that there was no hopes of drawing his
troops together again in a body, upon which he resolved to go to
Stornway, in order to hire a ship to go to France.

 "The person employed for this purpose was one Donald M‘Leod, who
had an interest there. On the 28th he went on board an eight-oar'd
boat, in company with Sullivan and O'Neil, ordering the people who
belonged to the boat to make the best haste they could to Stornway. The
night proving very tempestuous, they all begged of him to go back,
which he would not do; but, to keep up the spirits of the people, he
sang them a Highland song; but the weather growing worse and worse, on
the 29th, about seven in the morning, they were driven on shore, on a
point of land called Rushness, in the island of Benbicula, where, when
they got on shore, the Pretender helped to make a fire to warm the
crew, who were almost starved to death with cold. On the 30th, at six
in the evening, they set sail again for Stornway, but meeting with
another storm, were obliged to put into the island of Scalpa, in the
Harris, where they all went on shore to a farmers house, passing for
merchants that were shipwrecked in their voyage to the Orkneys: the
Pretender and Sullivan going by the names of Sinclair, the latter
passing for the father, and the former his son.

 "They thought proper to send from thence to Donald M‘Leod at
Stornway, with instructions to freight a ship for the Orkneys: On the 
3d of May, they received a message from him that a ship was ready. On
the 4th they set out on foot for that place, where they arrived on the
5th about noon, and meeting with Donald M‘Leod, they found that he had
got into company, where growing daring, he told a friend of his for
whom he had hired the ship, upon which there were 200 people in arms at
Stornway, upon a report that the Pretender was landed with 600 men, and
was coming to burn the town; so that they were obliged to lie all night
upon the moor, with no other refreshment than biscuit and brandy.

 "On the 6th they resolved to go in the eight-oar'd boat, to the
Orkneys; but the crew refused to venture, so that they were obliged to
steer south along the coast-side where they met with two English ships,
and this compelled them to put into a desert island, where they
remained till the 10th, without any provision but some salt fish they
found upon the island. About ten in the morning of that day they
embarked for the Harris, and at break of day on the 11th they were
chased by an English ship, but made their escape among the rocks. About
four in the afternoon they arrived on the island of Benbicula, where
they staid till the 14th, and then set out for the mountain of Currada
in South Uist, where they staid till the militia, of the isle of Sky
came to the island of Irasky, and then sailed for the island of Uia,
where they remained three nights, till having intelligence that the
militia were coming towards Benbicula, they immediately got into their
boat, and sailed for Lochbusdale; but being met by some ships of war,
they were obliged to return to Lochaguart, where they remained all day,
and at night sailed for Lochbusdale; where they arrived, and staid
eight days on a rock, making a tent of the sail of the boat.

 They found themselves there in a most dreadful situation; for
having intelligence that Captain Scott had landed at Kilbride, the
company was obliged to separate, and the Pretender and O'Neil went to
the mountains, where they remained all night, and soon after were
informed that General Campbell was at Bernary; so that now they had
forces very near, on both sides of them, and were absolutely at a loss
which way to move. In their road they met with a young lady, one Miss
M‘Donald, to whom Captain O'Neil proposed assisting the Pretender to
make his escape, which at first she refused; but upon his offering to
put on woman's clothes, she consented, and desired them to go to the
mountain of Currada till she sent for them, where they accordingly
staid two days; but hearing nothing from the young lady, the Pretender
concluded she would not keep her word; and therefore resolved to send
Captain O'Neil to General Campbell, to let him know he was willing to
surrender to him; but about five in the evening a message came from the
young lady, desiring them to meet her at Rushness. Being afraid to pass
by the Ford, because of the militia, they luckily found a boat, which
carried them to the other side of Uia, where they remained part of the
day, afraid of being seen by the country people. In the evening they
set out for Rushness, and arrived there at twelve at night; but not
finding the young lady, and being alarmed by a boat full of militia,
they were obliged to retire two miles back, where the Pretender
remained on a moor till O'Neil went to the young lady, and prevailed
upon her to come to the place appointed at night-fall of the next day.
About an hour after they had an account of General Campbell's arrival
at Benbicula, which obliged them to move to another part of the island,
where, as the day broke, they discovered four sail close on the shore,
making directly up to the place where they were; so that there was
nothing left for them to do, but to throw themselves among the heath.
When the wherries were gone, they resolved to go to Clanronald's house;
but when they were within a mile of it, they heard General Campbell was
there, which forced them to retreat again.

 The young Pretender having at length, with the assistance of
Captain O'Neil, found Miss M‘Donald in a cottage near the place
appointed, it was there determined that he should put on women's
clothes, and pass for her waiting-maid. This being done, he took leave
of Sullivan and O'Neil with great regret, who departed to shift for
themselves, leaving him and his new mistress in the cottage, where they
continued some days, during which she cured him of the itch. Upon
intelligence that General Campbell was gone further into the country,
they removed to her cousins, and spent the night in preparing for their
departure to the Isle of Sky; accordingly they set out the next
morning, with only one man-servant named M‘Lean and two rowers. During
their voyage they were pursued by a small vessel; but a thick fog
rising they arrived safe at midnight in that island, and landed at the
foot of a rock, where the lady and her maid waited while her man M‘Lean
went to see if Sir Alexander M‘Donald was at home; M‘Lean found his way
thither, but lost it returning back; his mistress and her maid, after
in vain expecting him the whole night, were obliged in the morning to
leave the rock, and go in the boat up the creek to some distance, to
avoid the militia which guarded the coast.

 They went on shore again about ten o' clock, and, attended by the
rowers, enquired the way to SirAlexander's: when they had gone about
two miles, they met M‘Lean; he told his lady that Sir Alexander was
with the Duke of Cumberland, but his lady was at home, and would do
them all the service she could; whereupon they discharged their boat,
and went directly to the house, where they remained two days, they
being always in her lady's chamber, except at nights, to prevent a
discovery. But a party of the M‘Leods having intelligence that some
strangers were arrived at Sir Alexander's, and knowing his lady was
well-affected to the Pretender, came thither; and demanding to see the
new comers, were introduced to Miss's chamber, where she sat with her
new maid. The latter hearing the militia was at the door had the
presence of mind to get up and open it, which occasioned his being the
less taken notice of; and after they had narrowly searched the closets,
they withdrew.

 The enquiry, however, alarmed the lady, and the next day she sent
her maid to a steward of Sir Alexander's, but hearing that his being in
the island was known, he removed to Macdonald's at Kingsborough, ten
miles distant, where he remained but one day; for on receiving
intelligence that it was rumoured he was disguised in a woman's habit,
M‘Donald furnished him with a suit of his own clothes, and he went in a
boat to Macleod's, at Raza; but having no prospect, of escaping thence
to France, he returned back on foot to the Isle of Sky, being thirty
miles, with no attendant but a ferryman, whom he would not suffer to
carry his wallet, M‘Leod assuring him that the elder Laird of M‘Innon
would there render him all the service in his power.

 When he arrived, not knowing the way to M‘Innon's house, he
chanced to enquire of a gentleman, whom he met on the top of a
mountain; this gentleman having seen him before, thought he recollected
his face, and asked him if he was not the Prince. This greatly
surprised him; but seeing the gentleman had only one person, a servant,
with him, be answered, I am, at the same time putting himself in a
posture of defence: but this person immediately discovered himself to
be his good friend, Captain Macleod, and conducted him to M‘Innon's.
The old man instantly knew him; but advised him immediately to go to
Lochabar, and he accordingly set sail in a vessel which M‘Innon
procured for that purpose.

 After remaining seven days in the glens of Morar, he received
advice that M‘Donald of Lochgarrie expected him in Lochabar, where he
had one hundred resolute Highlanders in arms; upon this he went over
the great hill of Morar, in a tattered Highland habit, and was joyfully
received by M‘Donald at the head of his men.

 With this party he roved from place to, place, till finding he
could no longer remain in Lochabar, he removed to Badenoch; but being
harassed by the king's troops, and losing daily some of his men in
skirmishing, they dispersed; and the Pretender, with Lochiel of
Barrisdale, and some others, skulked about in Moidart. Here they
received advice that two French privateers were at anchor in
Lochnanaugh in Moidart, in one of which, called the Happy, he embarked
with 23 gentlemen, and one hundred and seven common men, and soon after
arrived safe in France.


JOSEPH RAWLINS, alias GREAT JOE;
A daring and notorious Smuggler, executed at Winchester, October 10,
1748 for burglary.

 THIS offence [burglary] is a felony at common law; it is
described to be when a person, by night, breaketh into the mansion of
another, with an intent to commit a felony; whether the felonious
intent be executed or not.

 By the 18th. of Elizabeth, cap. 7, the benefit of clergy is
taken. away from the offence; and by the 3d and 4th William and Mary,
cap. 9, from accessories before the fact. By the 12th of Anne, stat. 1,
cap. 7, if any person shall enter into a mansion or dwelling-house by
day or by night, without breaking into the same with an intent to
commit any felony; or being in such house, shall commit any felony; and
shall, in the night-time, break the said house to get out of the same,
he is declared guilty of the offence of burglary, and punished
accordingly.

 It is, without doubt, highly expedient that this offence should
be punished more severely than any other species of theft; since,
besides the loss of property, there is something very terrific in the
mode of perpetration, which is often productive of dreadful effects.

 The ancient laws made a marked distinction in the punishment,
between this offence, which was called Hamsokne (and which name it
retains at present, in the northern part of this kingdom) and robbing a
house in the day-time.

 It is impossible to reflect upon the outrages and acts of
violence continually committed, more particularly in and near the
metropolis, by lawless ravagers of property, and destroyers of lives,
in disturbing the peaceful mansion, the castle of every Englishman, and
also in abridging the liberty of travelling upon the public highways,
without asking -- Why are these enormities suffered, in a country where
the criminal laws are supposed to have arrived at a greater degree of
perfection than any other?

 This is an important inquiry, interesting, in the highest degree,
to every member of the body politic.

 If, in pursuing such an inquiry, the situation of Holland,
Flanders, and several of the northern states on the continent, be
examined, it will be found that this terrific evil had (alluding to
these states previous to the present war) there scarcely an existence;
and that the precaution of bolting doors and windows during the night
was even seldom used; although, in these countries, from the opulence
of many of the inhabitants, there were great temptations to plunder
property.

 This security did not proceed from severer punishments; for in
very few countries are they more sanguinary than in England. It is to
be attributed to a more correct and energetic system of Police, joined
to an early and general attention to the employment, education, and
morals, of the lower orders of the people; a habit of industry and
sobriety is thus acquired, which, universally imbibed in early life,
"grows with their growth, and strengthens with their strength!"

 Houses, intended to be entered during the night, are previously
reconnoitred and examined for days preceding. If one or more of the
servants are not already associated with the gang, the most artful
means are used to obtain their assistance; and when every previous
arrangement is made, the mere operation of robbing a house becomes a
matter of little difficulty.

 By the connivance and assistance of immediate, or former
servants, they are led to the places where the most valuable, as well
as the most portable, articles are deposited, and the object is
speedily attained. In this manner do the principal burglars and
housebreakers proceed: and let this information serve as a caution to
every person in the choice both of their male and female servants;
since the latter as well as the former are not seldom accomplices in
very atrocious robberies. It frequently happens that the burglars make
their contracts with the receivers on the evening before the plunder is
obtained; so as to secure a ready admittance immediately afterwards,
and before daybreak, for the purpose of effectual concealment by
melting plate, obliterating marks, and securing all other articles so
as to place them out of the reach of discovery. This has long been
reduced to a regular system which is understood and followed as a
trade.

 Night coaches promote, in an eminent degree, the perpetration of
burglaries and other felonies: bribed by a high reward many hackney-
coachmen eagerly enter into the pay of nocturnal depredators, and wait
in the neighbourhood until the robbery is completed, and then draw up,
at the moment the watchmen are going their round; or off their stands,
for the purpose of conveying the plunder to the house of the receiver,
who is generally waiting the issue of the enterprise. Nearly one-half
of the hackney coachmen in London, are said to be, (in the cant phrase)
flashmen, designed to assist thieves.

 [Note: On the 21st, April, 1747, two smugglers, George Kingman
and Barnet Wollit, both outlaws, one of whom murdered a man on. Hurst-
Green, were killed in a skirmish with the townsmen of Goodhurst in
Kent, who found it necessary to arm against those desperadoes, who rob
and plunder wherever they go, and live upon the spoil.

 This spirited conduct of the people of this town was highly
praiseworthy. They acted under the following order of council:

 "In consequence of a report of the Attorney and Solicitor
General, wherein they, gave their opinion, that all his Majesty's
subjects, civil and military, magistrates, officers, and private
persons, have, by law, without any express warrant for that purpose,
authority to seize and apprehend any persons assembled, armed, and
acting in such manner, as described in the laws against smuggling, and
bring them before a magistrate, who may commit them to prison: and in
seizing, apprehending, securing, and committing them to prison, may
repel force with force, and justify any violence or hostilities which
may be necessary to suppress and subdue them, to bring them to justice.

 "His Majesty in council is pleased to require and command all
officers, both civil and military, to use their utmost force in support
of the laws, and suppressing, subduing, and bringing, all such
offenders to justice."]

 Joseph Rawlins was indicted at the assize held at Winchester, for
the year 1748, for burglariously breaking into the dwelling-house of
Mr. Wakefield, of Selborne, in the county of Hants, on the 6th of
September, 1747, and therefrom stole cash, plate, and other effects,
the property of the said Wakefield.

 It appeared in evidence, that this fellow, at the head of
thirteen more, met on the day of the robbery, at Adverse Heath, in
Sussex, whence they proceeded to Woolmer. Forest, where they lay
concealed till the evening. Then they mounted their horses, and arrived
about eight near Mr. Wakefield's. Jeremiah Curtis, one of the villains,
rode up to the house; and pretending he had lost his way; desired to be
set right. The men-servants of the house having informed him, he asked
for some beer, when an old maid-servant went to draw some; but he found
great fault with it, and called for ale. She told him, that her master
had the key, and was gone to bed. On this he rode back to his
companions, who immediately came up, armed with blunderbusses and
pistols; and, pretending to be officers, demanded the master of the
house, insisting that he harboured outlawed smugglers. Being answered
that he was in bed, they broke open the door, and going up to Mr.
Wakefield's room, presented a blunderbuss to his breast, and, with
horrid imprecations, demanded where he kept his money. On being told he
had no money, they pulled him across the bed; yet still he persisted.
They then told him to point out his plate; and, fearing to be murdered,
he showed them the chest. This they immediately broke open, and stole
thereout a silver tankard, a salt, porrenger; salver, and twelve
spoons: from another room, fourteen guineas, a silver watch, and
several other things of value. Meanwhile the prisoner at the bar,
Rawlins, with another, held the horses of those plundering, fearing to
enter, as they were known to the family. Another of the party kept
guard over the servants, threatening them with instant death, if they
stirred.

 Having plundered the house of every portable valuable, they
returned to Mr. Wakefield, and with dreadful oaths, demanded two
hundred pounds, which they insisted he had just received from Bristol.
He protested that he had received none; upon which they dragged him out
of bed, and swore they would carry him off, unless he discovered his
money; but finding him resolute, they let him go. The next day, the
thieves divided their booty, of which the prisoner had his share.

 The old servant woman who had kindly given drink to the first
villain, swore, that they rifled her pockets of four shillings -- most
mean and ungrateful.

 The defence set up by this old offender was weak and ignorant; so
that the jury, without hesitation, found him guilty; and he was
accordingly executed.

 We have already observed what a pest to the country were these
different gangs of smugglers; for when none of the vessels employed in
this illicit trade were in the harbours and creeks, with their
contraband cargoes, the villains employed the time in housebreaking,
highway and foot robberies; and it was long before they could be
extirpated.


GEORGE LANCASTER
Executed at Tyburn, 16th of November, 1747, for forging a
Seaman's Will, in order to rob his Wife and Child

THIS offender was born in Hatton Garden, London, of
respectable parents, who placed him with a reputable attorney,
with whom he served part of his clerkship in the most regular
manner; but, making very bad connections, his master requested
his parents to take him home and send him to sea as the most likely
means to prevent his ruin.

The parents, approving this hint, persuaded the son to sail
as captain's clerk on board a ship in the Royal Navy; and he
continued some years in this station.

He came to London when his ship was paid off, and having
received a considerable sum of money dissipated the whole in
houses of ill-fame. His father was now dead; but his mother, with a
fondness very natural, but which perhaps contributed to his ruin,
supplied his extravagances till she was very much reduced in her
circumstances; and in the meantime the son borrowed money in
her name of anyone who would trust him; but at length his
character being lost, and his mother totally impoverished, he
determined on the commission of the crime for which his life paid
the forfeit.

A seaman, named Hugh Price, to whom thirty-six pounds
were due for wages, died on board the Dorchester man-of-war,
having made a will in favour of his wife and son, who lived near
Whitehaven, in Cumberland. Lancaster, hearing of the death of
Price, forged a will purporting to be his, and, carrying it to Doctors'
Commons, obtained a probate of the will, in consequence of his
swearing that he was the son of the above-mentioned Price.

Being thus possessed of the probate, he went to a public-
house, producing to the landlord a letter signed George Price,
whom he averred was the son of the deceased, and had empowered
him to dispose of his father's wages. The landlord, unacquainted
with these matters, applied to a gentleman, who told him he might
safely purchase if Lancaster could get the original ticket and would
lodge the probate in his hands as a collateral security.

The publican mentioning this to Lancaster, the latter said he
would procure the original ticket from Portsmouth; but at the
expiration of four days he produced a forged ticket, which the
landlord, on the advice of a friend, purchased for twenty-seven
pounds.

About three months after this transaction, a clerk of the
Navy Office called on the publican, and he showed him the ticket.
He said he thought it a good one, but he would write to the agent at
Portsmouth to inquire into the fact. The agent's answer was that
Hugh Price's ticket in favour of his son George was still in the
office; so that it was evident that Lancaster's ticket must be a
forgery.

The publican then went to an attorney, who advised him to
make a debt of the affair, and arrest Lancaster for the money. This
being done, he was committed to the Poultry Compter, where he
was informed that he should be set at liberty if his friends would
make a subscription to raise the sum; but not having friends to
assist him in this essential matter, the publican went to the Navy
Office, where he informed the commissioners of the affair, and
they ordered Lancaster to be prosecuted by their solicitor.

Lancaster's guilt being proved in the clearest manner on his
trial, he was convicted, received sentence of death, and was
executed at Tyburn, on 16th of November, 1747.

HOSEA YOUELL
Executed at Tyburn, Nov. 16, 1747, for murder.

 IT is estimated in another part of our chronology, that there are
more Jew thieves in London, on a fair calculation of their numbers,
than of the abandoned of all other persuasions. For some years these
Levites, formerly kept under a necessary restriction by the Christian
laws, presuming upon too ample a toleration, have become the bullies of
people of London, The disgraceful practice of pugilism, revived by
Mendoza, on their part, has greatly increased their depredations as
well as their audacity. The ruffian set of the disciples of Moses, sent 
into Covent-garden theatre some years since, in order to awe the public
to an acquiescence in an imposition of increased prices to that place
of public amusement, shews to what a daring pitch they have arrived.

 At the sessions held at the Old Bailey in October, 1747, Hosea
Youell, and Jacob Lopez, two Jews, were indicted for the murder of
Captain Johns, when the former was convicted, and the latter acquitted.

 The story of this affair is as follows: Mr. Johns coming up
Sandwich-court, Devonshire Square, between ten and eleven o'clock at
night, met two men whom he believed to be Jews, who robbed him of his
watch and money. Hearing some people coming towards him, he called out,
"Stop thief;" on which one of them returned, and gave him a stab in the
body, of the depth of nine inches, as appeared by the deposition of the
surgeon who attended Captain Johns at the Dolphin inn, Bishopsgate-
street, and extracted a piece of the sword from his body.

 Youell being taken into custody, Alderman Rawlinson attended the
wounded man, who positively charged Youell with being the murderer, and
signed his charge, being in his perfect senses, but died within fifteen
minutes afterwards.

 The wounded man being asked how he could be so  positive to 
Youell, said, he knew him by the light from a lamp, and that he should
know his voice. Youell being bid to turn round, slouch his hat, and
speak, hesitated for a while; but at length complying, the captain
said, "You are the man that stabbed me, I am positive of the voice."

 A piece of a sword was found in the court where the captain was
stabbed, which exactly tallied with the piece lodged in the body of the
deceased: and it also appeared that Youell had requested the city-
marshal to speak to the alderman, that he might be admitted an
evidence; and averred, that the murder was not committed by himself,
but by one Hart.

 After conviction, the prisoner said that he was only eighteen
years of age, and born of Jewish parents, who lived in Creed-lane,
Leadenhall-street. He was so illiterate that he could neither read
Hebrew nor English. The ordinary of Newgate representing to him the
advantages of the Gospel over the Mosaic dispensation, he said, that as
he was born and bred a Jew, he would die such.

 He was attended by a rabbi, and at the place of execution
steadfastly denied having been guilty of the murder. However, he
earnestly advised young people to be cautious in the choice of their
company, as it was by a neglect of that caution that he had come to a
fatal end.



HENRY SIMMS
The Extraordinary Career of a Youth, who was executed at
Tyburn, 16th of November, 1747, after returning from
Transportation, for Highway Robbery

HENRY SIMMS was born in the parish of St Martin's-in-
the-Fields, London, and was soon a helpless orphan. His
grandmother, who was a Dissenter, sent him first to a school kept
by a clergyman, but as he frequently ran away she placed him at an
academy in St James's parish, where he became proficient in
writing and arithmetic, and was likewise a tolerable Latin and
French scholar.

Before the boy had completed his tenth year he gave a
specimen of his dishonest disposition. His grandmother taking him
with her on a visit to a tradesman's house, he stole twenty shillings
from the till in the shop, which being observed by the maid-
servant, she informed her master; and, the money being found on
the youth, he was severely punished. He now began to lie from
home at nights, and associated with the vilest of company, in the
purlieus of St Giles's. His companions advising him to rob his
grandmother, he stole seventeen pounds from her and, taking his
best apparel, repaired to St Giles's, where his new acquaintances
made him drunk, put him to bed, and then robbed him of his
money and clothes. On his waking he covered himself with some
rags he found in the room and, after strolling through the streets in
search of the villains, went into an ale-house, the landlord of
which, hearing his tale, interceded with his grandmother to take
him again under her protection. To this, after some hesitation, she
consented; and, buying a chain with a padlock, she had him
fastened, during the daytime, to the kitchen grate, and at night he
slept with a man who was directed to take care that he did not
escape.

After a month of confinement he had his liberty granted
him and new clothes purchased, with which he immediately went
among some young thieves who were tossing up for money, in St
Giles's. On the approach of night they took him to a brick-kiln near
Tottenham Court Road, where they broiled some steaks, and
supped in concert; and were soon joined by some women, who
brought some geneva, with which the whole company regaled
themselves.

Simms, falling asleep, was robbed of his clothes; and when
the brickmakers came to work in the morning they found him in
his shirt only. While they were conducting him towards town he
was met by his grandmother's servant, who was in search of him,
and conveyed him to her house. Notwithstanding his former
behaviour the old lady received him kindly, and placed him with a
breeches-maker. He having corrected him for his ill behaviour, he
ran away, and taking his best clothes from his grandmother's
house, in her absence, sold them to a Jew, and spent the money in
extravagance.

The old gentlewoman now went to live at the house of
Lady Stanhope, whither the graceless boy followed her, and being
refused admittance he broke several of the windows. This in some
measure compelled his grandmother to admit him; but that very
night he robbed the house of as many things as produced him nine
pounds, which he carried to a barn in Marylebone Fields, and spent
among his dissolute companions. For this offence he was
apprehended, and, after some hesitation, confessed where he had
sold the effects. From this time his grandmother gave him up as
incorrigible. Soon afterwards he was apprehended as a pickpocket,
but he was discharged for want of evidence.

Simms now associated with the worst of company; but after
a narrow escape on a charge of being concerned in sending a
threatening letter to extort money, and two of his companions
being transported for other offences, he seemed deterred from
continuing his evil courses; and thereupon wrote to his
grandmother, entreating her further protection. Still anxious to save
him from destruction, she prevailed on a friend to take him into his
house, where for some time he behaved regularly; but, getting
among his old associates, they robbed a gentleman of his watch
and money, and threw him into a ditch in Marylebone Fields; when
only some persons accidentally coming up prevented his
destruction.

Two more of Simms' companions being now transported,
he hired himself to an innkeeper as a driver of a post-chaise; and
after that lived as postilion to a nobleman, but was soon discharged
on account of his irregular conduct. Having received some wages,
he went again among the thieves, who dignified him with the title
of "Gentleman Harry," on account of his presumed skill, and the
gentility of his appearance. Simms now became intimately
acquainted with a woman who lived with one of his accomplices,
in revenge for which the fellow procured both him and the woman
to be taken into custody on a charge of felony, and they were
committed to Newgate; but, the Court paying no regard to the
credibility of the witnesses, the prisoners were acquitted.

Soon after his discharge Simms robbed a gentleman of his
watch and seventeen pounds on Blackheath, and likewise robbed a
lady of a considerable sum near the same spot. Being followed to
Lewisham, he was obliged to quit his horse, when he presented
two pistols to his pursuers, by which he so intimidated them as to
effect his escape, though with the loss of his horse.

Repairing to London he bought another horse, and
travelling into Northamptonshire, and putting up at an inn at
Towcester, learned that a military gentleman had hired a chaise for
London; on which he followed the chaise the next morning, and
kept up with it for several miles. At length the gentleman,
observing him, said: "Don't ride so hard, Sir, you'll soon ride away
your whole estate"; to which Simms replied: "Indeed I shall not,
for it lies in several counties"; and, instantly quitting his horse, he
robbed the gentleman of one hundred and two guineas.

He now hastened to London, and, having dissipated his ill-
acquired money at a gaming-table, rode out towards Hounslow,
and meeting the postilion who had driven the above-mentioned
gentleman in Northamptonshire gave him five shillings, begging
he would take no notice of having seen him. A reward being at
length offered for apprehending Simms, he entered on board a
privateer; but being soon weary of a seafaring life he deserted, and
enlisted for a soldier. While in this station he knocked out the eye
of a woman at a house of ill-fame, for which he was apprehended
and lodged in New Prison. Soon after this, Justice de Veil admitted
him an evidence against some felons, his accomplices, who were
transported, and Simms regained his liberty.

Being apprehended for robbing a baker's shop, he was
convicted, and being sentenced to be transported was, accordingly,
shipped on board one of the transport vessels. As this sailed round
to the Isle of Wight he formed a plan for seizing the captain, and
effecting an escape; but as a strict watch was kept on him it was
not possible for him to carry this plan into execution. The ship
arriving at Maryland, Simms was sold, for twelve guineas, but he
found an early opportunity of deserting from the purchaser. Having
learned that his master's horse was left tied to a gate at some
distance from the dwelling-house, he privately decamped in the
night, and rode thirty miles in four hours, through extremely bad
roads: so powerfully was he impelled by his fears.

He now found himself by the seaside, and, turning the
horse loose, he hailed a vessel just under sail, from which a boat
was sent to bring him on board. As hands were very scarce, the
captain offered him six guineas, which were readily accepted, to
work his passage to England. There being at this time a war
between England and France, the ship was taken by a French
privateer, but soon afterwards ransomed; and Simms entered on
board a man-of-war, where his diligence promoted him to the rank
of a midshipman. But the ship had no sooner arrived at Plymouth
than he quitted his duty and, travelling to Bristol, spent the little
money he possessed in the most dissipated manner.

His next step was to enter himself on board a coasting
vessel at Bristol, but he had not been long at sea before, on a
dispute with the captain, he threatened to throw him overboard,
and would have carried his threat into execution if the other
seamen had not prevented him. Simms asked for his wages when
the ship returned to port; but on the captain threatening
imprisonment for his ill behaviour at sea he decamped, with only
eight shillings in his possession.

Fertile of contrivances, he borrowed a bridle and saddle,
and having stolen a horse, in a field near the city, he went once
more on the highway, and taking the road to London robbed the
passengers in the Bristol coach, those in another carriage, and a
single lady and gentleman, and repaired to London with the booty
he had acquired.

Having put up the stolen horse at an inn in Whitechapel,
and soon afterwards seeing it advertised, he was afraid to fetch it:
on which he stole another horse; but as he was riding through
Tyburn Turnpike, the keeper, knowing the horse, brought the rider
to the ground. Hereupon Simms presented a pistol, and threatened
the man with instant death if he presumed to detain him. By this
daring mode of proceeding he obtained his liberty, and, having
made a tour round the fields, he entered London by another road.
On the following day he went to Kingston-upon-Thames, he stole a
horse, and then robbed several people on his return to London; and
the day afterwards robbed seven farmers of eighteen pounds. His
next depredations were in Epping Forest, where he committed five
robberies in one day, but soon spent what he thus gained among
women of ill-fame. Thinking it unsafe to remain longer in London,
he set out with a view of going to Ireland; but had ridden only to
Barnet when he crossed the country to Harrow-on-the-Hill, where
he robbed a gentleman, named Sleep, of his money and watch, and
would have taken his wig, but the other said it was of no value, and
he hoped, as it was cold weather, his health might not be
endangered by being deprived of it. The robber threatened Mr
Sleep's life unless he would swear never to take any notice of the
affair; but this the gentleman absolutely refused. Hereupon Simms
said that if he had not robbed him, two other persons would; and
told him to say "Thomas" if he should meet any people on
horseback.

Soon after this, Mr Sleep, meeting two men whom he
presumed to be accomplices of the highwayman, cried out
"Thomas!" -- but the travellers paying no regard to him he was
confirmed in his suspicions, and rode after them; and on his arrival
at Hoddesdon Green he found several other persons, all of them in
pursuit of the highwayman.

In the meantime Simms rode forward, and robbed the St
Albans stage; after which he went as far as Hockliffe; but, being
now greatly fatigued, he fell asleep in the kitchen of an inn,
whither he was pursued by some light horsemen from St Albans,
who took him into custody. Being confined for that night, he was
carried in the morning before a magistrate, who committed him to
Bedford Jail. By an unaccountable neglect his pistol had not been
taken from him, and on his way to prison he attempted to shoot one
of his guards; but the pistol missing fire, his hands were tied
behind him; and when he arrived at the prison he was fastened to
the floor, with an iron collar round his neck. Being removed to
London, by a writ of habeas corpus, he was lodged in Newgate,
where he was visited, from motives of curiosity, by numbers of
people, whom he amused with a narrative of his having been
employed to shoot the King.

On this he was examined before the Duke of Newcastle,
then Secretary of State; but, his whole story bearing evident marks
of a fiction, he was remanded to Newgate, to take his trial at the
ensuing Old Bailey sessions. Ten indictments were preferred
against him; but, being convicted for the robbery of Mr Sleep, it
was not thought necessary to arraign him on any other of the
indictments.

After conviction he behaved with great unconcern, and in
some instances with insolence. Having given a fellowprisoner a
violent blow, he was chained to the floor. He appeared shocked
when the warrant for his execution arrived; but soon resumed his
former indifference, and continued it even to the moment of
execution, when he behaved in the most thoughtless manner.

He was hanged at Tyburn, on the 16th of November, 1747.

SERJEANT SMITH
An English Deserter to the French, shot in the Park on the 11th day of
December, 1747.

 WE should not have accorded to the case of this ungrateful
traitor a separate memoir, were it not to hand down his crime to
posterity, as an example to the army, and a caution against desertion.

 Courts-martial are composed of a certain number of officers,
according to the magnitude of the charge against the prisoner, of which
one is the president, and another judge-advocate. A regimental court-
martial is appointed by the commander of each troop or regiment for the
trial of offences which are not deemed sufficiently heinous to be
carried to a general court-martial. Regimental courts-martial are often
assembled, sometimes in a few minutes, at the drum-head, and consist of
a captain, the president, and four subaltern officers, members. They
are not sworn, but give sentence and judgment like the Lords, sitting
on the trial of a peer, on a charge affecting his life -- "Upon their
honours." This may be termed the internal or domestic management of a
regiment, trying offences by a court of its own officers; but where a
charge is of a serious nature, as mutiny, desertion, or treason, then
application is made to the commander-in-chief for a general court-
martial. It is composed of veteran officers, the oldest being the
president, and the advocate-general, or his deputy, attending. This
office partakes of both civil and military functions. He regulates the
evidence, propounds questions, as well for the prosecutor as the
accused, takes minutes of the trial, and sums up the evidence in the
manner of a civil judge, on the trial of a criminal, for the
determination of the court. This done, the court is cleared of all
strangers, and the members alone debate on the nature of the crime, and
offer their respective opinions, beginning with the youngest, who being
called upon by the president, pronounces "Guilty," or "Not Guilty," as
he feels the case. The next is then called upon, and a, majority of
voices forms the sentence; the president, on an equal number for and
against the prisoner, has the casting vote., When found guilty, in like
manner they determine upon the punishment, whether death or corporeal
punishment. The sentence is then sent to the King for approbation, and
when confirmed, the punishment is inflicted.

 On the 26th of November, 1747, a court-martial assembled at
Whitehall, of which Marshal Wade was president, for the purpose of
trying Serjeant Smith who had been lately brought from Scotland,
charged with deserting into the service of the French, and afterwards
to that of the rebels, and having heard the evidence for and against
the prisoner, he was found guilty.

 On the l1th of December he was conducted from the Savoy prison to
the parade in St. James's Park, where he was met by a detachment of the
foot-guards, commanded by Colonel Drury, to Hyde Park. The unhappy man
was attended by the minister of the Savoy, and having arrived at a
gibbet, under which was a new-made grave, to receive his body; to which
dreadful preparation he seemed little moved: indeed, there was an
apparent unconcern in the whole of his behaviour.

 This was a man of extraordinary abilities, and as vicious in his
principles. He had served several of the Princes in the then late wars
in Germany, and abused them all by desertion. He was master of several
languages, and from this acquirement he acted as interpreter to our
officers, who were so partial to him, that they appointed him a
paymaster-serjeant, and in fact treated him as their companion. His
income could not have been less than 200l. a year. A man thus caressed
must be truly a villain who could be base enough to desert his duty;
but Smith was of a roving turn, and could not keep long in a place,.
the excuse he gave for his crimes. He died undaunted, and declared
himself a protestant. Reports had been circulated, owing probably to
the fluency with which he spoke French, that he was a papist. He was
immediately buried under the gibbet, which was erected on the bank of
the Serpentine river.


in Denbighshire, and
having been liberally educated, was apprenticed to a silversmith, with
whom he served his time with a fair character, and then came to settle
in London.

 After a residence of more than twenty years, during which he
worked as a journeyman, he became distressed in circumstances, which
induced him to think of having recourse to the following method of
supplying his necessities.

 Having drawn a bill on Mr. Scott, a refiner in Love-lane, in the
name of Mr. Brown, of Lombard-street, for one hundred ounces of silver,
he carried it to the house of the former, who not being at home, an
apprentice read the draft, and asked if Parkes was a silversmith, and
for whom he worked. He told him for Mr. Robinson in Bond-street. The
apprentice said, he was well acquainted with Mr. Robinson; but not
knowing that his master dealt with Mr. Brown, begged that the bearer
would call for an answer in the morning.

 Parkes now went home to bed, but reflecting that he could imitate
Robinson's hand-writing, with which he was perfectly acquainted, he
wrote a letter in his name to Mr. Scott, informing him that he would be
answerable for Brown's credit, if any doubt was entertained of it; and
begging that no disappointment might happen.

 Parkes had some idea of carrying this letter himself; but
reflecting on the danger that might attend such a proceeding, he went
into a public-house, near Cripplegate, and calling for a pint of beer,
sent a porter with the letter, telling him to inform Mr. Scott, that he
came from Mr. Robinson, of Bond-street; and to add, that the person who
had been there the preceding day was taken ill. The porter was no
sooner gone, than Parkes paid, for his beer and told the woman of the
house, that if the porter brought any thing, he was to leave it at the
bar.

 This being done he followed the porter, and observing him go into
Mr. Scott's, he stopped in a dark passage till he saw him come out, and
when he, was at a small distance from the house he followed him, and
receiving the bag of silver, paid him for the porterage, and decamped
with all expedition. He carried his ill-gotten booty to the house of an
acquaintance near the Seven Dials, where he melted part of the silver,
and spent the produce in the most extravagant manner.

 Being reduced to poverty, he melted the remainder of the silver,
and mixing it with some copper; he offered it for sale to a refiner;
who threatened to apprehend him for presenting adulterated silver; but
the offender pretending that he had no intention of fraud, the refiner
paid him the amount of the silver.

 Having thus escaped punishment for the first offence, he
committed several other crimes of a similar nature, and at length that
which cost him his life. Having forged a note in the name of Mr.
Lamery, he carried it to a refiner in Oat-lane, named Froxhall,
desiring that 200 ounces of silver might be delivered to the bearer.
This note he delivered to Froxhall's apprentice, who carried it up
stairs to his master, but first fastened the door, that Parkes might
not escape. The, boy coming down soon, desired Parkes to sit down, and
his master would wait on him.. He did so; and Mr. Froxhall coming down,
asked, who wanted the silver. Parkes said, he did; on which he was
desired to wait, and he should have it; but in the mean time the
apprentice was sent for a constable, who conducted Parkes before the
Lord Mayor, who committed him to Newgate.

 Being indicted at the next sessions at the Old Bailey, he was
capitally convicted, and sentenced to die. After conviction, he
exhibited signs of the utmost penitence, and sincerely lamented the
past irregularities of his life. He behaved devoutly at the place of
execution, and warned others to avoid those practices which brought him
to a fatal end.


WILLIAM WHURRIER
Executed at Tyburn for murder, March 7, 1748, and his body hung in
chains on Finchley common. (A Hard Case.)

 WE cannot so clearly see by the report of this trial, as the jury
might have done by the evidence adduced, the malice propense necessary
to constitute the conviction of murder. But, though we are by no means
disposed to question a verdict of the country, yet we cannot avoid
saying, that the case added to the services which the unfortunate man
had rendered the king, should have proved a strong recommendation to
royal mercy.

 This soldier was a native of Morpeth, in Northumberland, and
brought up as a husbandman; but having inlisted in general Cope's
regiment, he served five years and a half in Flanders; when, some
horses being wanted for the use of the army, he and another man were
sent to England to purchase them.

 On the 11th of February, 1748, as Whurrier and his companion were
walking over Finchley Common towards Barnet, the latter, being wearied,
agreed with a post-boy, who went by with a led horse, to, permit him to
ride to Barnet, leaving Whurrier at an alehouse on the road. Whurrier
having drank freely; met with a woman who appeared to be his country-
woman, and with her he continued drinking till both of them were
intoxicated, when they proceeded together towards Barnet; but they were
followed by some sailors, one of whom insulted Whurrier, telling him
that he had no business with the woman.

 Whurrier suspecting there was a design to injure him, asked the
woman if she had any connection with those men. She said she had not:
but in the meantime the other Sailors coming up, said they came to
rescue the woman; on which Whurrier drew his sword; but returned it
into the scabbard without annoying any one.

 A soldier riding by at this instant, Whurrier told him that the
sailors had ill-treated him, and begged his assistance, on which the
soldier getting off his horse, the sailors ran away, and Whurrier
pursuing them, overtook the first that had assaulted him, and drawing
his sword, cut him in such a manner that he was carried in a hopeless
condition to a house in the neighbourhood, where he languished till the
Sunday following, and then died.

 It appeared by the testimony of a surgeon that the deceased had
received a cut across the skull, as if done with a butcher's chopper;
so that the brains, lay open; besides a variety of other wounds..

 Whurrier being taken into custody for the commission of this
murder, was brought to trial at the next sessions at the Old Bailey and
being capitally convicted on the clearest, evidence, was sentenced to
die.

 After conviction he said he thought there was a combination
between the woman he had met with and the sailors; and a day or two
before he suffered, he procured the following paper to be published,
which he called, "Whurrier's Declaration."

 "This is to let the world know that I have lived in good credit,
and have served his Majesty eight years and two months. In the time of
my service, I have stood six campaigns, and always obeyed all lawful
commands: I have been in three battles, and at Bergen-op-zoom, during
the time it was besieged. The first battle was at Dettingen, June,
1743, when his Majesty headed his army: the second was in the year
1745, April 30, at Fontenoy; the third was at Luckland, by siege;
besides several skirmishes, and other great dangers. I had. rather it
had been my fate to have died in the. field of battle, where I have
seen many thousand wallowing in their blood, than to come to such
disgrace: but, alas! I have escaped all these dangers to come to this
unhappy fate, to suffer at Tyburn, and afterwards to hang in chains on
a gibbet, which last is the nearest concern to me; and I cannot help
expressing, that it would be more beneficial to the public to employ
blacksmiths to make breast-plates for the soldiers, than irons to
inclose their bodies to be exposed to the fowls of the air.

 "I have been a true subject and faithful servant, as is well
known to the officers of the regiment to which I belonged. If I had
been a pick-pocket, or a thief, I should have suffered much more
deservedly, in my own opinion, than I now do; for what I did was in my
own defence: I was upon the king's duty, and was assaulted by the men
in sailors' habits, who gave me so many hard blows, as well as so much
bad language, that I could no longer bear it, and was obliged to draw
my sword in my own defence; and being in too great a passion, as well
as too much in liquor, I own I struck without mercy; as thinking my
life in danger, surrounded by four men, who I thought designed to
murder me; who, or what they were the Lord knows; it is plain they had
a false pass, as it was proved: and that they had travelled but seven
miles in nine days; but I forgive them, as I hope forgiveness: and the
Lord have mercy on My soul, and the poor man's whom I killed.

 W. WHURRIER."


WILLIAM YORK
"The Boy Murderer," convicted of the Murder of another Child in
the Poorhouse of Eyke, in Suffolk, May, 1748

THIS sinner was but just turned ten years of age when he
committed the dreadful crime. He was a pauper in the poorhouse
belonging to the parish of Eyke, in Suffolk, and was committed, on
the coroner's inquest, to Ipswich Jail for the murder of Susan
Mahew, another child, of five years of age, who had been his
bedfellow. The following is his confession, taken and attested by a
Justice of the Peace, and which was, in part, proved on his trial,
with many corroborating circumstances of his guilt.

He said that a trifling quarrel happening between them, on
the 13th of May, 1748, about ten in the morning, he struck her with
his open hand, and made her cry. That she going out of the house
to the dunghill, opposite to the door, he followed her with a hook
in his hand, with an intent to kill her; but before he came up to her
he set down the hook, and went into the house for a knife; he then
came out again, took hold of the girl's left hand, and cut her wrist
all round and to the bone, with his knife, and then threw her down, 
and cut her to the bone just above the elbow of the same arm. That
after this he set his foot upon her stomach, and cut her right arm
round about, and to the bone, both on the wrist and above the
elbow. That he then thought she would not die, and therefore took
the hook and cut her left thigh to the bone; and, observing she was
not dead yet, his next care was to conceal the murder. For this
purpose he filled a pail with water at a ditch, and washed the blood
off the child's body, buried it in the dunghill, together with the
blood that was spilt upon the ground, and made the dunghill as
smooth as he could; afterwards he washed the knife and hook, and
carried them into the house, washed the blood off his own clothes,
hid the child's clothes in an old chamber, and then came down and
got his breakfast.

This "boy murderer" was found guilty, and sentence of death
pronounced against him; but he was respited from time to time,
and on account of his tender years, was at length pardoned.



GEORGE COCK
A most Plausible Scoundrel, executed at Tyburn, 13th of June,
1748, for privately stealing

THIS artful rogue was born in the neighbourhood of
Aldgate, and for seven or eight years lived as errand-boy and
porter to several tradesmen, none of whom had reason to suspect
that he purloined their property; but he was held by them in no
esteem, on account of his being frequently intoxicated and
associating with people of dissolute principles.

Having made pretensions of love to a maid-servant in the
neighbourhood of Mayfair, she invited him to her master's house.
He was punctual to the appointment, and during his stay
treacherously stole a silver spoon of about twelve shillings' value.

Learning that a lady lived at Streatham whose son was
abroad, he went to her house and informed her that he was lately
arrived in England, and waited upon her by the desire of the young
gentleman, to assure her of the continuance of his filial affection.
He was invited to partake of the best provisions the house could
afford, and entertained with great liberality, kindness and respect.
After he had sufficiently refreshed himself, and secreted a large
silver spoon in his pocket, he departed.

Upon gaining information that the father of a young
gentleman of Bartholomew Lane was abroad, he went to the house
and pretended to the youth that he was preparing to embark for the
country in which his father resided; saying that, as he was
acquainted with the old gentleman, he should be happy to deliver
any message or letter, or execute any commission with which the
son might think proper to charge him. His reception here was not
less hospitable than that he experienced at Streatham, and he did
not take leave till he had conveyed a silver cup into his pocket,
with which he got off undiscovered. He sold the cup, and expended
the money it produced in the most extravagant manner.

Cock went to the house of the captain of a trading vessel in
Ratcliff Highway, whom he knew was at sea, expecting that he
should be able to amuse his wife by some plausible pretences, and
to obtain a booty before he left the house. He was informed that the
captain's lady was not at home; but was invited into the house by
her mother, who told him that she expected her daughter's return in
a very short time. Being shown into the kitchen, he asked the maid-
servant for some table-beer, and while she was gone to draw it he
secreted a large silver tankard. Upon the maid's bringing the beer
he drank heartily, and then, pretending that he had some business
to transact which would not permit him to stay any longer, took
leave, promising to return on the following day. He sold the
tankard to a Jew.

He inquired of a servant-maid in Spitalfields whether there
were not some women in that neighbourhood whose husbands
were in foreign parts. The girl said the husbands of two or three of
her master's neighbours were abroad, and asked the name of the
person he desired to find. He said he had forgotten the name, but
artfully added that he should remember it upon hearing it repeated;
in consequence of which she mentioned some names, and upon his
saying that one of them was that of the party he wanted the girl
directed him to the house where the wife of his supposed friend
resided. He told the woman that he was lately arrived in England,
and by her husband's particular desire called to inform her of his
being in perfect health when he embarked. He formed some trifling
excuse for occasioning the woman to leave the apartment, and
soon after her return he went away, taking with him a pint silver
tankard and two silver tablespoons.

By the above, and other villainies of a similar nature, he
gained a maintenance for several years; but it will now appear that,
notwithstanding the art he employed in the pursuit of villainy, he at
length fell a just victim to the insulted laws of his country.

Cock went to two ladies in Soho Square in one day, under
the pretext of delivering messages from their husbands, who had
been several years resident in foreign parts, and was received by
them in the most kind and hospitable manner. He had been gone
but a short time when one of the ladies missed some silver spoons;
in consequence of which he was pursued and taken before a
magistrate, and during his examination the other appeared, and on
oath identified a silver tankard found in the prisoner's possession.
He was committed to Newgate, and at the ensuing sessions at the
Old Bailey condemned to suffer death.

During his confinement in Newgate he showed not the least
remorse for his past offences, nor employed any part of the short
time he had to exist in making the necessary preparation for the
awful change he was about to experience; but flattered himself in
the expectation of being reprieved. However, after learning that he
was ordered for execution, he in some degree corrected the
irregularity of his behaviour; but still his conduct was by no means
such as might have been expected from a man in his dreadful
situation.

He was almost wholly regardless of the devotional
exercises at the place of execution, and refused to address the
populace, though urged to it by the ordinary.


THOMAS THOMPSON
Executed at Tyburn, Oct. 24, 1748, for horse-stealing.

 THE parents of this offender lived at Otley in Yorkshire: his
father dying, his mother and a numerous family were left in very
indigent circumstances. Thomas being arrived at a proper age, the
parish-officers proposed binding him apprentice; but he declined the
offer, saying he should prefer going to sea with a captain who was come
into the country, to visit his mother and other relations. He
accompanied the captain to Durham; and the master of the post-house in
that city, thinking him an active and promising youth, hired him to
wait upon his customers three days in a week, and to ride post on the
others. During the three years that he remained in this station, he was
guilty of stealing money out of letters, and of several other acts, of
delinquency, of which, however, he was not suspected until some time
after he had quitted his master's service.

 From Durham he went, to Otley, but not being able to procure
employment there, he proceeded to Rippon, where he was engaged as a
waiter at the sign of the King's Head. In about three months; he robbed
his master of thirteen pounds, and absconded. Going again to the place
of his nativity, he learnt that an aunt lately deceased had bequeathed 
him twelve pounds and having received the legacy, and purchased some
new apparel, set out for London, where in a short. time he spent all
his money in disorderly houses, among women of ill fame. Being in
circumstances of distress, he, made application for relief to a
relation, who behaved to him with great tenderness and generosity:
notwithstanding which he availed himself of an opportunity of robbing
his benefactor of two silver spoons.

 He offered the. spoons for sale to a silversmith near Charing-
cross; but his honesty being suspected, a messenger was dispatched to
inquire whether he lived at the place he had mentioned to the shop-
keeper. Before the messenger's return Thompson effected his escaped ;
and it appeared that he had given a false direction. In a few days he
was met near Exeter-change by the silversmith, who insisted upon his
going home with him; but being a man of an easy disposition, he was
prevailed upon by the entreaties of the young villain to favour his
escape.

 He now returned to Otley, and a dancing meeting being held there
one evening; he made one of the company: at this place he prevailed
upon a young woman, to consent to his partaking to her bed; but she
dismissed him upon discovering that he was destitute of money. Thus
disappointed, he returned to the house where he lodged, and broke open
a box, whence he stole fifteen shillings.

 Early the next morning he stole a horse, and rode his late
master's at Durham, where he said he was employed to go to Newcastle on
some business of importance, and should return on the following day.
The inn-keeper believed his tale, and upon his repeating his visit the
next day, gave him a hearty welcome, and expressed much pleasure at the
seemingly favourable change in his situation. In the morning, however,
the boy who had been with the mail to Darlington, informed Thompson
that the hue-and-cry was after him on suspicion of horse-stealing. In
consequence of this intelligence he took the road for Scotland, and
selling the stolen horse at Berwick-upon-Tweed, proceeded on foot to
Cockburn, and hiring a horse there, rode to Dunbar where having slept
one night, he se out for Edinburgh in a post-chaise.

 At Edinburgh he pretended to be servant to a military officer,
and persuaded a young woman, who was servant at the inn where he
lodged, to admit him to a share of her bed. In the morning she
discovered that her box had been broken open, and her money, besides
two gold rings bequeathed her by a relation; stolen thereout. She
accused Thompson of the robbery, and threatened a prosecution; but was
appeased upon his restoring the effects.

 His next expedition was to Perth, where he engaged himself as a
servant to a military officer, His master being ordered into Yorkshire
upon the recruiting service, Thompson accompanied him: but thinking it
unsafe to remain in a part of the country where he was well known, he
stole a horse about eleven o'clock at night, and took the road to
Nottingham. For this offence he was tried at the next assizes, and
sentenced to die; but interest being made in his favour, he received a
pardon on condition of transportation for fourteen years.

 As he behaved in a remarkably decent and regular manner, the
keeper of the prison granted him many indulgences, which he determined
to seize an opportunity of making use of to his own advantage; and
accordingly observing that on some occasion the maid-servant was
intrusted with the keys, he seized her by surprise, and taking them
from her recovered his liberty,

 Upon his escape from prison he proceeded to London, where be
inlisted into a regiment then abroad, and was conducted to the Savoy:
but being soon after attacked by a fever, he was sent to an hospital.
Being tolerably recovered in about two months, he deserted, and going
to Rochester inlisted into a regiment lying in that city. About five
weeks after his arrival in Rochester, he robbed the waiter of the house
where he was quartered, and again deserting travelled to Hatfield in
Hertfordshire, where he inlisted into a regiment, from which he also
deserted in about six weeks. He now went to Chichester, and having
there entered into his majesty's service as a marine, was ordered on
board a ship, lying at Portsmouth. In about two months he was ordered
on shore, and quartered in Chichester, where he robbed his lodgings,
and having stolen a mare belonging to a farmer rode towards the
metropolis.

 The farmer having a value for the beast hastened to London,
expecting that she would be exposed for sale in Smithfield. He put up
at the White Bear in Basinghall-street, and there found both his mare
and the man who had stolen her. Thompson being taken before the Lord
Mayor, was committed for trial at the Old Bailey, where he was
convicted, and sentenced to die.

 When he was confined in the cells of Newgate, he appeared to be
struck with a consciousness of the enormity of his guilt. He constantly
attended divine service in the chapel; and when visited by the ordinary
behaved in a manner that evinced the sincerity of his repentance.



JOHN WHITMORE AND JEREMIAH DAWES
Of the University of Oxford. Convicted and punished for Sedition,
28 th of November, 1748

SOON after the Rebellion was crushed, great discontent
was discovered in several private meetings, which, being of little
import to the commonweal, was passed over, under the hopes that
time would reconcile jarring opinions to the family on the throne.
But it was little expected that the smallest spark of sedition should
be fanned into a flame among students at a university, among men
half grown in body and still weaker in mind.

That such was actually the case we shall show; and to this
end give verbatim the proclamation of the Vice-Chancellor of
Oxford. At a meeting of the Vice-Chancellor, Heads of
Houses, and Proctors of the University of Oxford, on Monday,
11th of April, 1748: --

"Whereas there have been lately some very tumultuous
disturbances and outrages committed in the public streets of
Oxford, by young scholars of the University, particularly on the
23rd of February last past, amounting to a notorious insult on his
Majesty's crown and government, and in utter contempt of the
wholesome laws and discipline of this University and the
Governors thereof; we, the Vice-Chancellor, Heads of Houses, and
Proctors, this day assembled, think it incumbent on us to make this
public declaration of our sincere abhorrence and detestation of
such factions and seditious practices, as also of our firm resolution
to punish all offenders (of what state or quality soever they are)
who shall be duly convicted thereof, according to the uttermost
severity and rigour of our statutes.

"And whereas many of the disorders complained of have
been chiefly and immediately owing to scholars having private
entertainments and company at their chambers, which are
generally attended with great intemperance and excess, and always
with expense, that are both needless and hurtful: we therefore
earnestly recommend it to all bursars, deans, censors and tutors to
prevent, as much as in their power, this unstatutable and
mischievous practice, and to oblige all persons to attend in the
common hall at the usual hours of dinner and supper.

"And as these irregularities are too frequently practised (as
we have reason to believe) at coffee-houses, cook-shops and
victualling-houses, all proctors and magistrates of the University
are strictly required to be vigilant and careful in visiting all such
public-houses and places of entertainment and idleness, and in duly
punishing all young scholars whom they shall at any time find at
such places; and likewise laying a mulct on the masters or
mistresses of such houses for receiving and entertaining such
scholars, contrary to the known rules, orders and statutes of the
University. Given under our hand the day and year above
mentioned.

J. PURNELL,

Vice-Chancellor.

In consequence of this proclamation several of these
beardless striplings of sedition were apprehended, and removed to
the Court of King's Bench at Westminster, to take their trial before
a jury of their country, and John Whitmore and Jeremiah Dawes
were found guilty. Charles Luxmore, after a trial of eight hours,
was acquitted.

On Monday, 28th of November, 1748, these two scholars
were brought up to the bar of the Court of King's Bench to receive
sentence, which was, "To be fined five nobles each, to suffer two
years' imprisonment in the King's Bench Prison, and to find two
sureties for their good behaviour for seven years, themselves to be
bound in five hundred pounds and their securities in two hundred
and fifty pounds each; and that they immediately walk round
Westminster Hall, with a label affixed to their foreheads, denoting
their crime and sentence, and to ask pardon of the several Courts."

They accordingly were each labelled on the forehead and
led round the Hall, stopping at each Court to solicit pardon, and
then sent to prison.



THE THIEF, THE PRIESTS, AND THE GREAT KING OF PRUSSIA
An Anecdotal Fact, and a touch at Superstition.

 To this monarch have many good sayings been ascribed; for many
noble and generous deeds has he been accredited; and more is yet due to
his memory than comes to the share of conscience in a whole batch of
Buonaparte's kings.

 A Prussian soldier on duty, in a small garrison town in Silesia,
being suspected of making free with some offerings made by pious
Catholics to the Blessed Virgin, was watched and detected, and two
silver hearts were found upon him, for which. he was sentenced to die.
The man pleaded innocence, and insisted that the Virgin, in pity to his
poverty, had appeared to him, and ordered him to take the two pieces.
And on this plea he appealed to the King, who, on the soldier's
representation, consulted with the ablest of the Roman Catholic
divines, if they thought such a miracle impossible, who unanimously
declared, that the case was extraordinary, but not impossible.

 On which his Majesty wrote, with his own hand, words to, the
following effect.:

 "The convict cannot justly be put to death, because he owes the
present of the two pieces of silver to the bounty of the Blessed
Virgin; and the divines of his religion are unanimously of opinion,
that the miracle wrought in his favour is not impossible; but have
strictly forbid him to receive any more such presents from any saint
whatever."



JOHN YOUNG
Executed for Forgery, at Edinburgh, 19th December, 1748


THE subject of this narrative was born of a Protestant family at
Belfast, in Ireland, and received a liberal education. At the usual
time of life he was apprenticed to a linen-draper residing in the
town where he was born. Having served about three years, his
master died; and, as the widow declined business, he engaged as
clerk to a wholesale dealer, whose goods were principally sent to
the London market and Chester fair.

He remained with his employer till his arrival at manhood; but at
length absconded, in consequence of one of his master's servant-
maids proving with child by him. He intended to settle in Dublin;
but in his way to that city he met with a recruiting party belonging
to the fourth regiment of foot, who urged him to drink till he
became intoxicated, and then prevailed upon him to enlist.

Young, being handsome in person and accomplished in manners,
was soon distinguished by his officers, who, on the first vacancy,
promoted him to be a sergeant.

He marched from Tournay to join the regiment at Ghent, in
Flanders, and arrived but a few days preceding that on which was
fought the terrible battle of Fontenoy. His behaviour in that action
was greatly commended by his officers, who, upon the return of
the regiment to Ghent, conferred upon him many instances of
particular respect, and appointed him paymaster to the company to
which he belonged.

The regiment in which Young was a sergeant was one of those
ordered into Scotland for the purpose of suppressing the rebellion,
which broke out soon after the battle of Fontenoy; but, as a
considerable loss of private men had been sustained, he was
ordered to go upon the recruiting service to Chester, Manchester,
Liverpool, and other places.

The recruits engaged by Young were paid the bounty-money
without the least deduction, and he would not encourage them to
spend any part of it in an extravagant or useless manner. In the
space of four months he raised a hundred and fifty men; and it is
presumed that the strict integrity of his conduct greatly promoted
his success. Upon joining his regiment in Scotland, his officers
advanced him to the post of sergeant-major, as a reward for his
services. At the battle of Falkirk he put several of the rebels to
death with his halbert, and behaved in other respects with
remarkable intrepidity.

Upon the command of the army being assumed by the Duke of
Cumberland, the regiment to which Young belonged was ordered
to march to the north. On account of the singular bravery they
displayed at the battle of Culloden, and the great slaughter of men,
this regiment was not ordered to return to Flanders, but permitted
to remain in Scotland.

Upon tranquillity being re-established in the Highlands, the fourth
regiment was appointed to perform duty in Edinburgh Castle, and
Young was dispatched to Bristol upon a recruiting expedition. He
enlisted a considerable number of men at Bristol, and, on his return
to Scotland, his officers complimented him with a handsome
present. 	He was now sent to raise recruits in Yorkshire; and,
while at Sheffield, in that county, he engaged in a criminal
intercourse with the wife of an innkeeper, who, when he was
preparing to depart, secreted property to a considerable amount,
and followed her lover to Scotland. In a short time the innkeeper
came to Edinburgh in search of his wife, and complained in
passionate terms of the cruel and treacherous treatment he had
received. The nature of his connexion with the woman being made
public, Young appeared to be greatly disconcerted whenever be
met with persons to whom he supposed the matter had been
communicated; but in justice to his character we must observe,
that, so far from encouraging the woman to rob her husband, he
was entirely ignorant of every thing relating to that matter till her
husband's arrival at Edinburgh. Notwithstanding the above affair,
Young was still held in much esteem by his officers; and in a short
tune the regiment was ordered to proceed to the North, and
remained in the royal barracks at Inverness for above a
twelvemonth.

Young being both sergeant-major and paymaster, many notes on
the bank of Scotland necessarily came into his possession. While
looking over some of these notes in the guard-room, a man named
Parker, whom he had enlisted in England, observed that, if he had
a few tools, he could engrave a plate for counterfeiting the notes on
the Edinburgh bank. Young seemed to give but little attention to
what the other said; but took him to an alehouse on the following
day, and requested an explanation as to the manner of executing
the scheme he had suggested. Parker informed him that, besides
engraving an exact resemblance of the letters and figures, he could
form a machine for printing such notes as should not he known
from those of the Scotch hank.

In short, Young hired a private apartment for Parker, and supplied
him with every utensil necessary for carrying the iniquitous plan
into effect; and, in a short time, some counterfeit notes were
produced, hearing a near resemblance to the real ones. Upwards of
six months elapsed before the fraud was detected.

Orders being issued for the regiment to march to England, Young
determined to procure cash for as many notes as possible
previously to his departure from Inverness, knowing that in the
southern parts the forgery would be liable to immediate detection.
With this view he applied to Mr. Gordon, who was concerned in
the stocking-manufactory at Aberdeen, and prevailed upon him to
give sixty pounds in cash for notes expressing to be of the same
value.

On his journey from Inverness, Mr. Gordon parted with several of
the notes at different places; but, upon reaching Aberdeen, an
advertisement in the newspapers, in the name of the governors of
the bank at Edinburgh, convinced him that he had been deceived.
In consequence of this Mr. Gordon wrote to the sheriff of
Inverness, who immediately took Young into custody, and found
three hundred notes, and the copper-plate from which they bad
been printed, in his possession. Parker was admitted an evidence
for the crown, and Young was removed to Edinburgh for trial
before the High Court of Justiciary. After a trial that lasted a whole
day, he was pronounced to be guilty, and sentenced to suffer death.

While this malefactor was under confinement be would not
consent to be visited by the clergy, though several, from motives of
humanity, were desirous of using their endeavours to prepare him
for eternity. He was informed by his fellow-prisoners that, if he
could procrastinate his execution beyond the appointed time, his
life would of necessity be preserved; for that the crown law of
Scotland declared that condemned prisoners should be executed
between two and four o'clock on the days expressed. Being
ignorant of the law, the unhappy man was amused by this story,
and hoped to escape punishment by the following means:  he
secured the strong iron door of the room wherein he was confined
in such a manner, that when the gaoler came, in order to conduct
him to the place of execution, he could not gain admittance.

Upwards of fifty carpenters, smiths, masons, and other artificers,
were sent for, to open a passage; but they all declined undertaking
a business which they deemed to be impracticable, and were
unanimously of opinion that an aperture could not be made in the
wall without endangering the whole fabric.

Matters being thus circumstanced, the lord-provost and the rest of
the magistrates assembled at the prison, and, after long debates, it
was determined to form an opening to the room by breaking
through the floor of that immediately above.

The opening being made, the prisoner leaped up, and, seizing a
musket from one of the city guards, declared, with an oath, that, if
any man attempted to molest him, he would immediately dash out
his brains. Six of the soldiers, however, suddenly descended, and
one of them received a terrible blow from the prisoner; but he was
immediately after secured by the other five, and executed.

John Young underwent the sentence of the law in the Grassmarket
of Edinburgh, about six o'clock on the evening of the 19th of 
December, 1748.

Young was not addicted to indulge himself in expensive pleasures;
and we may suppose that his pay as a private soldier, added to the
emoluments be derived from the posts of sergeant-major and
paymaster to his regiment, would have proved equal to every
reasonable gratification, especially in a country where the
necessaries and conveniences of life were to be procured with
moderate expense.

It must be acknowledged that his seduction of his master's maid-
servant and the innkeeper's wife were offences of a most heinous
nature; but in other respects his character was unimpeached: he
was highly respected by his officers, and universally esteemed by
all who were acquainted with him; be was in the way to
preferment, and would, in all probability, have made a
distinguished figure in life, had he been contented to proceed by
the gradual advances to fortune; but, from the hint given by Parker,
he conceived the hopes of speedily amassing great riches, without
considering that wealth unjustifiably obtained must necessarily
prove the source of affliction to the possessor.


JOHN YOUNG
Executed for Forgery, at Edinburgh, 19th December, 1748


THE subject of this narrative was born of a Protestant family at
Belfast, in Ireland, and received a liberal education. At the usual
time of life he was apprenticed to a linen-draper residing in the
town where he was born. Having served about three years, his
master died; and, as the widow declined business, he engaged as
clerk to a wholesale dealer, whose goods were principally sent to
the London market and Chester fair.

He remained with his employer till his arrival at manhood; but at
length absconded, in consequence of one of his master's servant-
maids proving with child by him. He intended to settle in Dublin;
but in his way to that city he met with a recruiting party belonging
to the fourth regiment of foot, who urged him to drink till he
became intoxicated, and then prevailed upon him to enlist.

Young, being handsome in person and accomplished in manners,
was soon distinguished by his officers, who, on the first vacancy,
promoted him to be a sergeant.

He marched from Tournay to join the regiment at Ghent, in
Flanders, and arrived but a few days preceding that on which was
fought the terrible battle of Fontenoy. His behaviour in that action
was greatly commended by his officers, who, upon the return of
the regiment to Ghent, conferred upon him many instances of
particular respect, and appointed him paymaster to the company to
which he belonged.

The regiment in which Young was a sergeant was one of those
ordered into Scotland for the purpose of suppressing the rebellion,
which broke out soon after the battle of Fontenoy; but, as a
considerable loss of private men had been sustained, he was
ordered to go upon the recruiting service to Chester, Manchester,
Liverpool, and other places.

The recruits engaged by Young were paid the bounty-money
without the least deduction, and he would not encourage them to
spend any part of it in an extravagant or useless manner. In the
space of four months he raised a hundred and fifty men; and it is
presumed that the strict integrity of his conduct greatly promoted
his success. Upon joining his regiment in Scotland, his officers
advanced him to the post of sergeant-major, as a reward for his
services. At the battle of Falkirk he put several of the rebels to
death with his halbert, and behaved in other respects with
remarkable intrepidity.

Upon the command of the army being assumed by the Duke of
Cumberland, the regiment to which Young belonged was ordered
to march to the north. On account of the singular bravery they
displayed at the battle of Culloden, and the great slaughter of men,
this regiment was not ordered to return to Flanders, but permitted
to remain in Scotland.

Upon tranquillity being re-established in the Highlands, the fourth
regiment was appointed to perform duty in Edinburgh Castle, and
Young was dispatched to Bristol upon a recruiting expedition. He
enlisted a considerable number of men at Bristol, and, on his return
to Scotland, his officers complimented him with a handsome
present. 	He was now sent to raise recruits in Yorkshire; and,
while at Sheffield, in that county, he engaged in a criminal
intercourse with the wife of an innkeeper, who, when he was
preparing to depart, secreted property to a considerable amount,
and followed her lover to Scotland. In a short time the innkeeper
came to Edinburgh in search of his wife, and complained in
passionate terms of the cruel and treacherous treatment he had
received. The nature of his connexion with the woman being made
public, Young appeared to be greatly disconcerted whenever be
met with persons to whom he supposed the matter had been
communicated; but in justice to his character we must observe,
that, so far from encouraging the woman to rob her husband, he
was entirely ignorant of every thing relating to that matter till her
husband's arrival at Edinburgh. Notwithstanding the above affair,
Young was still held in much esteem by his officers; and in a short
tune the regiment was ordered to proceed to the North, and
remained in the royal barracks at Inverness for above a
twelvemonth.

Young being both sergeant-major and paymaster, many notes on
the bank of Scotland necessarily came into his possession. While
looking over some of these notes in the guard-room, a man named
Parker, whom he had enlisted in England, observed that, if he had
a few tools, he could engrave a plate for counterfeiting the notes on
the Edinburgh bank. Young seemed to give but little attention to
what the other said; but took him to an alehouse on the following
day, and requested an explanation as to the manner of executing
the scheme he had suggested. Parker informed him that, besides
engraving an exact resemblance of the letters and figures, he could
form a machine for printing such notes as should not he known
from those of the Scotch hank.

In short, Young hired a private apartment for Parker, and supplied
him with every utensil necessary for carrying the iniquitous plan
into effect; and, in a short time, some counterfeit notes were
produced, hearing a near resemblance to the real ones. Upwards of
six months elapsed before the fraud was detected.

Orders being issued for the regiment to march to England, Young
determined to procure cash for as many notes as possible
previously to his departure from Inverness, knowing that in the
southern parts the forgery would be liable to immediate detection.
With this view he applied to Mr. Gordon, who was concerned in
the stocking-manufactory at Aberdeen, and prevailed upon him to
give sixty pounds in cash for notes expressing to be of the same
value.

On his journey from Inverness, Mr. Gordon parted with several of
the notes at different places; but, upon reaching Aberdeen, an
advertisement in the newspapers, in the name of the governors of
the bank at Edinburgh, convinced him that he had been deceived.
In consequence of this Mr. Gordon wrote to the sheriff of
Inverness, who immediately took Young into custody, and found
three hundred notes, and the copper-plate from which they bad
been printed, in his possession. Parker was admitted an evidence
for the crown, and Young was removed to Edinburgh for trial
before the High Court of Justiciary. After a trial that lasted a whole
day, he was pronounced to be guilty, and sentenced to suffer death.

While this malefactor was under confinement be would not
consent to be visited by the clergy, though several, from motives of
humanity, were desirous of using their endeavours to prepare him
for eternity. He was informed by his fellow-prisoners that, if he
could procrastinate his execution beyond the appointed time, his
life would of necessity be preserved; for that the crown law of
Scotland declared that condemned prisoners should be executed
between two and four o'clock on the days expressed. Being
ignorant of the law, the unhappy man was amused by this story,
and hoped to escape punishment by the following means:  he
secured the strong iron door of the room wherein he was confined
in such a manner, that when the gaoler came, in order to conduct
him to the place of execution, he could not gain admittance.

Upwards of fifty carpenters, smiths, masons, and other artificers,
were sent for, to open a passage; but they all declined undertaking
a business which they deemed to be impracticable, and were
unanimously of opinion that an aperture could not be made in the
wall without endangering the whole fabric.

Matters being thus circumstanced, the lord-provost and the rest of
the magistrates assembled at the prison, and, after long debates, it
was determined to form an opening to the room by breaking
through the floor of that immediately above.

The opening being made, the prisoner leaped up, and, seizing a
musket from one of the city guards, declared, with an oath, that, if
any man attempted to molest him, he would immediately dash out
his brains. Six of the soldiers, however, suddenly descended, and
one of them received a terrible blow from the prisoner; but he was
immediately after secured by the other five, and executed.

John Young underwent the sentence of the law in the Grassmarket
of Edinburgh, about six o'clock on the evening of the 19th of 
December, 1748.

Young was not addicted to indulge himself in expensive pleasures;
and we may suppose that his pay as a private soldier, added to the
emoluments be derived from the posts of sergeant-major and
paymaster to his regiment, would have proved equal to every
reasonable gratification, especially in a country where the
necessaries and conveniences of life were to be procured with
moderate expense.

It must be acknowledged that his seduction of his master's maid-
servant and the innkeeper's wife were offences of a most heinous
nature; but in other respects his character was unimpeached: he
was highly respected by his officers, and universally esteemed by
all who were acquainted with him; be was in the way to
preferment, and would, in all probability, have made a
distinguished figure in life, had he been contented to proceed by
the gradual advances to fortune; but, from the hint given by Parker,
he conceived the hopes of speedily amassing great riches, without
considering that wealth unjustifiably obtained must necessarily
prove the source of affliction to the possessor.






BENJAMIN TAPNER, JOHN COBBY, JOHN HAMMOND,
RICHARD MILLS, RICHARD MILLS THE YOUNGER, AND
OTHERS
Revengeful Smugglers, who were executed for a Diabolical
Murder, 18th of January, 1749

While London and its environs were beset with gangs of
highwaymen and pickpockets, the country was infested by villains
not less dangerous, and much more cruel, who preyed upon the
public by defrauding the revenue.

Smugglers formerly went in parties, strong enough to
oppose the officers of excise; and, whenever a custom-house
officer fell into their hands, he was most barbarously treated, and
often murdered.

The two unfortunate men who were cruelly murdered by
this gang of desperate villains, were W. Galley, the elder, a
custom-house officer in Southampton; and D. Chater, a shoe-
maker, of Fordingbridge. Having been sent to give information
respecting some circumstances attending the daring burglary into
the custom-house at Pool; and not returning to their respective
homes, a suspicion arose that they had been waylaid, and murdered
by the smugglers; and a search for them was therefore instituted.

Those employed for this purpose, after every inquiry, could
bear no certain tidings of them; as the fear of the smugglers'
resentment, silenced such inhabitants on the road, over which they
had carried the unfortunate men, as were not in connection with
them. At length, a Mr Stone, following his hounds, came to a spot,
which appeared to have been dug not long before; and the publicity
of the circumstances of those men being missed, he conjectured
that they might have been buried there, and, upon digging nearly
seven feet in the earth, were found the remains of Galley, but in so
putrid a state, as not to be known, except by the clothes. The search
after Chater was now pursued with redoubled vigilance, till found
in a well, six miles distant from Galley, in Harris Wood, near Lady
Holt Park, with a quantity of stones, wooden rails, and earth, upon
him.

The two men, Galley and Chater, went on Sunday, Feb. 14,
1748, to Major Batten, a justice of the peace, at Stanstead, in
Sussex, with a letter written by Mr Shearer, collector of the
customs at Southampton, requesting him to take an examination of
Chater, concerning one Diamond, or Dymar, who was committed
to Chichester gaol, on suspicion of being one who broke the King's
warehouse at Poole. Chater was engaged to give evidence, but with
some reluctance, having declared that he saw Diamond, and shook
hands with him, who, with many others, was coming from Poole,
loaded with tea, of which he threw him a bag. Having passed
Havant, and coming to the New Inn, at Leigh, they enquired their
way, when G. Austin, his brother, and brother-in-law, said that
they were going the same road, and would accompany them to
Rowland's Castle, where they might get better direction, it being
just by Stanfield Park.

A little before noon, they came to the White Hart at
Rowland's Castle, kept by Eliz. Payne, widow, who had two sons,
blacksmiths, in the same village. After some talk, she told G.
Austin, privately, she was afraid that these two strangers were
come to hurt the smugglers. He said, No, sure; they were only
carrying a letter to Major Batten. Upon this, she sent one of her
sons for W. Jackson and W. Carter, who lived near her house.
Meanwhile, Chater and Galley wanted to be going, and asked for
their horses; but she told them, that the Major was not at home,
which, indeed, was true.

As soon as Jackson and Carter came, she told them her
suspicions, with the circumstance of the letter. Soon after, she
advised G. Austin to go away, lest be should come to some harm;
he did so, leaving his brothers.

Payne's other son went and fetched in W. Steele, S.
Downer, (otherwise Little Samuel,) Edm. Richards, and H.
Sheerman, (otherwise Little Harry,) all smugglers, belonging to the
same gang.

After they had drank a little while, Carter, who had some
knowledge of Chater, called him into the yard and asked him
where Diamond was? Chater said, he believed he was in custody,
and that he was going to appear against him, which he was sorry
for, but could not help it. Galley came into the yard to them, and
asking Chater why he would stay there? Jackson, who followed
him, said, with a horrid imprecation, What is that to you? and
immediately struck him a blow in the face, which knocked him
down, and set his nose and mouth a-bleeding. Soon after, they all
came into the house, when Jackson, reviling Galley, offered to
strike him again but one of the Paines interposed. -- Galley and
Chater now began to be very uneasy, and wanted to be going; but
Jackson, Carter, and the rest of them, persuading them to stay and
drink more rum, and make it up, for they were sorry for what had
happened, they sat down again; Austin and his brother-in-law
being present. -- Jackson and Carter desired to see the letter, but
they refused to shew it. The smugglers then drank about
plentifully, and made Galley and Chater fuddled; then persuaded
them to lie down on a bed, which they did, and fell asleep. The
letter was then taken away, and read; and, the substance of it
greatly exasperating them, it was destroyed.

One John Royce, a smuggler, now came in; and Jackson
and Carter told him the contents of the letter, and that they had got
the old rogue, the shoe-maker, of Fordingbridge, who was going to
inform against J. Diamond, the shepherd, then in custody at
Chichester. -- Here W. Steele proposed to take them both to a well,
about two hundred yards from the house, and to murder and throw
them in.

This proposal was not taken, as they had been seen in their
company by the Austins, Mr Garnet, and one Mr Jenks, who was
newly come into the house to drink. It was next proposed to send
them to France; but that was objected against, as there was a
possibility of their coming over again. Jackson and Carter's wives
being present, cried out, Hang the dogs, for they are come here to
hang you. It was then proposed and agreed, to keep them confined
till they could know Diamond's fate; and whatever it was, to treat
these in the same manner; and each to allow threepence a week
towards keeping them.

Galley and Chater continuing asleep, Jackson went in, and
began the first scene of cruelty; for having put on his spurs, he got
upon the bed, and spurred their foreheads, to wake them, and
afterwards whipped them with a horse-whip; so that when they
came out, they were both bleeding. The abovesaid smugglers then
took them out of the house; but Richards returned with a pistol,
and swore be would shoot any person who should mention what
had passed.

Meanwhile, the rest put Galley and Chater on one horse,
tied their legs under the horse's belly, and then tied both their legs
together; they now set forward, all but Race, who had no horse.
They had not gone above two hundred yards before Jackson called
out, Whip 'em, cut 'em slash 'em, d--n 'em; upon which all began to
whip, except Steele, who led the horse, the roads being very bad.
They whipped them for half a mile, till they came to Woodash,
where they fell off, with their heads under the horse's belly, and
their legs, which were tied, appeared over the horse's back. Their
tormentors soon set them upright again, and continued whipping
them over the head, face, shoulders, &c. till they came to Dean,
upwards of half a mile farther; here they both fell again, as before,
with their heads under the horse's belly, which were struck, at
every step, by the horse's hoofs.

Upon placing them again on the saddle, they found them so
weak, that they could not sit; upon which they separated them, and
put Galley before Steele, and Chater before Little Sam, and then
whipped Galley so severely that the lashes coming upon Steele, at
his desire they desisted. They then went to Harris's Well, near
Lady Holt Park, where they took Galley off the horse, and
threatened to throw him into the well. Upon which he desired them
to dispatch him at once, and put an end to his misery. No, said
Jackson, cursing, if that's the case, we have more to say to you;
then put him on a horse again, and whipped him over the Downs,
till he was so weak, that be fell off; when they laid him across the
saddle, with his breast downwards, and Little Sam got up behind
him, and, as they went on, he squeezed Galley's testicles, so that he
groaned with the agony, and tumbled off: being then put on astride,
Richards got up behind him, but soon the poor man cried out, I fall,
I fall, I fall! and Richards pushing him said, Fall, and be d--n'd.
Upon which he fell down; and the villains thinking this fall had
broke his neck, laid him again on the horse, and proposed to go to
some proper place where Chater might be concealed till they heard
the fate of Diamond.

Jackson and Carter called at one Pescod's house, desiring
admittance for two sick men; but he absolutely refused it.

Being now one o'clock in the morning, they agreed to go to
one Scardefield's, at the Red Lion, at Rake, which was not far.
Here Carter and Jackson got admittance, after many refusals.
While Scardefield went to draw liquor, be heard more company
come in; but though they refused to admit him into the room, he
saw one man standing up very bloody, and another lying as dead.
They said they had engaged some officers, lost their tea, and
several of them were wounded, if not killed.

Jackson and Little Harry now carried Chater down to one
Old Mill's, which was not far off, and chained him in a turf-house,
and Little Harry staying to watch him, Jackson returned again to
the company. -- After they had drank gin and rum they all went
out, taking Galley with them; Carter compelled Scardefield to
shew them the place where they used to bury their tea, and to lend
them spades and a candle and lantern: there they began to dig, and,
it being very cold, he helped to make a hole, where they buried
something that lay across a horse, like a dead man.

They continued at Scardefield's, drinking all that day, and
in the night went to their own homes, in order to be seen on
Tuesday, agreeing to meet again upon Thursday at the same house,
and bring more of their associates. They met accord ingly, and
brought old Richard Mills, and his sons Richard and John, Tho.
Stringer, John Cobby, Benj. Tapner, and John Hammond, who,
with the former, made fourteen. They consulted now what was to
be done with Chater; it was unanimously agreed that he must be
destroyed. R. Mills, jun. proposed to load a gun, clap the muzzle to
his head, tie a long string to the trigger, then all to pull it, that all
might be equally guilty of his murder. This was rejected, because it
would put him out of his pain too soon; and at length they came to
a resolution to carry him up to Harris's Well, which was not far off,
and throw him in.

All this while, Chater was in the utmost horror and misery,
being visited by one or other of them, who abused him both with
words and blows. At last they all came, and Tapner and Cobby
going into the turf-house, the former pulled out a claspknife, and
said, with a great oath, Down on your knees, and go to prayers, for
with this knife I'll be your butcher. The poor man knelt down; and,
as he was at prayers, Cobby kicked him, calling him informing
villain. Chater asking what they had done with Mr Galley, Tapner
slashed his knife across his eyes, almost cutting them out, and the
gristle of his nose quite through: he bore it patiently, believing they
were putting an end to his misery. Tapner struck at him again, and
made a deep cut in his forehead. Upon this, old Mills said, Do not
murder him here, but somewhere else. Accordingly they placed
him upon a horse, and all set out together for Harris's Well, except
Mills and his sons, they having no horses ready, and saying, in
excuse, That they were enough, without them, to murder one man.
All the way, Tapner whipped him till the blood came, and then
swore, that if he blooded the saddle, he would torture him the
more.

When they were come within two hundred yards of the
well, Jackson and Carter stopped, saying to Tapner, Cobby,
Stringer, Steel, and Hammond, Go on and do your duty on Chater,
as we have ours upon Galley. -- In the dead of the night, of the
18th, they brought him to the well, which was near 30 feet deep,
but dry, and paled close round. Tapner, having fastened a noose
round Chater's neck, they bid him get over the pales to the well. He
was going through a broken place; but though he was covered with
blood, and fainting with the anguish of his wounds, they forced
him to climb up, having the rope about his neck, one end of which
being tied to the pales, they pushed him into the well; but the rope
being short, he hung no farther within it than his thighs, and,
leaning against the edge, he hung above a quarter of an hour, and
was not strangled. Then they untied him, and threw him head
foremost into the well. They tarried some time, and hearing him
groan, they concluded to go to one Wm. Comleah's, a gardener, to
borrow a rope and ladder, saying, they wanted to relieve one of
their companions, who had fallen into Harris's Well. He said they
might take them. But they could not manage the ladder, in their
confusion, it being a long one.

They then returned to the well; and still finding him groan,
and fearing that he might be heard, so as to make a discovery, the
place being near the road, they threw upon him some of the rails
and gate-posts fixed about the well, and also some great stones;
when, finding him silent, they left him.

The next consultation was how to dispose of the two
horses. To prevent discovery, they killed Galley's, which was grey,
and took his hide off, cut it into small pieces, and hid them; but a
bay horse, which Chater rode on, got from them.

This daring gang, being now broken, a number of witnesses
came forward on their trial, and two of their accomplices being
pardoned, were admitted evidence against them. The charge, in all
its horrors, was fully proved; whereupon the judge, Sir Michael
Foster, pronounced sentence on the convicts, in one of the most
pathetic addresses that was ever heard; repre senting the enormity
of the crime, and exhorting them to make immediate preparation
for the awful fate that awaited them; adding, that "Christian charity
obliges me to tell you, that your time in this world will be very
short."

The heinousness of the crime, of which these men had been
convicted, rendering it necessary that their punishment should be
exemplary, the judge ordered that they should be executed on the
following day; and the sentence was accordingly carried into
execution against all but Jackson, who died in prison on the
evening that he was condemned. They were attended by two
ministers, and all, but Mills and his son (who took no notice of
each other, and thought themselves not guilty, be cause they were
not present at the finishing of the inhuman murder), shewed great
marks of penitence. Tapner and Carter gave good advice to the
spectators, and desired dillgence might be used to apprehend
Richards, whom they charged as the cause of their being brought to
this wretched end. Young Mills smiled several times at the
executioner, who was a discharged marine, and having ropes too
short for some of them was puzzled to fit them. Old Mills being
forced to stand tip toe to reach the halter, desired that he might not
be hanged by inches. The Mills's were so rejoiced at being told that
they were not to be hanged in chains after execution, that death
seemed to excite in them no terror; while Jackson was so struck
with horror, at being measured for his irons, that he soon expired.

They were hanged at Chichester, on the 18th of January,
1749, amidst such a concourse of spectators as is seldom seen on
such occasions.

Carter was hung in chains, near Rake, in Sussex; Tapner on
Rook's hill, near Chichester; and Cobby and Hammond at Cesley
Isle, on the beach where they sometimes landed their smuggled
goods, and where they could be seen at a great distance, east and
west.



USHER GAHAGAN AND TERENCE CONNER
Erudite Men, who were executed for High Treason, in diminishing
the Current Coin of the Realm, 28th of February , 1749

USHER GAHAGAN and Terence Conner were natives of
Ireland. The former received his education in Trinity College,
Dublin, and was intended for the honourable profession of the law,
in which several of his relations had become eminent.

He had been instructed by his parents in the Protestant 
religion, but falling into company with some priests of the Romish
persuasion they converted him to their faith, which was a principal
obstacle to his future advancement ,in life; for as no gentleman can
be admitted a counsellor-at-law without taking the Oaths of
Supremacy and Faith prevented his complying with these terms, he
declined any further prosecution of his legal studies.

His parents and other relations were greatly offended with
his conduct; and those who had particularly engaged themselves
for the advancement of his fortune forbade him to visit them,
through indignation at the impropriety of his behaviour.

Thus reduced to an incapacity of supporting himself, he
sought to relieve his circumstances by a matrimonial scheme; and
having addressed the daughter of a gentleman, he obtained her in
marriage, and received a good fortune with her; but, treating her
with undeserved severity, she was compelled to return to the
protection of her relations.

His conduct having now rendered him obnoxious to his
acquaintances in Dublin, he quitted that city, and repaired to
London, with a view to supporting himself by his literary abilities.

On his arrival in the metropolis he made some connections
with the booksellers, and undertook to translate Pope's Essay on
Man into Latin; but, becoming connected with some women of
abandoned character, he spent his time in a dissipated manner, and
thus threw himself out of that employment which might have
afforded him a decent support.

He now made an acquaintance with an Irishman, named
Hugh Coffey, and they agreed on a plan for the diminution of the
current coin. At this time Gahagan had a lodger named Conner,
and, it being agreed to receive him as a partner in this iniquitous
scheme, they procured proper tools. Having collected a sum of
money, they filed it and put it off; and procuring more, filed that
also and passed it in the same manner.

Having continued this business some months, during which
they had saved a sum of money, they went to the bank, and got
some Portugal pieces, under pretence that they were intended for
exportation to Ireland. Thus they got money repeatedly at the bank;
but at length one of the tellers, suspecting their business,
communicated his suspicion to the governors, who directed him to
drink with them, as the proper method to discover who they were
and what was their employment.

In pursuance of this order he, on their next appearance,
invited them to drink a glass of wine at the Crown Tavern, near
Cripplegate; to which they readily agreed, and met him after the
hours of office.

When the circulation of the glass had sufficiently warmed
them, Gahagan, with a degree of weakness that is altogether
astonishing, informed the teller that he acquired considerable sums
by filing gold, and even proposed that he should become a partner
with them. The gentleman seemed to accede to the proposal, and,
having learned where they lodged, acquainted the cashiers of the
bank with what had passed.

On the following day Coffey was apprehended; but
Gahagan and Conner being suspicious of the danger of their
situation, retired to a public-house called Chalk Farm, a little way
out of the road from London to Hampstead, where they carried
their implements for filing; but Coffey having been admitted an
evidence it was not long before the place of their retreat was
known; on which they were apprehended, and lodged in Newgate.

Terence Conner was a native of Ireland, and had received a
most liberal education. It is recorded of him that he was so
perfectly well read in Roman history as to be able to turn to any
part of it without the assistance of an index. He was, by birth, heir
to a considerable fortune; but, his father dying without a proper
adjustment of his affairs, some intricate lawsuits were the
consequence; so that the whole estate was only sufficient to
discharge the demands of the gentlemen of the long robe.

Conner, being reduced in circumstances, came to London,
and, becoming acquainted with Gahagan and Coffey, was
concerned in diminishing the coin, as above mentioned. On their
trial the evidence of Coffey was positive; and, being supported by
collateral proofs, the jury could not hesitate to find them guilty,
and they received sentence of death. They were hanged on 28th of
February, 1749.


BRIAN SEYMOUR
Executed for murder,  2nd March, 1749


BRIAN SEYMOUR was born at Waterford, in Ireland; and his
father having served in the army many years, and been at length
promoted to the post of a right-hand man, or, in a more military
phrase, made a corporal, the son must also

'Seek for honour even in the cannon's mouth.'

He enlisted in the sixth regiment of foot, and, soon
afterwards embarking for Flanders, had a share in the memorable
battle of Fontenoy.

The rebellion in 1745 occasioned his being sent to England, when
he served under General Wade, who then commanded in
Yorkshire; but, marching thence to Newcastle, Seymour had there
a quarrel with a soldier respecting a woman of ill fame; and, a duel
ensuing, his antagonist was killed: but the troublesome situation of
affairs induced the general to grant Seymour a free pardon, without
a minute scrutiny into his conduct.

Proceeding to Scotland, this man was present at the battle of
Culloden, where he behaved with singular courage; but the
regiment in which he served, having been greatly injured, was
ordered into winter quarters at Edinburgh, where the indulgence of
his irregular passions gave rise to the crime which cost him his life.

At this time it was customary for some of the ministers of the
church of Scotland, who were out of employment, to marry people
at alehouses, in the same manner that the Fleet marriages were
conducted in London. Sometimes people of fortune thought it
prudent to apply to these marriage-brokers; but, as their chief
business lay among the lower ranks of people, they were
deridingly called by the name of 'Buckle the Beggars.'

Most of these marriages were solemnized at public houses in the
Cannongate; and Seymour happening to be present there when a
couple came to be married, and no priest present, be whispered the
landlady, that if she would procure him a suit of black he would
officiate as the parson. The woman, unwilling to lose a customer,
procured the clothes, and Seymour, being dressed in them, went
into the room where the young couple waited, assuming the grave
deportment of a real clergyman.

The lady who was to be married hinting that she did not think he
was a minister, he solemnly averred that he was, and the marriage
took place accordingly.

Before ten o'clock at night Seymour was obliged to return to the
barracks in the Castle; but by this time he was so much intoxicated,
that he was prepared to affront every one he met. When he came to
the Lawnmarket, he ran against a gentleman's servant named
Johnson, who, being irritated, struck Seymour a blow on the face;
on which the latter drew his sword, and stabbed Johnson, so that he
instantly died; when the murderer put up his sword, and proceeded
towards the Castle. A shoemaker, named Young, having observed
what had passed, followed Seymour to the gate of the Castle; but
the clock striking ten at that instant, the drawbridge was pulled up,
so that Young could not be admitted for that night.

On the following morning Young went to the Lord Justice Clerk,
and, informing him of what he knew of the transaction, offered his
assistance in discovering the murderer: on which his lordship
ordered an officer to attend him, and directed the governor to let
him have a sight of all the soldiers.

At ten o'clock the men were drawn up on the parade, and Young, 
walking round the lines, fixed on Seymour as the man who had
committed the murder; whereupon he was delivered up, to abide
the determination of the laws.

On the trial Young positively swore to the identity of the offender;
and other evidence arising to prove that he was the party, he was
capitally convicted, and sentence of death was pronounced against
him.

This offender denied his guilt for some time, and hinted that
Young was perjured; but he afterwards became truly sensible of
the enormity of his crime, and confessed it, with all its aggravating
circumstances. Two clergymen attended him to the place of
execution, to which he walked, dressed in a shroud, and reading a
religious book.

He was executed at Edinburgh on the 2d of March, 1749.



BRIAN SEYMOUR
Executed for murder,  2nd March, 1749


BRIAN SEYMOUR was born at Waterford, in Ireland; and his
father having served in the army many years, and been at length
promoted to the post of a right-hand man, or, in a more military
phrase, made a corporal, the son must also

'Seek for honour even in the cannon's mouth.'

He enlisted in the sixth regiment of foot, and, soon
afterwards embarking for Flanders, had a share in the memorable
battle of Fontenoy.

The rebellion in 1745 occasioned his being sent to England, when
he served under General Wade, who then commanded in
Yorkshire; but, marching thence to Newcastle, Seymour had there
a quarrel with a soldier respecting a woman of ill fame; and, a duel
ensuing, his antagonist was killed: but the troublesome situation of
affairs induced the general to grant Seymour a free pardon, without
a minute scrutiny into his conduct.

Proceeding to Scotland, this man was present at the battle of
Culloden, where he behaved with singular courage; but the
regiment in which he served, having been greatly injured, was
ordered into winter quarters at Edinburgh, where the indulgence of
his irregular passions gave rise to the crime which cost him his life.

At this time it was customary for some of the ministers of the
church of Scotland, who were out of employment, to marry people
at alehouses, in the same manner that the Fleet marriages were
conducted in London. Sometimes people of fortune thought it
prudent to apply to these marriage-brokers; but, as their chief
business lay among the lower ranks of people, they were
deridingly called by the name of 'Buckle the Beggars.'

Most of these marriages were solemnized at public houses in the
Cannongate; and Seymour happening to be present there when a
couple came to be married, and no priest present, be whispered the
landlady, that if she would procure him a suit of black he would
officiate as the parson. The woman, unwilling to lose a customer,
procured the clothes, and Seymour, being dressed in them, went
into the room where the young couple waited, assuming the grave
deportment of a real clergyman.

The lady who was to be married hinting that she did not think he
was a minister, he solemnly averred that he was, and the marriage
took place accordingly.

Before ten o'clock at night Seymour was obliged to return to the
barracks in the Castle; but by this time he was so much intoxicated,
that he was prepared to affront every one he met. When he came to
the Lawnmarket, he ran against a gentleman's servant named
Johnson, who, being irritated, struck Seymour a blow on the face;
on which the latter drew his sword, and stabbed Johnson, so that he
instantly died; when the murderer put up his sword, and proceeded
towards the Castle. A shoemaker, named Young, having observed
what had passed, followed Seymour to the gate of the Castle; but
the clock striking ten at that instant, the drawbridge was pulled up,
so that Young could not be admitted for that night.

On the following morning Young went to the Lord Justice Clerk,
and, informing him of what he knew of the transaction, offered his
assistance in discovering the murderer: on which his lordship
ordered an officer to attend him, and directed the governor to let
him have a sight of all the soldiers.

At ten o'clock the men were drawn up on the parade, and Young, 
walking round the lines, fixed on Seymour as the man who had
committed the murder; whereupon he was delivered up, to abide
the determination of the laws.

On the trial Young positively swore to the identity of the offender;
and other evidence arising to prove that he was the party, he was
capitally convicted, and sentence of death was pronounced against
him.

This offender denied his guilt for some time, and hinted that
Young was perjured; but he afterwards became truly sensible of
the enormity of his crime, and confessed it, with all its aggravating
circumstances. Two clergymen attended him to the place of
execution, to which he walked, dressed in a shroud, and reading a
religious book.

He was executed at Edinburgh on the 2nd of March, 1749.





JOHN COLLINGTON
A Man of extraordinary Violence and Inhumanity. Executed at
Canterbury with his Accomplice, John Stone, for setting fire to a
Barn

IN the history of Collington, we find an uncommon share
of depravity of mind united to cruelly and vice of every
description.

The father of John Collington was Rector of Pluckley, near
Sandwich, in Kent; and the youth was qualified, by a most liberal
education and his great natural talents, to have made a very
respectable figure in life; but his passions were so violent, and his
revenge so implacable, that all who knew him beheld him with
horror. He used to declare that he would be a sincere friend but an
inveterate foe; and even while at school created such dissensions
among the other scholars that he was held in universal contempt,
and was discharged from more schools than one with marks of
ignominy.

At length his father apprenticed him to a grocer, in
Newgate Street, London; but he behaved in such a manner as to
become an object of terror to his fellow-servants. The following
circumstance, trifling as it is, will serve to mark his disposition:
One of the maid-servants desiring him to fetch some mustard, he
went out for that purpose; but calling a coach at the door, he drove
to Cheapside, purchased the mustard, and on his return, paid the
fare out of his master's money in the till. The master, astonished at
his behaviour, demanded the reason of it: when he gave for
answer, that "his parents had not bound him apprentice to be an
errand boy."

On another occasion he asked his master's permission to
visit his relations for a fortnight, and his request was complied
with. When the time of his departure arrived, his master being
absent, he asked his mistress to give him leave to stay three weeks,
to which she consented. But he returned not till the end of five
weeks; and his master enquiring why he had been so long absent,
Collington replied that he had allowed him a fortnight, and his
mistress three weeks, so that he had not out-staid his time. This
duplicity of conduct incensed the master so, that he gave up his
indentures and discharged him. Having served the remainder of his
apprenticeship with a grocer of Maidstone, he opened a shop at
Rye, in Sussex, where he lived for some years; but his temper was
so bad that he fomented perpetual discord among his neighbours.
From this place he went to Charing, in Kent, where he likewise
kept a shop a considerable time; but the same conduct which had
rendered him an object of contempt at Rye made him equally
obnoxious to the inhabitants of this latter place.

Collington had not been long in business before he married
a young lady, with whom he received a considerable fortune, and
by whom he had ten children, four of whom were living at the time
of their father's fatal exit. The conduct of this man towards his wife
and children was the most extravagant that can be imagined. The
six children who died he buried in his own garden, nor would he
permit any of them to be baptized. He frequently beat his children
in a barbarous manner, and when the mother interposed on their
behalf he used to confine her whole nights in a saw-pit.

Being remarkably fond of sporting, his wife, when big with
child, requested that he would procure her a partridge; in
consequence of which he went out, and shot several: but when the
birds were dressed, and ready for the table, one of the children
happening to offend him, he corrected it in so severe a manner, as
to endanger its life; and the mother interposing for the preservation
of the child, he was so enraged that he cut the partridges in pieces,
and threw them to the cats and dogs.

This instance of worse than savage ferocity so affected his
wife, that she fell into fits, and miscarried: but she had not long
been recovered, when on her interposing, in behalf of one of the
children, whom he was treating with severity, he threw her down
stairs, and stamped on her breast, which gave rise to a cancer that
occasioned her death.

Collington's father dying soon after this event, he
succeeded to a good estate at Throwleigh, in Kent, to which place
he removed, and took to the practice of exporting wool contrary to
law; for which he was prosecuted in the Court of Exchequer, and
ordered to pay a large penalty. But he avoided payment by having
previously conveyed his estate to another and then swearing that he
was not worth five pounds.

Notwithstanding the treatment his first wife had received
from him, he soon married a second, by whom he had six children;
and four of these, besides the same number by the former marriage
(as we have mentioned), were living at the time of his death. Being
fond of hunting, his offences against the laws made for the
preservation of game became so numerous that the Dowager
Countess of Rockingham built a cottage, in which she placed one
of her servants as a spy upon his conduct. Collington, incensed by
this circumstance, tempted a poor countryman to set fire to the
cottage; but the man had courage and honesty enough to resist the
temptation. Thereupon Collington took one of his servants, named
Luckhurst, to Faversham, in Kent, at the time of the fair; and on
their way thither told him he would give him half-a-guinea to fire
the said cottage; which the man received, promising to comply.

On the following day, when Luckhurst recollected the
nature of the contract he had been making, his mind was so
disturbed that he went to Collington and offered back the money,
declaring that he would have no share in the transaction.
Collington was so enraged that he threatened to destroy him unless
he kept the money and did as he had agreed; the consequence of
which was, the man fired the cottage at midnight, by which it was
reduced to the ground.

Collington was so neglectful of his children that he would
not buy them necessary apparel, so that they appeared like beggars;
nor would he even pay for their learning to read. The following is a
striking proof of his want of humanity. One of his sons, a boy
twelve years old, having offended him, he confined him in a saw-
pit, where he must have been starved but that he was occasionally
supplied with food by the humanity of the servants; and for this
conduct their brutal master turned them out of the house without
paying what was due to them. This inhuman father then refused to
maintain his son, so that the child absolutely begged his bread in
the neighbourhood; but he had not wandered long in this manner
when Mr Clarke, the churchwarden, received him into his house,
and provided for him till the Quarter Sessions, when he submitted
the case to the consideration of the magistrates.

These gentlemen, having reflected that Mr Collington was
in affluent circumstances, gave directions that the child should be
properly provided for; and issued a warrant for seizing part of the
father's effects to defray the charge. This warrant was executed by
a constable, whom Clarke attended: a circumstance which gave
such offence to Collington that he vowed revenge, and bade Clarke
make his will. After this he hired five fellows to go to Mr Clarke's
house and demand the child, on pretence that he belonged to a
ship; but Mr Clarke, having the magistrates' order for his
proceedings, said he was willing to answer for his conduct before
any Justice of the Peace. No sooner had he thus expressed himself
than they beat him in the most violent degree, and threatened his
instant destruction unless he consented to accompany them. These
threats had such an effect that he mounted a horse behind one of
them, but as they were riding along he jumped off, and ran into the
courtyard of a gentleman whose gate happened to stand open,
while the other parties fired at him; but he escaped unhurt. Here he
remained till the following day, when he went to his own house,
and thence to a magistrate, before whom he swore the peace
against Collington; on which the magistrate granted his warrant for
the apprehension of the offender, who, refusing to give bail for his
good behaviour, was lodged in the jail of Canterbury.

During his confinement he continually threatened
vengeance against Clarke; and to execute his purpose he sent for a
labouring man, named Stone, and the above-mentioned Luckhurst,
and offered them a guinea each, on the condition of their setting
fire to Mr Clarke's barn, in which a considerable quantity of corn
was deposited. The villains, agreeing to this bargain, fired the barn
at midnight, and likewise a number of hayricks, all of which were
destroyed. Mr Clarke, suspecting that Collington was the contriver
of this horrid scheme, made application to a magistrate, who issued
an order that the prisoner should be more closely confined, and that
the jail-keeper should take particular notice of his visitors. This
precaution led to a discovery of the offenders; for on Luckhurst
coming to procure more money of Collington he was taken into
custody, and conducted before a Justice of the Peace, to whom he
confessed the affair; and being admitted an evidence, Stone was
soon taken up as one of the principals.

At the following assizes, held at Maidstone, Collington and
Stone were brought to trial; when the former turned his back on the
Court with an air of such utter contempt that the judge declared he
had never been witness to such a scene of insolence. The prisoners,
being convicted on the fullest evidence, were carried back to
Canterbury, where the debtors commiserated their unhappy
circumstances; but Collington made a jest of his situation, and
swore he did not regard it, as he was certain of obtaining the Royal
mercy.

This hardened villain likewise encouraged Stone to hope
for mercy, as he could get him included in the pardon; but the
event proved how much he was mistaken in his conjecture.

Collington's wife, coming to visit him, was so affected with
grief as to be unable to speak to him for a considerable time; yet he
was so hardened as not to feel for her situation, but bade her not
give herself the least concern, as he was certain of getting a
reprieve, and hoped to live to revenge himself on his enemies, even
if he should be transported.

He frequently expressed himself in the most revengeful
terms against his prosecutor; and appeared, in other respects, so
destitute of all the feelings of humanity that his conduct surprised
everyone who was witness to it. Thus he spent his time without
preparing for the sentence that he was to suffer, still boasting to his
visitors that the rank of life he held as a gentleman would secure
him a reprieve.

Luckhurst, who had been evidence against him, being
apprehended for committing a robbery on the highway, Collington
thought this a fair opportunity to solicit a reprieve, for which
purpose he dispatched an express to the Duke of Newcastle; but
the answer he received was that he must not expect any favour, for
that the gentlemen of the county had exerted their influence that
the law might be permitted to take its course. On being informed
that the warrant for his execution was arrived, his boasted courage
left him for a short time; but recollecting himself he inquired if
Stone was included in the warrant; and being answered in the
affirmative, said he lamented his situation more than his own.
After this he soon recovered his spirits, and still flattered himself
with the hope of being pardoned. The day preceding his execution
he was visited by his wife and several relations, who advised him
to make a serious preparation for his approaching death, and asked
him where he would be buried. This question inflamed all his
passions, so that he swore he would not be hanged; but soon
afterwards, calling for a glass of wine, he drank it, saying: "Let us
eat and drink, for to-morrow we die."

On the following day Collington was conveyed to the place
of execution in a mourning-coach, and Stone in a cart; and both of
them being placed under the gallows, Collington prayed with the
minister, but declined making any speech to the surrounding
multitude.



RICHARD COLEMAN
Who was executed on Kennington Common, in Surrey, 12th of
April, 1749, for a Murder he did not commit1

RICHARD COLEMAN was indicted at the assizes held at
Kingston, in Surrey, in March 1749, for the murder of Sarah
Green, on the 23rd of July preceding; when he was capitally
convicted.

Mr Coleman had received a decent education, and was
clerk to a brewer at the time the affair happened which cost him his
life; and had a wife and several children, who were reduced to
accept the bounty of the parish, in consequence of his conviction.

The murdered person was Sarah Green, who, having been
with some acquaintances to a beanfeast in Kennington Lane,
stayed to a late hour, and on her return towards 	Southwark she
met with three men, who had the appearance of brewers' servants,
two of whom used her in so inhuman a manner as will bear no
description.

Such was the ill-treatment she had received that it was two
o'clock in the morning before she was able to reach her lodgings,
and on the following day was so ill that she informed several
people how she had been treated; on which she was sent to St
Thomas's Hospital.

While in the hospital she declared that the clerk in Taylor's
(then Berry's) brew-house was one of the parties who had treated 
her in such an infamous manner; and it was supposed that Coleman
was the person to whom she alluded.

Two days after the shocking transaction had happened,
Coleman and one Daniel Trotman called at the Queen's Head ale-
house, in Bandy-Leg Walk, when the latter was perfectly sober,
but the former in a state of intoxication. Having called for some
rum-and-water, Coleman was stirring it with a spoon when a
stranger asked him what he had done with the pig -- meaning a pig
that had been lately stolen in the neighbourhood. Coleman,
unconscious of guilt, and conceiving himself affronted by such an
impertinent question, said: "D--n the pig, what is it to me?"

The other, who seems to have had an intention to ensnare
him, asked him if he did not know Kennington Lane. Coleman
answered that he did, and added: "D--n ye, what of that?" The
other then asked him if he knew the woman that had been so
cruelly treated in Kennington Lane. Coleman replied: "Yes," and
again said: "D--n ye, what of that?" The other man asked: "Was
not you one of the parties concerned in that affair?" Coleman, who,
as we have said, was intoxicated, and had no suspicion of design,
replied: "If I had, you dog, what then?" -- and threw at him the
spoon with which he was stirring the liquor. A violent quarrel
ensued; but at length Coleman went away with Trotman.

On the following day, Coleman calling at the Queen'sHead
above mentioned, the landlord informed him how imprudently he
had acted the preceding day. Coleman, who had been too drunk to
remember what had passed, asked if he had offended any person;
on which the landlord informed him of what had happened, but the
other, still conscious of his innocence, paid no regard to what he
said.

On the 29th of August, Daniel Trotman and another man
went before Mr Clarke, a magistrate in the Borough, and charged
Coleman on suspicion of having violently assaulted and cruelly
treated Sarah Green, in the Parsonage Walk, near Newington
Church, in Surrey.

The magistrate, who does not seem to have supposed that
Coleman was guilty, sent for him and hired a man to attend him to
the hospital where the wounded woman lay; and pointing out
Coleman, he asked her if he was one of the persons who had used
her so cruelly. She said she believed he was, but, as she declined to
swear positively to his having any concern in the affair, Justice
Clarke admitted him to bail.

Some time afterwards Coleman was again taken before the
magistrate, when, nothing positively being sworn against him, the
justice would have absolutely discharged him, but Mr Wynne, the
master of the injured girl, requesting that he might once more be
taken to see her, a time was fixed for that purpose, and the justice
took Coleman's word for his appearance.

The accused party came punctually to his time, bringing
with him the landlord of an ale-house where Sarah Green had
drunk on the night of the affair with the three men who really
injured her; and this publican, and other people, declared on oath
that Coleman was not one of the parties.

On the following day Justice Clarke went to the hospital to
take the examination of the woman on oath. Having asked her if
Coleman was one of the men who had injured her, she said she
could not tell, as it was dark at the time; but, Coleman being called
in, an oath was administered to her, when she swore that he was
one of the three men that abused her.

Notwithstanding this oath, the justice, who thought the poor
girl not in her right senses, and was convinced in his own mind of
the innocence of Coleman, permitted him to depart on his promise
of bringing bail the following day to answer the complaint at the
next assizes for Surrey; and he brought his bail, and gave security
accordingly.

Sarah Green dying in the hospital, the coroner's jury sat to
inquire into the cause of her death; and, having found a verdict of
wilful murder against Richard Coleman and two persons then
unknown, a warrant was issued to take Coleman into custody.

Though this man was conscious of his innocence, yet such
were his terrors at the idea of going to prison on such a charge that
he absconded, and secreted himself at Pinner, near Harrow-on-the-
Hill.

King George II. being then at Hanover, a proclamation was
issued by the Lords of the Regency offering a reward of fifty
pounds for the apprehension of the supposed offender; and to this
the parish of St Saviour, Southwark, added a reward of twenty
pounds.

Coleman read the advertisement for his apprehension in the
Gazette, but was still so thoughtless as to conceal himself; though
perhaps an immediate surrender would have been deemed the
strongest testimony of his innocence. However, to assert his
innocence, he caused the following advertisement to be printed in
the newspaper:-- "I, Richard Coleman, seeing myself advertised in
the Gazette as absconding on account of the murder of Sarah
Green, knowing myself not any way culpable, do assert that I have
not absconded from justice; but will willingly and readily appear at
the next assizes, knowing that my innocence will acquit me."

Strict search being made after him, he was apprehended at
Pinner, above mentioned, on the 22nd of November, and lodged in
Newgate, whence he was removed to the New Jail, Southwark, till
the time of the assizes at Kingston, in Surrey; when his conviction
arose principally from the evidence of Trotman and the declaration
of the dying woman.

Some persons positively swore that he was in another place
at the time the fact was committed, but their evidence was not
credited by the jury. After conviction Coleman behaved like one
who was possessed of conscious innocence, and who had no fear
of death for a crime which he had not committed.

He was attended at the place of execution by the Rev. Mr
Wilson, to whom he delivered a paper in which he declared, in the
most solemn and explicit manner, that he was altogether innocent
of the crime alleged against him. He died with great resignation,
lamenting only the distress in which he should leave a wife and
children.

Note: This man's innocence was fully established in 1751,
when James Welsh and Thomas Jones confessed that they
committed the crime. See below.



THOMAS KINGSMILL, FAIRALL AND PERIN
Three of the thirty Smugglers who broke open the Custom-House
at Poole, and were executed at Tyburn, 26th of April, 1749

KINGSMILL was a native of Goudhurst, in Kent, and had
passed some part of his life as a husbandman; but having
associated with the smugglers, he made no scruple of entering into
the most hazardous enterprises, and became so distinguished for
his courageous -- or rather ferocious -- disposition that he was
chosen captain of the gang.

Fairall was a native of Horsendown Green, in Kent, and the
son of poor parents, who were unable either to educate him or to
give him any regular employment by which he might obtain a
livelihood. He began to associate with the smugglers while quite a
boy, and was frequently employed by them to hold their horses;
and when he grew up to man's estate he was admitted as one of the
fraternity. He was so remarkable for his brutal courage that it was
not thought safe to offend him.

Perin was a native of Chichester, in Sussex. Having served
his time to a carpenter, he practised some years as a master, and
was successful in trade; but a stroke of the palsy depriving him of
the use of his right hand he became connected with the smugglers,
on whose behalf he used to sail to the coast of France and purchase
goods, which he brought to England; and in this capacity he proved
very serviceable to the gang.

It is evident that these men must have greatly injured the
revenue and the fair trader, for they had a number of warehouses in
different parts of Sussex for the concealment of their goods, and
kept not less than fifty horses, some of which they sent loaded to
London, and others to the fairs round the country.

Perin, being in France in the year 1747, bought a large
quantity of goods, which he loaded on board a cutter, with a view
to run them on the coast of Sussex; but, as several smuggling
vessels were expected at this juncture, Captain Johnson, who
commanded a cutter in the Government's service, received orders
to sail in search of them.

In consequence thereof he sailed from Poole and took the
smuggling cutter above mentioned on the following day; but Perin
and his accomplices escaped by taking to their boat. Captain
Johnson found the cargo to consist of brandy and tea, to a very
large amount, which he carried safe into the harbour of Poole.

Soon after this transaction, which happened in the month of
September, the whole body of smugglers assembled in Charlton
Park, to consult if there was any possibility of recovering the goods
of which they had thus been deprived. After many schemes had
been proposed, and rejected, Perin recommended that they should
go in a body, armed, and break open the custom-house at Poole;
and, this proposal being acceded to, a paper was drawn up, by way
of bond, that they should support each other; and this was signed
by all the parties.

This agreement, which was filled with dreadful curses on
each other in case of failure to execute it, was signed on the 6th of
October. Having provided themselves with swords and fire-arms
they met on the following day; and, having concealed themselves
in a wood till the evening they proceeded towards Poole, where
they arrived about eleven at night.

Having forced the door of the custom-house open, with
hatchets and other instruments, they carried off the smuggled
goods, with which they loaded their horses; and, travelling all
night, stopped in the morning at Fording's Bridge.

The smugglers numbered thirty, and their horses thirty-one.
Continuing their journey to a place named Brook, they divided the
booty into equal shares, and then departed, each to his own house.

This daring transaction being represented to the Secretaries
of State, King George II gave orders for issuing a proclamation,
with a reward for the apprehension of the offenders. At length two
of the smugglers gave intelligence of the usual place of meeting of
the others, in consequence of which Fairall, Kingsmill, Perin, and
another, named Glover, were taken into custody, and conducted to
Newgate. They were brought to trial, were capitally convicted, and
received sentence of death; but the jury recommended Glover as an
object of the Royal clemency.

On the following day Perin was carried to the place of
execution in a mourning-coach; the two others in a cart with a
guard of Horse and Foot Guards. The behaviour of Fairall and
Kingsmill was remarkably undaunted; but all of them joined in
devotion with the ordinary of Newgate when they came to the fatal
tree. The bodies of Kingsmill and Fairall were hung in chains in
the county of Kent.

SAMUEL COUCHMAN AND JOHN MORGAN, LIEUTENANTS OF MARINES, THOMAS KNIGHT,
CARPENTER, AND OTHERS
Part of the Crew of His Majesty's Ship Chesterfield, shot at
Portsmouth, for mutiny, July 14, 1749.

 THE Chesterfield man of war, under the command of Captain O'Brian
Dudley, was stationed off Cape-Coast Castle, on the coast of Africa,
when a dangerous mutiny broke out among the crew, of whom the above-
named officers were the leaders. They were charged with "exciting and
encouraging mutiny, and running away with his Majesty's ship
Chesterfield, on the 10th day of October, 1748, from the coast of
Africa, leaving their captain, two lieutenants, with other officers,
and some seamen, on shore."

 Hereupon a court-martial, was held on board his Majesty's ship
Invincible, of which Sir Edward Hawke, of glorious memory, was
president.

 The first evidence called in support of the prosecution was Mr.
Gasterin, the late boatswain of the Chesterfield, who deposed that, on
the 15th of October, 1748, Captain Dudley, being then on shore at Cape-
Coast Castle, sent off his barge to Mr. Couchman, ordering him to send
the cutter on shore, with the boatswain of the ship, to see the tents
struck on shore, and to bring every thing belonging to the ship on
board that night; but Couchman directly ordered the barge to be hoisted
in, and the boatswain to turn all the hands to the quarterdeck, where
Mr. Couchman, coming, from his cabin with a drawn sword, said, "Here I
am: G--d d--n me, I will stand by you while I have a drop of blood in
my body!" He was accompanied by John Morgan, the lieutenant of marines;
Thomas Knight, the carpenter; his mate, John Place, (a principal
actor); and about 30 seamen with cutlasses. They then gave three
huzzas, and threw their hats overboard; damning old hats, they would
soon get new.

 Couchman then sent for the boatswain to know if he would stand by
him, and go with him; he replied, No; and said, "For God's sake, Sir,
be ruled by reason, and consider what you are about." Couchman then
threatened to put him in irons if he did not join with him, but the
boatswain told him he never would [join] in such piratical designs; he
was then ordered into custody, and two sentinels put over him. Couchman
soon after sent for Gilham, the mate of the ship, and made the same
speech to him, who desired to know where he was bound; and upon what
account? He replied, "To take burn, and sink, and settle a colony in
the East Indies."  There were five or six more put into custody with
the boatswain in the same place, and were confined only five or six
hours, for, in the middle of the night, after their confinement,
Couchman sent for them into the great cabin, and desired them to sit
and drink punch, and then dismissed them.

 The next day the boatswain was invited to dinner by the new
commander, who began to rail against Captain Dudley, and asked him and
one of the mates what they thought of the affair: the boatswain
replied, he thought it rank piracy; on which Couchman said, "What I
have done I cannot now go from: I was forced to it by the ship's-
company." The boatswain then told him "that would be no sanction for
his running away with the king's ship." The carpenter and lieutenant
then proposed their signing a paper, to which the boatswain replied he
never would, and would sooner suffer death: the mate said the same.
When the boatswain came out of the great cabin, he went to the gunner's
cabin, who was then sick, and unable to come out of it, but was of
great use, by his prudent advice and assistance; for, after the
boatswain had told him that Couchman's party had taken possession of
all the arms, he said that he could furnish him with twenty pistols. By
this time Mr. Fraser and Mr. Gilham, mates of the ship, the gunner's
mate and yeoman, and the cockswain of the barge, were come to them,
when the boatswain communicated his design of recovering the ship that
very night. To this they all agreed with the greatest resolution.

 It began then to be very dark, being 10 P.M. when the boatswain
went to sound the ship's company, and on the forecastle there were
about 30 men: he then in a plain but prudent manner disclosed the
secret, and soon convinced them both of the facility and necessity of
putting his scheme immediately in practice: accordingly, the first step
was to get up all the irons or bilboes on the forecastle; he then sent
for the 20 pistols, which were all loaded: he next ordered three men
upon the grand magazine, and two to that abaft; and the remainder, who
had no pistols, to stay by the bilboes, and secure as many prisoners as
he should send. This disposition being made, he went directly down on
the deck, where he divided his small company into two parties; and, one
going down the main, the other the fore hatchway, they soon secured
eleven or twelve of the ringleaders, and sent them up to the forecastle
without the least noise. The two parties then joined, and went directly
to the great cabin, where they secured Couchman, and the lieutenant of
marines, with the carpenter, whom they immediately confined in
different parts on board.

 Thus was the ship bravely rescued by the intrepidity and prudence
of a few honest men, after she had been about thirty hours in the
possession of a poor unhappy man, who appears to have been utterly
unfit for so daring an enterprise, and in his unfortunate condition
very penitent.

 The boatswain (Roger Winket) was afterwards rewarded with three
hundred pounds a year, as master-attendant of Woolwich yard.

 John Place was charged with being very active in the mutiny. The
gunner deposed that the said Place came to him as he lay sick in his
cabin, with a drawn cutlass and a cocked pistol, and swore that he
would murder him if he did not deliver to him the key of the magazine.
He made no defence, but submitted to the mercy of the court.

 John Place, after sentence, wrote letters of religious
exhortation to his brothers in affliction. His letter to Mr. Couchman
upbraids him with having been the murderer of those who were condemned
with him, by first seducing them from their duty -- exhorts him not to
attempt to screen himself by imputing his guilt to others -- and
concludes, "I freely forgive you, though you are the cause of my death,
as you know full well: and I would have you act with a becoming
resignation to the will of God; and not, by mean hopes of life, lose an
opportunity to secure a blessed eternity. -- Despise life (as I do,
with God's assistance), and die like a man."

ANSWER.
"Mr. PLACE,
"You will die like a villain ! -- S..Couchman."

 The Court found the following guilty, who were executed in manner
hereafter mentioned: --
On the 14th of July,
Samuel Couchman, first lieutenant of marines, 
Shot.
July 14,
John Morgan, second lieutenant of marines;
Shot.
July 24,
Thomas Knight, carpenter.
John Place, carpenter's mate.
John Meeks, seaman.
William Anderson, seaman.
John Reed, quarter-master.
Thomas Scott, seaman.
Hanged.

 Captain Dudley was tried for "neglect of duty, in keeping a
number of his officers on shore, at Cape-Coast Castle, when the ship
was seized," and acquitted.

 Others of the ship's company, also tried for mutiny, were
acquitted.

 On the 26th of June, 1749, James Colvin, late boatswain's mate on
board the Richmond man of war, was hanged at Portsmouth, for mutiny.


JOHN MILLS
His Father and Brother were hanged, and he suffered a similar
Fate on Slendon Common, Sussex, 12th of August, 1749
THIS monster was another son of Richard Mills, who was
executed for murder. He was concerned in the murder of the
custom-house officers, but escaped for a time the slow but unerring
hand of justice. He was also one of that gang of villains who most
daringly broke open the custom-house at Poole; and yet was he
reserved to make atonement for a fresh murder, equally as cruel as
that with which his father and brothers had imbrued their hands.

John Mills and some associates, travelling over Hindheath,
saw the judges on their road to Chichester to try the murderers of
Chater and Galley; on which young Mills proposed to rob them;
but the other parties refused to have any concern in such an affair.
Soon after his father, brother and their accomplices were hanged,
Mills thought of going to Bristol, with a view to embarking for
France; and having hinted his intentions to some others they
resolved to accompany him, and stopping at a house on the road
they met with one Richard Hawkins, whom they asked to go with
them; and when the poor fellow hesitated, they put him on
horseback behind Mills, and carried him to the Dog and Partridge,
on Slendon Common, which was kept by John Reynolds.

They had not been long in the house when complaint was
made that two bags of tea had been stolen, and Hawkins was
charged with the robbery. He steadily denied any knowledge of the
affair; but this not satisfying the villains, they obliged him to pull
off his clothes; and, having likewise stripped themselves, they
began to whip him with the most unrelenting barbarity; and Curtis,
one of the gang, said he did know of the robbery, and if he would
not confess he would whip him till he did; for he had whipped
many a rogue, and washed his hands in his blood. These
bloodthirsty villains continued whipping the poor wretch till their
breath was almost exhausted; while he begged them to spare his
life, on account of his wife and child. Hawkins drawing up his legs
to defend himself in some measure from their blows, they kicked
him on the groin in a manner too shocking to be described,
continually asking him what was become of the tea. At length the
unfortunate man mentioned something of his father and brother; on
which Mills and one Curtis said they would go and fetch them; but
Hawkins expired soon after they had left the house.

Rowland, one of the accomplices, now locked the door;
and, putting the key in his pocket, he and Thomas Winter (who
was afterwards admitted evidence) went out to meet Curtis and
Mills, whom they saw riding up a lane leading from an adjacent
village, having each a man behind him. Winter desiring to speak
with his companions, the other men stood at a distance while he 
asked Curtis what he meant to do with them, and he said to
confront them with Hawkins. Winter now said that Hawkins was
dead, and begged that no more mischief might be done; but Curtis
replied: "By G--! we will go through it now." But at length they
permitted them to go home, saying that when they were wanted
they should be sent for.

The murderers now coming back to the public-house,
Reynolds said, "You have ruined me"; but Curtis replied that he
would make him amends. Having consulted how they should
dispose of the body, it was proposed to throw it into a well in an
adjacent park; but this being objected to, they carried it twelve
miles, and having tied stones to it, in order to sink it, they threw it
into a pond in Parham Park, belonging to Sir Cecil Bishop; and in
this place it lay more than two months before it was discovered.

This horrid and unprovoked murder gave rise to a Royal
proclamation, in which a pardon was offered to any persons, even
outlawed smugglers -- except those who had been guilty of
murder, or concerned in breaking open the custom-house at Poole -
- on condition of discovering the persons who had murdered
Hawkins, particularly Mills, who was charged with having had a
concern in this horrid transaction. Thereupon William Pring, an
outlawed smuggler, who had not had any share in either of the
crimes excepted in the proclamation, went to the Secretary of State
and informed him that he would find Mills if he could be assured
of his own pardon; and added that he believed he was either at
Bath or Bristol. Being assured that he need not doubt of the
pardon, he set out for Bristol, where he found Mills, and with him
Thomas and Lawrence Kemp, brothers, the former of whom had
broken out of Newgate, and the other was outlawed by
proclamation. Having consulted on their desperate circumstances,
Pring offered them a retreat at his house near Beckenham, in Kent,
whence they might make excursions and commit robberies on the
highway.

Pleased with this proposal, they set out with Pring, and
arrived in safety at his house, where they had not been long before
he pretended that, his horse being an indifferent one, and theirs
remarkably good, he would go and procure another, and then they
would proceed on the intended expeditions. Thus saying, he set
out, and they agreed to wait for his return; but instead of going to
procure a horse he went to the house of Mr Rackster, an officer of
the excise at Horsham, who, taking with him seven or eight armed
men, went to Beckenham at night, where they found Mills and the
two brothers Kemp just going to supper on a breast of veal. They
immediately secured the brothers, by tying their arms; but Mills,
making resistance, was cut with a hanger before he would submit.
The offenders were conducted to the county jail for Sussex, and,
being secured till the assizes, were removed to East Grinstead,
where the brothers Kemp were tried for highway robberies,
convicted, sentenced and executed.

Mills, being tried for the murder of Hawkins, was capitally
convicted, and received sentence of death, and to be hanged in
chains near the place where the murder was committed.

After conviction he mentioned several robberies in which
he had been concerned, but refused to tell the names of any of his
accomplices, declaring that he thought he should merit damnation
if he made any discoveries by means of which any of his
companions might be apprehended and convicted.

The country being at that time filled with smugglers, a
rescue was feared; wherefore he was conducted to the place of
execution by a guard of soldiers; and when there prayed with a
clergyman, confessed that he had led a bad life, acknowledged the
murder of Hawkins, desired that all young people would take
warning by his untimely end, humbly implored the forgiveness of
God, and professed to die in charity with all mankind.

After execution he was hanged in chains on Slendon
Common.

wicked lie with which the breath fled.

 Some malefactors will have been found, affecting to brave the
terrors of death merely, to gratify the few moments of life left, in
exultation of the unnatural reflection of having boldly launched
themselves into eternity, and that succeeding felons might hereafter
say (to use a Newgate phrase) "he died game!"

 Of the very worst description of hardened villains was that whose
crimes we are about to bring to view -- a wretch callous to hope and
fear, and who died mocking his God, and cursing his fellow-creatures!

 The proclamation of peace occasioning the discharge of many
seamen, Neale was paid off, and bringing his wages to London, he soon
wasted his money in the most dissipated manner, and in the worst of
company; and then had recourse to the dangerous practices of a footpad
robber.

 On a particular occasion he stole a tankard from an inn in
Hertfordshire, for which he was apprehended, and lodged in the county
gaol, and, being tried at the next assizes, was capitally convicted;
but obtained a pardon, on the condition of transporting himself for
seven years, through the interest of the late duke of Cumberland.

 Having given bail thus to transport himself, he entertained no
thought of fulfilling the contract; but, immediately associating with
Bowen and other villains, they committed a variety of robberies in the
vicinity of London.

 William Bowen was a native of Londonderry, in Ireland. His
parents, who kept an inn, and lived respectably, proposed that he
should succeed them in their business; but an attachment to bad company
led him astray from the paths of duty.

 His father dying just before he came of age, left him the inn, on
the condition of his supporting his mother, a brother, and two young
sisters: but the young man, deaf to every prudent consideration,
associated with people whose circumstances were much superior to his
own, to the neglect of that business which would have supported the
family.

 Aware of the decay of his trade, and the consequent ruin that
stared him in the face, he came over to London with all the cash he
could secure, and fell in company with people who assisted him to spend
his money; and, when that was gone, he entered on board a ship as a
common sailor.

 The seamen having received their wages, Bowen got into company
with his old associates and some women of ill fame, with whom he spent
his last shilling, and then had recourse for support to the
perpetration of robberies in the neighbourhood of London, particularly
near Stepney and Mile-End.

 One of Bowen's companions being apprehended for picking pockets,
he and others joined to rescue him, as the peace-officers were
conveying him to Newgate in a coach.

 The public being alarmed by this daring rescue, Bowen did not
think it safe to stay in London; and having heard that his brother,
then a seaman, was at Liverpool, he went thither in search of him: but,
on his arrival, he learnt that, having received a large sum as prize-
money, he had sailed, to see his friends in Ireland.

 Bowen immediately wrote to Londonderry; but, not having a letter
in return, he came to the metropolis in the most distressed
circumstances; when, going to a house where he had formerly lodged, he
was informed that Neale had been to inquire for him; and on the
following day Neale came to see him, in company with a man named.
Vincent.

 After drinking together, Neale said to Bowen, "Come and take a
ride with me." Bowen said he had no money, but the other told him that
would soon be procured. On this Neale went out to borrow him a pair of
boots; while Bowen went with Vincent to his lodgings, where the latter
gave him a hanger and a pair of pistols, which Bowen concealed under a
great coat; and then all the parties met at an alehouse in Southwark,
whence they went to an inn, and hired horses, on the pretence of going
to Gravesend; instead of which they went towards Kingston, where
Vincent had a relation who belonged to the Oxford Blues.

 In their way they purchased a whip for Bowen, and loaded their
pistols. On their arrival at Kingston they went to a public-house, and,
sending for Vincent's kinsman, they all dined together, and drank
themselves into a state of perfect intoxication.

 Having paid their reckoning, they mounted their horses,
determined on the commission of robbery; and, meeting a gentleman named
Ryley, Bowen pulled him from his horse, and in the same instant quitted
his own. Mr. Ryley ran off; but Bowen following him, threw him down,
and, kneeling on his breast, the other entreated that he would not hurt
him. Bowen threatened his instant destruction if he did not quietly
submit; and, having robbed him of his watch and money, bade him run
after his horse, which had quitted the place on Neale's whipping him;
and, in the interim, Vincent watched, lest any person should come up to
interrupt him.

 The highwaymen now rode towards London, and when they, came near
Wandsworth determined to go to Fulham, and thence to town by the way of
Hyde-park Corner. Having divided the booty (except a thirty-six
shilling piece, which Bowen secreted) at the Greyhound inn, near
Piccadilly, they supped and slept at that house.

 In the morning they told the landlord that they wanted to go
towards Highgate, but were not well acquainted with the road. As they
had been good customers, the landlord begged to treat them with half a
pint of rum; and then went a little way with them to show them the
nearest road.

 Having arrived at Highgate, they drank at that place, and then
determined to proceed to Barnet, at which place they put up their
horses, and called for rum and water, of which they swallowed such
quantities that Vincent and Bowen fell fast asleep.

 In the mean time Neale endeavoured to secrete a silver pint mug;
but, being detected in the attempt, he was taken before a magistrate,
and loaded pistols being found on him, orders were given that his
companions should likewise be taken into custody, and all of them were
lodged in the county gaol.

 At the, next assizes an order was made for their discharge (as
nothing appeared against them), on their giving security for their good
behaviour. For this purpose they wrote to London to procure bail; but
Mr. Ryley, hearing that three men of doubtful character were in the
gaol of Hertford, went thither, and immediately knew that they were the
parties by whom he had been robbed. Hereupon a detainer was lodged
against them, and, they were removed for trial at the Surrey assizes,
previous to the holding of which Vincent was admitted an evidence fore
the crown. His testimony corroborating that of Mr. Ryley, Neale and
Bowen were found guilty, and sentenced to die.

 Being lodged in the New Gaol, Southwark, Bowen was taken ill, and
continued so till the time of his execution, He behaved with some
degree of resignation to his fate; but was violent in his exclamations
against Vincent, on account of his turning evidence.

 Neale evinced no concern on account of his unhappy situation; but
behaved in a manner more hardened than language can express. At the
place of execution he paid no regard to the devotions, but laughed at
the populace while he played with the rope which was to put a period to
his life, After the cap was drawn over his face, he put it up again,
and addressed the people in the following shocking terms: -- "I shall
very soon see my Lord Balmerino. He was a very good friend of mine; so
that is what I had to say, and d--n you all together." He then drew the
cap over his eyes, and was launched into eternity.

Henceforth let honour's path be trod,
Nor villains seek in vain
To mock the sacred laws of God,
And give their neighbours pain."


BENJAMIN NEALE
Executed at Surrey, August 12, 1749, for burglary.

 HOUSE-BREAKING is a desperate species of robbery. Those who
engage in it may be fitly compared to Satan, who, in an inauspicious
hour, broke into the garden of Eden, stripped our first parents of
their innocence, and filled the world with violence and rapine. Thieves
and robbers are of their father the devil, and the work of their father
they will do; but all such enjoy short and unsatisfying pleasure, to
which long woe frequently succeeds: and, in the mean time, while such
persons are carrying on  their depredations on the public, they cannot
but at times, unless entirely hardened, be subject to the stings of an
accusing conscience, which severely condemns the guilty. The terrors of
an agonizing conscience have, in many instances, been so intolerable,
that the atrocious offender, unable to support the violence of divine
wrath, has often laid violent hands on himself; but this desperate
expedient will prove at length, to all such, only the beginning of
sorrows in the world to come.

 Benjamin Neale was a hardened sinner,. whose fate exhibits a
melancholy instance of the danger of mixing in dissolute company. He
was the son of an apothecary and surgeon at Extel, in Warwickshire,
who, having, many children to provide for, apprenticed Benjamin to a
baker in a large business, at Coventry.

 During his apprenticeship his conduct was very reprehensible, for
he would frequently stay out whole nights, and return to his master's
house in the morning in a state of intoxication.

 With some difficulty he served to the end of his time, when
several of the inhabitants of Coventry recommended it to his father to
put him into business, and promised to deal with him; and the father
enabled him to begin the world in a creditable manner. For a
considerable time he had such success in business, that he became the
principal baker in the place; and he married the daughter of one of the
aldermen, with whom he received a good fortune, and would soon have
been a rich man if he had paid a proper attention to his business:
however, it was not long after he received his wife's fortune before he
began to give himself such airs of consequence as rendered him
disagreeable to his wife, and made the servants look on him as a
perfect tyrant.

 To this behaviour succeeded a neglect of his business, which
visibly declined, while he frequented cock-pits and horse-races, it was
in vain that his father and his wife remonstrated on the impropriety of
this conduct, and represented its inconsistence with the life of a
tradesman: he continued his courses till his character was lost, and he
was reduced to labour as a journeyman baker.

 Unable to submit with decency to a fate which he had brought on
himself, he wandered about the country, picking up a casual and
doubtful subsistence. Returning one night to Coventry, he found his
mother, his wife, and child, in company. He demanded money, but they
refusing to supply him, he threatened to murder them, and was
proceeding to put his threats into execution, when their cries alarmed
the neighbours, and prevented the perpetration of the deed; but this
affair had such an effect on his wife that she was seized with a fever,
which soon put a period to her life.

 This disaster did not seem to make any impression on his mind,
for, travelling soon after into Staffordshire, he married a second
wife; but, returning to Coventry, he privately sold off his effects,
and left the poor woman in circumstances of great distress.

 It was not long after this before he commenced highwayman, and
committed a variety of robberies on different roads, and at length
became a house-breaker, which brought him to a fatal end.

 At Farnham, in Surrey, lived a gentleman of fortune, named
Newton, at whose house Neale thought he might acquire a considerable
booty, and, in pursuance of this plan, he broke into the house at four
o'clock in the morning, and, forcing open a bureau, he stole several
bank-notes, an East-India bond, between fifty and sixty pounds in
money, some medals of gold, and several valuable articles.

 Mr. Newton no sooner discovered the robbery than he sent off a
messenger, with a letter to his brother in London, requesting that he
would advertise the loss, and stop payment of the notes. When Neale had
committed the robbery, he likewise proceeded towards London, and, when
he came to Brentford, offered some water-men three shillings and
sixpence to row him to town; but this they refused, and Neale had no
sooner got into another boat which was putting from the shore, than the
messenger arrived at Brentford; and the watermen, having entertained a
suspicion of Neale, asked the man if he was in pursuit of a thief, and,
he replying in the affirmative, they pointed to the boat in which Neale
was sitting.

 On this the messenger hired another boat, and having overtaken
him, found him wrapped up in a waterman's coat. The criminal being
conducted before a magistrate, the stolen effects were found in his
possession: on which he was ordered for commitment, and conveyed to
Newgate the same day.

 When the assizes for Surrey began, he was sent to Guildford,
where he was capitally convicted, and sentenced to die. After
conviction his behaviour was such as might have been expected from one
who was too hardened to repent of crimes which he could not hesitate to
commit. His conduct was so totally improper for his situation, that
even the keepers of the gaol seemed to be shocked at his want of
feeling, and advised him to amend his manners: but their advice was
lost on one of the most abandoned of the human race.

 [Note: We could wish to caution housekeepers to look every
evening about their houses, and particularly in their bedchambers, for
lurking thieves, who often steal in unobserved about twilight, and lie
concealed until they find an opportunity of plundering, and perhaps
murdering, the family in their sleep. The following anecdote, among
many similar circumstances which we have met with, may serve to
strengthen our admonition: Mrs. Lewis, who kept a public-house at
Hilsea, near Portsmouth, was alarmed, on going to bed, by observing the
feet of a man below the window curtain; at the same moment her young
child, who slept with her, cried for beer, and, with a happy presence
of mind, she answered, that she would go down stairs, and bring it
drink. This fortunate pretence afforded her an opportunity of alarming
her neighbours, who entered the house, and seized the villain, with a
razor in his hand, with which he most likely meant to have cut her
throat. It is remarkable that this woman's husband was, a few years
before, shot by a robber of the name of Williams, who was executed for
the murder, and his body at the time hanging in chains on South-sea
common, adjoining Portsmouth.]


HUGH DAWSON and JOHN GAMMELL
Executed on Kennington-common, August 22, 1749.

 THE repeated comments we have made on the effects of idleness,
extravagance, and drunkenness, in bringing such numbers to the gallows,
would render repetition tedious and unnecessary. For this reason we
pass over many cases without observation; but there are crimes
resulting from some of those vices, without any particular
circumstances arising in the short career of villainy to an untimely
fate.

 If this description of criminals are those we are now about to
bring forward; yet in the character of Dawson there is a wicked attempt
to brave his fall, but which the more immediate approach of death
happily turned to the fear of God.

 Dawson was an Irishman, and born of respectable parents, his
father having been a bookseller in Londonderry. Gammell was a
Scotchman, of Greenock, and both were lazy worthless fellows.

 The father of Dawson, finding his son would settle to no business
in his own country, sent him to sea. After the first voyage he remained
some time at home, and did not seem to entertain any further thoughts
of going to sea; but, falling in love with a young woman in the
neighbourhood, she promised him marriage, but advised him to follow his
former occupation some time longer.

 In consequence of this advice he went again to sea, and on his
return from each voyage visited his favourite girl; but at length it
was discovered by her parents that she was pregnant by her lover.
Alarmed by this circumstance, they proposed to Dawson's father to give
him a fortune proportioned to what they would bestow on their girl; but
this the old man obstinately refused, though the son earnestly
entreated him to accede to the proposal.

 Hereupon young Dawson left his parents, swore he would never
again return home, and went once more to sea. Having made some voyages,
the vessel in which he sailed put into the harbour of Sandwich; on
which Dawson quitted a sea-faring life, and married a girl of fortune,
who bore him two children, which were left to the care of her relations
at her death which happened six years after the marriage.

 On this event Dawson went again to sea, and was in several naval
engagements. When his ship was paid off he went to Bristol, where he
was arrested for a debt he had contracted. At this period he heard of
the death of his father, and that his mother's affection for him was in
no degree diminished; on which he wrote her an account of his
situation; and she sent him fifty pounds, which relieved him from his
embarrassments.

 Having procured his liberty, he went to London, and marrying the
widow of a seaman, who possessed some money, they lived in harmony a
considerable time, till, making a connexion with dissolute companions,
he commenced the practices which led to his ruin.

 Gammell, who had been a ship-mate with Dawson, was one of these
companions, add, being now out of employment, advised him to go on the
highway. He hesitated for some time; but, having drank freely, his
resolution failed him, and he agreed to the fatal proposal.

 These accomplices dressed themselves as sailors, and, concealing
bludgeons under their jackets, knocked down the persons they intended
to rob, and stripped them of their effects.

 The robbery which cost them their lives was committed near New-
cross turnpike, on a gentleman named Outridge, from whom they took his
money, and watch, and treated him with great barbarity. Being pursued
by some people whom Mr. Outridge informed of the robbery, Dawson was
overtaken and confined; and, having given information where Gammell
lodged, he likewise was apprehended; and both of them being conveyed to
the New Gaol, Southwark, they mutually recriminated on each other.

 On the approach of the assizes for Surrey, the prisoners were
carried to Croydon, where they were both tried, and capitally
convicted. After passing sentence, Dawson was visited by a Roman
Catholic priest, who intimated that he had heard he was of the Romish
religion; but the, other said he would die in the Protestant faith, in
which he had been educated: but notwithstanding this declaration, and
his regular attendance on the forms of the Protestant mode, there was
reason to conclude that he was a Catholic, from a paper that was found
in his cell after his death.

 On the night preceding the execution the behaviour of Dawson
evinced the distraction of his mind. He was visited by his wife, who
had been sitting some time with him, when the turnkey came, and
intimated that he must retire; on which he refused to go, and knocked
the fellows down; but, others of the keepers coming, he was secured.
His wife would now have taken a final leave of him; and he said if she
did not depart he would murder her.

 As the keepers were conducting him through the courtyard to his
cell, he called to the other prisoners, saying, Holla! my boys! Dawson
is to be hanged to-morrow."

 The prisoners were conveyed to the place of execution in the same
cart; and, when there, Dawson expressed his hope of salvation through
the merits of Jesus Christ, and declared he died in charity with all
men: Gammell addressed the surrounding multitude, particularly hoping.
that his brother seamen would avoid the commission of such crimes as
led to his deplorable end, He hoped forgiveness from all whom he had
injured, and acknowledged that he fell a victim to the equity of the
laws.



ROBERT COX
Late Captain's Clerk of the Royal George Man-of-War. Executed
at Winchester, 1st of September, 1749, for Forging Seamen's
Tickets

THIS man was tried on several indictments: the first for
stealing a certain obligation, called "a seaman's ticket," the
property of Benjamin Berry; the others for forgery in endorsing the
same.

When ships-of-war return from a long foreign station the
crews are generally turned over to others, fit for service; and upon
these occasions each man is delivered a warrant, signed by the
principal officers, under whom he served, and which is called a
seaman's ticket; in fact, it is a negotiable property when endorsed,
like a note of hand or bill of exchange; but, because the men
should not be tempted to sell their tickets under price, instead of
being put into their possession they are sent with them to the
captain of the ship to which they are turned over, and lodged in his
hands till they are ordered to some other ship, and then these
tickets are still sent with them. In this manner, the Glasgow man-
of-war being laid up, part of her crew were turned over to several
ships successively, and at length to the Royal George.

Soon after the peace was agreed upon, these men were of
course discharged, and the tickets put into the hands of their proper
owners; but those of Mr Berry and twelve seamen more were
missing, and no account could be given of them. They immediately
laid the fact before the Lords of the Admiralty, by way of petition,
who wrote to Captain Harrison, to know the reason why the
petitioners were refused their tickets. The Captain answered the
letter, but was unable to give any reason, or to say more than that
they could not be found. Upon which the Lords of the Admiralty
thought fit to mulct the wages due to the men out of Captain
Harrison's pay, who, now feeling most sensibly the case of the
poor sailors, made more immediate inquiry after the lost tickets,
and accordingly advertised for them, with a reward to any person
who should make a discovery.

Mr Cullen, who formerly kept the inn called the India
Arms, at Gosport, deposed that the identical tickets so advertised
were deposited with him by the prisoner, Robert Cox, as security
for twenty guineas, which he had lent him; and that on the
appearance of the advertisement Cox came to him to beg he would
take his bond for the twenty guineas and give him up the tickets.
But the witness refused so to do; telling him if he came honestly by
them he might immediately sell them, and, out of what they
brought, pay him the sum lent; but that if he had not come honestly
by them it was fit the truth should be known. Upon this, the
witness continued, Cox went his way, and the witness hastened to
give information to Captain Harrison.

Upon the trial of the first indictment no proof could be
adduced that the prisoner stole the tickets, and he was accordingly
acquitted; but the second was fatal to him: for it was fully proved
that he forged the name of Berry to the tickets, was found guilty,
and received sentence of death. He suffered at Winchester, in
September, 1749.



BOSAVERN PENLEZ
Executed for rioting, 18th October, 1749


THIS unhappy youth (for he can hardly be deemed a malefactor)
was the son of a native of the island of Jersey, who, having been
educated at Oxford, entered into orders; and, having obtained a
small church preferment, settled near Exeter, where his unfortunate
son was born.

His father dying while he was young, he was placed as an
apprentice to a barber and peruke-maker at Exeter, by the stewards
of the Sons of the Clergy. Having served his apprenticeship with
the highest reputation for good character and sobriety, he came to
London, and lived in several places with the utmost credit, till a
circumstance equally unpremeditated and unforeseen occasioned
his destruction.

On Saturday, the 1st of July, 1749, three seamen belonging to the
Grafton man of war, having called at a house of ill fame in the
Strand, were there robbed of their watches, a bank-note value
twenty pounds, four moidores, and thirty guineas.

The seamen demanded a reparation for their loss; instead of which
some bullies belonging to the house pushed them from the door;
whereupon they went away, denouncing vengeance; and, having
collected a number of their companions in the neighbourhood of
Wapping, they returned at night, broke open the house, turned the
women almost naked into the streets, ripped up the beds, threw the
feathers out of the window, broke the furniture in pieces, and made
a bonfire of it.

Having proceeded to behave in a similar manner at another house
of ill fame, a party of the guards was sent for, and the mob for the
present dispersed.

On the following day. being Sunday, immense numbers of people
crowded to see the ruins of the infamous houses; and on this day
Bosavern Penlez went to the house of Mr. Pearce, in Wych Street,
where be had left some clothes; and, when he had cleaned himself,
he visited an acquaintance named Taylor, with whom he drank at a
public house, dined, and spent the afternoon.

In the evening Penlez walked in Somerset Gardens, and, at eight
o'clock, went back to his friend Taylor, who being engaged with
company, Penlez declined staying, and proceeded to meet an
acquaintance at the Horseshoe, near Temple Bar. Having drank
some beer with him, be was returning to his lodgings, when he
unfortunately met with another acquaintance, who told him it was
his birth-day, and begged he would drink some punch with him.

This request being complied with, Penlez became quite
intoxicated; and, in his way home, found a mob at the door of the
Star tavern, near Temple Bar, endeavouring to destroy what the
seamen had left undemolished. Many of the people got into the
house, and did great damage; and Penlez, with John Wilson and
Benjamin Launder, was taken into custody.

Being brought to trial at the next sessions at the Old Bailey, the
witnesses were Peter Wood (the landlord), his wife, and one
Reeves, their servant, who positively swore to the commission of
the facts alleged in the indictment.

To discredit their testimony, Mr. John Mixon, the collector of the
scavenger's rate, deposed that he did not think the oath of Mr. or
Mrs. Wood was to be taken, and that he would not hang a cat or a
dog on their evidence. He added, that the house they kept was of
the most notorious ill fame; that the rates were paid in the name of
Thompson; that Wood and his wife had been often prosecuted for
keeping a disorderly house; and that the neighbours were afraid to
appear against them.

In the course of the trial Wood swore 'that the mob amounted to
about seven hundred people; that eight or ten of them came into his
parlour, among whom were Wilson and Penlez; that they broke the
partition with their sticks, pulled out the pieces with their hands,
destroyed all the furniture in the parlour, and threw it into the
street, broke down his bar, and knocked him down on the stairs;'
with many other circumstances, tending to prove the riot, and that
the prisoners were concerned in it.

Several persons of reputation appeared to the character of the
prisoners; but the positive evidence against them induced the jury
to convict Penlez and Wilson; but Launder was acquitted.

The inhabitants of the parish of St. Clement Panes, and many
individuals, made great interest to save these unfortunate youths, in
consequence of which Wilson was reprieved, but Penlez was
ordered for execution.

It is said that the king was disposed to have pardoned them both;
but that Lord Chief Justice Willes, before whom they were tried,
declared in council that no regard would be paid to the laws except
one of them was made an example of. Our account informs us that
the king still inclined to pardon them both, and that the chief
justice was three times sent for and consulted on this occasion; but
that he still persisted in his former opinion. [It is a well-known fact
that Lord Chief Justice Willes was a steady assertor of the dignity
of the law. It could not be supposed that he could have any
prejudice against the convict; and it must he concluded that his
opinion arose from a regard to the public weal.]

After conviction Penlez behaved in such a manner as evidently
testified the goodness of his disposition, and the little probability
there was of such a man committing a wilful premeditated crime. It
is not in language to describe how much he was pitied by the
public. Every one wished his pardon, and wondered, without
considering the necessity that there was for an example, that he
was not spared.

When the day of execution arrived be prepared to meet his fate
with the consciousness of an innocent man, and the courage of a
Christian. The late Sir Stephen Theodore Janssen, Chamberlain of
London, was at that time sheriff; and a number of soldiers being
placed at Holborn Bars, to conduct Penlez to Tyhurn (as a rescue
was apprehended), the sheriff politely dismissed them, asserting
that the civil power was sufficient to carry the edicts of the law
into effectual execution.

This unhappy youth was executed at Tyburn on the 18th of
October, 1749.

The worthy inhabitants of St. Clement Danes, who had been
among the foremost in soliciting a pardon for Penlez, finding all
their efforts ineffectual, did all possible honour to his memory, by
burying him in a distinguished manner in a churchyard of their
parish, on the evening after his unfortunate exit, which happened in
the twenty-third year of his age.




ANN FLYNN
A Sad Case with a Humorous Sequel

ANN FLYNN was indicted at the Old Bailey for stealing
from a butcher in Whitechapel a shoulder of mutton. It appeared in
evidence that, the prosecutor being busy with his customers on a
Saturday night, the prisoner availed herself of that opportunity, and
carried away the shoulder of mutton. She was, however, soon
seized and brought back, and, an officer being sent for, she was
carried before a magistrate, and committed for trial. These facts
being proved, the prisoner was called upon for her defence; and
she told a tale of woe that penetrated every heart. She
acknowledged the robbery; but solemnly declared she was urged to
it by the most afflicting distress. Her husband had been ill and
unable to earn a shilling for twelve weeks, and she was driven to
the last extremity, with two infant children. In that deplorable
situation, continued the unfortunate woman, while the tears ran
down her wan cheeks, she desperately snatched the shoulder of
mutton -- for which she had already been confined five weeks.

The jury found her guilty, with a faltering accent; and the
recorder immediately replied, "Gentlemen, I understand you," and
sentenced her to be fined only one shilling and discharged, which
the jury themselves paid, but the officer of the prison gave it to her.

This case, if the extremity of the law had been resorted to, 
was felony.

As soon as she was taken away, the prosecutor addressed
the Court, and said that the constable had done him more injury
than the thief; for though Sir William Parsons, the magistrate that
committed her, had ordered him to take care of the shoulder of
mutton, he thought fit to cook it for his own dinner, and to sit down
and eat it.

[This new complaint, as might naturally be supposed,
excited not a little the risible muscles of the Court.]

The constable was immediately called upon to account for
his conduct, who said: "My Lord, I did take care of it, as ordered; I
kept it whilst it was worth keeping, and if my wife and I had not
eaten it, the dogs must have dined on it."



CAPTAIN CLARKE, R.N.
Convicted and condemned to be hanged for the Murder of Captain
Innis, in a Duel, and pardoned, 12th of June, 1750

THE Captains Innis and Clarke were commanders under
Admiral Knowles -- the first of the Warwick, and the latter of the
Canterbury, line-of-battle-ships, of sixty-four guns each -- when he
obtained a victory over a Spanish fleet of equal force, and took
from them the Conquistadore, and ran their Vice-Admiral on
shore, where she blew up, the rest escaping under favour of the
night. It was the opinion that had the Admiral availed himself of an
opportunity which at one time presented of bringing up his fleet to
bear at once upon the enemy the whole might have been taken.

The issue of this battle was therefore unsatisfactory to the
nation, and the Admiral was called to account for his conduct
before a court martial, held on board the royal yacht, the Charlotte,
at Deptford, which sat during nine days.

The opinion of the Court being unfavourable to the
Admiral caused a divided opinion among the officers. It did not,
however, affect the personal bravery of that commander, but, on
the contrary, as appeared in evidence, he displayed the greatest
intrepidity, exposing his person to imminent danger, after his ship
was disabled; but it appears that in maneuvring, previous to the
engagement, he had not availed himself of an advantage, by which
neglect it was begun by four of his, when six might have been
brought up. The Court therefore determined that he fell under the
14th and 23rd Articles of War -- namely, the word "negligence";
for which they sentenced him to be reprimanded. This sentence
caused much ill blood among the officers. The Admiral had
already been called out twice in duels with his captains, and had
received more challenges of the same kind; but Government, being
apprised of the outrages, put a stop to them by taking the
challengers into custody.

Captain Clarke, it appears, had given evidence on the trial
of the Admiral which displeased Captain Innis to so great a degree
that he called him "a perjured rascal," and charged him with giving
false evidence. This was certainly language worse to be borne by
an officer than rankling wounds, or even death. Captain Clarke,
being apprised that Innis in this way traduced and vilified him in
all companies, gave him a verbal challenge, which the other
accepted.

On the 12th of August, 1749, early in the morning, these
gentlemen, attended by their seconds, met in Hyde Park. The
pistols of Captain Clarke were screw-barrelled and about seven
inches long; those of Captain Innis were common pocket-pistols,
three inches and a half in the barrel. They were not more than five
yards distant from each other when they turned about, and Captain
Clarke fired before Captain Innis had levelled his pistol. The ball
took effect in the breast, of which wound Captain Innis expired at
twelve o'clock the same night. The coroner's jury found a verdict,
of wilful murder against Captain Clarke, on which he was
apprehended, brought to trial at the Old Bailey, found guilty, and
sentenced to death. The King, in consideration of his services, and
the bravery he displayed in fighting his ship under Admiral
Knowles, was pleased to grant him a free pardon.

There were other circumstances in this unfortunate
rencounter which were favourable to Captain Clarke, for his firing
on turning round, and his pistol being larger than that of Captain
Innis, was not deemed unfair by the sanguinary rules of duelling;
for Captain Innis might have provided, himself with a large pair
had he pleased. But what pleaded powerfully on his behalf was the
expressions of the dying man, who acquitted and forgave him.
When a soldier seized Captain Clarke, the former asked the
wounded man what he should do with him, to which he faintly
answered: "Set him at liberty, for what he has done was my own
seeking."

On the 1st of June, 1750, being the last day of the sessions
of the Old Bailey, Captain Clarke, among the other convicts, was
brought up to receive sentence of death, when he pleaded his
Majesty's pardon, which had been then lately sent him, and which
being recorded, he was discharged.



MARGARET HARVEY
Executed for Privately Stealing

MRS. HARVEY was a native of the city of Dublin, and
descended from parents of reputation, by whom she was educated
in a very decent manner. She married the valet of a nobleman
when she was only sixteen years of age; and her husband, soon
afterwards, procuring a lieutenant's commission on board a man-
of-war, sailed in the service of his country.

Returning after an absence of six months, he became
extremely jealous of his wife; but we have no account that he had
then any cause for such jealousy. Be this as it may, he treated her
with such severity that she left him, in apprehension that her life
was in danger.

Some of her relations afforded her present support; but,
when they began to think her troublesome, she went to her parents,
who received her with the utmost affection: but her husband had
art enough to persuade her father that she had no good cause to
have left him; on which the old man insisted on her returning to
her duty as a wife.

When she was again at home with him he treated her no
less cruelly than heretofore; and, on a particular occasion, without
any previous quarrel, he cut her on the arms and head with a
hanger, so that she carried the marks to the grave; yet still she
continued to love him with unabating affection.

At length, when she was on a visit, in company with
several other women, and complaining of the cruelty of her
husband, they recommended her to avenge herself by quitting him,
and putting herself under the protection of a gentleman who knew
her situation, pitied her case, and would be proud to become her
benefactor.

Fatally for her repose, she listened to this advice, and went
to live with the stranger; on which her husband left Dublin, and set
out for London.

The man who had thus been the indirect means of seducing
her from her duty soon grew tired of her company, and quitted her,
leaving her in circumstances of utter distress.

In this dilemma she determined to go in search of her
husband, and solicit his forgiveness; and, with this view, sailed for
England, and travelled to London; but her inquiries after him
proving fruitless, she went into service in Marylebone Street, and
remained about four months in that station.

When the fireworks were exhibited in St. James's Park, on
occasion of the peace with France, she was permitted to go and see
the extraordinary sight; and, while she was a spectator of that
magnificent show, some women and seamen entered into
conversation with her; and, going to a public-house, they spent the
night and following day in intemperance.

Ashamed now to return to her service, she took a lodging in
St. Giles's, and, becoming acquainted with some women of ill
fame, who were supported by sailors who visited them, she soon
became as abandoned in manners as her associates.

Some Irish seamen being acquainted with her, she went
with them to Wapping; and, having drank very freely, she was met
on her return home by a gentleman, who took her to a tavern,
where she found means to rob him of his gold watch; but, being
taken into custody that night, she was lodged in the Round-house,
and committed to Newgate the following day.

Being brought to trial at the Old Bailey sessions, she was
capitally convicted; but, pleading that she was with child, she was
respited till the year 1750, when sentence of death was passed on
her.

While in this distressed situation, she acknowledged that
she should not have pleaded being with child, but that she had
hopes of obtaining a pardon on condition of transportation; and on
the arrival of the warrant for her execution she wrung her hands,
cried exceedingly, and lamented the misfortunes which first
induced her to come to London.

On the morning of her execution she was visited by some
of her countrywomen, who, having privately brought in some
brandy, induced her to drink such a quantity of it, that she died in
an absolute state of intoxication; though before this circumstance
she had exhibited every real sign of penitence and contrition.

She was executed at Tyburn on the 6th of July, 1750.


JAMES COOPER
Executed for murder, August 26th, 1750


THIS man was the son of a butcher at Lexton, in Essex; and his
father, who had wholly neglected his education, employed him in
his own business when he was only ten years of age. Having lived
with his father till he was twenty-two, he then married, and opened
a shop at Colchester, where he dealt largely as a butcher, and
likewise became a cattle-jobber.

At the end of thirteen years, Cooper, through neglect, found his
losses so considerable that he could no longer carry on business;
and, one of his creditors arresting him, he was thrown into the
King's-Bench prison; but, as his wife still carried on trade, he was
enabled to purchase the rules. Soon after this, the marshal of the
King's Bench dying, he was obliged to pay for the rules a second
time.

He now sued for an allowance of the groats; and they were paid
him for about a year, when, through neglect of payment, he got out
of prison, and took a shop in the Mint, Southwark, where he
carried on his business with some success, his wife maintaining the
family in. the country.

[The groats: By 23d George II. debtors, after being a certain time
in prison, might claim the benefit therein imposed upon the
plaintiff in the suit on which they were confined; being fourpence
(a groat) per day; and in default of any one weekly instalment they
were entitled to their discharge; but the expense of moving the
Court to this end was generally too great for the prisoner to bear.]

At length he was arrested by another creditor, and waited two years
for the benefit of an act of insolvency. On his going to Guildford,
to take the benefit of the act, he found that the marshal had not
inserted his name in the list with those of the other prisoners; and,
having informed his creditor of this circumstance, the marshal was
obliged to pay debt and costs, the debtor was discharged, and the
marshal fined one hundred pounds for his neglect.

Cooper having now obtained his liberty, and his wife dying about
the same time, and leaving four children, he sent for them to
London; and, not long afterwards, married a widow, who had an
equal number of children.

He now, unfortunately, got acquainted with Duncalf and Burrell,
the former a notorious thief, and the latter a soldier in the guards;
and these men advising him to commence robber, he fatally
complied with their solicitations; and the following is an account
of a number of robberies which they committed.

Between Stockwell and Clapham they overtook two men, one of
whom, speaking of the probability of being attacked by footpads,
drew a knife, and swore he would kill any man who should
presume to molest them. The parties all drank together on the road,
and then proceeded towards London, when Cooper threw down the
man who was armed with the knife, and took it from him, and then
robbed him and his acquaintance of a watch, about twenty
shillings, and their handkerchiefs.

Their next robbery was on Mr. James, a tailor, whom they stopped
on the road to Dulwich, and took from him his watch and money.
He gave an immediate alarm, which occasioned a pursuit; but the
thieves effected their escape. Two of the three robbers wearing
soldiers' clothes, Mr. James presumed that they were of the guards;
and, going to the Parade in St. James's park, he fixed on two
soldiers as the parties who had robbed him.

As it happened that these men had been to Dulwich about the time
that the robbery had been committed, they were sent to prison, and
brought to trial; but were acquitted.

The accomplices in iniquity being in waiting for prey near
Bromley, Duncalf saw a gentleman riding along the road; and,
kneeling down, he seized the bridle, and obliged him to quit his
horse, when the others robbed him of his watch and two guineas
and a half.

Meeting soon afterwards with a man and woman on one horse,
near Farnborough, in Kent, they ordered them to quit the horse,
robbed them of near forty shillings, and then permitted them to
pursue their journey. Soon after the commission of this robbery
they heard the voices of a number of people who were in pursuit of
them: on which Cooper turned about, and they passed him, but
seized on Burrell, one of them exclaiming 'This is one of the
rogues that just robbed my brother and sister!'

On this Burrell fired a pistol into the air, to intimidate the pursuers,
among whom were two soldiers, whom Duncalf and Cooper
encountering at this instant, one of them was so dangerously
wounded by his own sword, which Duncalf wrested from his hand,
that be was sent as an invalid to Chelsea, where he finished his life.

The brother of the parties robbed, and a countryman, contested the
matter with the thieves, till the former was thrown on the ground,
where Burrell beat him so violently that he died on tile spot. The
robbers now took their way to London , where they arrived without
being pursued.

Cooper and Duncalf, the latter being provided with a bag, went
once to a farm-house, and stole all the fowls that were at roost; and
Duncalf saying, 'The first man we meet must buy my chickens,'
they had not travelled far before they met with a man whom they
asked to buy the fowls. He said he did not want any; but they
seized his horse's bridle, knocked him down, and robbed him of
above twelve pounds, with his hat and wig, watch and great coat.

On one of their walks towards Camberwell they met a man of
fortune, named Ellish, whose servant was lighting him home from
a club. Putting pistols to the gentleman's breast, his servant
attempted to defend him; on which they knocked him down with a
bludgeon; and the master still hesitating to deliver, they threw him
to the ground, and robbed him of his money, watch, and other
articles; and, tying him and his servant back to back, threw them
into a ditch, where they lay in a helpless manner till a casual
passenger released them from their disagreeable situation.

The villains now returned towards London. In their way, meeting a
man with a sack of stolen venison, they robbed him of his great
coat and thirty-six shillings; and, a few nights afterwards, they
robbed a man of a few shillings on the Hammersmith road, and
destroyed a lantern which he carried, that be should not be able to
make any pursuit after them.

On their return home they met a man on horseback, whom they
would have robbed; but, turning his horse suddenly, he rode to
Kensington turnpike, and gave an alarm, while the thieves got
through a hedge, and concealed themselves in a field. In the
interim, the man they had robbed of a few shillings brought a
number of people to take the thieves; but, not finding them, though
within their hearing, the man went towards his home alone; but the
rogues, pursuing him, took a stick from him, and beat him severely
for attempting to raise the country on them.

Immediately afterwards they hastened towards Brompton, and
stopped a gentleman, whom they robbed of his watch and money.
The gentleman had a dog, which flew at the thieves; but Cooper,
coaxing the animal into good humour, immediately killed him.

Their next expedition was to Paddington, where they concealed
themselves behind a hedge, till, observing two persons on
horseback, they robbed them of their watches, great coats, and
twelve guineas; and though an immediate alarm was given, and
many persons pursued them, they escaped over the fields as far as
Hampstead Heath, and came from thence to London.

Soon afterwards they stopped a gentleman between Kingsland and
Stoke Newington, who whipped Duncalf so that he must have
yielded, but that Cooper at the instant struck the gentleman to the
ground. They then robbed him of above seventeen pounds, and,
tying his hands behind him, threw him over a hedge, in which
situation he remained till some milkmen relieved him on the
following morning.

Meeting a man between Knightsbridge and Brompton, who had a
shoulder of veal with him, they demanded his money; instead of
delivering which, the man knocked Cooper down three times with
his veal, but the villains, getting the advantage, robbed the man of
his hat and meat, but could find no money in his possession.

Cooper being incensed against the person who had first arrested
him, who was Mrs. Pearson, of Hill Farm, in Essex, determined to
rob her; on which he and his accomplices went to the place, and,
learning that she was on a visit, waited till her return at night; when
they stopped her and her servant, and robbed them of eight
guineas.

On the following day Mrs. Pearson went to a magistrate, and
charged a person named Loader with having committed the
robbery; but it appearing that this man was a prisoner for debt at
the time, the charge necessarily fell to the ground.

Cooper and his associates meeting a farmer, named Jackson, in a
lane near Croydon, he violently opposed them: on which they
knocked him down, and, dragging him into a field, robbed him of
his watch and money, tied him to a tree, and turned his horse loose
on a common.

For this robbery two farriers, named Shelton and Kellet, were
apprehended; and, being tried at the next assizes for Surrey, the
latter was acquitted, but the former was convicted on the positive
oath of the person robbed, and suffered death.

The three accomplices, being out on the road near Dulwich, met
two gentlemen on horseback, one of whom got from them by the
goodness of his horse; and the other attempted to do so, but was
knocked down, and robbed of his watch and money. In the interim,
the party who had rode off, whose name was Saxby, fastened his
horse to a gate, and came back to relieve his friend: but the robbers
first knocked him down, and then shot him.

Having stripped him of what money he had, they hastened towards
London: but a suspicion arising that Duncalf was concerned in this
robbery and murder, he was taken into custody on the following
day; and, Cooper being taken up on his information, Burrell
surrendered, and was admitted an evidence for the crown.

William Duncalf was a native of Ireland, and had received a decent
education. Ho was apprenticed to a miller, who would not keep
him on account of his knavish disposition; and, being unable to
procure employment in Ireland, he came to London, where he
officiated as a porter on the quays.

Extravagant in his expenses, and abandoned in principle, he
commenced smuggler: but, being taken into custody by the
custom-house officers, be gave information against some other
smugglers; by which he procured his discharge, and was himself
made a custom-house officer.

A variety of complaints respecting the neglect of his duty having
been preferred to the commissioners of the customs, he was
dismissed, and once more commenced smuggler. Among his other
offences, he alleged a crime against a custom-house officer, who
was transported in consequence of Duncalf's perjured testimony.

We have already recounted many of his notorious crimes, in
conjunction with his accomplices above mentioned: but he did not
live to suffer the punishment that he merited; for he had not been
long in prison before the flesh rotted from his bones, and he died a
dreadful monument of the Divine vengeance, though not before he
had acknowledged the number and enormity of his crimes.

Cooper frequently expressed himself in terms of regret that a
villain so abandoned as Burrell should escape the hands of justice.
In other respects his behaviour was very resigned, and becoming
his unhappy situation. He acknowledged that he had frequently
deliberated with Burrell on the intended murder of Duncalf, lest he
should become an evidence against them: but he now professed his
happiness that this murder had not been added to the black
catalogue of his crimes.

When brought to trial he pleaded guilty, and confessed all the
circumstances of the murder; and, after sentence was passed
against him, appeared to be a sincere penitent for the errors of his
past life.

Being visited by a clergyman and his son, who had known him in
his better days, he was questioned respecting the robbery of Mrs.
Pearson, which he denied; but he had no sooner done so than he
was seized with the utmost remorse of mind, which the gaoler
attributed to the dread of being hung in chains; and, questioning
him on this subject, he said that he was indifferent about the
disposal of his body, but wished to communicate something to the
clergyman who attended him; and, when he had an opportunity,
confessed that his uneasiness arose from the consciousness of
having denied the robbery of Mrs. Pearson, of which he was really
guilty.

Cooper suffered on Kennington Common, August 26, 1750.

Few offenders commit such a number of crimes as this man did
before they are called to answer for them at the most awful
tribunal. From his fate we may learn that a continuance in villainy
is so far from affording security, that it effectually leads to ruin.

Habits of vice are not easily shaken off; and those of virtue are
equally apt to remain with us. What a lesson does this afford for
the practice of early piety, which will essentially influence all our
future lives!

Parents should remember that an education strictly religious is the
best foundation for their children's future conduct in life.

What bless'd examples do we find
Writ in the word of truth,
Of children that began to mind
Religion in their youth!


On the contrary, how many instances do we meet with, in which
the want of a religious education is productive of every vice!




JAMES MACLANE
Called "The Gentleman Highwayman." Executed at Tyburn, 3rd of
October, 1750, for Highway Robbery

THE subject of this memoir was descended from a
reputable family in the north of Scotland. His father, after being
liberally educated in the University of Glasgow, went to settle at
Monaghan, in the north of Ireland, as preacher to a congregation of
Dissenters. He married and had two sons, the elder of whom was
bred to the Church, and preached many years to the English
congregation at The Hague, and was equally remarkable for his
learning and the goodness of his heart. The younger son was the
unfortunate subject of this narrative.

As a young man James was very extravagant, and after
dissipating a fortune left by his father he came to London, and
married the daughter of Mr Macglegno, a horse-dealer, with whom
he received five hundred pounds, with which he commenced
business as a grocer in Welbeck Street, Cavendish Square, and
supported his family with some degree of credit till the expiration
of three years, when his wife died, bequeathing two infant
daughters to the care of her parents, who kindly undertook to
provide for them; and both these children were living at the time of
their father's ignominious death.

Hitherto Maclane's character among his neighbours was
unimpeached; but soon after the death of his wife he sold off his
stock-in-trade and furniture and assumed the character of a fine
gentleman, in the hope of engaging the attention of some lady of
fortune, to which he thought himself entitled by the gracefulness of
his person and the elegance of his appearance.

At the end of about six months he had expended all his
money, and became greatly dejected in mind from reflecting on
that change of fortune that would probably reduce him to his
former state of servitude. While in this state of dejection an Irish
apothecary, named Plunkett, visited him and inquired into the
cause of his despondency. Maclane acknowledged the exhausted
state of his finances, candidly confessing that he had no money
left, nor knew any way of raising a shilling but by the disposal of
his wearing apparel; in answer to which Plunkett addressed him as
follows:--

"I thought that Maclane had spirit and resolution, with
some knowledge of the world. A brave man cannot want; he has a
right to live, and not want the conveniences of life while the dull,
plodding, busy knaves carry cash in their pockets. We must draw
upon them to supply our wants; there needs only impudence and
getting the better of a few idle scruples; there is scarce any courage
necessary. All whom we have to deal with are mere poltroons."

These arguments, equally ill founded and ridiculous, co-
operated so forcibly with the poverty of Maclane that he entered
into conversation with Plunkett on the subject of going on the
highway; and at length they entered into a solemn agreement to
abide by each other in all adventures, and to share the profit of
their depredations to the last shilling.

The first robbery these men committed was on Hounslow
Heath, where they stopped a grazier, on his return from Smithfield,
and took from him about sixty pounds.

This money being soon spent in extravagance, they were
induced to take a ride on the St Albans Road, and seeing a stage-
coach coming forward they agreed to ride up on the opposite sides
of the carriage. Maclane's fears induced him to hesitate; and, when
at length Plunkett ordered the driver to stop, it was with the utmost
trepidation that the other demanded the money of the passengers.

On their return to London at night Plunkett censured him as
a coward, and told him that he was unfit for his business. This had
such an effect on him that he soon afterwards went out alone, and
unknown to Plunkett; and, having robbed a gentleman of a large
sum, he returned and shared it with his companion.

A short time only had elapsed after this expedition when he
stopped and robbed the Honourable Horace Walpole, and his pistol
accidentally went off during the attack. For some time he
continued this irregular mode of life, during which he paid two
guineas a week for his lodgings and lived in a style of elegance,
which he accounted for by asserting that he had an estate in Ireland
which produced seven hundred pounds a year.

The speciousness of his behaviour, the gracefulness of his
person and the elegance of his appearance combined to make him a
welcome visitor, even at the houses of women of character; and he
had so far ingratiated himself into the affections of a young lady
that her ruin would probably have been the consequence of their
connection but that a gentleman, casually hearing of this affair, and
knowing Maclane to be a sharper, interposed his timely advice and
saved her from destruction.

On the 26th of June, 1750, Plunkett and Maclane, riding
out together, met the Earl of Eglinton in a post-chaise, beyond
Hounslow, when Maclane, advancing to the post-boy, commanded
him to stop, but placed himself in a direct line before the driver,
lest his lordship should shoot him with a blunderbuss, with which
he always travelled, for he was certain that the peer would not fire
so as to endanger the life of the post-boy. In the interim Plunkett
forced a pistol through the glass at the back of the chaise, and
threatened instant destruction unless his lordship threw away the
blunderbuss.

The danger of his situation rendered compliance necessary,
and his lordship was robbed of his money and a surtout coat. After
the carriage drove forward, Maclane took up the coat and
blunderbuss, both of which were found in his lodgings when he
was apprehended; but when he was afterwards tried for the offence
which cost him his life, Lord Eglinton did not appear against him.

Notice of their next robbery -- of a stage-coach -- was
given in the newspapers, and the articles stolen were described; yet
Maclane was so much off his guard that he stripped the lace from a
waistcoat, the property of one of the gentlemen who had been
robbed, and happened to carry it for sale to the laceman of whom it
had been purchased. He also went to a salesman in Monmouth
Street, named Loader, who attended him to his lodgings, but had
no sooner seen what clothes he had to sell than he knew them to be
those which had been advertised; and pretending enough to
purchase them said he that he had not money would go home for
more; instead of which he procured a constable, apprehended
Maclane, and took him before a magistrate.

Many persons of rank of both sexes attended his
examination, several of whom were so affected with his situation
that they contributed liberally towards his support.

Being committed to the Gatehouse, he requested a second
examination before the magistrate, when he confessed all that was
alleged against him. At his trial the jury brought him in guilty
without going out of court. A youth who had been condemned, but
was afterwards ordered to be transported for life, chose to continue
in the cell with Maclane; and, as they had opportunity, they went
among the other prisoners who were ordered for execution, to
instruct them, pray with them, and assist them in their preparation
for death. But Maclane was greatly shocked at the insensibility and
profaneness of some, and pitied the souls which were going into
eternity in so hopeless a state.

Arrived at Tyburn, he looked sadly up at the gallows, and
with a heartfelt sigh exclaimed: "O Jesus!"



AMY HUTCHINSON
Executed at Ely, 7th of November, 1750, for Petit Treason, in the
Murder of her Husband

THE Isle of Ely gave birth to this malefactor. At the age of
sixteen she was grown a tall fine girl; at which time she was
addressed by a young man, whose love she returned with equal
affection. Her father, being apprised of the connection, strictly
charged his daughter to decline it; but there was no arguing against
love: the connection continued till it became criminal.

The young fellow began to grow tired of her, and declared
his resolution of going to London, but said that he would wed her
on his return. Shocked at this apparent infidelity, she determined
on revenge. The former lover had no sooner left her than she was
addressed by a young man named John Hutchinson, and, though he
had been always extremely disagreeable to her, she agreed to
marry him the very next day after he had paid her a formal visit.

The consequence was that the marriage took place
immediately; but her admirer happening to return from London,
just as the newly wedded pair were coming out of church, the bride
was greatly affected at the recollection of former scenes, and the
irrevocable ceremony which had now passed.

She was unable to love the man she had married, and doted
to distraction on him she had rejected; and only a few days after
her marriage admitted him to his former intimacy with her: a
circumstance that gave full scope to the envious tongues of her
neighbours.

Hutchinson becoming jealous of his wife, a quarrel ensued;
in consequence of which he beat her with great severity; but this
producing no alteration in her conduct he had recourse to drinking,
with a view to avoid the pain of reflection on his situation.

In the interim his wife and the young fellow continued their
guilty intercourse uninterrupted; but, considering the life of her
husband as a bar to their happiness, it was resolved to remove him
by poison; for which purpose the wife purchased a quantity of
arsenic; and Mr Hutchinson being afflicted with an ague, and
wishing for something warm to drink, the wife put some arsenic in
ale, of which he drank very plentifully; and then she left him,
saying she would go and buy something for his dinner.

Meeting her lover, she acquainted him with what had
passed; on which he advised her to buy more poison, fearing the
first might not be sufficient to operate; but its effects were fatal, for
he died about dinner-time on the same day. The deceased was
buried on the following Sunday, and the next day the former lover
renewed his visits; which occasioned the neighbours to talk very
freely of the affair. The young widow was taken into custody the
same day, on suspicion of having committed a murder.

The body of the deceased being now taken up, the coroner's
jury was summoned, and the verdict they gave was that John
Hutchinson had died by poison: on which the woman was
committed to the jail at Ely.

She had counsel to plead for her on the trial; but, the
evidence against her being such as satisfied the jury, she was
convicted, and ordered for execution.

After conviction she confessed the justice of those laws by
which she had been condemned. She was attended by a clergyman,
to whom she acknowledged the magnitude of her crime, and
professed the most unfeigned penitence.

The miserable woman, willing to make atonement for her
crimes, left a written paper with the clergyman who attended her in
her last moments, on which was the following advice to her own
sex:--

"All the good I can now do, after my repentance and
abhorrence of my abominable crime, and prayers to God, is:

"First: To warn all young women to acquaint their friends
when any addresses are made to them; and, above all, if any base
or immodest man dare to insult you, with anything shocking to
chaste ears.

"Secondly: That they should never leave the person they
are engaged to in a pet, nor wed another to whom they are
indifferent, in spite; for if they come together without affection, the
smallest matter will separate them.

"Thirdly: That being married, all persons should mutually
love, forgive and forbear, and afford no room for busy meddlers to
raise and foment jealousy between two who should be one.
(Signed) "AMY HUTCHINSON."

Note: see the next case (John Vicars) for a description of
her execution.



JOHN VICARS
Executed at Ely, 7th of November, 1750, for the Murder of his
Wife, after first witnessing the Strangling of a Woman for
murdering her Husband

JOHN VICARS'S grandfather and father were born at
Oxford, and lived in good credit, till misfortunes obliged them to
go to Dodington, in the Isle of Ely. His father dying and leaving 
him young, and his mother taking a second husband, he had but a
slight education. At thirteen he was apprenticed to Mr J. Aaron, of
Holkham, Norfolk, gardener to Thomas Coke, Esq. (now Earl of
Leicester), where he served his time faithfully, and was employed
in the gardens, till an intrigue with a married woman obliged him
to leave that place. Having a recommendation to Mr Bridgman,
gardener at Kensington, he went and worked some time there, and
then engaged himself to Captain Duroy, of the Exeter man-of-war,
and served him about nine months. Being paid off, he assisted in a
party of smugglers about a year, and being taken prisoner, with
others, by a custom-house smack, near Rye, was committed to the
New Jail, in Southwark, tried, and acquitted by the indulgence of
the Court. He then was employed in the Earl of Oxford's gardens at
Chelsea, under Mr Miller, where he stayed one year.

Falling into company with one Anne Easom, he made love
to her and married her. They lived seven years very happily, but
had no children. About that time she began to be very much
afflicted with illness, which altered her temper so much that it
occasioned frequent uneasiness between them, and gave him such
disgust that he enlisted in the Duke of Bedford's regiment as a six
months' man, where he continued about a year, and then came to
his wife again and lived with her till her death, which happened
about twelve months after. He continued a widower about a year,
in which time, observing one Mary Hainsworth to keep a great deal
of company, he asked her one evening if they were all her
sweethearts; she replied no. He then offered himself, met with
great encouragement, and from that time he was refused no
favours. But he had no intention of marriage, nor did he promise
any such thing. They continued a criminal familiarity for a
fortnight, all which time she pressed him to marry her. He told her
there was no occasion for her to be in such a hurry; but she replied
she was with child, and if he would not marry her she would get a
warrant and force him. He said he should not care to be forced to
do anything against his will; on which she replied, if he would not
marry her she would certainly make away with herself. He then
kept away for two or three nights, to see how she would behave. In
the meantime came a hackney-coachman to town, with whom she
seemed to be so very much taken that a woman who worked in
Vicar's garden told him that he had lost his sweetheart. He said he
was glad of that, thinking he had got a good riddance. But he was
not so fortunate; for two or three nights after this the coachman left
the place; on which she flung herself in his way and, he says, he
was so simple as to renew their former acquaintance, but not on the
score of marriage, which she well knew, and agreed readily to keep
him company. But after two or three nights she threatened him
again with a warrant if he would not marry her.

At last, his affections growing stronger on her repeated
assurance that she would make him a careful and industrious wife,
he unfortunately married her; but not till he had earnestly desired
that if there was any other person for whom she had a greater
respect than himself she would consider of it, for when once
married it would be too late. This unhappy woman had learned the
glover's business, which she followed, and they lived very lovingly
for about two months; but after that time, he says, words frequently
arose between them, occasioned by her adhering to bad advice
given her by her mother, and others, by some of whom, she owned
to him, she was advised to poison him. From words they came to
blows, to which she provoked him, though he entreated her to
forbear. At length she went away from him to live with her mother,
and notwithstanding the most earnest entreaties refused to return.
One day, going by her mother's house with some fruit, and seeing
his wife there, he went in, offered her some fruit, and forced a kiss
from her, desiring to be reconciled. Her mother came in and, after
giving loose to her tongue in a virulent manner, fell to beating him,
swearing she would kill him, and advising his wife, who had a
knife in her hand, to stab him, which she endeavoured to do; but
he, feeling something against his belly, ran backwards to the door,
and fell upon the threshold, with the old woman upon him. He
rolled her off, and, getting up, found his thumb cut, a hole in his
shirt, and the skin ruffled; then, thinking himself in great danger,
went home. But his mother-in-law and his wife swore the peace
against him, and had a warrant to take him up. Upon 24th of April,
therefore, to prevent their serving it, he went to a gentleman's
about three miles from Whittlesea, to beg his advice, which was to
make a bill of sale of his goods and go off. He resolved to do so,
and came back to Whittlesea about six o'clock the same evening.
By the way, on seeing his wife in the new shop which her mother
had provided for her, his heart beat with love for her, but on the
thought of her obstinacy, and that his life or ruin was what they
aimed at, by laying him in jail, his resentment got the better of his
reason. Stepping into the shop where she was sitting at work, and
placing his left hand under her chin (he apprehended she thought
he was going to kiss her, because she seemed to smile) and
drawing his knife out of his pocket with his other hand, he made an
attempt to cut her throat, but was prevented by her putting her
hands up when she felt the knife. He then placed the point of the
knife under her left ear, the back part upwards, and stuck it
downward as they stick sheep. She once cried: "Murder!" He said:
"Molly, it is now too late, you should have been ruled in time." He
then ran into the street and called out for somebody to take him
prisoner, but everyone was afraid; on which he threatened if they
did not he would do more mischief; on which one Thomas Boone
took hold of his arm, and he surrendered himself; but appeared as a
lunatic till next day, when he was very calm.

This account was signed by himself, and it being reported
that he had committed more murders, he further desired it might be
explained as follows.

While he was gardener to R. Man, Esq., the garden was
often robbed, on which his master set him to watch one night,
armed with a gun and a hanger, and fixed a trap at the supposed
place of entrance. The thief came, and soon saw reason to run off;
but Vicars cut him in the leg with his hanger; besides which he was
so unfortunate as to be taken in the trap, the teeth of which,
reaching about the middle of his body, struck into him, so that,
being carried before a justice and committed to Maidstone jail, he 
soon after died of his wounds; "but this I apprehend," says he,
"cannot be deemed a murder."

While in prison he said that he dearly loved his wife, but
her provocation was so great that he could not let her live, nor live
without her, he first intending to kill himself also. He persisted in it
that he should do the same again on such provocation, though he
injured many in the same way without reluctance.

Vicars at the tree behaved very steadily, but penitent,
praying with the minister and singing Psalm VI. A woman named
Amy Hutchinson, who had been convicted for the murder of her
husband, was present to be strangled and burnt for her crime, and
Vicars expressed a desire to see her dispatched first.

Accordingly, her face and hands being smeared with tar,
and having a garment daubed with pitch, after a short prayer the
executioner strangled her, and twenty minutes after the fire was
kindled, and burned half-an-hour. He went then to Vicars, who
very undauntedly helped him to fix the knot, and immediately
threw himself off, and expired in a few minutes.



JOHN CARR
The Victim of Swindlers himself, he became a Pirate and
Smuggler, and was executed at Tyburn, 16th of November, 1750,
for Forgery

JOHN CARR was a native of the north of Ireland. His
parents were respectable, and his education was genteel. At sixteen
years of age he was sent to reside with a kinsman in Dublin. When
he grew to years of maturity his kinsman put him into business as a
wine and brandy merchant, and he seemed to be on the road to
success; but his friend dying, he attached himself to bad company,
neglected his business, lost his customers and was soon greatly
reduced in his circumstances.

A man of fortune who was one of his abandoned associates
invited Carr to pass part of the summer at his seat in the country,
and setting out together they stopped at Kilkenny, where some
passengers quitted a coach; among whom was a young lady, whose
elegant person and appearance impressed Carr with an idea that
she was of rank, and inspired him with the first sentiments of love
that he ever felt.

Throwing himself from his horse, he handed her into the
inn; and a proposal being made that the company should sup
together it was agreed to on all hands; and while the supper was
preparing, Carr applied himself to the coachman, to learn the
history of the young lady; but all the information he could obtain
was that he had taken her up at Dublin, and that she was going to
the Spa at Mallow.

Carr, being anxious to become better acquainted with the
lady, prevailed on the company to repose themselves the next day
at Kilkenny, and take a view of the Duke of Ormond's seat, and the
curiosities of the town. This proposal being acceded to, the evening
was spent in the utmost harmony and good humour; and the fair
stranger, even then, conceived an idea of making a conquest of Mr
Carr, from whose appearance she judged that he was a man of
distinction.

In the morning she dressed herself to great advantage, not
forgetting the ornament of jewels, which she wore in abundance;
so that when she entered the room, Carr was astonished at her
appearance. She found the influence she had over him, and
resolved to afford him an early opportunity of speaking his
sentiments; and while the company was walking in the gallery of
the Duke of Ormond's palace this opportunity offered.

The lady affected displeasure at this explicit declaration,
but soon assuming a more affable deportment she told him she was
an Englishwoman of rank; that his person was not disagreeable to
her, and that if he was a man of fortune, and the consent of her
relations could be obtained, she should not be averse to listening to
his addresses. She further said that she was going to spend part of
the summer at Mallow, where his company would be agreeable.

He followed her to that place, contrary to the advice of his
friend, who had formed a very unfavourable opinion of the lady's
character.

Here he dissipated so much cash in company with this
woman that he was compelled to borrow of his friend, who
remonstrated on the impropriety of the connection: but Carr still
kept her company, and at the end of the season returned with her to
Dublin.

Here the lovers agreed to sail for England, and Carr sold
some small estates, and, borrowing all the money he possibly
could, delivered the whole to his mistress.

Preparations were now made for the voyage, and Carr
employed himself in procuring a passage to England; but in his
absence the lady shipped all the effects on board a vessel bound for
Amsterdam; and, having dressed herself in man's apparel, she
embarked and sailed, leaving Carr to regret his ill-judged credulity.

On his return home, discovering how he had been robbed,
he was at first half-distracted with his loss; but, on cooler
reflection, he thought it would be in vain to pursue the thief; on
which he sold the few trifles that remained of his property, which
produced about a hundred pounds, and came to London, and soon
spent the whole in debauchery and extravagance.

Thus reduced, he enlisted as a foot soldier, and served some
years before he was discharged; after which he entered as a marine
at Plymouth, whence he came to London, and opened a shop in
Hog Lane, St Giles's. He now married a girl who he thought had
money, but soon discovering her poverty he abandoned her, and
removed to Short's Gardens, where he entered into partnership
with a cork-cutter.

Having soon ingratiated himself into the esteem of the
customers, he opened a shop on his own account, and soon got all
the business from his late partner. This, however, proved of no
service to him, for, getting into bad company, he frequented the
gaming-tables and became the dupe of sharpers.

These villains, determined to possess themselves of all his
money, offered to procure him a wife of fortune, though they knew
he had a wife living, and actually contrived to introduce him to a
young lady of property; and a marriage would probably have taken
place but that one of them, struck with remorse of conscience,
developed the affair to her father and frustrated the whole scheme;
and soon afterwards Carr's companions quitted him, having
reduced him to the last shilling.

Having been entrusted by a gentleman with a draft on the
bank for sixty pounds, he received the money and spent it all in the
lowest scenes of debauchery, and again entered as a marine.

There being something in his deportment superior to the
vulgar, he was advanced to the rank of sergeant, in which he
behaved so well that his officers treated him with singular regard.

The vessel in which he sailed taking a merchant ship richly
laden, and soon afterwards several smaller vessels, the prize-
money amounted to a considerable sum; which gave Carr an idea
that very great advantages might be obtained by privateering.
Thereupon he procured a discharge, and entering on board a
privateer was made master-at-arms.

In a few days the privateer took two French ships, one of
which they carried to Bristol and the other into the harbour of
Poole. Having refitted their ship they sailed again, and in two days
took a French privateer, and gave chase to three others which they
found to be English vessels belonging to Falmouth, which had
been made prize of by a French privateer. These they retook, and
carried them into Falmouth, in their passage to which place they
made prize of a valuable French ship, the amount of which
contributed to enrich the crew.

On their next trip they saw a ship in full chase of them, on
which they prepared for a vigorous defence, and indeed it was
necessary, for the vessels fought above forty minutes -- yardarm
and yardarm. Many hands were lost by the French, who at length
attempted to sheer off, but were taken after a chase of some
leagues.

The commander of the English privateer, being desperately
wounded in the engagement, died in a few days; on which Carr
courted his widow, and a marriage would have taken place, but she
was seized with a violent fever which deprived her of life, but not
before she had bequeathed him all she was possessed of.

Having disposed of her effects, he repaired to London,
where he commenced as smuggler; but on his ill-gotten effects
being seized on by the officers of the revenue he took to the more
dangerous practice of forging seamen's wills, and gained money
for some time. But, being apprehended, he was brought to trial at
the Old Bailey, convicted and sentenced to die. He was hanged at
Tyburn, on the 16th of November, 1750.



GEORGE ANDERSON ALIAS JOHN EVERETT
Who picked Pockets at Newgate, became a Highwayman, and was
executed for stealing Ribbons, 31st December, 1750

JOHN EVERETT was a native of Hertford, in which town
he served his apprenticeship to a baker. The young men in the
neighbourhood declined associating with him, and held him in
universal abhorrence, so ungracious were his manners and so
strong was his propensity to wickedness.

Upon the expiration of his apprenticeship he connected
himself with a gang of notorious gamblers and other dissolute
wretches, in conjunction with whom he perpetrated a great number
of villainies, but for several years escaped the vengeance of the
law.

By persuasions and the promise of a sum of money Everett
and a man named Wright induced a young woman to make a
charge of felony against two innocent men, who were put on their
trial, but happily acquitted, as the perjured evidence was not able
to authenticate her accusation. In revenge for their failing to supply
the girl with the money they had promised she lodged an
information against Everett and Wright, who were in consequence
indicted for subornation of perjury, and sentenced to stand in the
pillory at the end of Chancery Lane, where they received very
severe treatment from the populace.

Soon after the above punishment had been inflicted Everett
was tried at Hicks's Hall, and sentenced again to stand in the
pillory, for having fraudulently obtained a thirty-six-shilling piece.
He was afterwards convicted of having circulated counterfeit
Portugal coin, and ordered to be imprisoned for two years in
Newgate.

Soon after Everett's trial a company of gentlemen went to
Newgate to visit a criminal, and in a short time they discovered
that they had been robbed of their handkerchiefs. The circumstance
being mentioned to Everett, he pretended to be much surprised,
and intimated that there was but little probability of the property
being recovered. However in a little time he produced the
handkerchiefs, and received some money from the gentlemen as a
reward for his supposed honesty.

While he remained in Newgate he picked the pockets of
almost every person who came to visit the prisoners. He was
continually uttering the most reprobate speeches, and seemed to
delight in the practice of every species of wickedness. Upon the
expiration of the time he was sentenced to remain in prison he
found sureties for his good behaviour for two years, and was
discharged.

Having stopped a young gentleman in Fleet Street, he was
asked if a robbery was intended, upon which he knocked the
gentleman down; but a large dog belonging to the injured party
immediately seized the villain, who, with great difficulty,
disengaged himself just in time to escape being secured by the
watch.

Everett and a woman of the town went to a small inn at
Hoddesdon, in Hertfordshire, which was kept by an old widow,
and being invited into a room behind the bar, after having each
drunk a glass of wine, the widow and her female guest went to
walk in the garden. In the meantime Everett broke open a bureau
and stole sixty pounds in cash and several gold rings. They kept
the widow in conversation till the time of going to bed, in order to
divert her from going to the bureau, and the next morning
decamped with their booty. They took the road to Nottingham,
whence they crossed the country to Newmarket, and then returned
to London.

Everett's numerous villainies had rendered his name so
notorious that he was fearful of being apprehended, and therefore
he went under the name of George Anderson, and lived in a very
private manner till the money he had obtained was expended.

He now procured a knife eighteen inches long, and
determined to levy contributions on passengers on the highway. On
the road between Kentish Town and Hampstead he attempted to
rob a countryman; but he being of an intrepid temper a desperate
contest ensued, in which Everett proved the conqueror, and
dangerously wounded his antagonist, from whom he, however,
obtained but a small booty.

At length he was detected in stealing a quantity of ribbons
in a shop in London, and was apprehended, but not without making
a vigorous resistance, in doing which he dangerously wounded the
shopkeeper in the face and hands with a knife.

For this crime he was tried at the Old Bailey, convicted,
and received sentence of death. The night after the warrant for his
execution arrived he laid a plan to escape. He was furnished with
implements for this purpose, and for sawing off his fetters, by his
wife and his kept mistress, who, on this occasion, agreed. Being
discovered, the former was sent to one of the compters, and his
concubine to the other. On this he behaved so insolently and
outrageously that it was necessary to chain him to the floor of his
cell, where he remained, blaspheming and threatening vengeance
to the keeper and turnkeys, until he was brought out for execution.



WILLIAM RILEY
A young Soldier, whose Zeal for Sport led to a Murder, for which
he was executed at Tyburn in 1750

WILLIAM RILEY served the greater part of his
apprenticeship to a watchmaker at Liverpool, but on his master
dying he turned his mind to the sea, and sailed one voyage, which
it appears was sufficient to induce him to quit the watery element
for the service of the land; and to this end he enlisted into the 
second regiment of Foot Guards.

Walking matches, now lately revived, were in great vogue.
Considerable bets were depending on a man walking three hundred
miles in six days -- a feat little inferior to Captain Barclay's
thousand miles in as many successive hours. This wager was
determined in Tothill Fields, Westminster, in favour of the
pedestrian.

Riley, also a great walker, was so much interested in the
man's success that he undertook to clear the way; but on the last
day the crowd became so great that he, in his anxiety, struck
several who did not fall back, and among the rest one Sutton, who
returned the blow, whereupon a scuffle ensued, and Riley, being
thrown down by the mob, drew his sword and stabbed him, of
which wound he died, and Riley was found guilty of wilful
murder.

After sentence of death he was very penitent, and expressed
his deep contrition for taking away the life of a fellow-creature. He
was executed, along with George Robins, George Anderson and
Thomas Reynolds, when only nineteen years of age.


THOMAS REYNOLDS
Executed at Tyburn, for enlisting soldiers for the service of the king
of France.

 THIS traitor was a Roman Catholic, born and educated in Ireland.
He was an excellent scholar, being master of the Latin and French
languages. When a young man, he went over to France, where he enlisted
as a Hussar, wearing false whiskers, his beard not yet being grown. On
the rebel expedition being fitted out there to invade Scotland, he
served an officer, in the capacity of valet, and who was killed at the
battle of Culloden. After this he was taken at Carlisle, and from
speaking French so very fluently, he was exchanged as a Frenchman.

 Being a man of genteel address, he ingratiated himself so far
into the good opinion of a rich widow, near Carlisle, as to persuade
her to marry him.

 He soon left the widow, taking away from her all he could lay his
hands upon and returned to France, where he got an appointment in the
retinue of the ambassador from that country to the court of St.
James's.

 Having now some money, he determined on taking a public-house,
his master having attended King George on his then visit to Hanover,
and left him behind. He then sent for his wife, to attend the bar,
while he put in effect a plan which he long had in contemplation, of
seducing our soldiers, and enlisting them for the service of France;
and in this treasonable practice he was too long successful. The
insinuations which Reynolds used, to tempt the soldiers from their
loyalty, was to represent the severe punishments in the English army
and the lenity of that of the French -- that he had power to enlist for
Lord Ogilvie's regiment, one of the finest in the French army; where
they would be treated like gentlemen. He gave them abundance of
spirituous liquors and sent prostitutes to keep them company, until he
found an opportunity of shipping them. He also, contrived, at different
times, to send to France English arms and ammunition, which were
supposed to be for the purpose of another invasion and rebellion in
Scotland. His public-house was in St. Giles's, and frequented by lewd
women, and men of abandoned morals. Regarding the once splendid widow,
in her present employ of waiting upon such vagabonds;

"O what a falling off was there"

 Several soldiers of the guards frequented Reynolds's house, and
having already sent off some to France, he began to practise his deceit
upon one Carnes, a private soldier in the foot-guards. He persuaded him
to take money for this service, and shewed him fourteen or fifteen
suits of regimentals, belonging to soldiers whom he had already sent to
France. He desired him to cut off his hair, wear a smock frock, and to
avoid the large towns, or pass through in the night, on his road to
Dover. As a guard over him, he sent one of the prostitutes, many of
whom he had at his command, who was to see him shipped, and give him
money. Thus he meant to evade the proof of his having enlisted him.

 Arrived at Dover, Carnes went to the castle, and disclosed the
treason to the Fort Major. The woman, finding this, fled back to
London. The Fort Major detained Carnes, and sent information to the War
Office. Reynolds, before he could be apprized of this, was seized, his
house searched, and different regimental clothing found concealed. He
was convicted of the treason, on the clearest evidence, and sentenced
to be hanged.

 He protested his innocence to the very last moment of his life;
and declared that he went to be hanged with as much satisfaction as
though again going to be married.



NORMAN ROSS
A footman, executed at Edinburgh, January 8, 1751, for murdering
his mistress

This treacherous servant was descended from reputable
parents at Inverness, in the north of Scotland, who gave him a good
education, and intended that he should be brought up in a
merchant's counting-house; but before he had completed his
fifteenth year, his father and mother died, leaving Norman and
several other children wholly unprovided for.

Norman made application for employment to several
merchants; but though he was well qualified for business, his
proposals were rejected, because he could not raise the sum usually
given upon entering into a merchant's service as an articled clerk.

Thus situated, he engaged himself as a footman to a widow
lady of fortune, who on account of having been acquainted with his
parent, behaved to him with singular kindness. The lady had a son,
who was then a military officer in Flanders; and the campaign
there being concluded, the young gentleman returned to his native
country, to visit his mother, and transact some business particularly
relating to himself.

Observing Ross to possess many qualifications not usual to
persons in his situation, he proposed taking him abroad in the
capacity of valet-de-chambre; and the old lady acquiesced in her
son's desire.

Ross continued in the officer's service for the space of
about five years; during which period he behaved with the utmost
diligence and fidelity. The regiment being broke, on the conclusion
of the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, the officer set out on the tour of
France and Italy, and Ross returned to Scotland for the benefit of
his native air.

Soon after his return to Scotland, he recovered his health,
and set out in order to pay his respects to his former mistress; but
learning that she had been dead about three weeks, he repaired to
Edinburgh, where he was hired as a footman by an attorney-at-law.
Having contracted an intimacy with a number of livery servants, he
was seduced by their example to the practices of swearing, gaming,
drinking, and other vices; and he was dismissed from his service
on account of his impudence and the irregularity of his conduct.
Ross now became footman to Mrs. Hume, a widow lady of great
fortune and remarkable piety. In the winter she resided at
Edinburgh, and in the summer at a village called Ayton, about four
miles from the town of Berwick-upon-Tweed. About four months
after he had been hired by Mrs. Hume, the lady removed to her
house at Ayton; and some time after, a female servant in the
family, with whom he had maintained a criminal intercourse, was
brought to bed; and it therefore became necessary for him to
supply her with money for the support of herself and the infant.

He continued to provide her with the means of subsistence,
from the month of April till August, by borrowing money of his
fellow-servants and other persons with whom he was acquainted.

The woman at length becoming exceedingly importunate,
and his resources being wholly exhausted, he was driven nearly to
a state of distraction, and in that disposition of mind formed the
fatal resolution of robbing his mistress.

Mrs. Hume slept on the first floor, in an apartment behind
the dining-room, and being unapprehensive of danger, her
bedchamber door was seldom locked; and with this circumstance
Ross was well-acquainted, as well as that she usually put the keys
of her bureau (and the other places where her valuable effects were
deposited) under her pillow.

He determined to carry his execrable design into execution
on a Sunday night; and waiting in his bed-room, without
undressing himself, till he judged the family to be asleep, he
descended, and leaving his shoes in the passage, proceeded to his
lady's bed-chamber. Endeavouring to get possession of the keys,
the lady was disturbed, and being dreadfully alarmed, called for
assistance; but the rest of the family lying at a distant part of the
bouse, her screams were not heard. Ross immediately seized a
clasp-knife that lay on the table, and cut his mistress's throat in a
most dreadful manner. This horrid act was no sooner perpetrated,
than, without waiting to put on his shoes, or to secure either money
or other effects, he leaped out of the window, and after travelling
several miles, concealed himself in a field of corn.

In the morning, the gardener discovered a livery hat, which
the murderer had dropped in descending from the window; and
suspecting that something extraordinary had happened, he alarmed
his fellow-servants.

The disturbance in the house brought the two daughters of
Mrs. Hume downstairs; but no words can express the horror and
consternation of the young ladies, upon beholding their indulgent
parent weltering in her blood, and the fatal instrument of death
lying on the floor.

Ross being absent, and his shoes and hat being found, it
was concluded that he must have committed the barbarous deed;
and the butler therefore mounted a horse, and alarmed the country,
lest the murderous villain should escape. The butler was soon
joined by great numbers of horsemen, and on the conclusion of the
day, when both men and horses were nearly exhausted through
excessive fatigue, the murderer was discovered in a field of
standing corn. His hands being tied behind him, he was taken to an
adjacent public-house, and on the following morning he was
conducted before a magistrate of Edinburgh, who committed him
to prison.

On the trial of this offender, he had the effrontery to de
clare, that his mistress usually admitted him to her bed, and that it
was his constant practice to leave his shoes at the dining-room
door. He said, that upon entering the chamber, he perceived the
lady murdered, and leaped through the window in order to discover
who had perpetrated the barbarous deed; adding, that having lost
his hat, he did not chuse to return till evening, and therefore
concealed himself among the corn. He was severely reprimanded
by the court, for aggravating his guilt by aspersing the character of
a woman of remarkable virtue and piety, whom he had cruelly
deprived of life.

The law of Scotland bears an affinity to that of the Romans.
It invests the judges with power to punish criminals in such
manner as they may deem to be proportioned to their offences.
This privilege was exercised in the case of Ross, whose crime
having been attended with many aggravating circumstances, he 
was sentenced to have his right hand chopped off, then to be
hanged till dead, the body to be hung in chains, and the right hand
to be affixed at the top of the gibbet with the knife made use of in
the commission of the murder.

Upon receiving sentence of death, he began seriously to
reflect on his miserable situation, and the next day requested the
attendance of Mr James Craig, one of the ministers of Edinburgh,
to whom he confessed his guilt; declaring that there was no
foundation for his reflections against the chastity of the deceased.

Six weeks elapsed between the time of his trial and that of
his execution, during which he was visited once every day by Mr
Craig. He shewed every sign of the most sincere penitence, and
refused to accompany two prisoners who broke out of gaol, saying
he had no desire to recover his liberty, but on the contrary would
cheerfully submit to the utmost severity of punishment, that he
might make some atonement for his wickedness.

The day appointed for putting the sentence of the law into
force being arrived, Ross walked to the place of execution, holding
Mr Craig by the arm. Having addressed a pathetic speech to the
populace, and prayed some time with great fervency of devotion,
the rope was put round his neck, and the other end of it being
thrown over the gallows, it was taken hold of by four chimney-
sweepers, who are obliged to assist the executioner whenever they
are required. The criminal now laid his right hand upon a block,
and it was struck off by the executioner at two blows; immediately
after which the chimney-sweepers, by pulling the rope, raised him
from the ground; when he felt the rope drawing tight, by a
convulsive motion, he struck the bloody wrist against his cheek,
which gave him an appearance too ghastly to admit of description.
The body was bound in chains, and hung upon a gibbet, the hand
being placed over the head with the knife stuck through it.

RICHARD BUTLER
Executed at Tyburn, February 10, 1751, for forgery.

 How great the disappointment, and how melancholy the reflection,
when men who have passed the probation of truth with credit, sink into
idleness and gaming, from thence to thieving, and ending a life well
begun, at the gallows!

 Of this description of miserable beings was Richard. Butler. He
was born at Turlus (sic), in the county of Tipperary, Ireland. His
father was a reputable farmer, who bound him apprentice to a baker, in
Waterford. He proved so faithful and diligent a servant, that he was
held in universal esteem; and, upon the expiration of his
apprenticeship, his father gave him a hundred pounds, for the purpose
of establishing him in business.

 The above sum enabled him to open a shop in Waterford, where he
had a favourable prospect of success: but, instead of attending to his
business, he frequented horse-races, cock-fighting, and other gaming
meetings, and engaged in a variety of expenses greatly beyond what his
income could afford; the consequence of which was, that in about six
months his affairs were in a most embarrassed situation.

 Being unable to continue his business, he returned to Turlus,
where he formed a great number of infamous stratagems for extorting
money from his relations; and they threatened, that unless he quitted
that part of the country, they would cause him to be apprehended, and
proceed against him with the utmost rigour of the law.

 Butler applied to a clergyman at Turlus, representing his case in
a plausible manner, and supplicating that he would use his interest
with his father to prevail upon him to grant twenty pounds in addition
to his former favours. The worthy divine pleaded in behalf of the young
man, and with the desired success. Upon delivering the money, the
reverend gentleman exhorted him to apply it to proper use; which he
promised to do, adding that he would immediately depart for Cork, and
not return to the place of his nativity till, by an unremitting
perseverance in a system of integrity, he had made atonement for all
the errors of his past conduct.

 On his arrival at Cork, he procured employment as a journeyman;
and in that capacity he was so industrious and strictly economical,
that in a short time he made such addition to his stock, that he was
able to open a shop on his own account. He was much encouraged, and his
circumstances were supposed to be more flourishing than they were in
reality.

 Coming into possession of a handsome sum of money, by marrying
the widow of a customhouse officer, who lived in the neighbourhood,
Butler took a tavern of considerable business, where his circumstances
would have been much improved, but for his connexions with maritime
people, to whom he gave unlimited credit, and was under the necessity
of taking smuggled goods in payment or losing his money.

 An information being lodged against him for having smuggled goods
in his possession, his effects were seized for the use of the crown,
and he was under the necessity of quitting Ireland. Butler and his wife
took shipping for Plymouth, and in that town they hired a house, which
they let in lodgings to seafaring people. In about three years he was
obliged to quit Plymouth, and repaired to the metropolis in a most
distressed condition.

 He had not been long in London, before the grief consequent on
the various scenes of distress he had passed through, produced the
death of his wife.

 Butler now being in very distressed circumstances, he
communicated his case to some of his countrymen; and he yielded to
their persuasions for acquiring a livelihood by forging seamen's wills.

 Butler, Horne, and a woman named Catherine Gannon, went to the
Navy-office: to inquire what wages were due to Thomas Williamson, a
foremast man belonging to the Namur, and learnt that the sum was about
eight and thirty pounds. They then made application to a proctor, the
woman producing a forged will, and declaring herself to be the widow of
Williamson. They were desired to call the next day, when a probate
would be granted.

 Butler and his female accomplice attended according to the
appointment; but the proctor having, in the mean time searched the
offices, found that the will in question was opposed by four caveats;
and having further reason to suspect an intended fraud, he caused them
to be apprehended. Being taken before the lord-mayor, Gannon
acknowledged that she had received a few shillings from Butler and
Horne, who had promised to make the sum up to five pounds; on condition
of her swearing herself to be the widow of Thomas Williamson. Butler
was committed to Newgate; and Gannon and Horne were admitted evidences
for the crown.

 At the ensuing sessions at the Old. Bailey, Butler was tried, and
sentenced to die. While under sentence of death he regularly attended
prayers, in the chapel and employed a great part of his time in private
devotions, agreeably to the doctrines of the protestant faith. At the
place of execution he prayed with great fervency of zeal, acknowledged
the justice of his sentence, and after addressing the populace, was
turned off.


WILLIAM PARSONS, ESQ.
Eldest Son of a Baronet, who became a Swindler and Highway
Robber, and was executed for returning from Transportation, 11th
of February, 1751

The unhappy subject of this narrative was born in London,
in the year 1717, the eldest son and heir to Sir William Parsons,
Bart. of the county of Nottingham. He was placed under the care of
a pious and learned divine at Pepper-harrow, in Surrey, where he
received the first rudiments of education. In a little more than three
years, he was removed to Eton college, where it was intended that
he should qualify himself for one of the universities.

While he was a scholar at Eton, he was detected in stealing
a volume of Pope's Homer in the shop of a bookseller named Pate.
Being charged with the fact, he confessed that he had stolen many
other books at different times. The case being represented to the
master, Parsons underwent very severe discipline.

Though he remained at Eton nine years, his progress in
learning was very inconsiderable. The youth was of so
unpromising a disposition, that Sir William determined to send him
to sea, as the most probable means to prevent his destruction, and
soon procured him the appointment of midshipman on board a man
of war, then lying at Spithead, under sailing orders for Jamaica,
there to be stationed for three years.

Some accident detained the ship beyond the time when it
was expected she would sail. Parsons applied for leave of absence,
and went on shore; but having no intention to return, he
immediately directed his course towards a small town about ten
miles from Portsmouth, called Bishop's Waltham, where he soon
ingratiated himself into the favour of the principal inhabitants.

His figure being pleasing, and his manner of address easy
and polite, he found but little difficulty in recommending himself
to the ladies.

He became greatly enamoured of a beautiful and
accomplished young lady, the daughter of a physician of
considerable practice, and prevailed upon her to promise she would
yield her hand in marriage.

News of the intended marriage coming to the knowledge of
his father sir William, and his uncle, the latter hastened to
Waltham to prevent a union which he apprehended would
inevitably produce the ruin of the contracting parties.

With much difficulty the uncle prevailed upon Parsons to
return to the ship, which in a few days afterwards proceeded on her
voyage.

The ship had not been long arrived at the place of
destination, when Parsons resolved to desert, and return to
England, and soon found an opportunity of shipping himself on
board the Sheerness man of war, then preparing to sail on her
return home.

Immediately after his arrival in England, he set out for
Waltham, in order to visit the object of his desires; but his uncle
being apprised of his motions, repaired to the same place, and
represented his character in so unfavourable, but at the same time
in so just a manner, that he prevented the renewal of his addresses
to the physician's daughter.

He went home with his uncle, who observed his conduct
with a most scrupulous attention, and confined him, as much as
possible, within doors. This generous relation at length exerted his
interest to get the youth appointed midshipman on board his
majesty's ship the Romney, which was under orders for the
Newfoundland station.

Upon his return from Newfoundland, Parsons learnt, with
infinite mortification, that the duchess of Northumberland, to
whom he was related, had revoked a will made in his favour, and 
bequeathed to his sister a very considerable legacy, which he had
expected to enjoy. He was repulsed by his friends and
acquaintance, who would not in the least countenance his visits at
their houses; and his circumstances now became exceedingly
distressed.

Thus situated he applied to a gentleman named Bailey, with
whom he had formerly lived on terms of intimacy; and his
humanity induced him to invite Parsons to reside in his house, and
to furnish him with the means of supporting the character of a
gentleman. Mr Bailey also was indefatigable in his endeavours to
effect a reconciliation between young Parsons and his father, in
which he at length succeeded.

Sir William having prevailed upon his son to go abroad
again, and procured him an appointment under the governor of
James Fort, on the river Gambia, he embarked on board a vessel in
the service of the Royal African company.

Parsons had resided at James Fort about six months, when a
disagreement took place between him and governor Aufleur; in
consequence of which the former signified a resolution of
returning to England. Hereupon the governor informed him that he
was commissioned to engage him as an indented ser vant for five
years. Parsons warmly expostulated with the governor, declaring
that his behaviour was neither that of a man of probity or a
gentleman, and requested permission to return. But so far from
complying, the governor issued orders to the sentinels to be
particularly careful lest he should effect an escape.

Notwithstanding every precaution, Parsons found means to
get on board a homeward-bound vessel, and being followed by Mr
Aufleur, he was commanded to return, but cocking a pistol, and
presenting it to the governor, he declared he would fire upon any
man who should presume to molest him. Here upon the governor
departed, and in a short time the ship sailed for England.

Soon after his arrival in his native country, he received an
invitation to visit an uncle who lived at Epsom, which he gladly
accepted, and experienced a most cordial and friendly reception.

He resided with his uncle about three months, and was
treated with all imaginable kindness and respect. At length one of
the female servants in the family swore herself to be pregnant by
him, which so incensed the old gentleman, that he dismissed
Parsons from his house.

Reduced to the most deplorable state of poverty, he
directed his course towards the metropolis; and three half-pence
being his whole stock of money, he subsisted four days upon the
bread purchased with that small sum, quenching his thirst at the
pumps he casually met with in the streets. He lay four nights in a
hay-loft in Chancery-lane, belonging to the master of the rolls, by
permission of the coachman, who pitied his truly deplorable case.

At length he determined to apply for redress to an ancient
gentlewoman with whom he had been acquainted in his more
youthful days, when she was in the capacity of companion to the
duchess of Northumberland. Weak and emaciated through want of
food, his appearance was rendered still more miserable by the
uncleanliness and disorder of his apparel; and when he appeared
before the old lady, she tenderly compassionated his unfortunate
situation, and recommended him to a decent family in Cambridge
Street, with whom be resided some time in a very comfortable
manner, the old gentlewoman defraying the charge of his lodging
and board; and a humane gentleman, to whom she had
communicated his case, supplying him with money for common
expenses.

Sir William came to town at the beginning of the winter,
and received an unexpected visit from his son, who dropped upon
his knees, and supplicated forgiveness with the utmost humility
and respect. His mother-in-law was greatly enraged at his
appearance, and upbraided her husband with being foolishly
indulgent to so graceless a youth, at the same time declaring, that
she would not live in the house where he was permitted to enter.

Sir William asked him what mode of life he meant to
adopt? and his answer was, that he was unable to determine; but
would cheerfully pursue such measures as so indulgent a parent
should think proper to recommend. The old gentleman then
advised him to enter as a private man in the horse-guards; which he
approved of, saying, he would immediately offer himself as a
volunteer.

Upon mentioning his intention to the adjutant, he was in
formed that he must pay seventy guineas for his admission into the
corps. This news proved exceedingly afflicting, as he had but little
hope that his father would advance the necessary sum. Upon
returning to his father's lodgings, he learnt that he had set out for
the country, and left him a present of only five shillings.

Driven now nearly to a state of distraction, he formed the
desperate resolution of putting an end to his life, and repaired to St.
James's Park, intending to throw himself into Rosamond's pond.
While he stood on the brink of the water, waiting for an
opportunity of carrying his impious design into effect, it occurred
to him, that a letter he had received, mentioning the death of an
aunt, and that she had bequeathed a legacy to his brother, might be
made use of to his own advantage; and he immediately declined
the thoughts of destroying himself.

He produced the letter to several persons, assuring them
that the writer had been misinformed respecting the legacy, which
in reality was left to himself; and under the pretext of being
entitled to it, he obtained money and effects from different people
to a considerable amount. Among those who were deceived by this
stratagem was a tailor in Devereux court in the Strand, who gave
him credit for several genteel suits of clothes.

The money and other articles thus fraudulently obtained,
enabled him to engage in scenes of gaiety and dissipation; and he
seemed to entertain no idea that his happiness would be but of
short duration.

Accidentally meeting the brother of the young lady to
whom he had made professions of love at Waltham, he intended to
renew his acquaintance with him, and his addresses to his sister;
but the young gentleman informed Parsons that his sister died
suddenly a short time after his departure from Waltham.

Parsons endeavoured, as much as possible, to cultivate the
friendship of the above young gentleman, and represented his case
in so plausible a manner, as to obtain money from him, at different
times, to a considerable amount.

Parsons' creditors now became exceedingly importunate,
and he thought there was no probability of relieving himself from
his difficulties, but by connecting himself in marriage with a
woman of fortune.

Being eminently qualified in those accomplishments which
are known to have a great influence over the female world, Parsons
soon ingratiated himself into the esteem of a young lady possessed
of a handsome independency bequeathed her by her lately
deceased father. He informed his creditors that he had a prospect of
an advantageous marriage; and as they were satisfied that the lady
had a good fortune, they supplied him with every thing necessary
for prosecuting the amour, being persuaded that, if the expected
union took place, they should have no difficulty in recovering
theirS respective demands.

The marriage was solemnized on the 10th of February,
1740, in the 23d year of his age. On this event, the uncle, who
lived at Epsom, visited him in London, and gave him the strongest
assurances that he would exert every possible endeavour to
promote his interest and happiness, on condition that be would
avoid such proceedings as would render him unworthy of
friendship and protection. His relations in general were perfectly
satisfied with the connexion he had made, and hoped that his
irregular and volatile disposition would be corrected by the prudent
conduct of his bride, who was justly esteemed a young lady of
great sweetness of temper, virtue, and discretion.

A few weeks after his marriage, his uncle interceded in his
behalf with the right honourable Arthur Onslow; and through the
interest of that gentleman he was appointed an ensign in the thirty-
fourth regiment of foot.

He now discharged all his debts, which proved highly
satisfactory to all his relations; and this conduct was the means of
his obtaining further credit in times of future distress.

He hired a very handsome house in Poland Street, where he
resided two years, in which time he had two children, one of whom
died very young. From Poland Street, he removed to Panton-
square, and the utmost harmony substituted between him and his
wife, who were much respected by their relations and
acquaintances.

But it must be observed, that though his conduct in other
respects had been irreproachable from the time of his mar riage, be
was guilty of unpardonable indiscretion as to his manner of living;
for he kept three saddle-horses, a chaise and pair, several
unnecessary servants, and engaged in many other superfluous
expences that his income could not afford.

Unfortunately Parsons became acquainted with an
infamous gambler, who seduced him to frequent gaming-houses,
and to engage in play. He lost considerable sums, which were
shared between the pretended friend of Parsons, and his wicked
accomplices.

Parsons was now promoted to a lieutenancy in a regiment
that was ordered into Flanders, and was accompanied to that
country by the abandoned gamester, whom he considered as his
most valuable friend. The money he lost in gaming, and the
extravagant manner in which he lived, in a short time involved him
in such difficulties that he was under the necessity of selling his
commission, in order to discharge his debts contracted in Flanders.
The commission being sold, Parsons and his treacherous
companion returned to England.

His arrival was no sooner known, than his creditors were
extremely urgent for the immediate discharge of their respective
claims; which induced him to take a private lodging in Gough-
square, where he passed under the denomination of captain Brown.
He pretended to be an unmarried man; and saw his wife only when
appointments were made to meet at a public-house. While he
lodged in Gough-square, he seduced his landlord's daughter, who
became pregnant by him; and her imprudence in yielding to the
persuasions of Parsons, proved the means of involving her in
extreme distress.

His creditors having discovered the place of his retreat, he
deemed it prudent to remove; and at this juncture an opportunity
offered by which he hoped to retrieve his fortune; and he therefore
embarked as captain of marines on board the Dursley privateer.

Soon after the arrival of the ship at Deal, Parsons went on
shore, provided with pistols, being determined not to submit to an
arrest, which he supposed would be attempted. He had no sooner
landed on the beach, than he was approached by five or six men,
one of whom attempted to seize him; but Parsons, stepping aside,
discharged one of the pistols, and lodged a ball in the man's thigh.
He then said, he was well provided with weapons, and would fire
upon them if they presumed to give him further molestation.
Hereupon the officers retreated; and Parsons returned to the ship,
which sailed from Deal the following morning.

They bad been in the channel about a week, when they
made prize of a French privateer, which they carried into the port
of Cork. Parsons being now afflicted with a disorder that prevailed
among the French prisoners, was sent on shore for the recovery of
his health. During his illness, the vessel sailed on another cruise,
and he was no sooner in a condition to permit him to leave his
apartment, than he became anxious to partake of the fashionable
amusements.

In order to recruit his finances, which were nearly
exhausted, he drew bills of exchange on three merchants in
London, on which he raised 60L.; and before advice could be
transmitted to Cork, that he had no effects in the hands of the
persons on whom he had drawn the bills, he embarked on board a
vessel bound for England.

He landed at Plymouth, where he resided some time under
a military character, to support his claim to which he was provided
with a counterfeit commission. He frequented all places of public
resort, and particularly where gaming was permitted. His money
being nearly expended, he obtained a hundred pounds from a
merchant of Plymouth, by means of a false draft upon an alderman
of London. Some time after the discovery of the fraud, the injured
party saw Parsons a transport prisoner on board a ship bound to
Virginia, lying in Catwater bay, where he assured him of an entire
forgiveness, and made him a present of a guinea.

From Plymouth, Parsons repaired to London, and his
money being nearly spent, he committed the following fraud, in
conjunction with a woman of the town: taking his accomplice to a
tavern in the Strand (where he was known), he represented her as
an heiress, who had consented to a private marriage and requested
the landlord to send immediately for a clergyman. The parson
being arrived, and about to begin the ceremony, Parsons
pretending to recollect that he had forgotten to provide a ring, and
ordered the waiter to tell some shop-keeper to the neighbourhood
to bring some plain gold rings. Upon this the clergyman begged to
recommend a very worthy man, who kept a jeweller's shop in the
neighbourhood: and Parsons said it was a matter of indifference
with whom he laid out his money; adding, that as he wished to
compliment his bride with some small present, the tradesman
might also bring some diamond rings.

The rings being brought, and one of each chosen, Parsons
produced a counterfeit draft, saying, the jeweller might either give
him change then, or call for payment after the ceremony; on which
the jeweller retired, saying, he would attend again in the afternoon.
In a little time, the woman formed a pretence for leaving the room,
and upon her not returning soon, our hero affected great
impatience, and, without taking his hat, quitted the apartment,
saying, he would enquire for the people of the house whether his
bride had not been detained by some unforeseen accident.

After waiting a considerable time, the clergyman called the
landlord; and as neither Parsons nor the woman could be found, it
was rightly concluded, that their whole intention was to perpetrate
a fraud. In the mean time, our hero and his accomplice met at an
appointed place, and divided their booty.

In the year 1745, he counterfeited a draft upon one of the
collectors of the excise, in the name of the duke of Cumberland,
for five hundred pounds. He carried the draft to the collector, who
paid him fifty pounds in part, being all the cash that remained in
his hands.

He went to a tailor, saying, he meant to employ him, on the
recommendation of a gentleman of the army, whom he had long
supplied with clothes; adding, that a captain's commission was
preparing for him at the war-office. The tailor furnished him with
several suits of clothes; but not being paid according to agreement,
he entertained some suspicion as to the responsibility of his new
customer; and therefore enquired at the war-office respecting
captain Brown, and learnt that a commission was making out for a
gentleman of that name. Unable to get any part of the money due
to him, and determined to be no longer trifled with, he instituted a
suit at common-law, but was non-suited, having laid his action in
the fictitious name of Brown, and it appearing that Parsons was the
defendant's real name.

Parsons sent a porter from the Ram Inn, in Smithfield, with
a counterfeit draft upon Sir Joseph Hankey and Co. for five
hundred pounds. Parsons followed the man, imagining that if he
came out of Sir Joseph's house alone, he would have received the
money; and that if he was accompanied by any person, it would be
a strong proof of the forgery being dis covered; and as he observed
sir Joseph and the porter get into a hackney-coach, he resolved not
to return to the inn.

He next went to a widow named Bottomley, who lived near
St. George's church, and saying that he had contracted to supply
the regiment to which he belonged with hats, gave her an order to
the amount of a hundred and sixty pounds. He had no sooner got
possession of the hats, than he sold them to a Jew for one half of
the sum he had agreed to pay for them.

Being strongly apprehensive that he could not long avoid
being arrested by some of his numerous and highly exasperated
creditors, by means of counterfeit letters, he procured himself to be
taken into custody, as a person disaffected to the king and
government; and was supported without expense, in the house of
one of the king's messengers, for the space of eighteen months.

Being released from the messenger's house, he resolved in
his mind a variety of schemes for eluding the importunity of his
creditors and at length determined to embark for Holland. He
remained in Holland a few months, and when his money was
nearly expended he returned to England. A few days after his
arrival in London, he went to a masquerade, where he engaged in
play to the hazard of every shilling he possessed, and was so
fortunate as to obtain a sufficient sum for his maintenance for
several months.

His circumstances being again distressed, he wrote in
pressing terms to his brother-in-law, who was an East-India
director, intreating that he would procure him a commission in the
company's service, either by land or sea. The purport of the answer
was, that a gentleman in the Temple was authorised to give the
supplicant a guinea, but that it would be fruitless for him to expect
any further favours.

Having written a counterfeit draft, he went to Ranelagh on
a masquerade night, where he passed it to a gentleman who had
won some small sums of him. The party who received the draft
offered it for payment in a day or two afterwards, when it was
proved to be a counterfeit; in consequence of which Parsons was
apprehended, and committed to Wood Street compter.

As no prosecutor appeared, Parsons was necessarily
acquitted; but a detainer being lodged, charging him with an
offence similar to the above, he was removed to Maidstone gaol, in
order for trial at the Lent assizes at Rochester.

Mr Carey, the keeper of the prison, treated Parsons with
great humanity, allowing him to board in his family, and indulging
him in every privilege that he could grant, without a manifest
breach of the duties of his office. But such was the ingratitude of
Parsons, that he formed a plan, which, had it taken effect, would
have utterly ruined the man to whom he was indebted in such great
obligations. His intention was, privately to take the keys from Mr
Carey's apartment; and not only to escape himself, but even to give
liberty to every prisoner in the gaol: and this scheme he
communicated to a man accused of being a smuggler, who
reported the matter to Mr Carey, desiring him to listen at an
appointed hour at night, when he would hear a conversation that
would prove his intelligence to be authentic. Mr Carey attended at
the appointed time, and being convinced of the ingratitude and
perfidy of Parsons, he abridged him of the indulgences he had
before enjoyed, and caused him to be closely confined.

Being convicted at the assizes at Rochester, he was
sentenced to transportation for seven years; and in the following
September be was put on board the Thames, captain Dobbins,
bound for Maryland, in company with upwards of one hundred and
seventy other convicts, fifty of whom died in the voyage. In
November, 1749, Parsons was landed at Annapolis, in Maryland;
and having remained in a state of slavery about seven weeks, a
gentleman of considerable property and in fluence, who was not
wholly unacquainted with his family, compassionating his
unfortunate situation, obtained his freedom, and received him at
his house in a most kind and hospitable manner.

Parsons had not been in the gentleman's family many days
before he rode off with a horse which was lent him by his
benefactor, and proceeded towards Virginia; on the borders of
which country he stopped a gentleman on horseback, and robbed
him of five pistoles, a moidore, and ten dollars.

A few days after, he stopped a lady and gentleman in a
chaise, attended by a negro servant, and robbed them of eleven
guineas and some silver: after which he directed his course to the
Potomack river, where finding a ship nearly ready to sail for
England, he embarked, and after a passage of twenty-five days
landed at Whitehaven.

He now produced a forged letter, in the name of one of his
relations, to a capital merchant of Whitehaven, signifying that he
was entitled to the family estate, in consequence of his father's
decease, and prevailed upon him to discount a false draft upon a
banker in London for seventy-five pounds.

Upon his arrival in the metropolis, he hired a handsome
lodging at the west end of the town; but he almost constantly
resided in houses of ill fame, where the money he had so un justly
obtained was soon dissipated.

Having hired a horse, he rode to Hounslow-heath, where,
between ten and eleven o'clock at night, he stopped a postchaise, in
whicb were two gentlemen, whom he robbed of five guineas, some
silver, and a watch.

A short time afterwards he stopped a gentleman near
Turnham-green, about twelve o'clock at night, and robbed him of
thirty shillings, and a gold ring. He requested that the ring might be
returned, as it was his wife's wedding ring. Parsons compiled with
the gentleman's request, and voluntarily returned the gentleman
five shillings, telling him, at the same time, that nothing but the
most pressing necessity could have urged him to the robbery: after
which the gentleman shook hands with the robber, assuring him
that, on account of the civility of his behaviour, he would not
appear to prosecute, if he should hear of his being apprehended.

Returning to his lodgings near Hyde-park-corner one
evening, he overtook a footman in Piccadilly, and joining company
with him, a familiar conversation took place, in the course of
which Parsons learnt that the other was to set out early on the
following Sunday with a portmanteau, containing cash and notes to
a considerable value, the property of his master, who was then at
Windsor.

On the Sunday morning he rode towards Windsor,
intending to rob the footman. Soon after he had passed Turnham-
green, he overtook two gentlemen, one of whom was Mr Fuller,
who had prosecuted him at Rochester, and who perfectly
recollecting his person, warned him not to approach. He however
paid no attention to what Mr Fuller said, but still continued
sometimes behind and sometimes before them, though at a very
inconsiderable distance.

Upon coming into the town of Hounslow, the gentlemen
alighted, and commanded Parsons to surrender, adding that if he
did not instantly comply, they would alarm the town. He now
dismounted, and earnestly entreated that the gentlemen would
permit him to speak to them in private which they consented to;
and the parties being introduced to a room at an inn, Parsons
surrendered his pistols, which were loaded and primed, and
supplicated for mercy in the most pathetic terms.

In all probability he would have been permitted to
escape,had not Mr Day, landlord of the Rose and Crown at Houns
low, come into the room, and advised that be might be detained as
he conceived him very nearly to answer the description of a
highwayman by whom the roads in that part of the country had
been long infested. He was secured at the inn till the next day, and
then examined by a magistrate, who committed him to Newgate.

Parsons was now arraigned for returning from
transportation before the expiration of the term of his sentence:
nothing therefore was necessary to convict him but the identifying
of his person. This being done, he received sentence of death. His
distressed father and wife used all their interest to obtain a pardon
for him, but in vain: he was an old offender, and judged by no
means a fit object for mercy.

While Parsons remained in Newgate, his behaviour was
such that it could not be determined whether be entertained a
proper idea of his dreadful situation. There is indeed but too much
reason to fear that the hopes of a reprieve (in which he deceived
himself even to the last moments of his life) induced him to neglect
the necessary preparation for eternity.

His taking leave of his wife afforded a scene extremely
affecting: he recommended to her parental protection his only
child, and regretted that his misconduct had put it in the power of a
censorious world to reflect upon both the mother and son.

He suffered at Tyburn, on the 11th of February, 1751. At
the place of execution he joined in the devotional exercises with a
zeal that proved him to be convinced of the necessity of obtaining
the pardon of his creator.

In tracing the depraved and melancholy course of this ill-
fated man, the humane reader cannot but be struck with the
apparent hollow-heartedness and apathy of his father. It is, no
doubt, difficult to tell the precise degree of provocation Sir
William had received; but we see that young Parsons was
befriended, long after his natural protector had abandoned him, by
an uncle, and several other more distant connexions; and it should
be recollected that, if the child owes affection and patient
forbearance towards its parent, the latter is no less bound to
exercise similar duties towards the being whom he has been
instrumental in bringing into the world. Nothing but the most
hopeless and resolute depravity (if even that) should extinguish a
father's tenderness; and it certainly does not appear to us that the
wretched subject of the preceding narrative had reached that point
at the period of his utter desertion by the baronet. If, at their last
recorded interview, instead of advising his penitent son to enter the
horse-guards as a private (for which purpose, too, he left him
altogether unprovided), Sir William Parsons had extended to him
the feelings of real kindness and reconciliation, it is possible that
his own name might have been saved from ignominy, and the
youthful prodigal (who was then at an age, perhaps, the most
susceptible of moral improvement) restored to his family, to
himself, and to his God.



JOHN CAULFIELD
Murder foretold by a Dream, in consequence of which the
Murderer was apprehended, convicted, and executed at Waterford
in 1751

ONE Adam Rogers, a creditable man, who kept a public-
house at Portlaw, a small village nine or ten miles from Waterford,
in Ireland, dreamed one night that he saw two men at a particular
green spot on an adjacent mountain; one of them a sickly-looking
man, the other remarkably strong and large. He then fancied that
he saw the little man murder the other, and he awoke in great
agitation. The circumstances of the dream were so distinct and
forcible that he continued much affected by them. He related them
to his wife and also to several neighbours next morning.
 	After some time he went out coursing with greyhounds,
accompanied, amongst others, by one Mr Browne, the Roman
Catholic priest of the parish. He soon stopped at the above-
mentioned particular green spot on the mountain, and, calling to
Mr Browne, pointed it out to him, and told him what had appeared
in his dream. During the remainder of the day he thought little
more about it. Next morning he was extremely startled at seeing
two strangers enter his house about eleven o'clock in the forenoon.
He immediately ran into an inner room, and desired his wife to
take particular notice, for they were precisely the two men whom
he had seen in his dream.

When they had consulted with one another, their
apprehensions were alarmed for the little weakly man, though
contrary to the appearance in the dream. After the strangers had
taken some refreshment and were about to depart, in order to
prosecute their journey, Rogers earnestly endeavoured to dissuade
the little man from quitting his house and going on with his fellow-
traveller. He assured him that if he would remain with him that day
he would accompany him to Carrick next morning, that being the
town to which the travellers were proceeding. He was unwilling
and ashamed to tell the cause of his being so solicitous to separate
him from his companion. But as he observed that Hickey, which
was the name of the little man, seemed to be quiet and gentle in his
deportment, and had money about him, and that the other had a
ferocious bad countenance, the dream still recurred to him. He
dreaded that something fatal would happen, and he wished, at all
events, to keep them asunder. However, the humane precautions of
Rogers proved ineffectual; for John Caulfield -- the other's name --
prevailed upon Hickey to continue with him on their way to
Carrick, declaring that, as they had long travelled together, they
should not part, but remain together until he should see Hickey
safely arrive at the habitation of his friends. The wife of Rogers
was much dissatisfied when she found they were gone, and blamed
her husband exceedingly for not being absolutely peremptory in
detaining Hickey.

About an hour after they left Portlaw, in a lonely part of the
mountain, just near the place observed by Rogers in his dream,
Caulfield took the opportunity of murdering his companion. It
appeared afterwards, from his own account of the horrid
transaction, that as they were getting over a ditch he struck Hickey
on the back part of his head with a stone, and when he fell down
into the trench, in consequence of the blow, Caulfield gave him
several stabs with a knife, and cut his throat so deeply that the head
was almost severed from the body. He then rifled Hickey's pockets
of all the money in them, took part of his clothes, and everything
else of value about him, and afterwards proceeded on his way to
Carrick. He had not been long gone when the body, still warm, was
discovered by some labourers who were returning to their work
from dinner.

The report of the murder soon reached Portlaw. Rogers and
his wife went to the place, and instantly knew the body of him
whom they had in vain endeavoured to dissuade from going on
with his treacherous companion. They at once spoke out their
suspicions that the murder was perpetrated by the fellow-traveller
of the deceased. An immediate search was made, and Caulfield
was apprehended at Waterford the second day after. He was
brought to trial at the ensuing assizes and convicted of the fact. It
appeared on the trial, amongst other circumstances, that when he
arrived at Carrick he hired a horse and a boy to conduct him, not
by the usual road, but by that which runs on the north side of the
River Suir, to Waterford, intending to take his passage in the first
ship from thence to Newfoundland. The boy took notice of some
blood on his shirt, and Caulfield gave him half-a-crown to promise
not to speak of it. Rogers proved not only that Hickey was seen last
in company with Caulfield, but that a pair of new shoes which
Hickey wore had been found on the feet of Caulfield when he was
apprehended; and that a pair of old shoes which he had on at
Rogers's house were upon Hickey's feet when the body was found.
He described with great exactness every article of their clothes.
Caulfield, on cross-examination, shrewdly asked him from the
dock whether it was not very extraordinary that he, who kept a
public-house, should take such particular notice of the dress of a
stranger accidentally calling there. Rogers, in his answer, said he
had a very particular reason, but was ashamed to mention it. The
Court and prisoner insisting on his declaring it, he gave a
circumstantial narrative of his dream, called upon Mr Browne, the
priest, who was then in the court, to corroborate his testimony, and
said that his wife had severely reproached him for permitting
Hickey to leave their house when he knew that in the short footway
to Carrick they must necessarily pass by the green spot in the
mountain which had appeared in his dream. A number of witnesses
came forward; and the proofs were so strong that the jury, without
hesitation, found the panel guilty. It was remarked as a singularity
that he happened to be tried and sentenced by his namesake, Sir
George Caulfield, at that time Lord Chief Justice of the King's
Bench, which office he resigned in the summer of the year 1760.

After sentence Caulfield confessed the fact. It came out that
Hickey had been in the West Indies two-and-twenty years, but
falling into a bad state of health he was returning to his native
country, Ireland, bringing with him some money his industry had
acquired. The vessel on board which he took his passage was, by
stress of weather, driven into Minch Head. He there met with
Frederick Caulfield, an Irish sailor, who was poor, and much
distressed for clothes and common necessaries. Hickey,
compassionating his poverty, and finding he was his countryman,
relieved his wants, and an intimacy commenced between them.
They agreed to go to Ireland together. And it was remarked that on
their passage Caulfield spoke contemptuously, and often said it
was a pity such a puny fellow as Hickey should have money and
he himself be without a shilling. They landed at Waterford, at
which place they stayed some days, Caulfield being all the time
supported by Hickey, who bought there some clothes for him.

Caulfield walked to the gallows with a firm step and
undaunted countenance, being executed at Waterford in 1751.



THOMAS COLLEY
Executed 24th of April, 1751, for the Murder of People who were
reputed to be possessed of Witchcraft

ON the 18th of April, 1751, a man named Nichols went to
William Dell, the crier of Hemel Hempstead, in Hertfordshire, and
delivered to him a piece of paper, with fourpence, to cry the words
which were written on the paper, a copy of which is as follows:--

"This is to give notice that on Monday next a man and a
woman are to be publicly ducked at Tring, in this county, for their
wicked crimes."

This notice was given at Winslow and Leighton Buzzard,
as well as at Hemel Hempstead, on the respective market-days, and
was heard by Mr Barton, overseer of the parish of Tring, who,
being informed that the persons intended to be ducked were John
Osborne and Ruth, his wife, and having no doubt of the good
character of both the parties, sent them to the workhouse as a
protection from the rage of the mob.

On the day appointed for the practice of the infernal
ceremony an immense number of people, supposed to be not fewer
than five thousand, assembled near the workhouse at Tring,
vowing revenge against Osborne and his wife, as a wizard and
witch, and demanding that they should be delivered up to their
fury: they likewise pulled down a wall belonging to the
workhouse, and broke the windows and their frames.

On the preceding evening the master of the workhouse,
suspecting some violence, from what he had heard of the
disposition of the people, sent Osborne and his wife to the vestry-
room belonging to the church, as a place the most likely to secure
them from insult.

The mob would not give credit to the master of the
workhouse that the parties were removed, but rushing into the
house searched it through, examining the closets, boxes, trunks,
and even the salt-box, in search of them. There being a hole in the
ceiling which appeared to have been left by the plasterers, Colley,
who was one of the most active of the gang, cried out: "Let us
search the ceiling." This being done by Charles Young, with as
little success as before, they swore they would pull down the house
and set fire to the whole town of Tring unless Osborne and his wife
were produced.

The master of the workhouse, apprehensive that they would
carry their threats into execution, informed them where the poor
people were concealed; on which the whole mob, with Colley at
their head, went to the church and brought them off in triumph.

This being done, the mob conducted them to a pond called
Marlston Mere, where the man and woman were separately tied up
in a cloth; then a rope was bound round the body of the woman,
under her armpits, and two men dragged her into the pond and
through it several times, Colley going into the pond and, with a
stick, turning her from side to side.

Having ducked her repeatedly in this manner, they placed
her by the side of the pond and dragged the old man in and ducked
him; then he was put by, and the woman ducked again as before,
Colley making the same use of his stick. With this cruelty the
husband was treated twice over and the wife three times, during the
last of which the cloth in which she was wrapped came off and she
appeared quite naked.

Not satisfied with this barbarity, Colley pushed his stick
against her breast. The poor woman attempted to lay hold of it, but,
her strength being now exhausted, she expired on the spot. Then
Colley went round the pond collecting money of the populace for
the sport he had shown them in ducking the old witch, as he called
her.

Colley was taken into custody, and when his trial came on,
there being a variety of strong proofs of the prisoner's guilt, he was
convicted, and received sentence of death.

The day before his execution he was removed from the jail
of Hertford, under the escort of one hundred men of the Oxford
Blues, commanded by seven officers, and being lodged in the jail
of St Albans was put in a chaise at five o'clock the next morning,
with the hangman, and reached the place of execution about
eleven, where his wife and daughter came to take leave of him; and
the minister of Tring assisted him in his last moments, when he
died exhibiting all the marks of unfeigned penitence.

His body was hung in chains at a place called Gubblecut,
near where the offence was committed.

Still more surprising it is to find that the dangerous
absurdity of the belief in witchcraft was manifested in England in
the beginning of the more enlightened nineteenth century. Two
ignorant and deluded people, H. Ibbelson and his wife, were
committed to Wakefield House of Correction for violently
assaulting and wounding E. Berry, their niece, who had been lately
married.

These ignorant people, having conceived the idea that the
young woman had bewitched them, formed a plan to draw blood
from her, in order to dispel the charm; and meeting with her in the
market-place they both suddenly assailed her, the woman biting
and scratching her, while the husband stabbed her in the body.


THOMAS QUIN, JOSEPH DOWDELL, AND THOMAS TALBOT
A Gang of Notorious Thieves, executed at Tyburn, June 17, 1751, for
robbery.

"At length these miserable robbers see,
Unhappy fruit, suspended on the tree;
They teach, sad lesson! in their wretched state,
That shame and ruin are the villain's fate; 
And that too late each guilty man will find, 
Justice, though sometimes slow, is never blind."

 THE villains disclosed in this narrative, will shew the necessity
of the act of parliament for inflicting punishment on masters and
mistresses giving a false character. of a servant.

 A corrupt servant is the most dangerous inmate of a house; and
therefore too much caution cannot be used in admitting such domestics.

 Quin, a murderer in his own country, Ireland, was recommended to
London as a youth of good morals; while his disposition was base to a
great degree.

 Dowdell, who in his apprenticeship had injured his first master,
procured a recommendation to another, to whom he also proved a villain.

 Talbot, the third of this dangerous gang, after having robbed on
the highway; and being afraid of apprehension; applied to be restored
to honest servitude, and was refused; but his master, in pity to his
distresses, recommended, him to a nobleman.

 Talbot, on the first opportunity, robbing his noble employer, we
would ask whether the late master, knowing the servant to have been a
thief, was not, in recommending him to an honest employ, virtually, the
greater villain of the two? In fine, they were all from early youth,
delinquents; and each had been imposed on honest people by those who
knew them to be such. No wonder, then, that they will be found thereof
the greatest rascals in this calendar of crimes.

 Quin was a native of Dublin, the son of honest, but poor parents;
and his father dying while he was a child, his uncle put him to school,
and afterwards placed him apprentice to a buckle-maker, with whom be
served three years faithfully; but his friends supplying him with
clothes too genteel for his rank in life, he began to associate with
gay company, and was guilty of many irregularities.

 These thoughtless youths were frequently concerned in riots, and
Quin was considered as the head of the party. In one of these nocturnal
insurrections, Quin murdered a man, whose friends, watching him to his
master's house, desired that he might be delivered up to justice; but
some of the journeymen sallying forth with offensive weapons, drove off
the people; on which a warrant was issued for apprehending the
murderer, when his master advised him to depart for England.

 A subscription for his use being raised by his friends, he came
to London, having recommendations to some gentlemen in that city; but
of these he made no use, for, frequenting the purlieus of St. Giles's,
he spent his money among the lowest of his countrymen, and then entered
on board a man of war.

 After a service of six months, he quitted the ship at Leghorn,
and sailed in another vessel to Jamaica, where he received his wages,
which he soon spent. He now agreed to work his passage to England, and
the ship arriving in the port of London, he took lodgings in St.
Giles's, and soon afterwards became acquainted with Dowdell and Talbot,
of whom we are now to give an account.

 Dowdell was the son of a bookbinder in Dublin, who being in low
circumstances was unable to educate his children as he could have
wished. His son Joseph, who was remarkable for the badness of his
disposition, he 'prenticed to a breeches-maker, but the graceless youth
grew weary of his place before he had served two years of his time.

 Dowdell being ordered by his master to take proper care of some
green leather, particularly to defend it from the snow; instead
thereof, he heaped such quantities of snow and ice on it, that it was
greatly reduced in value. This circumstance so exasperated his master,
that he was glad to get rid of him by delivering up his indentures of
apprenticeship.

 Thus at large, and the father ill able to support him, he was
recommended to the service of a gentleman in the country, with whom he
might have lived happily: but he behaved badly in his place, and 
running away to Dublin, commenced pickpocket.

 After some practice in this way, he became connected with a gang
of housebreakers, in company with whom he committed several
depredations in Dublin. Having broke open a gentleman's house, he was
opposed by the servants, and effected his escape only by the use he
made of a hanger; soon after which he was taken by the watchmen, and
being carried before a magistrate, he was committed to prison till the
next morning, His person was advertised, and he was brought to trial,
but none of the servants being able to swear to him, he was acquitted
for want of evidence.

 He now renewed his dangerous practices, and committed a variety
of robberies. The following is one of the most singular of his
exploits. Going to the house of a farmer, near Dublin, he pretended to
be a citizen who wanted a lodging, for the benefit of his health, and
he would pay a liberal price.

 The unsuspecting farmer put his lodger into the best chamber, and
supplied his table in the most ample manner. After a residence of ten
days, he asked the farmer's company to the town of Finglass, where he
wanted to purchase some necessaries. The farmer attending him; Dowdell
purchased some articles at different shops, till seeing a quantity of
gold in a till, he formed a resolution of appropriating it to his own
use.
Having returned home with the farmer, Dowdell pretended to recollect
that he had omitted to purchase some medicines, which he must take that
night, and which had occasioned his going to Finglass. Hereupon the
farmer ordered a horse to be saddled, and Dowdell set forwards, on a
promise to return before night. On his arrival at Finglass he put up
his horse, and stealing stealing unperceived into the shop above-
mentioned, he stole the till with the money, and immediately set out
for Dublin.

 In the interim, the farmer missing his lodger, went to Finglass,
and not finding him there, proceeded to Dublin, where he chanced to put
up his horse at the same inn where Dowdell had taken up his quarters.

 In a short time he saw our adventurer with some dealers, to whom
he would have sold the horse; on which the farmer procured a constable,
seized the offender, and lodged him in prison.

 For this presumed robbery (a real one, doubtless, in the
intention) he was brought to trial; but it appearing that the farmer
had intrusted him with the horse, he could be convicted of nothing more
than a fraud, for which he received sentence of transportation.

 The vessel in which he sailed being overtaken by a storm, was
dashed on the rocks of Cumberland, and many lives were lost, but
several, among whom was Dowdell, swam on shore, and went to Whitehaven,
where the inhabitants contributed liberally to their relief. Dowdell
travelling to Liverpool, entered on board a privateer, which soon took
several prizes, for which he received 60l. to his share, which he soon
squandered in the most thoughtless extravagance. Being reduced to
poverty, he robbed a Portuguese gentleman; for which he was
apprehended, but afterwards released on the intercession of the
gentlemen of the English factory; on which he sailed for England, and
arrived at London.

 He had not been long in the metropolis, before he associated with
a gang of pickpockets and street-robbers (among whom was one Carter),
whose practice it was to commit depredations at the doors of the
theatres. Dowdell had not long entered into this association, before he
and Carter went under the piazzas in Covent-garden, where the latter
demanded a gentleman's money, while Dowdell watched at a little
distance, to give notice in case of a surprise. While Carter was
examining the gentleman's pockets, he drew his sword and killed the
robber on the spot, and a mob gathering at the instant, it was with
great difficulty that Dowdell effected his escape.

 He now went to the lodgings of a woman of ill fame, who having
been heretofore kept by a man of rank, he had given her a gold watch
and some trifling jewels, which Dowdell advised her to pawn, to raise
him ready money.

 The girl hesitating to comply, he beat her in a most violent
manner, on which she swore the peace against him; whereupon he was
lodged in Newgate, but discharged at the next sessions, no prosecution
being commenced against him.

 He was no sooner at large, than he made a connexion with a woman
of the town, whom an officer had taken to Gibraltar, and during her
residence with him she had saved a hundred moidores. Dowdell having
possessed himself of this sum, soon spent it extravagantly, and then
prevailed on her to pawn her clothes for his support.

 Talbot was the son of poor parents, who lived in Wapping, and
having received a common education, he engaged himself as the driver of
a post-chaise, in the service of a stable-keeper in Piccadilly. While
he was driving two gentlemen on the Bath road, a highwayman stopped the
carriage, and robbed them of their watches and money.

 This circumstance gave Talbot an idea of acquiring money by
illicit means; wherefore, on his return to London, he made himself
acquainted with some highwaymen, assuring them that he was properly
qualified to give them the intelligence necessary for the successful
management of their business.

 His proposal met with a ready acceptance; and a company having
soon afterwards hired a coach and six of his master to go to Bath,
Talbot gave one of the highwaymen notice of the affair; and it was
resolved that the robbery should be committed on Hounslow-heath.

 The highwaymen meeting the carriage on the appointed spot, robbed
the parties of all they had, so that they were obliged to return to
London for money before they could pursue their journey. Talbot's share
of this ill-gotten booty amounted to fifty pounds, which gave him such
spirits that he resolved to pursue the same iniquitous mode of living.

 In consequence of this resolution, Talbot informed the highwayman
of some company going to Bath, and he attempted to rob them, but a
gentleman in the carriage shot him dead on the spot.

 Mortified at this accident which had befel his friend, Talbot no
sooner arrived in London than he determined to resign his employment,
and commence robber on his own account; but previous to engaging in
this business, he spent his ready money in the worst company.

 After several attempts to commit robberies, and having narrowly
escaped the hands of justice, he grew sick of his employment, and
requested his former master to take him into his service. This he
declined, but in pity to his distress, recommended him to a nobleman,
in whose family he was engaged.

 Talbot had been but a short time in his new place, before he
robbed the house of several articles of value, which he sold to the
Jews, to supply the extravagance of one of the maid servants, with whom
he had an amour.

 This theft was not discovered at the time; but Talbot was soon
discharged from his place, in consequence of the badness of his temper,
which rendered him insupportable to his fellow servants.

 On his dismission he spent his ready money with the most
abandoned company, and then commencing housebreaker, committed a
variety of depredations in the neighbourhood of London; for one of
which he was apprehended and brought to trial at the Old Bailey, but
acquitted for want of evidence.

 On the very evening he was acquitted, he stopped a carriage in
Drury-lane, and robbed a gentleman of his money, which he soon spent
among the most dissolute of both sexes; and within a week afterwards,
he broke into a house in Westminster, where he obtained plate and cash
to a large amount, but was not apprehended for this offence.

 In a few days he was taken into custody for picking a gentleman's
pocket, brought to trial, at the Old Bailey, sentenced to be
transported for seven years, shipped to America, and sold to slavery.

 He had not been long in this situation, when he embarked at
Boston, in New England, on board a privateer; but when at sea he
entered into a conspiracy with some of the sailors, to murder the
officers, and seize the vessel; but the confederacy being discovered in
time, a severe punishment was inflicted on Talbot and the other
villains.

 Talbot, quitting the privateer, sailed to England in a man of
war, and engaging with some street-robbers in London, was apprehended,
convicted, and sentenced to die: but he found interest to obtain a
pardon on condition of transportation.

 However, he had not been long abroad before he returned, in
company with an abandoned woman, who had been transported at the same
time; and this woman introduced him to the acquaintance of Quin and
Dowdell, in company with whom he committed a considerable number of
robberies.

 These accomplices robbed six coaches one evening, and obtained
considerable plunder; but this being soon spent in extravagance, they
at length embarked in a robbery which cost them their lives.

 Having made a connexion with one Cullen, they all joined in a
street-robbery, and stopping a coach near Long Acre, robbed a gentleman
of his watch and money. Some people being informed of the affair,
immediately pursued them; and Cullen, being taken into custody, was
admitted an evidence against his accomplices, who were apprehended on
the following day.

 Being brought to trial at the next sessions at the Old Bailey,
they received sentence of death; but, after conviction, seemed as
little sensible of the enormity of their crimes, as almost any
offenders whose cases we have had occasion to record.
Dowdell and Quin were Roman Catholics; and Talbot refusing to join in
devotion with the ordinary of Newgate, at the place of execution, we
can say nothing of the disposition of mind in which they left this
world.

 We would have wished the following exclamation the mouths of
these miserable sinners, at the time they made their dying atonements

"O omnipotent Creator! Such hellish deeds 
My soul abhors. O Lord! behold my frame,
My inmost frame, and cleanse my sinful thoughts
Then ever guide me in thy perfect way,
The way established to eternal bliss?'

 These men died, we fear, unrepenting sinners.



WILLIAM DELLICOT
Convicted of Petty Larceny, in July, 1751, and his Estate forfeited
for stealing a Penny

WILLIAM DELLICOT was convicted at the Quarter
Sessions, July, 1751, for Salisbury (Wiltshire), of petty larceny, for
stealing one penny, whereby his effects, consisting of bank-notes
of one hundred and eighty pounds and twenty guineas in money,
were forfeited to the bishop as lord of the manor; but his lordship
humanely ordered one hundred pounds of the money to be put to
interest for the benefit of the wretch's daughter, twenty pounds to
be given to his aged father, and the remainder to be returned to the
delinquent himself.

Thus have we shown the punishment for stealing a single
penny. Now then let us look at that of a public defaulter, to the
amount of thousands and tens of thousands of pounds. The
following, taken from the term's notes, is the sentence passed upon
this wholesale peculator:--

"In the Court of King's Bench, on the 19th of June, 1809,
Valentine Jones, Esq., late Commissary-General in the West
Indies, was brought up to receive the judgment of the Court,
having been found guilty of fraud and peculation, to the amount of
eighty-seven thousand one hundred and seventy-nine pounds,
being but a moiety of the sum of which the country had been
defrauded by his collusion with Mr Mathew Higgins. Judge Gross,
after commenting upon the enormity of the offence, said that
whatever other proceedings might be instituted, it was the duty of
the Court to pass such sentence as would be likely to prevent future
peculation, and therefore adjudged him to be imprisoned three
years in his Majesty's jail of Newgate, and be incapacitated from
serving his Majesty in future."


THE QUIBBLING THIEF.
Who stole a goose, and saved himself by a pun

 A poor pun will sometimes answer a good purpose. A baker once
calling upon Mr. Justice Jones, of Coventry, with the last loaf in his
basket, was observed, as he returned through the Court-yard, to lay
hold of a fat goose, on which his worship, who was at one of the upper
windows, bawled out, Baker	! Baker! Baker! The varlet took no
notice, but trudged off with his prize. When the Justice, in the
afternoon went to his house, and asked him how he could have the
villainous impudence to take the goose? "God bless your worship,"
return