THE NEWGATE CALENDAR Edited by Donal Ó Danachair Supplement Published by the Ex-classics Project, 2009 http://www.exclassics.com Public Domain CONTENTS Supplement JAMES SWEENY, RICHARD PEARCE, EDMUND BUCKLEY, PATRICK FLEMING, MAURICE BRENWICK, AND JOHN SULLIVAN, Convicted of Murder in an Affray WILLIAM MOULDS Executed for The Murder of William Turner RICHARD VALENTINE THOMAS, Executed for Forgery JOHN WHITMORE, ALIAS OLD DASH, Executed for a Rape JAMES FALLAN, Executed for the Murder of his Wife. FREDERIC BARDIE, Alias PETER WOOD, A French Prisoner of War, Executed for Cutting and Maiming. ANTONIO CARDOZA, Executed for the Murder of Thomas Davis WILLIAM TOWNLEY, Executed for Burglary. RICHARD ANDREWS AND ALEXANDER HALL, Transported for Fraud LORD LOUTH Convicted for Abuse of his Authority as a Magistrate. WILLIAM HEBBERFIELD, Executed for Forgery. WILLIAM JEMMET, Executed for Robbery on the High Seas. WILLIAM CUNDELL AND JOHN SMITH, Prisoners of War who Went over to the French, THOMAS BOWLER, Executed for Maliciously Firing at Mr. Burrowes. JOHN LOMAS AND EDITH MORREY, Executed for the Murder of Edith Morrey's Husband. JOSEPH SIMMONS WINTER, BENJAMIN ALLEN, WILLIAM TAYLOR, JOHN IVEY, & ROBERT COOPER The Three First Executed for Stealing Silk, and the Two Latter Transported for Receiving it, Knowing it to be Stolen. CHARLES FREDERICK PALM AND SAMUEL TILLING Executed for Mutiny and Murder WILLIAM BROWN, Executed for the Murder of a Child. ROBERT TOWERS, Imprisoned for Endeavouring to Bribe a Turnkey of Newgate. WILLIAM BOOTH Executed for Forgery. THOMAS NUGENT, & JOHN & WILLIAM FOLKARD, Pilloried for Attempting to Defraud the Creditors of John Folkard. THE LUDDITES Guilty of Rioting and Administering Unlawful Oaths. WILLIAM HOWE, ALIAS JOHN WOOD, Executed for the Murder of Mr. Robins. ANTONIO TARDIT A French Prisoner-of-war, Executed for the Murder of a Fellow-Prisoner. AZUBAH FOUNTAIN AND GEORGE TURNER ROWELL Executed for the Murder of Fountain's Husband. ROBERT KENNETT, Executed for Forgery. WILLIAM BADCOCK, R. BRADY, Alias OXFORD BOB, AND S. HILL Executed for Forgery. DAVID SPREADBURY, Executed for Forgery. JOHN BRITAIN, Executed for the Murder of his Wife. JOSEPH RICHARDSON, JAMES SYMONS, AND NATHAN SYMONS; The Two First Convicted of Stealing, the Last for Receiving Stolen Goods. LUKE HEATH, Executed for Murder. JOHN HANNAH Executed for the Murder of his Wife. MICHAEL M'ILVENA, Executed for Celebrating a Marriage, He Being a Layman. JAMES LEARY, Executed for the Murder of Edward Clifford. JOHN DENTON, Executed for the Murder of Mrs. Denton. THOMAS FOSS, Executed for Forgery CHARLES CALLAGHAN, Executed for the Murder of Miss Gompertz's Butler. JOHN DREW MAY, Executed for Forgery. JOHN ASHTON, At his Execution, he Jumped back onto the Scaffold, and had to be Pushed off again. JAMES MITCHELL, Executed for the Murder of Miss Welchman. JOHN JAMES Executed for Murder. ADMIRAL BRADLEY Transported for Forgery. WILLIAM QUIN Imprisoned and Whipped for a Malicious Assault on a Strike-breaker MAJOR J. G. SEMPLE, ALIAS LISLE Several Times Convicted of Swindling and Theft. CHARLES WELLER Convicted of Stealing Notes and Bills. SARAH STONE Transported for Stealing a Child ANNE RADFORD Transported for Perjury. WILLIAM SAWYER Executed for the Murder of Harriet Garrett. THOMAS JESSON Executed for the Murder of a Child. JOHN MURDOCH Executed for the Murder of James Murdoch. JOHN ELLEM Executed for Ravishing a Young Girl ELIZABETH DREW, Tried for Robbery. WILLIAM BRADFORD Executed for Forgery. ELIZABETH WOOLLERTON Executed for Poisoning. ELIZABETH HUNTER AND REBECCA JARVIS Convicted of Roasting a Child. JEREMIAH GRANT Executed for Burglary. JAMES MARSH Executed for Murder. THOMAS CARSON Condemned for the Murder of C. Cassidy, but escaped by changing clothes with his brother. CAPTAIN GEORGE HARROWER Convicted of Bigamy. SUSANNAH HOLROYD Executed for Poisoning her Husband and Two Children. GEORGE VAUGHAN, ROBERT MACKEY, AND GEORGE BROWN Convicted of a Conspiracy. ROGER O'CONNOR, ESQ. Indicted for Robbing the Mail. PATRICK DEVANN. Executed for the Murder of the Lynch Family in Wildgoose Lodge. JAMES HARRY, ALIAS HARRIS Executed for the Murder of his Wife. JEREMIAH BRANDRETH, WILLIAM TURNER, AND ISAAC LUDLAM Executed for High Treason. DR. LAURENCE HYNES HALLORAN Transported For Forging A Frank. SAMUEL DICK Convicted of Abduction and Rape. JOHN DRISCOL, WILLIAM WELLER, & GEORGE CASHMAN Executed for Forgery. JOHN KINNEAR, MOSELY WOOLF, AND LEWIS LEVY, Convicted of Conspiracy. ROBERT JOHNSTON. Executed for Robbery after an Attempted Rescue from the Scaffold HENRY HUNT A Speaker at the Peterloo Massacre, JACOB MAGENNIS Executed for Shooting a Constable. JAMES LIGHTFOOT, Executed for the Murder of Thomas Maxwell. JAMES NESBETT. Executed for the Murder of Mr. Parker and his Housekeeper. ROSALIE CURCHOD Indicted for Child-Murder, but Acquitted. JAMES MACKCOULL, alias MOFFAT Convicted Of Robbery after a Long Career as a Thief. FREDERICK WHITE Wrongly Convicted of Highway Robbery, but Pardoned. JOHN THOMPSON AND JOHN BARNICOAT Executed for the Murder of William Hancock. BRIDGET BUTTERLY AND BRIDGET ENNIS Executed for the Murder of Miss Thompson. DAVID HAGGART, ALIAS JOHN WILSON, ALIAS JOHN MORRISON, ALIAS BARNEY M'COUL, ALIAS JOHN M'COLGAN ALIAS DANIEL O'BRIEN, ALIAS THE SWITCHER Executed for the Murder of a Warder in a Jail-break. JOHN M'NAMARA AND THOMAS MALONY Executed for the Murder of Mrs. Torrins. SAMUEL DENMORE HAYWARD, Executed for Burglary. WILLIAM WELSH, EDWARD DOOHERTY, LAURENCE WELSH, AND WILLIAM MARTIN. Executed for the Murder of Mr. Hoskins. ROBERT HARTLEY Executed for Wilfully Stabbing. JOHN KEYS Executed for Parricide. JOHN NEWTON Executed for the Murder of his Wife. JONATHAN COOK Executed for a Rape on a Child. JAMES WILSON Convicted of an Attempt to Commit Incest. THOMAS CHARLES FITZHUE SANDON, ESQ. Transported for Fraud. JOHN THURTELL AND JOSEPH HUNT. Convicted of Murder. JOHN HILL WAGSTAFF, Executed for Forgery. AMY GEORGE Indicted for the Murder of her Brother. THE REV. JOHN CARROLL Indicted for the Murder of a Child, but Found Insane. HENRY SAVARY, Convicted of Forgery. WILLIAM PROBERT Executed for Horse-Stealing. ALEXANDER PIERCE Executed for Murder and Cannibalism. CHARLES LYNN. Tried for Murder. JAMES EVANS Tried for the Murder of Thomas Price. SAMUEL GILBERT, Indicted for Robbery. ALEXANDER AND MICHAEL M'KEAND Executed for Murder. CHARLES THOMAS WHITE Executed for Arson. WILLIAM BURT Executed for the Murder of his Infant Son. JOHN PEELE, alias GEORGE WATSON Executed for Forgery. WILLIAM SHEEN. Tried for the Murder of his Child. RICHARD BOWERS Transported for "Duffing." JOSHUA SLADE Executed for the Murder of the Rev. J. Waterhouse. WILLIAM MILLER Executed for the Violation and Murder of Mary Anne Lane. WILLIAM JONES Tried for the Murder of Elizabeth Jeffe. WILLIAM HOWARD Convicted of an Assault with Intent to Rob. CAPTAIN JOHN BURGH MONTGOMERY, alias COLONEL WALLACE, alias COLONEL MORGAN Convicted of Forgery, but Poisoned Himself the Night before his Execution. ANN HARRIS, JOHN COX THE ELDER, JOHN COX THE YOUNGER, ROBERT COX, AND JAMES PUGH Convicted of Murder. JONATHAN MARTIN A Madman who Set Fire to York Minster. JOHN STACEY, THE YOUNGER AND JOHN STACEY, THE ELDER The First RICHARD GIFFORD Executed for Forgery. JAMES BELL Transported for Stealing a Body. WILLIAM BANKS Executed for Burglary. ROBERT EMOND Executed for Murder. AGRICULTURAL RIOTS The Followers of "Captain Swing" WILLIAM SWALLOW, alias WALDON; GEORGE JAMES DAVIS, alias GEORGE HUNTLEY; WILLIAM WATTS, alias CHARLES WILLIAMS; ALEXANDER STEPHENSON, alias TELFORD; and JOHN BEVERIDGE, alias ANDERSON. Tried for Mutiny and Piracy. LUKE DILLON Transported for Rape. IKEY alias ISAAC SOLOMON Transported for Receiving Stolen Goods. WILLIAM GILCHRIST, GEORGE GILCHRIST, and JAMES BROWN Tried for a Coach Robbery. WILLIAM KING Imprisoned for Robbery. MARY ANNE HIGGINS, AND EDWARD CLARKE Tried for Murder. EDWARD HOGSDEN Executed for Raping his Daughter. ELIZABETH ROSS Executed for a "Burking "Murder. THE REFORM RIOTS 1831-2. WILLIAM KENNEDY and WILLIAM BROWN Tried for a Murder Committed on the River Thames. JAMES BERRYMAN and THOMAS BERRYMAN The one Hanged, and the Other Transported, For a Burglary in which the Victim was Blinded for Life. RICHARD COSTER Transported for Forgery after a Long Career as a Crooked Businessman. ALFRED RAE. Convicted of a Criminal Assault. JAMES PAGE Transported for Maliciously Wounding Cattle. JOHN EDWARDS, alias HEATH; PETER LEGASSER; AND JEREMIAH WEEDON Imprisoned for Kidnapping a Solicitor to Extort a Client's Money from him. JOSEPH MOSELEY AND WILLIAM GARSIDE Trades Unionists who Murdered a Grinding Employer, Executed after a Long Delay. EDWARD CHALKER AND JEREMY KEYS Poachers, Tried for Murder of a Gamekeeper. MARY ANNE BURDOCK Executed for Murder. HENRY STANYNOUGHT. Tried for the Murder of his Son. ROBERT BALLS, THOMAS HARRIS, and MORDECAI MOSES. Transported for Forgery. WILLIAM SUMMERS. Transported for Larceny. WILLIAM JOURDAN, alias LEARY; THOMAS SULLIVAN; HENRY MOTT; AND WILLIAM SEALE. Transported for a Robbery at the Custom-House. JAMES HILLS, WILLIAM HARLEY, AND WILLIAM FISHER, alias CURLY BILL. Tried for Burglary. HENRY WILLIAMS Transported for Burglary GEORGE EDWARD PEACOCK. Transported for Forgery. JOHN PEGSWORTH. Executed for Murder. CHARLES W. PENRUDDOCK. A Student, Convicted of Assaulting an Examiner who asked him Difficult Questions. JAMES GREENACRE AND SARAH GALE The First Executed for Murder, the Second Transported as being Accessory to the Fact. CHARLES SAMUEL BARTLETT. Executed for Murdering his Mother-in-law, 15th April, 1837 JOHN SMITH, alias DAY; JOHN VARNHAM; and GEORGE TIMMS. Executed For Murdering a Fortune-teller, 29th April, 1837. GEORGE DARWELL. Convicted of Embezzling Money to Give to the Mother of his Child. GEORGE FLETCHER, WILLIAM ROACH, AND THOMAS TAYLOR. Executed For Murder. WILLIAM FRANCIS ADAMS. Acquitted of Murdering, but Convicted of Robbing, his Father, and Transported. CHARLES KINNAISTER, AND OTHERS. Executed for the Murder of Australian Aborigines. ARCHIBALD BOLAM. Transported for Manslaughter. LEWIN CASPAR, ELLIS CASPAR, EMANUEL MOSES, AND ALICE ABRAHAMS. Transported for Stealing Gold-dust. JACOB FREDERICK EHLERT, A Norwegian Sailor, Executed For Murdering his Captain. THE REV. J. E. STEVENS. Convicted of Sedition. THE BIRMINGHAM RIOTS 13th of July 1839 THE CHARTIST RIOTS 1839-40. FEARGUS O'CONNOR, ESQ. Convicted of the Publication of a Seditious Libel. JAMES OWEN, GEORGE THOMAS, alias DOBELL, AND WILLIAM ELLIS, alias LAMBERT. Canal Bargemen who Raped and Murdered a Passenger. WILLIAM RACE, Convicted of Manslaughter for a Joke that Went Wrong. JAMES AND WILLIAM LIGHTFOOT. Executed for Robbery and Murder. RICHARD GOULD, alias ARTHUR NICHOLSON. Tried for Murder, but Convicted of Burglary. THOMAS PATTESON Convicted of Manslaughter, March 10th, 1840 JOHN TURNER FLYNN Convicted of Forgery and Transported for Life, 11th April, 1840 ALEXANDER M'LAGHLIN SMITH Tried for Murder, but Found Insane, 21st of July 1840 HARRISON FLATHER Imprisoned for Larceny. RICHARD MOORE Transported for Forgery. PATRICK MAXWELL STEWART WALLACE; MICHAEL SHAW and STEWART WALLACE Transported for Inciting a Person to Cast Away and Destroy a Merchant Ship. DAVID SAMS Transported for Burglary. WILLIAM STEVENSON Transported for Larceny. JAMES INGLETT A Cow-doctor, Convicted of Manslaughter for Giving a Potion to a sick Neighbour JAMES SWEENY, RICHARD PEARCE, EDMUND BUCKLEY, PATRICK FLEMING, MAURICE BRENWICK, AND JOHN SULLIVAN, Convicted of Murder in an Affray Illustration: The Affray in which Bolding was killed THESE unhappy men were natives of Ireland, and belonged to that numerous class who resort to England in search of employment; but whose conduct is too often a disgrace to their own country, and a demoralising example for this. The murder, for which these malefactors justly forfeited their lives, originated in that vulgar antipathy which the lower orders of one nation feel for their brethren of another; forgetful that all men should be brothers in distress. On their trial, which took place at Chelmsford, on the 16th of August, 1810, it appeared in evidence that John Bolding, for whose murder they were arraigned, kept the Eagle and Child public house, at Forest Gate, in the parish of West Ham, and that on Sunday evening, the 20th of May preceding, a dispute took place In the kitchen, between one Morrisy, an Irish labourer, and one Thomas, an English carter. There was present another Irishman, named Scandling, and an officer's servant, of the Cornish militia. These silly representatives of their respective countries kept up a boisterous debate for a considerable time, during which challenges to fight were given, and Morrisy and the officer's servant were proceeding to blows, when the housekeeper, Sarah Cumber, interfered, and succeeded in pacifying them for a moment. Morrisy then proposed to depart; but the landlord, suspecting that he wanted only to collect his countrymen, prevented him at first, though it appears he afterwards permitted him to withdraw, and then bolted the doors. The landlord's conjecture was right; Morrisy returned with a mob of followers, but was refused admittance. Soon after a man named Daniel Mahony knocked, when Scandling, who had remained within, opened the door, contrary to the wishes and in spite of the remonstrance of the proprietor. Mahony, in an outrageous manner, stormed, swore, and brandished his stick over his head. He had not continued long in this violent manner, when a gang of thirty of his countrymen demanded admittance. This being refused, they proceeded to break the windows and window-shutters, and Scandling, once more, in defiance of the opposition of the landlord, unbolted the door. As the band of ruffians rushed in, the carter and the officer's servant escaped through the back door; and fortunately for them, as otherwise, in all probability, they would have met the fate of their host. Mahony demanded the cause of the uproar, and was answered by a ferocious Hibernian that the English had insulted an Irishman. 'That's enough,' he returned, leaping into the bar, and, knocking down the landlord, continued to beat him till his head was much bruised, his arms broken, and his body greatly wounded. A female interfering, a blow was made at her, and she was obliged to fly and hide herself. The ruffians next proceeded to search for the carter and the servant; but, not finding them, they swore they would murder some one before they departed, and actually beat an old man, who was running away, who had three of his teeth knocked out, and his thigh dislocated from the kicks he received. These sanguinary brutes next demanded some gin, which was given them, and they departed, exclaiming 'Who will insult an Irishman?' Bolding, the landlord, languished seven days, and then expired, in consequence of the wounds he received. These six men were then taken up, all the others having absconded, and being sworn to as implicated in the riot, they were found guilty as accessories to the murder, being associated for illegal purposes, which, according to Lord Hale, makes each accomplice responsible for the conduct of a part, or whole. Sullivan, who was guilty of nothing except being present, was respited, but the other five unfortunate men were executed on Saturday morning, August the 18th, 1810. WILLIAM MOULDS Executed for The Murder of William Turner THIS case exhibits a most cruel and treacherous crime -- the assassination of a fellow-creature, at the very moment when the murderer had been proffered his assistance. William Moulds was indicted for the wilful murder of William Turner, by shooting him on the king's highway, near Farnham, on the 18th of May, 1810. The prisoner was a soldier in the 62d regiment, from which he deserted from Winchester, accompanied by two females, of the names of Elizabeth Roper and Mary Fisher. As he was on the road, he declared to them that he must have some man's clothes, to prevent his being taken as a deserter, and he would shoot some one to get them. As they went along they were joined by the deceased; and, after some conversation about a bed, he told them they should have some straw in his brother's barn at Farnham. The deceased was walking a few yards before with Elizabeth Roper, when the prisoner fired at him with his musket, and the ball entered his back. He had, however, strength enough to run to Farnham, when he reached the house of a Mr. Bott, a surgeon; he lived two days, and then expired. A party of soldiers were sent out in pursuit of the prisoner, and he was apprehended. The deceased saw him, and identified his person, before he died. After he had shot the deceased, one of the girls fainted, and he and the other took her into an adjoining clover field. Here he declared he was sure that the ball must have entered the man's body, and he could not have run above twenty yards, and he wished he had gone back to have had his money and clothes. The jury found no hesitation in finding him guilty; and the judge immediately passed on him the sentence of the law. He was executed at the New Prison, Horsemonger Lane, August the 16th, 1810. RICHARD VALENTINE THOMAS, Executed for Forgery THIS youthful malefactor evinced an extraordinary propensity for that species of crime which at length brought him to a premature and ignominious death. He was the son of a respectable tradesman of the city of London, who placed him, at the age of sixteen, in the countinghouse of an opulent bargemaster near Blackfriars He had not been long there when he forged a check on his employer's bankers, for one thousand pounds, and obtained the money. The fact was discovered; but his master, in pity to his youth, and from respect to his family, declined to prosecute, in consideration of being reimbursed. The father of the guilty youth paid the thousand pounds, and sent the boy to Portsmouth, where he entered him on board a ship of war then bound for the West Indies, thinking such a course most likely to prevent him from the commission of future crimes. He went the voyage, but on his return be deserted from the ship, and again bent his course to London, where he renewed his former habits. From his knowledge of many commercial houses, and of the bankers with whom they did business, he contrived to acquire large sums through the means of blank checks, which he filled up, and committed forgeries to a vast extent, there being no less than thirteen indictments against him, at the time of his conviction. During the month of July, 1810, he frequented the Surrey Theatre, and the Equestrian Coffee-house, contiguous to it, the waiter of which he sent to Messrs. Smith and Co. to get the banking book of Messrs. Diffell. This enabled him to ascertain the balance of money which Messrs. Diffell had in the hands of their banker. He then sent back the book by the same person, with a request to have a check-book, upon receiving which he filled up a check for four hundred pounds, eight shillings, and delivered it to Mr. Johnson, the box and house keeper of the Surrey Theatre, with whom he appeared to be on intimate terms, telling him he had some custom and excise duties to pay, requesting him to get payment of the check in notes of ten and twenty pounds. Johnson went to Messrs. Smith's; but, as they could not pay him as he wished, he received from them two notes of two hundred pounds each, which he immediately took to the bank, and exchanged for the notes Thomas wanted. The forgery being soon detected, Thomas was taken into custody, in company with a woman with whom he cohabited. Upon searching her, a twenty-pound note was found, which was identified by a clerk of the Bank as one of those paid to Johnson in exchange for the two-hundred-pound notes. The woman, being asked where she got it, answered Thomas gave it her; when he, being locked up in an adjoining room, called out 'No, you got it from a gentleman.' In a privy which communicated with Thomas's room fragments of ten-pound and twenty-pound notes were found, and upon several of the pieces the date corresponded with the entry in the Bank. In addition to this, Mrs. Johnson, mistress of the Equestrian Coffeehouse, produced a twenty-pound note which she had received from Thomas on the same day the check was presented; and which, with the fragments, &c. made up exactly the sum of four hundred pounds. These facts being proved on his trial, and the forgery established, he was found Guilty, and sentenced to be hanged on Monday, September 3, 1810. From the day of his conviction, August the 20th, until the Saturday preceding his execution, notwithstanding the zealous exhortation of the chaplain, who daily attended him, he could scarcely be aroused from an apathetic indifference to his fate, or to a penitent sense of the crime for which he was to suffer. On Sunday he attended divine service in the chapel of the gaol, where near three hundred persons of respectable appearance were also present, most of whom appeared to be more deeply affected by the situation of the prisoner than he himself. He was attired in a fashionable and gentlemanly style. His dress consisted of a blue coat with gilt buttons, lined through with black silk; white waistcoat, with black silk breeches, and stockings; his hair unpowdered, and his upper lip adorned with Hussar mustachios. His coffin, covered with black, was placed before him; and when the chaplain stated that the unfortunate youth, who had now but a few hours to live, was a veteran in the species of crime for which he was convicted, although he had not yet completed his nineteenth year, the whole auditory were dissolved in tears; not excepting the gaoler, who sat by him, though familiar with such scenes; while the youth himself manifested a pensive firmness, and was the only person present who appeared indifferent to his fate. Next morning, September 3, 1810, he was brought to the top of Horsemonger Lane gaol. His dress was precisely the same as that already described; and he met his fate with decorous resignation. JOHN WHITMORE, ALIAS OLD DASH, Executed for a Rape THE summary punishment of a ravisher, by a conscientious Emperor of the Turks, in days of old, if now, perchance, inflicted, might more tend to check the inordinate, unlawful, lust of men, than all the public execution of such destroyers of the peace of females. Our laws, and certainly wisely too, restrain us from seeking redress at our own hands, except in case of self-defence: but where is the man, witnessing a brutal attack upon his wife or daughter, that would, by a jury of his fellow-men, be convicted of a deadly crime, in searching the heart's blood of their ravisher upon the guilty spot of his atrocity? Mahmoud, Sultan of Damascus, one night while he was going to bed, was addressed by a poor villager, who complained that a young Turk of distinction had broken into his apartment, and forced him to abandon his wife and family to his abuses. The good sultan charged that, if the Turk returned, he should immediately give him notice of it. Three days after the poor man came again with the same complaint. Mahmoud took a few attendants with him, and, being arrived at the complainant's, commanded the lights to be extinguished, and, rushing in, cut the ravisher to pieces. He then ordered a light, to see whom he had killed, and, being satisfied, he fell on his knees, and returned God thanks; after which be ate heartily of the poor man's bread, and gave him a purse of gold. Being asked the reason of this extraordinary behaviour, he replied, 'I concluded this ravisher was one who might fancy himself entitled to my protection, and consequently might be no other than my son; therefore, lest the tenderness of nature should enervate the arm of justice, I resolved to give it scope in the dark. But, when I saw that it was only an officer of my guards, I joyfully returned God thanks. Then I asked the injured man for food to satisfy my hunger, having had neither sleep nor sustenance from the moment I heard the accusation till I had thus punished the author of the wrong, and showed myself worthy of my people's obedience.' Princes, nobles, men of fortune --'read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest!' The hut of the meanest peasant, by the law of Britain, is sacred as your own gorgeous palaces and castles; and, should you dare to violate his female relative therein, each injured owner may prove a Sultan Mahmoud. John Whitmore was capitally indicted for a rape on the person of Mary, the wife of Thomas Brown, on the 24th of October, 1810, on the Common between Hayes and West Bedford. The prisoner was a labourer in the powder-mills at Harlington Common; and the prosecutrix, who lives at Hayes, having one of her sons by a former husband living as servant with Mr. Potts, a farmer, at West Bedford, had gone thither about twelve o'clock with some clean linen for her son. She stopped at a public house in the neighbourhood whilst he changed his linen, and there saw the prisoner, who, after asking her several questions, told her she had come much the longest way about, on her way from Hayes, and offered to show her a much shorter cut over the heath on her return. The prosecutrix thanked him, and accepted his offer. He accompanied her as if for that purpose, decoyed her two miles out of her way to an unfrequented part of the heath, amongst some bushes, under pretence of looking after a stray horse, and there brutally violated her person. The poor woman, who was forty-seven years of age, as soon as she could, ran away from him, over the heath, and again lost her way; by accident she met a gentleman, who put her in the right road, and she reached her home about eight o'clock at night. She was afraid to tell her husband what had occurred till the following Sunday. The husband next day set out with the constable in search of the prisoner, from the description given by his wife, and on Tuesday traced him to a public house at Twickenham, where he was known by the familiar appellation of 'Old Dasher;' and there, after a stout resistance, he was taken into custody. The facts were, on his trial, which took place at the Old Bailey, in October, 1810, clearly established by the poor woman, who evinced through the whole of her evidence traits of modesty and chastity of mind that would have reflected honour upon any character. The prisoner, by the questions be asked her in making his defence, attempted to impeach her as consenting to his brutal purpose, and thereby only aggravated his crime. The common-sergeant summed up the evidence for the jury; who, after a minute's consideration, found the prisoner Guilty -- Death. The fate of this malefactor received no commiseration. JAMES FALLAN, Executed for the Murder of his Wife. Few actions can degrade the dignity of man more than that of striking a woman; and fewer still are more debasing to human nature than that of a husband striking his wife -- one whom, before the altar, he had promised to love, cherish, and protect. The frequency of such deeds, however, have diminished their vileness and atrocity, in the common estimation of the world; but the brave and the virtuous still regard them with detestation and horror. Those who are dead to the feelings of manhood, and wanting in the Christian duties of life, may, however, be intimidated from such a practice by the following particulars of a man, who, perhaps, thought, like them, that he might with impunity wreak his passion on his defenceless companion, whose soothing exclamations of tenderness were poor protection against the brutal force of her inhuman husband, whose blows were followed by death, and for which he died upon the GALLOWS. James Fallen bore, without deserving it, the name of soldier. He was a corporal in the guards, from which service he obtained his discharge, in consequence of a liver complaint, and was admitted a pensioner at Chelsea Hospital on the 8th of February, 1811, and took up his abode in a cellar in the Marketplace. The very next day, two of his comrades, also pensioners, with two servant-women, came to see him, and they drank pretty freely, until they had finished all the spirits then in the cellar. Fallan then desired his wife to go out for more; but she, perhaps, thinking that they had already drank enough, or that her pocket could not afford any more, refused, or, at least, did not obey; upon which the friends departed. Fallan then demanded of his wife why she did not do as he had desired her, upon which an altercation ensued, and the wife, by no means inclined to silence, bestowed upon her husband some abusive terms, when he struck her upon the face, which he repeated, knocking her down several times, though she cried out 'Dear Jemmy, don't murder me!' He, however, continued beating her with such violence, that a woman named Sarah Llewellyn, who lodged in the same cellar with him, attempted to interfere, when he threatened to serve her in the same manner, and then returned, with renewed violence, to beat his unfortunate wife, who by this time had sat or fallen down on the bed. Llewellyn now attempted to get out, but he prevented her. As his fury had not been yet exhausted, he returned to renew his blows on his wife; and the woman availed herself of the opportunity to run out for assistance. She found three women listening at the cellar door, who went with her up stairs to request a man to come down; but he refused, and on their return they distinctly heard the continuance of the blows, the poor woman all the time crying out, 'Oh! dear Jemmy, don't kill me!' till her groans grew fainter and fainter. Llewellyn, afraid to venture down, remained on the stairs all night, and next morning she found Fallan and his wife in bed together, upon which she expressed her satisfaction. The unfortunate woman appeared shockingly bruised, and complained very much of a pain in her side. 'Cut my head, and then give me a plaster,' is very applicable to the conduct of such husbands as Fallan. He now sent for a surgeon, and had some blood taken from his wife, who did not appear to get better on that account. On Tuesday morning Fallan went out for the avowed purpose of procuring another lodging, but did not return until the Saturday following, when he saw his wife, and then went away again. The unfortunate woman languished till next day, Sunday, when she died, in consequence of which her brutal husband was taken into custody. His trial came on at the Old Bailey, April the 5th, when, in addition to these facts, it was proved by a surgeon, who opened the body of the deceased, that she came by her death in consequence of the four false ribs, on the left aide, being broken, two of which were forced into the pleura, and had wounded several of the vessels, and occasioned a great effusion of blood, which was the immediate cause of her death. Fallan, in his defence, produced a long written statement, imputing the quarrel to the ill temper of the deceased, and alleged that he had only struck her with his open hand and the whalebone of a woman's stays; and that, if her ribs were broken, it must have been in consequence of her falling over a deal box in the cellar. He concluded by saying, so far from having any malice towards his wife, he loved her tenderly. Lord Ellenborough summed up the evidence, and the jury, after a short consultation, found him Guilty, when the recorder proceeded to pass on him the awful sentence of execution and dissection on the Monday following. Accordingly, on Monday, April 8th, 1811, he was executed in front of Newgate. He was only twenty-nine years of age, and had seen much service. He was attended by a Roman-Catholic priest; but appeared quite indifferent to his fate, and kicked off his shoes when he got upon the platform. After hanging the usual time, his body was taken to Bartholomew Hospital for dissection. FREDERIC BARDIE, Alias PETER WOOD, A French Prisoner of War, Executed for Cutting and Maiming. This unfortunate man, who fell a victim to his ungovernable passions, was a native of Falaize, in Normandy. His parents were respectable, and he traded in his own vessel to the West Indies, where he had a wife and two children at the time of his death. His little bark being taken in 1803, by the 'John Bull' letter of marque, he was carried to Liverpool, and from thence to Chatham, where he was put on board the Canada prison-ship, in the Medway, along with his captive countrymen. During the eight years of his sorrowful captivity his conduct was exemplary; but it appears he was subject to sudden gusts of passion. On the 12th of March he wanted to go into the cooking-room; but was prevented by Ebenezer Alexander, a private marine, who was on duty there, and whose orders were to that effect. The sentinel desired him to get leave from the sergeant, which he pretended to go for, and returned, saying he had obtained it. This Alexander refused to credit, as he knew in that case a corporal would have come to inform him, and therefore persisted in his refusal. Upon this Wood drew a knife from his pocket, and, calling the sentinel some vulgar names, said he would kill him. Alexander, who was not apprehensive of danger, paid no attention to the threat; but several fellow-prisoners, who knew their countryman's failing, ran to prevent him. Wood, however, before they could secure him, came up to the sentinel, and, seizing him round the neck with his left arm, inflicted with his knife two dreadful wounds in the left breast. The marine fell, and was carried to the hospital, where he was confined thirty-one days. Wood was secured, and brought to trial at the following assizes at Maidstone, when he was found Guilty, and received sentence of death. Thursday, September the 5th, 1811, was the day appointed for carrying his sentence into execution, on Penenden Heath. He was escorted by the usual retinue, and a vast concourse of people, who sincerely lamented his fate. A Catholic confessor attended to prepare him for the awful moment, assisted by the chaplain and Mr. Shelton. He appeared penitent and resigned; and before he ascended the scaffold he requested of Mr. Shelton to say something for him to the people who surrounded him, which he did, as follows:- 'Good people! the poor unfortunate man who is about to suffer the dreadful sentence of the law desires me, as he cannot speak our language, to tell you that he is sincerely sorry for having committed the crime which has brought him to this miserable and untimely end; and that he trusts, through the prevailing influence of the venerable priest who attends him, he has made his peace with his God, and rests with full confidence of forgiveness at his dread tribunal. He also directs me to warn you against the violence of vindictive passion, by which alone he was actuated to commit this dreadful crime. He truly forgives every one, and hopes, in his last moments, you will offer up your prayers for him; this I am confident you will do, in consequence of his deep contrition, and the circumstance of his being a stranger in this country.' After this he was supported to the platform, and an end was put to his sufferings. ANTONIO CARDOZA, Executed for the Murder of Thomas Davis THIS malefactor was a sailor, and a native of Portugal. He was indicted at the Old Bailey, January 11, 1811, along with Sarah Brown, alias Gott:, a Jewess, and Mary Rogers, both women of the town, for the wilful murder of Thomas Davis, a British seaman, in Nightingale Lane, on the night of the 12th of December, 1810. The facts of the case were these:-- The deceased, somewhat tipsy, was on his way home, in company with his brother, James Davis, when, passing these girls in the street, be put his arm round the waist of Brown, which she resented by striking him several times on the head with her patten, which she held in her hand. James Davis desired her not to be angry, as his brother was tipsy, and that he would give her something to drink; upon which the other woman struck him in the face with her umbrella. A squabble ensued; Davis flung the umbrella into a green-grocer's shop, and in the struggle both fell to the ground, upon which the girl got up first, and, holding him down, called out Antonio! Antonio! why don't you fetch Antonio?' addressing the other girl, Rogers, who immediately ran to a public house, and called Antonio, when Cordoza, and three other Portuguese sailors, rushed out and attacked the two brothers. James Davis succeeded in repelling the ruffians, and was on the point of getting away, when, looking round, he saw the deceased knocked down by Cardoza, and, while he was down, the vindictive Portuguese took from his sleeve a knife, and stabbed his victim in the back, the infamous woman, Brown, all the time crying out to Antonio, 'Kill the b--r! don't leave a bit of life in him! it's the way all English b--rs should be served.' The wounded man exclaimed, 'Brother, I'm killed!' and on being removed to the shop of Mr. King, a surgeon in the neighbourhood, he died in two minutes. These facts were substantiated by several witnesses who saw the transaction; and Cardoza was immediately found guilty of murder; but Mary Brown only of manslaughter, as there had been a quarrel between her and the deceased; whereas Cardoza, without any personal provocation, inflicted the deadly wound. Rogers vas acquitted, as there was no evidence affecting her, except that of standing by. Sentence was immediately passed on this desperate foreigner, and he was ordered for execution on the Monday morning following, January 14, 1811, which was accordingly carried into effect opposite Newgate. From the time of his trial to the last moment of his existence he persisted in his assertion of innocence, and was heard to say that, during his trial, the man who actually committed the murder was in court. If he was innocent, which we by no means take upon ourselves to advocate, his fate inculcates as important lesson on the evil of keeping bad company; and, if not actually guilty of the murder, his conduct was little less criminal for joining with those that did it, in defence of prostitutes, for whom be must have been a bully, as they called individually on him by name when insulted by the deceased. Previous to his being brought from the Press-yard he cried bitterly; but on mounting the scaffold he acted with becoming fortitude. He was attended by a Portuguese clergyman, with whom he joined in fervent prayer, and a few minutes after eight o'clock he was launched into eternity. The concourse of spectators was immense, and among the crowd were several of his countrymen, who seemed much affected at the melancholy scene. After being suspended for the usual time, his body was cut down, and conveyed to Bartholomew's Hospital for dissection, where it was exposed to public view during the day. Some doubts were entertained by the public as to the power vested in the judges of ordering the execution of this man during the indisposition of his majesty, George III. and the consequent deficiency in the executive power, as the regent was not then appointed, from a feeling that it would be unjust to deprive a human being of life, however enormous his crime, while the fountain of mercy was closed. Mr. Sheridan mentioned this case in the House of Commons the Thursday after the execution, and was answered by the secretary of state for the home department that, amen to the statute respecting conviction for murder, it is asserted that the judge before whom a murderer is convicted, shall, in passing sentence, direct him to be executed the next day hut one after his being found guilty, (unless the same shall be Sunday, and then on the Monday following,) and that his body be delivered to the surgeons to be dissected and anatomized. The judge may likewise direct his body to be afterwards hung in chains, but in no wise to be buried without dissection. In the case of this malefactor, the secretary stated that the judges who tried him had no doubt of his guilt; and that, as no application came from the unfortunate man himself, it was deemed advisable to let the law take its course, otherwise he would have been respited. Our readers will please to recollect that we have already stated the law upon this head, by which they will see that in all cases of capital conviction, within the city of London, it is necessary that a regular report of the prisoners should be made to his majesty, or, in the event of his indisposition, as in the present case, to his representative, of the respective cases, and his sanction must be obtained before execution can take place. This rule, however, only applies to the city of London, as the judges going circuit act under a special commission, which empowers them to pass sentence of death, and to direct its execution in all cases, as well as to respite it, and relax the other restraints upon sufficient cause, without the direct authority of the king. WILLIAM TOWNLEY, Executed for Burglary. WILLIAM TOWNLEY was a native of Winchcomb and at the age of twenty-nine exhibited a remarkable instance to what extent human depravity may be carried. In 1779, when only seventeen years of age, he was, with an elder brother, convicted of burglary, and sentenced to two years' imprisonment in the Penitentiary House. He had not long regained his liberty when he was brought a second time to the gaol, charged with a capital offence, found guilty, and sentenced to transportation for seven years, which period he served on board the hulks at Woolwich; from whence he was only discharged three months when he was a third time committed for the crime for which he justly suffered. In the last interval he had entered as a substitute in the Worcestershire militia, for forty guineas, ten of which he had received: he soon squandered the money, and then perpetrated a burglary, for which he was tried at Gloucester, and received sentence of death. He persisted in declaring the witnesses against him perjurers, until within a short time of the execution, when, it is said, just before he received the sacrament, he admitted his full share in the crime for which his life became forfeited to the offended laws of his country. Saturday, the 23d of March, 1811, he was executed at the new drop before Gloucester gaol, and had been suspended about twenty minutes when a reprieve arrived! Is the life of man of so little value, that those intrusted with important power will not study correctness? Some stupid clerk in office directed it to the sheriff of Herefordshire instead of Gloucestershire, by mistake! On Friday night it arrived, but was not opened till next morning, when immediately the importance of its contents to the wretched object of intended mercy was ascertained, and an express sent off, by Mr. Bennett, of the hotel, at his own expense; but, alas! the messenger was twenty minutes too late to arrest the fatal hand of the executioner; and he whom he came to save was gone to that 'bourn from whence no traveller returns.' What must have been the feelings of the clerk who misdirected the letter? RICHARD ANDREWS AND ALEXANDER HALL, Transported for Fraud ANDREWS had been long a depredator upon the public; and though he had not, like Roberts, the advantage of being a counsellor-at-law, yet he well knew how to 'keep his neck out of the halter:' he would not, in fact, touch upon what might amount to a felony; but, with all their art and knowledge, we are always finding swindlers stumbling upon the pillory, or strolling on board a transport. The first public examination of Andrews, of any moment, was at the Police-office, in Queen Square, Westminster, on the 31st of March, 1807; when Colonel Davison (not of St. James's Square) stated that he became acquainted with the prisoner in the King's Bench. It was very material for the colonel to get a seat in parliament; and, as the prisoner had often represented himself as intimately connected with some of the first characters in the country, the colonel disclosed his affairs to him, who undertook to forward his intention. He described himself as the intimate acquaintance of the Earl of Besborough, Lord Fitzwilliam, and R. Spencer, Esq., from whom he received contributions while in prison. After the colonel had left the Beach, he frequently relieved him with pecuniary trifles, till he was liberated by the Insolvent Act; and he then carried his pretensions to the extreme, by observing that he had been offered a seat in parliament by Earl Fitzwilliam, but it would ill become him to accept it, having been so recently liberated; and he could, by the interest of the Earl of Besborough, have the honour conferred on the colonel, as it was by the interest of that earl that Lord Fitzwilliam's promise was to be realized. The colonel went to dine with B. Goldsmid, Esq. at Roehampton, and the prisoner accompanied him in his carriage to the Earl of Besborough's house, at the same place; but the earl was from home. He saw the prisoner again in a day or two, when he informed him that he had conversed with the Earl of Besborough on the subject of a seat in parliament; and the earl jocosely remarked, 'I should conceive you to be a Don Quixote to want a seat, after taking the benefit of the Insolvent Act.' The conversation then became more serious; and the colonel, as his friend, was to have the seat promised by Earl Fitzwilliam. The prisoner went on to state that he was connected with the noble earl, who had four boroughs in Ireland, and who would dispose of them at four thousand pounds each; and, if the colonel should have other friends to accommodate, he might have the preference, as the noble earl had authorized him to find candidates. The colonel found candidates for all the boroughs the prisoner had talked of, and by his desire the money was deposited in the hands of a banker. The candidates, when they became members, were to retain their seats for five years, in case of a dissolution of parliament. The colonel here observed that he had such full confidence in the prisoner as by his artifices to have been led away in a manner that made him look more like an accomplice than a dupe. He had been so deceived by the plausible pretences and the solemnity of the prisoner's conduct, that his mind was tranquillized: thus he had obtained of him (the colonel), and his friends, by his recommendation, four thousand pounds, he having got two thousand pounds in two payments, as he said, for the Earl of Besborough, as part of the consideration for the boroughs in Ireland. The other money consisted in relieving the temporary embarrassments of the prisoner, and accepting his bills. The colonel had accepted bills for a carriage, which the prisoner had made in Poland Street; also for his stud, &c. besides those of different tradespeople. The colonel, having at length entertained some suspicion of the prisoner, waited on the Earl of Besborough, when he found his suspicions realized. The Earl of Besborough stated that he knew no more of the prisoner than having received letters from him while in prison, asking relief, which he granted to him in trifles. He knew nothing of what had been related respecting the boroughs; and the other noblemen who had been talked of knew no more of the prisoner than having afforded relief to his distresses. A gentleman, who had agreed to purchase one of the boroughs, proved that he had paid the prisoner four hundred pounds, as part of the consideration, and had been completely misled. The prisoner was committed for re-examination. He formerly kept his carriage, and a dashing equipage, in Half-Moon Street, Piccadilly; but he was apprehended in an obscure lodging in Westminster. In a few days Andrews was again brought to the same office. for a farther examination. On this occasion the principal evidence against him was Mr. Harris, an aged gentleman, a surgeon and man-midwife in the Strand, whose rain had been the consequence of the conduct of the prisoner. It appeared, by the statement of this gentleman, that he accidentally met with a lady, (who turned out to be the wife of the prisoner,) in 1800. It being late at night, he offered to see the lady home; and he did so, to Edward Street, Cavendish Square. The prisoner expressed his warmest acknowledgments for the trouble Mr. Harris had taken, and invited him to dine, &c. at his table. A mutual intimacy now subsisted between the parties, and Mr. Harris attended professionally at the accouchement of Mrs. Andrews, in February, 1801. In April the prisoner took apartments at the house of Mr. Harris, and remained there some twelve months; but never paid board or lodging. The prisoner kept his carriage at the time. He used to represent himself as a man of fortune, and the brother of the person who was the proprietor of the Dartford powder-mills. Mr. Harris was employed by the prisoner to inspect Jesuit barks, opium, &c. which he (the prisoner) used to purchase in considerable quantities. The complainant, on a certain day in April, 1801, supped with the prisoner, and others; and, after having drank freely, and reduced himself to a state of stupefaction, the party retired, and shortly after returned with a bundle of papers, which he signed, as a witness, without knowing what they were. The complainant stated that he believed opium had been mixed with his wine, for he felt himself very ill the next day. Mr. Harris had not signed these papers many days, when he was arrested at the suit of Mr. Barron, druggist, in the Strand, though unconscious of having contracted a debt with that gentleman; but the business was settled by the attorney, whilst Mr. Harris was in a lock-up house. He was released, and returned to his house, which was then in Theobald's Road. He used to ride with the prisoner in his carriage; and on a certain day, when at the foot of Westminster Bridge, the prisoner alighted, and observed that he was going for a gentlemen; and he, in a few minutes, brought a sheriff's officer, who served a writ on the complainant, who knew of no debt he owed, and he was hurried away in the carriage to the King's Bench prison, where he remained until October, 1804, when he was cleared by the Insolvent Act. He could get no redress for this cruel treatment, and he reflected with horror on the conduct of Andrews, who called on him again after his release. At this time a cupboard door was standing open in Mr. Harris's house, and the prisoner reached a box from off a shelf, and rattled it. The complainant was at this moment sent for into his shop, and the prisoner went up stairs with the box, which contained plate to the amount of two hundred pounds. The complainant returned, and followed the prisoner up stairs; but he had gone off with the box and plate. Mr. Harris saw the prisoner again in the evening, when he said that he had made a temporary use of the plate, to save himself from being arrested, but he would return it in a day or two; but he ultimately absconded. The plate was the property of a West-India merchant, who had married the daughter of Mr. Harris, and it was left in his possessive for safety, whilst the merchant was gone abroad. Another charge was exhibited against the prisoner by a young man, in whose mother's house the prisoner lodged in 1797. He had obtained twenty-one pounds of the woman, which was chiefly expended in clothing a female with whom he had cohabited. The prisoner had given the young man two letters to take to the Duke of Devonshire and Earl Spencer, which were, according to his account, recommendations for the father of the youth to get a comfortable place; but whilst he was gone the prisoner decamped from the house. .The young man had seen the prisoner with Sir Watkin Lewes, who had informed hiss he would pay the debt; but he (the witness) had very recently seen Sir Welkin, who said he had also a charge to institute against the prisoner. William Brown, late coachman to the prisoner, appeared in his old master's livery, blue and silver lace, to answer interrogatories respecting goods which had been obtained by the prisoner from Mr. Asser, china-man; but Mr. Asser was not present, and the testimony was of no avail. The magistrate informed the prisoner that his situation wore a serious aspect, for he stood charged with felony. The prisoner observed that he had been advised to say nothing until he came before a jury; but he had feelings which, irritated by an abominable conspiracy, compelled him to speak. He then entered into a long vindication of his conduct in a firm manner, and protested his innocence. He also begged of the persons present to suspend their judgment till the hour of trial. The magistrate replied that it was astonishing the prisoner should make solemn asseverations of his innocence, when it was palpable that, without fortune, or any visible means of obtaining support, he had been enabled to keep a carriage and sumptuous equipage -- that there had been a multiplicity of persons at the office to substantiate charges against him; and he (the magistrate) considered it the duty of his official situation to remand the prisoner, for the further investigation of his conduct. He was therefore remanded accordingly. On the 10th of April following, Andrews underwent a fourth examination. The first witness called was Mrs. Harris, the wife of the merchant who, had lost his plate, and the daughter of Harris, from whose house it was said to have been stolen. This lady corroborated what had been advanced by Mr. Young, who redeemed the plate. Mr. Brown, who resides in the neighbourhood of Bedford Square, stated that he lived on an independent property, and first became acquainted with the prisoner in the King's Bench, a few moths since. He (Mr. Brown) was discharged by the Insolvent Act as well as the prisoner, and about the same time; they had become the most intimate friends; and Mr. Andrews, after his release, lived in Great Russell Street, Bloomsbury, where he kept his chariot and a livery servant, which was afterwards replaced by a family coach and two livery servants. Mr. Andrews had given this witness to understand that he was on the eve of coming to an unlimited fortune, as the heir of Bishop Andrews; and Mr. Brown and his lady used frequently to dine with the prisoner, as did he and his lady with them. At Mr. Andrews's dinner party Colonel Davison, Maltby, McCullum, and others, used to be present; but these persons were never invited to Mr Brown's table. In a conversation with a Mrs. Roberts, who used to dine at the prisoner's table, that lady, in the presence of Mrs. Brown, felt herself surprised at seeing Mrs. Andrews pay some tradesmen's bills, and publicly deprecated so mistaken an idea! This witness had subscribed four hundred pounds to Mr. Andrews's system of finance, besides having done him some little favours while he was in the King's Bench. He had also some bills of Colonel Davison's acceptance, which were not yet due. Mr. Brown had also received a letter from the prisoner, addressed to the Earl of Besborough, which was to procure him (Mr. Brown) a place of four or five hundred a year under government, which he delivered to the earl. Mr. Brown had received this mark of kindness from the prisoner, after he had lent him four hundred pounds; and he needed no promise for that advance, for Mr. Andrews, by his open conduct, had completely got the better of his purse, which he felt no hesitation in opening to him. A poor man of the name of Newcombe, at whose house the prisoner lodged, lost twenty-five pounds by him, by paying chandler's shop and other little scores, and gave a very singular description of the prisoner's conduct. He acted the part of an embarrassed gentleman, and one day read a printed speech, which he said he made from the hustings at Ipswich, when he was a candidate for the representation of that borough in parliament. Andrews complained of the unfair conduct of the magistrate during the inquiry, and again denied ever having had an intention of injuring any one. A committee, he said, sat daily at Fishmongers' Hall, to carry on this foul conspiracy against him; and, however his feelings might be tortured by being made a ridicule in that office, a jury would convince the world of his innocence. Again he was brought up, and fresh charges exhibited against him; but so artfully had he gone about the commission of the different frauds, that he evaded the full punishment due to his crimes, for near five years, though during that long period he lived, so use an old saying, 'by his wits.' But justice, though sometimes tardy, will surely at length overtake the most artful and hardened offender. Andrews, after this long course of infamy -- he who had duped nobles, and deceived men of all grades in society -- was at length caught in swindling a tavern keeper out of a dinner! He was at length committed, upon seven different indictments, to take his trial. It appeared in the course of his various examinations that he committed depredations on all ranks, from the rich and fashionable down to a poor washerwoman, in whose house, when closely pursued, he took lodgings, borrowed money of her, and even defrauded her of the articles that she received in the way of her occupation. At the Middlesex quarter sessions, on Tuesday, September the 24th, 1811, Richard Andrews and Alexander Hall were put to the bar, charged upon an indictment with defrauding Isaac Kendall, by means of certain false pretences, of the sum of thirteen pounds, five shillings, against the form of the statute in that case made and provided. When the indictment was about to be read, and the prisoners called upon to plead, Andrews addressed the Court, and repeated his application to have the trial postponed, being quite unable, for the want of pecuniary assistance, to have the professional aid of those who were competent to support him on so severe an occasion. He said, also, that the want of money prevented him from procuring the necessary witnesses, whose evidence could alone prove his innocence, and convince the world that he was not the man whom newspaper report had so branded; for there was not a journal published in the nation that did not impose upon him an assumed characteristic. In some he was called 'Parson Andrews,' in others 'Captain Andrews;' many had the good nature to dub him 'Doctor Andrews;' but they all agreed in one point, namely, that of giving him every name but that which belonged to him. He called God to witness that , is the whole course of his life he never arrogated to himself any characteristic that did not belong to him, or assumed any other description than that of plain Richard Andrews.' Yet he was persecuted beyond example. He entreated of the Court, he supplicated the Bench, that he might be allowed a month to prepare himself; that he might have the benefit of counsel, and be provided with the necessary instructions for his counsel, as he was convinced, if that indulgence should be allowed to him, that he would make his innocence, as far as the intent of wronging the prosecutor, perfectly manifest; at present he could neither obtain the support of witnesses and proofs, the assistance of solicitor, nor the aid of counsel. He submitted to the Court that the prosecutor had two indictments for the one offence against him, and he begged to know upon which of them he intended to try him, as he understood that he had preferred another bill against him. Mr. Alley, for the prosecution, here interfered, and observed, that the defendant well knew, that although there were two indictments, that yet there was but one charge, and that was a charge for an offence committed so far back as the 12th February last, and therefore he could not complain of surprise; and as to the fact of preferring another bill, in point of substantial truth it was no such thing. It was no more nor no less than merely amending a clerical error in the first bill -- the introduction of a single word instead of another. Therefore the defendant had not to take this for a bill of the present sessions. Several observations were made by Andrews, and the counsel for the prosecution severally replied to them. At length Mr. Mainwaring stated the sentiments of the Court, the substance whereof was, that, although they were disposed to give every reasonable and humane assistance that they could to all persons in the predicament of the prisoner, yet that they actually did not perceive that satisfactory grounds were adduced for postponing this trial any longer. The circumstance of deficiency of pecuniary means was not a reason why the public justice of the country was to be delayed; but the prisoner, as in such cases, would find counsel in the Court themselves -- the judges would be his counsel, as in humanity they ought. The trial then proceeded. Mr. Alley stated the case, that it was an indictment under the 30th of Geo. III. commonly called 'the Swindling Act,' and, after expatiating on the enormity of offences such as the prisoner was accused of, proceeded to call his witnesses. Isaac Kendall stated himself to be the proprietor of the coffee-house situate in St. Clement's Churchyard. He said, that on the 12th of February last, the two prisoners. Andrews and Hall, came to his house, and ordered dinner. Mr. Kendall continued -- The coffee-room was very full, and I was busy attending the company. Before they finished their dinner they called for a bottle of wine. There was another gentleman in the coffee-room, who spoke to Mr. Hall. This gentleman was invited to join them after dinner Q. By Mr. Alley -- Is not the person you speak of a most respectable man? do you not know him very well?-- A. Beyond a doubt. Kendall -- After dinner they called to me and asked for their bill; I made it out; it amounted to one pound, seven shillings, and sixpence. They offered me a check on Drummond and Co. Q. By the Chairman.-- Who do you mean by they?-- A. Hall offered me the check; on looking at it I saw an informality, and would not take it. I then returned it to Hall; Andrews said he would draw another, and they begged pardon fur the mistake; the check had thirteen on it instead of thirteen pounds; I saw Andrews draw another for thirteen pounds, five shillings. Q. By the Chairman -- Was the first check in the name of Andrews, though offered by Hall?-- A. Yes. Q. Did you see Andrews draw it?-- A. I was rather busy at the moment, but he called for pen and ink, and he had a book of checks by his side. The draft was for thirteen pounds, five shillings, on Drummond and Co. While Andrews was doing something with it, I took Hall aside, and asked him was all right; he answered, 'O! yes! my dear fellow, don't be afraid;' and, speaking of Andrews, he said, 'He was a rich uncle of his, who had been very kind to him m various occasions, and that I need not fear.' The opinion formerly entertained of Hall was so high that I would have given him forty pounds, instead of the balance of the draft, had he asked it. Q. Was any thing said to the gentleman who had joined the prisoners' company, about going to the theatre?-- A. It was agreed that he should accompany them there; they did not go out together. It was proposed by them (the prisoners) to dine at my house on the Wednesday or Thursday following, when they would bring a party of friends, and the gentleman was also invited. When the prisoners left the house, the gentleman stopped at the bar to inquire whether the dinner would be on the Wednesday or Thursday. In the mean time they went away. I went to the door along with the gentleman, but they were gone. We looked both to the right and left, but they were not to be seen. I then suspected something was wrong. I sent my son next morning to Drummond's, but there were no effects to pay the draft. In a day or two after, I went, accompanied by my son, to the bankers'; but it was useless: the draft has never been paid. Mr. Heald, from the house of Messrs. Drummond, proved that Andrews had not, at the time of the drawing the said draft, any cash whatever in their hands; that the last money which lay in their hands, belonging to him, was three shillings and sixpence, which was paid to his messenger three years ago; but he admitted that there was a cash account with the prisoner Andrews, in their house, and that, within three years previous to the year 1808, his account exceeded six thousand pounds. It was, however, all drawn out in January, 1808. The prosecution on the part the crown being finished, the prisoners were called on their defence, when Andrews asked a few questions of Mr. Kendall and Mr. Heald, and then addressed the Court, admitting that he drew the draft, and that the money was given to his unfortunate friend, the other prisoner; but he submitted, that as he had kept an account in the banking-house, even had that account been over-drawn, yet that he did not consider himself, much less did he consider Hall. as guilty of any violation of the law. He glanced at the effects which prejudice must have upon a man so miserably situated as he was, and concluded with a strong appeal to the merciful consideration of the Court and of the jury. Mr. Mainwaring recapitulated the whole of the evidence, making suitable comments upon it, and upon the law of the case, as far as regarded the offence charged against both the prisoners, and left it with the jury to say whether they were guilty or not; and the jury, after a very short consultation, brought in a verdict of Guilty. They were both again tried, upon a second indictment, for a like offence, in defrauding a person of the name of Brundell, who keeps a tavern at Blackwell, of thirty pounds. The prisoners went to Mr. Brundell's house and dined; after dinner they got him to sit down and drink a glass of wine with them, and in the course of the conversation they signified that a party of twenty would dine there on the Thursday following, and bespoke a turtle dinner accordingly for that number, at the rate of twenty shillings a head. In a little time after dinner, a letter was received by Mr. Brundell at his bar, and on opening it he found another directed 'To Richard Andrews, Esq.' which letter was instantly handed up stairs to Mr. Andrews. Mr. Andrews no sooner received it than a conversation took place respecting the sale and purchase of an estate; at length the prisoners again got into a conversation with Mr. Brundell; and, in short, they tendered to him a draft for fifty pounds on Messrs. Biddulph and Co. and, desiring him to stop twenty pounds on account of the intended turtle dinner, got the difference, which was thirty pounds, from him; and, after finishing two or three bottles, they walked off. When the draft was presented the next day at Messrs. Biddulph's the fraud was discovered, for he had no account there, and Mr. Brundell saw no more of his guests till they were in custody. They were both found Guilty on this indictment. Mr. Mainwaring passed the sentence of the Court, which was, that, for the first offence, they should be imprisoned in Newgate six months, and, for the second, that they should be transported for seven years. LORD LOUTH Convicted for Abuse of his Authority as a Magistrate. WE have already recorded some desperate and foolish acts of the Irish peasantry; but, if crime ever admits of palliation, much may be advanced in apology for the illegal conduct of that oppressed people. Apprehensive that the laws of the realm are unfavourable to them, they lie at the mercy of every tyrant who may choose to gratify caprice or promote his own interest. Driven thus by oppression, can it be wondered at that they take upon themselves to do what they erroneously suppose the law will not do for them, and plunge into acts that make them amenable to justice? The weak and the defenceless are soon overpowered by legal authority, but their lordly and imperious tyrants, who goaded them to deeds of blood are applauded for their loyalty, while their poor tenantry are suspended upon the gibbet as examples to scare the million, who return from the sight strengthened in their hereditary opinion that there is "no law for an Irishman." Let them, however, undeceive themselves, and learn, from the following case, that the impartial omnipotence of British laws is able to protect the poorest peasant and punish the most lordly villain. Lord Louth disgraced at once the peerage and the magistracy*[see Note] by an act of oppression which, alas! is too frequent in Ireland. His lordship had a tenant, named Matthews, who occupied four acres of land, and was employed as a labourer. by his lordship, from 1801 to 1809, without ever incurring the displeasure of this stem of aristocracy. But the noble peer thought his tenant too happy, and resolved upon diminishing his enjoyments, by converting his four acres of poor land to his own use. Perhaps his lordship wanted to try upon this mighty farm some new system of agriculture; but Paddy thought his lordship might put his theory into practice in some corner of his large domain, and bluntly refused to surrender his little field to the rapacious nobleman, who; it appeared, wanted it only because he thought, by sowing turnips in it, he could make it more productive than by leaving it at a moderate rent with Mr Matthews. 'Provoke not the mighty,' said the moralist; but Paddy did not understand, or at least did not act upon this maxim, and from that hour forward he experienced nothing from his lordship but repeated acts of vexatious oppression. But the Irish are an enduring people, and from long habit are regardless of such trifling acts of cruelty from their betters. His lordship vas no philosopher. and he was indignant at finding Paddy a stoic, when he had not the honour himself of belonging to any fraternity of sages, although his economical propensities entitled him to be classed with the respectable followers of the elder Cato, and the turnip-loving Fabius, whose attachment to cheap diet was equalled, if not surpassed, by this Irish nobleman. Paddy had his full share of that shrewd sagacity which Providence has, for wise reasons, no doubt, so amply dispensed to his countrymen, and defeated, for a while, by his cunning, the anger of his landlord. But what can wisdom do, when opposed to power without principle? His lordship caused Matthews to be summoned before him on an alleged charge of cutting down some trees of his lordship's between sunrise and sunset; but the wisdom of Providence has wonderfully qualified all things in nature. Where it has given the poisonous sting, it has denied the members of progression, wings or feet. In the moral world, where we find a bad man we generally find a great deficiency of intellect. It appeared, that where his lordship accused Matthews of cutting down the timber, a tree had not grown for centuries; and consequently the hearing of the case was postponed from that day, Monday, to the following Saturday. Matthews thought the charge abandoned; but no! on the following Thursday his lordship, accompanied by several constables, beset his house sad made him prisoner. In vain the poor man declared his wife was dying! In vain he pointed to his dead infant, that required to be interred! In vain he protested his innocence, sad beseeched his landlord to allow him to remain at home for another day to perform the last melancholy office for his child. But the peer was inexorable, and, without either oath, information, or document whatever, to substantiate the charge, committed the poor man to gaol for a felony. Here he remained twenty-four days, and was not discharged until the assizes, when there was no prosecution. For this conduct a criminal information was filed against his lordship in the Court of King's Bench; and, it appearing that he was actuated by malicious motives, and a vile spirit of revenge, he was found guilty of abuse in his office of magistrate. The Court recommended him to make adequate compensation to the injured man, and, to afford him time to do so, protracted the period of declaiming his sentence. On the 19th of June, 1811, his lordship was brought up to receive sentence, and, it appearing that he had paid Matthews three hundred pounds, Judge Day sentenced him to three months' confinement in Newgate. During his lordship's sojourn in durance, his parsimonious habits attracted the notice of Watty Cox, the editor of the Irish Magazine, who was confined for a libel. Accordingly Watty honoured his lordship with a place in his publication, and gave an engraving of the degraded nobleman in the act of blowing his fire with a mutilated pair of bellows, insinuating that his parsimony would not allow him to purchase a good one. *Note: A memorable reproof of a magistrate occurred at Cardiff this year, 1811, upon the circuit there. A gentleman of opulence, a magistrate, and of undoubted repute, addressed a letter to one of the judges, in which his object was, not only to accuse a culprit (committed for manslaughter upon a coroner's inquest) of a deliberate and savage murder, but also, upon the evidence of assertion alone, to inflame the judicial mind of his correspondent against that prisoner, by persuading the judge, before-hand, that unless the accused should be cut off by the law, not a life near him, or within his reach, could be safe. He represented this man as a conspirator in a desperate clan of miscreants, who were men of sanguinary habits and passions. He told the judge that all the witnesses who were to be heard were partial to the accused, and would suppress the facts they knew, unless his lordship would make them speak out; and he desired him to keep the secret of these hints, for which he gave this reason, that every thing valuable to him was at stake in withholding from this clan a knowledge of the part he took against them. When the judge had read this letter, which he received in court, the bar and grand jury attending, he told them a letter had been just put into his hand, and he named the writer of it; he added, that circumstances of peculiar delicacy respecting the subject of that letter imposed upon his feelings the painful necessity of deferring to publish the contents till the gaol had been delivered, but that he should then direct his principal officer to read it aloud, and should pass a marked and public censure upon it, after delivering which he should command the deposit of the letter upon the files of the court, for safe custody, accompanied by a note of its doom, that if the writer chose to appear he would be in time, and would be heard. When the man accused of the manslaughter had been tried, and had received sentence of imprisonment for three months, he was remanded. The writer of the letter did not appear, and the judge delivered himself nearly as follows to a numerous audience:-- 'You have heard this letter, and your looks were eloquent. They reprobated this tampering and cruel artifice. 'A magistrate of the county, at whose mercy, in some degree, are the lives and liberties of men, writes to me for the single purpose of insinuating and whispering away a man's life, by undue influence upon the judgment or the feelings of his correspondent. 'His object is, to invert the habit and principle of a judicial trust, which is that of being counsel for the prisoners, into the new and sanguinary department of a suborned advocate against them. His letter prompts me to goad the witnesses into evidence more hostile to the culprit than it was their intention to give -- advice to me, insinuated behind the back of the accused, and just before his trial, upon evidence of assertion alone, unduly and surreptitiously communicated! 'But what heightens the depravity of this insult upon the Court, and the cruelty of it, as it has taken aim at the parties who are implicated, is the confidence proposed and claimed. 'My God!' said the judge, 'is it in 1811 that any man breathing, a subject of this realm, could think a judge base enough to be an accomplices in this fraud upon the sacred honour of his covenant upon oath; of his dignified indifference to parties; and. above all, of his presumptions, which are those of the law, that up to the moment of conviction, by authentic and sworn proof, the accused be innocent? 'What can be said for the writer? 'Even to him I would be merciful. is it an error of judgment? Is it ignorance? But can we forget that he is a magistrate, and that he is a man? Shall a magistrate be indemnified, or dismissed with a gentle rebuke, who is ignorant of the judicial honour imposed upon him by his peculiar office? Is he a man so unenlightened as to be unapprised of those feelings which tell every honourable mind that no man is to be condemned unheard, and whispered out of the world by a secret between his accuser and his judge? 'As a memorial to after-ages of the disgrace inseparable from attempts like these, I direct the officer to file this letter upon the records of the Court, accompanied by a note of the fact that it was read aloud in open Court, and severely censured by the Judge to whom it was addressed.' The other judge assenting, it was made a rule of the Court. WILLIAM HEBBERFIELD, Executed for Forgery. WILLIAM HEBBERFIELD stood capitally indicted for feloniously forging, and, in a second count, for uttering, knowing it to be forged, a certain two-pound note, with intent to defraud the Governor and Company of the Bank of England. Forgeries of their notes to a most enormous amount had been for a considerable time going on,*[see note] the authors of which the company were not able to discover. The prisoner was confined in Newgate under a sentence of two years' imprisonment, by the Court of King's Bench, on a conviction for conspiracy in aiding the escape of the French General Austin, a prisoner of war in this country upon his parole. There was also a prisoner named Barry, confined in the House of Correction at Clerkenwell, on a sentence of six months' imprisonment, for uttering counterfeit dollars. Mr. Weston, the principal clerk of Messrs. Kaye and Freshfield, solicitors of the Bank, went to Barry in prison on Monday, the 23d September; and, in consequence of a plan then concerted, he gave Barry eight pounds in Bank of England notes, which he previously marked with the letter W; he then accompanied Barry in a coach, together with one of the turnkeys, named Beckett, to Newgate, where Barry went in, and directly, without communicating his purpose to any one, to the room of the prisoner, where there were a number of persons with him. He went up to the prisoner, gave him six one-pound notes of the marked ones he had received from Mr. Weston, of which the prisoner returned him three, saying he had not enough of the other notes ready until to-morrow, and then gave him, in lieu of the three notes he kept, forged notes to the nominal value of six pounds. With these Barry immediately returned to Mr.Weston, who waited in the street, and immediately Beckett went in, accompanied by Brown and another officer, to the prisoner's chamber, where Beckett asked him to produce what property he had about, him. Upon which the prisoner produced from one pocket a handful of gold, from another a pocket-book filled with bank-notes, from another a quantity of loose bank-notes, and he also produced a stocking shard with the like currency. Beckett, on examining these notes, and not perceiving amongst them any of the marked ones he sought for, told the prisoner he had some more, and desired him to produce them. Upon which the prisoner took some other notes from his side-pocket, and laid them on the bed where he was sitting.-- Beckett took those up. They were the marked notes; he said these were what he wanted, and returned the prisoner the rest. Upon which the prisoner, probably prophesying his purpose, snatched the notes, and thrust them into the fire. Beckett's assistant, however, rescued them from the flames, and they were proved to be the same which Barry had paid him just before; and the notes Barry received in lieu were also proved to be forgeries. The prisoner was found Guilty -- Death. He suffered before Newgate on the 29th of January, 1812, with Paul Whitehead, a man of genteel appearance, who was tried at the same sessions for forging the name of Thomas Gullan, an acceptor of a bill of eighty-seven pounds ten shillings, and thereby defrauding Messrs. Roberts, Curtis, and Co. They met their fate with decent fortitude, and when on the fatal scaffold shook hands, after which they were launched into eternity.-- The crowd was immense. *Note: The number of persons prosecuted for forged notes of the Bank of England, and for uttering, or having them in their possession, knowing them to be forged, from the year 1797 to 1811 inclusive, amounted to no less than four hundred and seventy-one. The number of persons prosecuted for counterfeiting the tokens issued by the Bank of England, or for uttering the same, was, in 1804, eight persons; 1805, none; 1806, two; 1807, none; 1808, one; 1809, nine; 1810, six; and 1811, twenty three. WILLIAM JEMMET, Executed for Robbery on the High Seas. This malefactor had been purser on board his majesty's ship Amphitrite, and from some unsuccessful speculations had got himself into embarrassed circumstances. In 1809 he entered into a concern, with some others, to ship goods for the Brazils. Jemmet. accompanied by a mariner, named Moore, went to Mr. White, a ship-broker, in London, and entered into negotiation for the purchase of a Portuguese vessel then lying in the Thames. They professed to treat on behalf of the house of Lazarus and Cohen, and purchased the ship for seven hundred pounds, which was paid for at two payments. They then employed Mr. White to procure them freight for Pernambuco. The vessel, which they called the Maria, was then advertised as ready to receive goods, and vast quantities were shipped; among other things, seven casks of dollars, containing thirty-two thousand ounces of silver. The cargo was estimated at eighty or ninety thousand pounds; and the freight, amounting to eight hundred and eighty-six pounds, six shillings, was paid in advance. In April, 1810, the Maria, Captain da Sylva, sailed from the Downs, where Jemmet went on board; but, instead of proceeding to the Brazils, they shaped their course for the West Indies. On their way from Teneriffe to Porto Rico the vessel's sides were painted yellow, and her name changed from Maria to the Columbia, of New York. The first mate took the command. They were not suffered to break bulk at Porto Rico, and in consequence they proceeded to Porto Plato, in St. Domingo, where they freighted a schooner with part of the cargo, and then sailed to St. Jago, in the Isle of Cuba, where the dollars were landed by Jemmet. They then steered for Havannah, where the crew was discharged, and the vessel dismantled. Neither the owners of the ship nor the cargo ever heard how either was disposed of. Jemmet, being dishonestly possessed of property, proceeded to Philadelphia, where he procured bills on England for six thousand pounds, with which he returned. But an account of his villainy had preceded him, and on his appearance in London he was taken into custody, and committed to the prison. His trial came on at the Old Bailey, February 28, 1812, when these facts were proved against him by some of his crew, and he was accordingly found Guilty -- Death. WILLIAM CUNDELL AND JOHN SMITH, Prisoners of War who Went over to the French, Executed for High Treason. Repentance and a corresponding conduct are sure of forgiveness, for the past, before Heaven; but earthly tribunals differ from those above; and it is supposed that occasional examples of capital punishment are necessary for the good of society, though the victims of penal laws may have ceased to offend, and consequently, from them individually, there is nothing more to apprehend. In hanging one man, and acquitting another guilty of the same crime, there may be policy; but there certainly is not justice; and he that suffers may reasonably accuse his judges of vindictiveness and partiality. There are, however, shades of criminality which would warrant a difference of punishment, and we hope that, in the present case, these shades were found by the attorney-general, who conducted the prosecution, and we have no reason to suspect he did not. In 1808, a number of British sailors and mariners were confined, as prisoners of war, in the Isle of France [Mauritius]. The prison, being much crowded, was greatly incommoded with dirt and vermin, and, there being no way of escaping from such inconvenience but that of desertion, every art was practiced by their keepers to induce the unhappy prisoners to enter the French service. Fifty men, among whom were Caudell and Smith, had not virtue enough to resist the temptations on one hand, and the hope of escaping from distress and filth on the other. They forgot their country and allegiance, and put on the enemy's uniform, acting as sentinels over those who were so recently their companions in captivity. These traitors continued to do duty with the French until the surrender of the island to the British forces, when Caudell and Smith, with ten others, positively refused to accompany the enemy, and threw themselves upon the mercy of their country, having immediately surrendered to the English, while the thirty-eight others marched off to old France. These culprits were now transmitted to England, and a special commission was issued for their trial, which took place at the Surrey Court House, February the 6th, 1812. Caudell, Smith, and five others, were found guilty of adhering to his majesty's enemies, when the attorney-general stated that he thought the ends of justice obtained, and that he would not press the conviction of the remaining five, who were discharged, not for any want of proof of their guilt, but through the clemency of the government. He pitied the situation of the unfortunate men at the bar; but as an example, to deter others from forsaking their duty, it was necessary that the law should take its course, in order that those engaged in the service of their country might be impressed with the conviction, that such offenders could not expect to escape the hands of justice. There were reasons for selecting the men who had been tried, as well as those who were acquitted, and, from his official knowledge of the particulars, he thought the ends of justice obtained. The lord chief baron then proceeded to pass sentence, after a suitable address -- 'That you, and each of you, be taken to the place from whence you came, and thence be drawn on a hurdle to the place of execution, where you shall be hanged by the necks, but not till you are dead: that you be severally taken down, while yet alive, and your bowels taken out, and burnt before your faces; that your heads be then cut off, and your bodies cut in four quarters, to be at the king's disposal.' The prisoners were then, after again crying for mercy, reconducted to their cells. Almost every individual in court was dissolved in tears during the melancholy scene. On Monday morning, the 16th of March, 1812, at eight o'clock, these two young men were conducted from their cells to chapel, from whence, after remaining some time, they were drawn on a hurdle to the place of execution, and having with becoming fortitude ascended the scaffold, attended by the clergyman, they again spent a short period in prayer, seemingly thoroughly sensible of that fate fast approaching them. The dreadful moment having at length arrived, they were launched off, and their bodies, after hanging nearly half an hour, were taken down. The scene then, while the executioner was performing that part of the remaining sentence, in severing off their heads, and alternately with his right hand presenting each to the surrounding spectators, exclaiming, Behold the bead of a traitor!' became truly awful, and apparently dissolved in tears each individual who beheld the fate of two men, who thus, in the bloom of life, suffered death, according to the laws of their country. The remaining five were pardoned on condition of serving in colonies beyond the seas. THOMAS BOWLER, Executed for Maliciously Firing at Mr. Burrowes. An unprovoked and foul spirit of revenge, indulged in to excess, precipitated this hoary sinner on the commission of a crime for which he forfeited his life to the injured laws of his country. The motives which prompt other men to deeds of blood were wanting here; plunder was not the object; nor was there a single worldly advantage which this desperate man could promise himself from the premature death of his neighbour; nor does it appear that he received a provocation from his intended victim that would justify the slightest act of hostility, much less a premeditated attempt on his life. Thomas Bowler was a wealthy farmer, who resided near Harrow, sad had for his neighbour another farmer named Burrowes, who was also a hay-salesman in St. James's, Haymarket. These men had a trifling dispute about some trees; but which was amicably adjusted without any application to lawyers. Notwithstanding this apparent conciliation Bowler from that moment nourished a spirit of revenge, and about the middle of March, 1812, in the presence of one Sheppard, in St. James's Market, said 'Damn that Burrowes's eyes, I'll Burrowes him before long; he shan't live to the end of June, if I was to be hanged the next moment.' Sheppard remonstrated, and Bowler replied, 'I'll be d--d if I don't be the death of him.' This was communicated to Burrowes, who took no farther notice of it than just to observe 'I don't fear him; he is too fond of his own life to take away mine.' Bowler, being a man who never put any restraint on his violent passion -- indulged his evil propensity for better than two months, and on the 30th of May prepared to carry into execution his foul design, as he knew his unsuspecting neighbour would be on his way to London at a certain hour, to attend his duty in the Haymarket. His preparations were all coolly and deliberately arranged. He provided a boy to keep a swift horse to carry him out of danger in case of pursuit; and, as the pan of his blunderbuss lost the priming, he carried it on that very morning to a blacksmith for repair, telling him he wanted it to shoot a mad dog. While the smith was employed on the lock he went out, and kept walking up and down; and, as he saw Burrowes coming up the road in his chaise-cart, he returned into the smith's shop, took up the blunderbuss, and stationed himself behind an elm-tree, which concealed him all but his feet from Mr. Burrowes. Where Bowler stood was about fifteen yards from the canal bridge, at Alperton; and, just as the chaise-cart gained the bridge, the assassin took a deliberate aim, when Burrowes exclaimed 'Don't fire!' and stooped down in the cart. 'Damn your eyes, take that!' said Bowler, firing, and wounded Mr. Burrowes in the neck and back. At the report of the blunderbuss the horse ran away, and the assassin mounted his horse, and galloped off, leaving his hat behind him, and throwing the blunderbuss into the ditch. What added to the atrocity of this act was the age of the perpetrator, which at the time was more than sixty years. Besides, he was immensely rich, and had a respectable family to suffer disgrace by his unprincipled wickedness. Happily Mr. Burrowes' wounds were not mortal; he gradually recovered, and diligent pursuit was made after the hoary fugitive. For a week he avoided the vigilance of Mr. Burrowes' friends; but on the 6th of June he was apprehended at his own house. To the person who took him into custody he offered ten, twenty, and, lastly, thirty thousand pounds, to be allowed his liberty; but his offers were rejected, and he was carried to the police-office, from which he was fully committed to Newgate. He thought bail would be accepted, and offered to deposit ten thousand pounds. Bowler's friends now began to prepare for his defence; and, knowing there was no possibility of controverting the fact, endeavoured to establish a case of lunacy. For this purpose a commission was sued out, and a jury gave a verdict that he was insane from the preceding March, in consequence of a fracture in his skull, occasioned by a fall from his horse. His trial came on at the Old Bailey, July the 3d, 1812, when the case of the prosecution being gone through, several witnesses were examined to establish his insanity. Among these were three or four medical men, who gave it as their decided opinion that he was in an unsound state of mind; and various acts of eccentricity and extravagant passion were adduced in support of the defence. But as his conduct at the time of the dreadful act, in preparing the means of escape, argued a conviction of a knowledge of right and wrong, the jury found him Guilty, and he was sentenced to be hanged. For some time he supported himself with the hope of royal mercy, till Thursday, August the 20th, when he was given to understand that his execution was appointed to take place the ensuing day. He met his fate with pious firmness, on Friday, August the 21st, 1812. JOHN LOMAS AND EDITH MORREY, Executed for the Murder of Edith Morrey's Husband. 'My son, learn to say No,' was the dying injunction of a pious mother to a beloved youth; and, though the advice was concise, it is one of the most sage that ever was delivered from mortal lips. He that learns to say 'No' to the first invitation to crime will never become guilty; for the climax of iniquity is never attained at once, but must be approached through all the progressive ways of vice. Reader! peruse the atrocious narrative we are about to relate; and, while you mourn for the weakness and wickedness of your species, commune with yourself on the importance of learning to say 'No,' an ignorance of which brought this guilty pair to an ignominious death. John Lomas lived as servant with a farmer named Morrey, who resided in Cheshire, and by whom he was treated with great kindness. Lomas, not being more than twenty years of age, attracted the notice of his mistress; and, though she was the mother of five children, she admitted a criminal passion for her servant boy. Some acts of kindness on her part conciliated the youth, and the condescension of the mistress emboldened him to familiarity. The wholesome barriers of respect and deference being once broken through, modesty was left without a protector, and the guilty pair plunged into all the excesses of forbidden enjoyment. Heinous as was their conduct, had it stopped here, they would have escaped the miserable condition to which they reduced themselves. But the guidance of virtue once forsaken, the progress of guilt is rapid. This atrocious pair, either apprehensive of discovery, or wishing to perpetuate their guilty connexion, resolved on removing the unsuspicious husband, whose existence they thought a drawback on their mutual happiness. Various attempts to murder the unfortunate man proved abortive, until the night of the 11th of April, 1812. Morrey had been out at a cocking, and returned home at the usual hour. He spoke with his usual kindness to Lomas, and laughed and joked with his wife as they were going to bed, little suspecting the dreadful intentions which that barbarous woman harboured towards the father of her children. Between one and two o'clock Mrs. Morrey got up and went to Lomas's room, desiring him to get up, and murder her husband. The infatuated youth obeyed the horrid summons, and, ascending, had an axe put into his hands; while his mistress held the candle, Lomas struck his master three blows on the head, and as the unfortunate man moaned, he was heard by a servant-maid in an adjoining apartment, who, making a noise, alarmed the murderers, when they ran out of the room, Mrs. Morrey extinguishing, at the same time, the candle. Morrey continuing to moan, Lomas was sent in again to dispatch him but, after giving several blows, came out without having effected his horrid purpose. At this Mrs. Morrey said, 'John, he is alive; go in and kill him;' and put a razor into his hand for the purpose. On his entering a third time, their miserable victim was yet alive, and seemed to recognise Lomas, whom he caught by the shirt, and laid his head down on his breast, in a supplicating manner; but at this moment the monster drew the razor twice across his throat, and terminated his struggles for existence. Mrs. Morrey now went into the servant-maid's room, and prevented her from escaping through the window, telling her to remain quiet, as there were murderers in the house. To save appearances, Lomas ran through the neighbourhood, lamenting and proclaiming that some villains had murdered his master. Several people attended, and blood being found on Lomas, and traced to his room, he was accused of the murder, when he unhesitatingly confessed it, and implicated his mistress. When the constable came to take her into custody, she drew from her pocket a razor, and inflicted a deep wound in her throat; but it did not prove mortal. The razor was found in a pond, where Lomas had thrown it; and his bloody shirt was taken out of his trunk, where he had concealed it. So great was the sensation produced in the country by the perpetration of this horrid murder, that when the trial of these malefactors came on at Chester, July 21st, 1812, the court was crowded to excess, it being computed that four thousand persons attended to hear the verdict. The trial continued six hours. Edith Morrey wore a veil when she was put to the bar; but this being ordered to be removed, she held her handkerchief to her face, and preserved, throughout the awful investigation, a sullen, unmoved, hardness. From the time of her imprisonment, she protested her innocence; and, thinking that there was not a sufficient evidence to criminate her, she spoke with confidence of acquittal. On the other hand, Lomas all along confessed his crime in all its horrid circumstances. The facts of the case being proved, the jury, without retiring, pronounced them Guilty, and they were ordered for execution the ensuing Monday. When sentence was passed, Lomas stretched out his hands and exclaimed, 'I deserve it all -- I don't wish to live; but I hope for mercy.' His more miserable companion pleaded pregnancy; and, a jury of matrons proving this to be case, she was respited. On Sunday, the day before execution, Edith Morrey acknowledged her guilt, and desired to speak with Lomas. This was granted, and they partook of the sacrament together, previous to which they had some mutual recrimination, Morrey being unwilling to acknowledge the minute particulars of her atrocious conduct. But they parted in friendship; and, praying for each other, acknowledged their sins. On Monday, according to his sentence, Lomas was removed from Chester Castle to the New City Gaol. The sheriffs received him at the boundaries, and, on being placed in a cart, he fell on his knees, and continued in prayer till he arrived at the gaol, in front of which the drop was erected. He declared he would rather die than live, and every part of his deportment evinced the sincerity of his professions. When the rope was placed round his neck, he addressed a few words to the surrounding multitude, observing that he had made his peace with God, and warned them to take example by his present awful situation. Soon after he was launched into eternity; but, being in the vigour of youth and health, he struggled violently before he quitted this mortal state. The miserable Edith Morrey having given birth to an infant, and the time of parturition over, she prepared to meet the fate of her paramour. On the 7th of February, 1813, she was conducted to the place of execution, and it is some alleviation to our feelings that she died a penitent. She was dressed in widow's weeds, and, when placed upon the platform, she advanced to the front and addressed the multitude. 'My dear Christians, I hope you will take warning by my melancholy situation. My crime has been of a double nature. In the first place I have broken one of God's commandments, by committing adultery, and defiling the marriage bed; and, in the next, I have committed a most inhuman murder, imbruing my hands in the blood of an affectionate and most indulgent husband.'-- Then clasping her hands, she exclaimed, 'Lord, unto thee I commend my spirit,' and in a moment after she was launched into eternity. JOSEPH SIMMONS WINTER, BENJAMIN ALLEN, WILLIAM TAYLOR, JOHN IVEY, & ROBERT COOPER The Three First Executed for Stealing Silk, and the Two Latter Transported for Receiving it, Knowing it to be Stolen. THESE men belonged to a gang of desperate villains who frequently committed depredations on the River Thames; but all their previous acts of dishonesty were lost in the enormity of the one we are about recording, which, at the time of perpetration, created a greater notoriety than any case of felony we remember to have heard of. The brig 'Velocity,' laden with silk and ostrich feathers, sailed in the month of May, 1812, from Gibraltar to London. Coming from a country afflicted with a pestilential disease, the ship was obliged to perform quarantine on her arrival in the mouth of the Thames. Of this circumstance the band of pirates got notice, and having ascertained that a man named Banton, master of the 'Sisters' hoy, was to go down to Stangate Creek to fetch up the silk and feathers, they engaged him -- nothing loath -- to aid them in making away with the cargo. His mate, named Knox, was also in the secret, and approved of the scheme. Winter was also the master of a hoy, and engaged to carry the robbery into execution; for which purpose he followed with his hoy, that when Banton should purposely run his vessel aground, he was to come alongside, and carry off the silk, &c. Thieves cannot exist without receivers; and these villains had more than one. Cooper, who kept three public houses, and was turning at the rate of seventeen thousand pounds a year, agreed to purchase the silk at a certain price; a man named Ingram was also to receive it; and Ivey, who was a toy-chandler in Artillery Lane, agreed to make sales for them. Cooper and Ingram went down to Dagenham to receive the goods, where it was expected they would have been landed. On the 14th of July the hoy received the goods, and sailed. Winter followed; but in consequence of Banton having a Custom-house officer on board, who was well acquainted with the river, he refused to fulfil his promise. Thus disappointed, they execrated Banton, and for this time abandoned their intentions; but on the 'Sisters' coming up to the Custom House on Saturday, they entered into a new conspiracy to steal the silk and feathers, there being ten bales of the first, and two of the latter, on board. Allen and Taylor, who were working men on the river, were two of those concerned. On Tuesday night they went on board, when one of the thieves imitated Banton's voice, and told the officers that he should move out in the river, to be ready for the morning's tide, as he wanted to get in the London Docks, and requested of them to go below, and get into bed. The stupid fellows did so, and the villains carried the hoy into a wharf above Blackfriars Bridge, on the Surrey side, where they quickly carried off the cargo. When the officers awoke next morning they found themselves confined; and when, with great difficulty, they broke through the skylight, they found the goods in which they were in charge had been carried off. The silk and feathers were first removed to a stable in Woolpack Yard, Gravel Lane. The parties afterwards met at several public houses, to concert means to dispose of the property. Ivey refused to be immediately concerned, but promised to sell the feathers when the alarm excited was allayed, and received payment for the part he had already taken. Cooper then agreed to pay for the silk nine hundred pounds, and actually sold a part of it to a Mr. Gibbs, of Cumberland Street, Shoreditch. He then employed one Harris, a clerk, and brother to an attorney, to dispose of more of it; and this man negotiated with some of the trade, pretending that he was employed by men of character, but whose names, from motives of delicacy, he was not at liberty to disclose. The silk being of a peculiar nature, and sent to the purchaser in an unusual state of package, he indignantly rejected it, suspecting that it was part of the stolen silk, then universally advertised. Several of the party were apprehended on suspicion; but there being no evidence against them, they were acquitted. Harris acted as their professional agent, and supplied them with money. At length a new light was thrown on the affair. A silk-thrower, whose mills were at Bruton, was sent some of this silk to prepare; and suspecting, from its state, that it belonged to that stolen, informed the parties concerned of the circumstance, upon which several of the villains were taken into custody; but the affair being of a complicated nature, it was found necessary to admit some of the accomplices as evidence against the others. For this purpose three men, named Brown, Fenwick, and Banton, were admitted as approvers; and Winter, Allen, Taylor, Ivey, Knox, Cooper, and Harris, were indicted at the Old Bailey, October the 30th, 1812. Their trial occupied the Court three days, during which time the jury were not permitted to separate. The facts being deposed against them, several witnesses were called as to character; and Cooper had the solicitor of the Customs and Excise examined, to show that he had been frequently prosecuted as a smuggler, with a view to persuade the jury, by inference, that he bought the silk, with the idea that it was smuggled. The jury, having been charged, retired at twelve o'clock at night, and soon returned with a verdict of Guilty -- Death -- against Winter, Taylor, and Allen:-- Ivey and Cooper Guilty -- transportation; and acquitting Harris and Knox. Knox, it appeared, knew nothing of the last transaction; and no evidence went to show that Harris was otherwise employed than as a professional agent. After their conviction several instruments were conveyed to Winter and Allen, with a view to enable them to make their escape; and a similar attempt was made a few days before their final one upon earth. The three unfortunate men suffered the sentence of the law, January 25, 1813. CHARLES FREDERICK PALM AND SAMUEL TILLING Executed for Mutiny and Murder. THESE sanguinary men were indicted at the Sessions of the High Court of Admiralty, at the Old Bailey, on Friday the 18th December, 1812, for the murder of James Keith, master of a trading vessel, called 'The Adventure.'-- There were other counts in the said indictment against the prisoners, charging them with the murder of William Smith, the first mate of the said vessel, and two black men belonging thereto, called, the one Joe, and the other John.*[see note] From the evidence adduced on the trial it appeared that the deceased, James Keith, was master and sole owner of the vessel in question; and that, having embarked the whole of his property therein, to the extent of nearly two thousand pounds, he resolved to make a voyage to the South Seas upon a fishing concern; and for that purpose engaged a crew, which, with himself and three boys, amounted altogether to fourteen persons. Palm was a Swede, an experienced seaman, by his commander appointed to the post of second mate. The 'Adventure' sailed from Portsmouth in the month of November, 1811, and for a part of the time had a prosperous voyage; but one of the crew becoming sickly, and eventually dying, the captain put into the Island of St. Thomas's, and took on board the two black men, Joe and John, already mentioned. He then shaped his course towards Congar, upon the coast of Africa, intending thus to make his voyage to the South Seas; but, whilst an hundred leagues off that place, the crew began to show strong symptoms of mutiny; and, on a morning in April, about four o'clock, a boy named George, who was at the helm, called to the captain, saying there was something bad going on upon deck. The unfortunate Keith, who had already in vain attempted to conciliate his crew, instantly arose from his bed, and, without putting on his clothes, hurried to the deck, where he saw Palm, the second mate, in the act of striking a light. The captain asked what he was about, when Palm struck him with the cooper's hammer, which he had ready in his hand. In the mean time, another man, since dead, attacked the chief mate, who had come on deck immediately after the captain, and struck him repeatedly with the cook's axe, and Palm, and two other Swedes (both since dead), took an active part in throwing the captain and chief mate overboard. After this all hands went below, except the boy at the helm. Palm produced a Bible, and they all took an oath upon it, wishing they might never see the light of heaven if they divulged what had passed. The boy left at the helm was afterwards sworn; and, after the bodies of the captain and chief mate had been thrown overboard, the two Swedes provided themselves each with a pistol and a glass of rum: the rum they offered to the blacks; and, whilst in the act of drinking it, each shot his man; when both were immediately thrown overboard by Palm and the two Swedes. After this they plundered the captain's property, and Palm had a five-pound note out of it. Palm then took charge of the vessel; but it was afterwards determined to scuttle the ship, and take to the boats, and steer for the coast of Guinea. Two boats were prepared, and provisions put into them with the crew, eleven in number; they were three days and three nights before they reached land, and then one of the boats was swamped, and a boy was drowned; they then walked along the beach till night, when they lay down on the sand to sleep, and next day went into the country. The moment, however, they were discovered, the black natives rushed upon them, seized, plundered, and stripped them naked, and led them off through the country, to be sold as white slaves. In this deplorable state they remained several weeks, traversing a vast extent of country, during which all of them died through disease, cruelty of the negroes, or fatigue, except Palm, Tilling, William Wright, not yet apprehended, and Henry Madis. The survivors were marched, or rather driven, to Cape Lopez, a southern promontory of Africa, where the black chief released them, supposing they were shipwrecked mariners, and, after a short time, a Portuguese vessel touching there, Palm and Wright took their voyage to Europe in her, and in a few days, a Liverpool ship also touching there, Tilling and Madis got a passage in her, and they were landed at Liverpool in September. Tilling, appearing an object of charity, was admitted a patient in the hospital; and Mr. Capper, the first mate of the ship which brought them back to their native country, humanely took the boy, Madis, to his own home. In about a week after their arrival, when Madis went to see Tilling at the hospital, he was greatly surprised to see Palm at the same place, having, on the morning of that same day, been taken in as a patient from the ship that brought him over. The day on which young Madis landed in Liverpool he wrote the outlines of the above sad story to his mother in London; and urged her to send him money to defray travelling charges, that he might lay the whole before a London magistrate. Such was the evidence against the prisoners. The impulse which appeared principally to occupy the mind of Palm was that of criminating his fellow-prisoner, whom he laboured to make appear to have acted an equal part in the bloody scene with himself; which by no means came out in evidence: on the contrary the work of death seemed to have been done by Palm and his brother Swedes, of which country the greater part of the crew were composed. Witnesses were called to the character of Tilling, among whom was his sister; who all spoke highly of his former conduct in life. This might have had some weight in his behalf; indeed nothing vindictive was proved against him, and those charitably inclined believed that he took the forced oath, and appeared, after the murderous deeds were done, as indeed any one would, to retain the blessing of life;-- but Tilling did not act like Madis, who gave information of the horrid transaction on his return to his native country. They were both found Guilty, and suffered at Execution Dock on the 21st December, 1812. Palm appeared to be about fifty years of age; but the hardships he had undergone among the negroes in Africa might have had a premature effect upon his appearance. Tilling bore the marks of youth, not mere than twenty-five years. They were placed in the cart which led them to Execution Dock without betraying those emotions natural to men in their unfortunate situation. Palm, soon as seated, put a quid of tobacco into his mouth, and offered another to his wretched companion, who refused it with indignation. Some indications of pity were offered for the fate of Tilling; Palm, execrations alone. *Note: The prisoner, Palm, being an alien, was asked, in the usual manner, whether he would be tried by a jury composed of half Englishmen, and the other half foreigners. He hesitated; but answered that he would rather trust himself to Englishmen, than have a single Swede on the jury. WILLIAM BROWN, Executed for the Murder of a Child. WILLIAM BROWN was a private in the royal artillery, and lived as servant with Lieutenant Webber. He bore a most exemplary character in the regiment; though, a short time before the commission of the crime for which he suffered, some articles were missing from his master's lodgings, which it was suspected he had stolen; and, as he got some intimation of the charge against him, he absented himself on the night of the 4th of April, 1812, from the barrack, and this circumstance seems to have led to the fatal deed. The circumstances of the case were of an extraordinary nature. On the morning of the 5th, he returned to the barrack as early as between five and six, and called up a person of the name of Jeffecot, with whom he had lived. After some preliminary conversation, he told him he had committed a crime for which he must be hanged, and desired that he might be taken to the guard-house, where he was received by the sergeant-major. When in custody, he requested to speak with the sergeant in private. This being granted, he told him that, being walking in the country the preceding evening, he was going over a stile, which led into a lane, where a little girl was at play. The child, alarmed at his sudden appearance, cried, when he seized her in his arms, and with his finger and thumb strangled her. As soon as she was dead, he carried her under his arm to some distance, and then laid her on some stone steps which he described, and where the body was subsequently found, and, from the marks on its little throat, it was evidently killed as the monster described. The name of the child was Isabella M'Guire, aged seven years. Brown could ascribe no motive for the perpetration of the dreadful act, and, as he had no malice against the child, he could not tell how he came to do it. We are, therefore, either to suspect that he had a disposition habituated to cruelty, or was stimulated to the deed by temporary insanity; for human nature, thank God, is not altogether so sanguinary, as deliberately to shed innocent blood, without any provocation whatever. For this offence he was indicted at Maidstone on the 7th of August, 1812, when he was found Guilty, and underwent, according to his sentence, the dreadful fiat of the law on the following Monday. ROBERT TOWERS, Imprisoned for Endeavouring to Bribe a Turnkey of Newgate. THERE is something in the human breast which endures us to favour the efforts of mistaken generosity, and disposes us to regard with forgiveness those departures from rigid justice which take place in behalf of friendship. The following case is one of those where justice is opposed to feeling; and, though we do not find fault with the sentence, we cannot refuse our sympathy to the sufferer. Robert Towers was a warmhearted sailor who felt acutely, and whose actions emanated from his feelings. Allied by blood and friendship to the unfortunate George Skene, whose case we have already given, he forgot his crime in the contemplation of the punishment that awaited his offence; and, with a precipitancy that did more honour to his heart than his head, he meditated effecting the escape of his friend from Newgate, about a fortnight after his committal. For this purpose he invited a turnkey, named Samuel Davis, to drink with him. They went to the New Inn, where Towers inquired of Davis what family he had; and then hinted that it was in his power to procure for himself the means of making them all comfortable for life. Davis, thinking that the favour required of him related to Mr. Skene's accommodation, promised to do every thing in his power; but this not amounting to Towers's expectations, he gave him clearly to understand that he expected nothing less than Mr. Skene's escape, promising to release Davis from the necessity of continuing turnkey, and that his reward should be paid, not in banknotes, but in gold. The turnkey refusing to accede to these terms, nothing further passed until Mr. Towers's next visit to his friend, when Mr. Newman called him into a private room, and confronted him with Davis, who had told his employer what had passed.-- Towers did not deny the charge; but contented himself with stating that he offered Davis no specific sum. Mr. Towers was now taken into custody, and brought to trial at the Old Bailey, April the 6th, 1812, when, the charge being proved, he was found Guilty, and sentenced to pay a fine of fifty pounds, and be imprisoned for twelve calendar months in the gaol of Newgate. WILLIAM BOOTH Executed for Forgery. This malefactor was not impelled by poverty or distress to the commission of the crime for which he lost his life. He lived near Birmingham, and occupied two hundred acres of land; but, being desirous of acquiring wealth by speedier means than the produce of honest industry afforded, he resorted to the culpable and dangerous practice of fabricating notes, purporting to be of the Bank of England. Unlike other criminals, he was not seduced into the act by design or ignorance; he entered upon it with the full knowledge of the consequence of detection; and, as he knew that no device or stratagem could evade discovery, he resolved to bid defiance to the minions of law, and oppose force to force. For this purpose he had his house barricaded, the windows secured by strong iron bars, and the approach to the place of illegal manufacture secured by three doors, well and studiously fastened with bolts, &c. Thus shut up, as he thought, in his impregnable fortress, he considered himself out of danger; but all his precaution could not avail. It was discovered that he had issued forged notes to a large amount, and the police of Birmingham were on the alert to apprehend him. For a while he kept them at defiance; but, at length, the whole posse laid regular siege to his invulnerable castle. Various modes were devised for gaining admittance; but all proved fruitless, until one of the constables procured a ladder, which reached to one of the upper windows. As he was ascending he saw Booth run to the middle of a room over the parlour, and take some papers, of the size of bank-notes, from a rolling-press, and put them into the fire. By breaking open the attic window the constable procured an entrance, through which he was followed by several of his comrades. The interior of the house displayed not less industry to baffle assailants than the exterior. Trap-doors were ingeniously contrived for opposing an enmity or facilitating escape; but the activity of the officers of justice rendered all his precautions of no avail. They jumped through one trap-door while Booth was escaping by another; and, having pursued him from concealment to concealment he was apprehended. Part of the papers were taken out of the fire, and found to have the Bank mark in them. Booth was fully committed for trial, and a workman of his, being apprehended, gave information of a trunk of forged notes, which he had buried by his master's orders. These were produced on his trial, which took piece at the Stafford assizes, and along with other corroborating circumstances established his guilt to the satisfaction of the jury, and he was sentenced to be hanged. The 15th of August, 1812, was the day appointed for the final suffering of this unfortunate man. A most distressing occurrence took place at the time of his execution -- the rope slipping, he fell to the ground, and many people thought that he was dead; but he got up, and fell upon his knees, praying to the Almighty for mercy. The scaffold was again prepared; but, owing to a mistake the drop, remained fast when Booth gave the signal for it to fall; and it was not until much force was applied that it gave way, and the miserable criminal was launched into eternity. THOMAS NUGENT, & JOHN & WILLIAM FOLKARD, Pilloried for Attempting to Defraud the Creditors of John Folkard. AMONG all the frauds of London none are more frequent, or mere extensive, than those practised by dishonest bankrupts on their unsuspicious creditors. John Folkard carried on business, as a silversmith and jeweller, in the Surrey Road, between four and five years, and was in good credit; a character he might have retained, had he not entered into a scheme for enriching himself by speedier means than the profits of his business afforded. He became acquainted with a money-lender, named Thomas Nugent, and, in conjunction with him, and his own brother, William Folkard, he resolved to become a bankrupt; but, that he might do so advantageously, they fabricated bills, purporting to be drawn on them by different men, whom they got to swear to their fictitious debts for a few shillings. Debts, too, were entered on the books, pretended to be due by men either no longer in existence, or no longer in the country; and, when all things were prepared, John Folkard's name appeared in the Gazette, to the great astonishment of his creditors. His object was to take them by surprise, and to have one of his friends appointed assignee before they were aware of his design. From some circumstances of a suspicious nature, the bona fide creditors saw it was necessary to unite, and get some of themselves chosen assignee, instead of those proposed by the bankrupt. After a severe struggle they were successful, and Messrs. Powis, Hemming, and Taylor, were chosen. On inspecting the list of debts, several appeared fictitious. One man, who was described as a bullion-dealer on Ludgate Hill, whose debt appeared to be one hundred and thirty-eight pounds, was nowhere to be found, and many others, with demands equally as large, were only just emerged from prison, through the mercy of the Insolvent Act, and, so far from being able to lend money, were objects of charity. The assignees waiting on these people, and insisting on having the particulars of their accounts, under the threat of prosecution, so alarmed a woman, who called herself Baroness Minkwitz, that she disclosed the premeditated fraud. In consequence of her testimony Thomas Nugent and the two brothers were taken into custody. On Friday, September the 20th, 1812, their trial came on at the Old Bailey, when the whole transaction was satisfactorily proved by parties concerned, and numerous corroborating facts. After an investigation of ten hours they were found Guilty, and the Common Sergeant sentenced John Folkard to he imprisoned two years, and stand twice in the pillory; Thomas Nugent to be imprisoned eighteen months, and stand once in the pillory; and William Folkard to be imprisoned one year, and to stand once in the pillory. THE LUDDITES Guilty of Rioting and Administering Unlawful Oaths. THE cotton manufacturers of Nottinghamshire, Derbyshire, Leicestershire, and some parts of Yorkshire, having suffered under a considerable reduction of wages and scarcity of work, which they attributed to the very extensive introduction of machinery, associated in such numbers for the destruction of frames and looms, and the annoyance of those manufacturers who had been most forward in introducing the machines, that those counties became the seat of the most serious tumults, not unattended with murder. They pretended to be followers of a leader whom they called General Ludd, and hence arose the term Luddites. A considerable number of those misguided men were at length brought to condign punishment. A special commission was issued for their trial, and was opened by Baron Thompson at the city of York, on Monday the 4th January, 1813, in a most impressive charge to the grand jury. On Tuesday, the 5th, the business of the Court commenced with the trial of John Swallow, John Batley, Joseph Fletcher, and John Lamb, for a burglary and felony in the house of Mr. Samuel Moxon, at Whitley Upper: the jury pronounced them all Guilty. Throughout the whole of these important trials the evidence was nearly to the same effect -- administering unlawful oaths -- riotously assembling -- destroying the frames and looms of manufacturers of cloth -- breaking into houses -- robbery, and murder. We shall, however, proceed more particularly to state the cases marked with blood. On Wednesday, George Mellor, of Longroyd Bridge, William Thorp, and Thomas Smith of Huddersfield, were indicted for the wilful murder of William Horsfall, of Marsden, merchant and manufacturer, at Lockwood, in the West Riding of the county of York. It appeared from the evidence of John Armitage, who kept a public house at Crossland Moor, called the Warren House, that Mr. Horsfall had, on the 28th of April, been at Huddersfield market, and on his return called at witness's house about a quarter past six in the evening, and got a glass of rum and water, treated two persons who were there, paid his reckoning, and rode away:-- did not stop twenty minutes at witness's; nor did he get off his horse. Between witness's house and Marsden, there is a plantation belonging to Mr. Ratcliffe, and about a quarter of a mile from Warren House: About seven o'clock, witness heard that Mr. Horsfall had been shot. Witness and the two persons whom the deceased had been treating went out together, and found Mr. Horsfall about twenty or thirty yards below the plantation, sitting on the roadside, bleeding very much. They got him down to Warren House as soon as they could. Mr. Horsfall died there. Henry Parr was at Huddersfield on the 28th of April last; was upon the road between Huddersfield and Marsden; and, after he had passed the Warren House, heard the report of fire-arms -- saw a person riding before him -- report seemed to come from Mr. Ratcliffe's plantation -- saw smoke arising at the same time, and four persons were in the plantation in dark-coloured clothes; the person who was before witness on horseback, after the report, fell down on the horse's chine, and the horse turned round as quick as possible; Mr. Horsfall raised himself by the horse's mane, and called 'Murder!' As soon as he called out murder, one of the four men got on the wall with one hand and two feet, and Parr called out, 'Have you got enough yet?' and he (Parr) set off to Mr. Horsfall at full gallop. Mr. H. said, 'Good man, you are a stranger to me; I'm shot.' Mr. Horsfall grew sick, and blood began to flow from his side. Mr. H. desired witness to go to Mrs. Horsfall's. Bannister, a clothier, met Parr on the road, who told witness that Mr. Horsfall was shot. Witness found Mr. H. on the road-side very bloody. Mr. Horton, surgeon, gave his testimony professionally. He extracted a ball from the deceased, and found several wounds in his body, and had no doubt they were the cause of his death. Benjamin Walker, an accomplice, stated that the prisoners, George Mellor and Thomas Smith, worked with him at Wood's; and, in a conversation about the attack on Mr. Cartwright's mill, Mellor said there was no way to break the shears -- but shoot the master. Mellor had a loaded pistol, and said he must go with him to shoot Mr. Horsfall. The pistol was loaded. Witness and the three prisoners went to the plantation. Smith and Walker went together, and got to the plantation first -- Thorp and Mellor came afterwards. George Mellor ordered witness and Smith to fire, if they missed Mr. Horsfall; witness did not fire, but heard Mellor say Mr. Horsfall was coming, and soon after heard the report of a pistol; they waited at a short distance till the job was done. The prisoners attempted to prove an alibi. The jury withdrew about twenty minutes, and returned a verdict of Guilty against all the prisoners. On Friday these wretched men were brought to the place of execution, behind the Castle at York. Every precaution had been taken to render a rescue impracticable. Two troops of cavalry were drawn up near the front of the platform, and the avenues to the Castle were guarded by infantry. A few minutes before nine o'clock the prisoners came upon the platform. After the Ordinary had read the accustomed forms of prayer, George Mellor prayed for about ten minutes. William Thorp also prayed; but his voice was not so well heard. Smith said but little, but seemed to join in the devotions with great seriousness. The prisoners were then moved to the front of the platform; and, after saying a few words, the executioner proceeded to perform his fatal office, and the drop fell. On the 8th John Baines the elder, John Baines the younger, Zachary Baines, of the same family, the elder near seventy years of age, and the latter scarce sixteen, John Eadon, Charles Milnes, William Blakeborough, and George Duckworth, all of Halifax, were tried for administering an unlawful oath to John Macdonald; and all, except the boy, were found Guilty. On the 9th January, James Haigh, of Dalton, Jonathan Deane, of Huddersfield, John Ogden, James Brook, Thomas Brook, John Walker, of Longroyd Bridge, and John Hirst, of Liversedge, were tried for attacking the mill of Mr. William Cartwright, at Rawfolds. Mr. C. being apprehensive of an attack being made upon his mill, procured the assistance of five soldiers, and retired to rest about twelve o'clock, and soon afterwards heard the barking of a dog. Mr. C. arose; and, while opening the door, heard a breaking of windows, and also a firing in the upper and lower windows, and a violent hammering at the door. Mr. C. and his men flew to their arms; a bell placed at the top of the mill, for the purpose of alarming the neighbours, being rung by one of his men, the persons inside the mill discharged their pieces from loop-holes. The fire was returned regularly on both aides. The mob called, 'Bang up, lads! in with you! keep close! damn that bell! get to it! damn 'em, kill 'em all!' The numbers assembled were considerable. The attack continued about twenty minutes. The fire slackened from without; and they heard the cries of the wounded. The men that were wounded were taken care of. They afterwards died. One of the accomplices, W. Hall, was one of those connected with Mellor and Thorp, and assembled with many other persons, by the desire of Mellor, in a field belonging to Sir George Armitage, Bart. on the night of the 11th of April. They called their numbers, remained there some time, and then marched off: Hall's number was seven. Mellor commanded the musket company, another the pistol company, and another the hatchet company: they were formed in lines of ten each. Two of the men were to go last, and drive up the rear.-- Some had hatchets, some hammers, some sticks, and others had nothing. Another accomplice gave a similar testimony. The jury found James Haigh, J Dean, John Ogden, Thomas Brook, and John Walker, Guilty -- James Brook; John Brook, and John Hirst, Not Guilty. Jan. 11.-- J. Hay, John Hill, and William Hartley, were next tried, for a burglary in the house of Mr. George Haigh, of Sculcoates; and found Guilty. On Thursday the grand jury, after stating they had no more bills before them, inquired if any more were prepared.-- Mr. Parke said – 'I shall, with leave of the Court, answer the question put by the grand jury.' Their lordships intimated assent, and Mr. Parke proceeded 'My learned friends and myself have examined the different cases which have been presented to you; and, considering that many of these people have acted under the influence of other persons, we have, in the exercise of that discretion confided to us by the Crown, declined, at present, to present any other bills before you; and I hope this lenity will produce its proper effects, and that the persons on whom it is exercised will prove themselves, by their future good conduct, deserving of it. But, if it be abused, proceedings against them can be resumed.' Jan. 12.-- James Hay, Joseph Crowther, and N. Hayle, were found guilty of taking from James Brook a promissory note of one pound, and some silver and copper coin. Several prisoners were, through the lenity of government, admitted to bail, on their entering into recognisances, the prisoners in two hundred pounds each, and their bail in one hundred pounds each. Mr. Baron Thompson then passed sentence on the prisoners.-- Fifteen were sentenced to death; six to be transported for seven years; sixteen were discharged on bail; and sixteen were discharged without bail. On Saturday the following malefactors convicted before mentioned were also brought to the same place of execution, at different times, viz. at eleven in the forenoon, John Hill, Joseph Crowther, N. Hayle, Jonathan Dean, John Ogden, Thomas Brook, and John Walker, were placed upon the scaffold. Many of them, after the clergyman had repeated 'The Lord have mercy upon you!' in a very audible voice articulated 'I hope he will.' The bodies, after hanging till twelve o'clock, were then cut down. At half past one o'clock, John Swallow, John Batley, Joseph Fisher, William Hartley, James Haigh, James Hey, and Job Hay, were also executed. The conduct of the prisoners was becoming their awful situation. WILLIAM HOWE, ALIAS JOHN WOOD, Executed for the Murder of Mr. Robins. THE following case, while it exhibits the utmost depravity and wickedness, affords a consolatory instance of the persevering industry of two officers of justice, whose conduct merits the highest praise, and well deserved whatever reward had been offered for the apprehension of the murderer. On the evening of the 18th of December, 1812, as Mr. Benjamin Robins, a farmer of Dunsley, near Stourbridge, was returning home from market on foot, he was overtaken by a man, who, under pretence of inquiring his way, walked with him for a mile, when be suddenly fired a pistol at him, and robbed him of twenty-six pounds and his watch. Mr. Robins reached home in great agony, when the wound was found to be so serious, that, after languishing eight days, he expired. The alarm caused by this atrocity induced the magistrates of Bow Street to send down Adkins and Taunton, two most active officers, by whose extraordinary exertions the wretch was traced to London, where, after a patient watch of many days and nights, they at length succeeded in securing him. He was conveyed directly to Stourbridge, where he was identified by those who saw him on the day of the murder. At the Stafford assizes, March the 17th, 1813, he was put upon his trial, when, in addition to other facts, it was proved that after his apprehension he had sent a letter to his wife, directed Mrs. Howe, wherein he told her to go to a rick near Stourbridge, to search for something. Vickers and Aston went to the rick, and in a hole, apparently made by a hand, they found three bullets and a pistol, a fellow to the one found in the box. A watch, which proved to have belonged to Mr. Robins, was also found to have been sold by Howe; and, after a trial of ten hours, his guilt was fully established by the corroborating testimony of between thirty and forty witnesses. The judge passed on him the awful sentence of the law; after which Howe, who did not call a single witness, exclaimed, 'My heart is innocent!' He appeared quite indifferent during his trial; but at the time of his execution, Monday, the 20th of March, he seemed to be impressed with the awfulness of his situation, and manifested corresponding symptoms of repentance. ANTONIO TARDIT A French Prisoner-of-war, Executed for the Murder of a Fellow-Prisoner. WE have, in the progress of our work, exhibited many a monster of atrocity; but it was reserved for us to crown the climax of wickedness with the case of Antonio Tardit, the deliberate murderer of his countryman, his fellow-soldier, his fellow-prisoner, in a strange country, where both endured all the deprivations of captivity; and for what? because he suspected the victim of his long cherished vengeance to have supplied materials for a satire, in which Tardit considered himself ridiculed! In the year 1811, a French prisoner in Porchester depot composed some verses; and, among the characters introduced in the poem, one, very unfortunately, struck Tardit, who was also a prisoner of war, as expressly written to satirize him. This idea, whether erroneous or not, invariably operated upon the demoniac spirit of the wretch, who sought numerous opportunities to glut his vengeance on another prisoner, named Leguey, who, he imagined, had given the hints to the writer of the verses, enabling him to delineate the characteristic traits in question. Fifteen long mouths, with all the irksomeness of a prison, were unable to cool the fiery vengeance which burned within his breast; and, early in the year 1813, he prepared to sacrifice his victim. In order to render his weapon, a large sharp knife, more certain in its operation, he first sharpened it, and then bound the handle with a thick cord, that the grasp might be more firm. This knife he denominated his 'guardian angel,' and slept every night with it under his pillow. The dreams of this monster so much disturbed a fellow-prisoner, who slept in an adjoining hammock, that he asked Tardit if he should not awaken him whenever he became so dreadfully agitated. 'No!' replied this demon of vengeance, for I am then dreaming of a deadly enemy who has dishonoured me; and, although be appears to conquer for a time, yet the vision always terminates by giving me his blood.' On Monday evening, March the 1st, 1813, about eight o'clock, Tardit found the long-wished for opportunity; when rushing upon his victim in the privy, he literally ripped him open, when the bowels, in consequence, obtruded themselves, and the unfortunate man bent forward to receive his entrails, exclaiming, 'I am murdered!' 'Oh, no!' cried the murderer, ironically, it is merely a scratch; then twice plunged his knife in the back of Leguey, exclaiming, 'Take that -- and that!' He was proceeding thus to inflict additional wounds, when his murderous arm was arrested; on which the villain exclaimed, 'I have now completed my work, and am content; you may take the weapon and me where you like!' While they were binding his arms, he desired those around him to stand aside, that he might glut his vengeance by looking on his immolated victim, remarking ironically, 'I have sent you before me on your journey, that you may provide me a lodging.' One of the prisoners then inquired why he did not prove that he, at least, possessed one noble sentiment, by plunging the weapon in his own breast after the perpetration of the deed, in order to escape the gallows, 'It was,' replied the wretch, 'originally my intention; but it afterwards struck me that I might expire first, and then the certainty of taking away his life would not have been known to me, and nothing less would have gratified my heart.' Soon after the villain was ironed he fell into a sound and tranquil sleep, from which he did not awake until late the following morning, when he said he had not had so undisturbed a repose for the last twelve months. Tardit was tried at the ensuing summer assizes for Hampshire, and found Guilty. In his defence he said Legney had dishonoured him, and reduced him to despair. Sentence was immediately passed on him, and the next day but one he suffered the penalty of his diabolical crime. AZUBAH FOUNTAIN AND GEORGE TURNER ROWELL Executed for the Murder of Fountain's Husband. WE should readily admit that some men are naturally depraved, did we not know the power of habit, whether good or bad; and this should be an inducement to parents to impress upon the minds of their children those principles of moral rectitude, which are generally found to lead the mind from such actions as bring in their train ignominy and disgrace. We are persuaded that neither of those malefactors, whose case is before us, heard in their youth many useful lessons, or received, before their minds were depraved, much wholesome advice. We allude particularly to Rowell, who seems to have been habitually vicious; but the unhappy woman who shared his ignominious fate appears more imbecile than wicked, more weak than criminal; her conduct was perfectly unaccountable; and, though we must execrate her crime, we can scarcely refrain from pitying her; for she appears to have fallen a victim to the arts of Rowell, working on a weak mind, irritated by the brutal conduct of an unfeeling husband. At the Lincoln assizes, on the 3d of August, 1813, Azubah Fountain, aged thirty-six, and George Turner Rowell, aged twenty-three, were indicted for the wilful murder of Robert Fountain, the husband of Azubah, by administering four ounces of laudanum in some elderberry-wine; and, thinking this quantity insufficient, a further dose of two ounces was given him in a cup of ale, of which he died. Rowell, who at the time of the murder was, as we have observed, only twenty-three years of age, was a native of Melton-Mowbray, at which place he bore a very bad character. From 1807 to 1809 he worked, being a cooper, with Mr. Skinner, of Bingham, who frequently told him, when reproving him for his evil practices, 'that he was fearful, when he left his employ, it would be his lot to suffer the vengeance of the laws;' a prediction which was too truly fulfilled, for this vicious and irreclaimable young man was not to be advised. In 1813 he went to lodge with Robert Fountain at Lincoln, and had not been in the house more than twelve weeks when the act for which he suffered took place, and in which the wife was deeply implicated. Of their guilt there cannot he a doubt; and what makes Rowell doubly culpable is the fact that he was shout to be married to the daughter of his host, having received his consent to that effect a day or two before the murder. On the ensuing Friday they were both taken to the place of execution near Lincoln, where they were launched into eternity. Rowell persisted to the last in denying that he knew to what purpose the laudanum was to be applied; whilst his partner in guilt continued to assert that they both had frequent conversations on the subject, and that he knew, when he got it, that it was to poison her husband. ROBERT KENNETT, Executed for Forgery. A long course of iniquity brought this malefactor to the gallows. The first mention we bear of him was in the debates in the House of Commons on the conduct of the Duke of York; where it appeared Kennett, though not worth a shilling, proposed lending his royal highness seventy thousand pounds upon annuity, with the additional consideration of a place to be obtained for him under government, through the interest of the royal duke. The address with which Kennett imposed on his royal highness may be inferred from the several letters*[See Note] which were made public, and strongly evinced the zeal and pertinacity with which situations were solicited for him, in return for the supposed accommodation he was to afford the royal duke. Before Kennett, however, succeeded in effectually imposing upon his royal highness, his character was discovered, and consequently all correspondence ceased. From that time he subsisted on ways and means; which, as they were practised in private, it is impossible for us to be acquainted with. In 1812 he became acquainted with Richardson and Cooke, the two accomplices, who discovered the villainy of Badcock and others, whose case will be next given. With these men he planned and forged a bill of exchange on an unwary tradesman, for the sum of one hundred and sixty pounds, which they too securely obtained without detection or prosecution, and lodged in the funds. Having obtained this sum, they found access to Messrs. Trowers and Co. stock-brokers, who sold for them the stock they had so recently lodged, and paid them with a draft on Messrs. Glyn and Co. Possessing this draft, they forged one like it for two thousand pounds, and Kennett obtained cash for it in the following manner:-- He took a lodging in Frances Street; and a young man, having advertised for a clerkship, was engaged by Kennett. This lad he sent with the check, which was paid in two large notes; after which he went, as directed, to the Bank, and obtained small notes for them in exchange. He then went to Moorgate Coffee House, where Kennett, who had assumed the name of Blunt, promised to meet him. He was not there, but a note was left appointing another place. of meeting, where he did not attend; but the young man at length met him in Warwick Court, Holborn, where he delivered him the money. At this time he was concealed in a strange dress -- having on a large wig, brown great coat, top boots, &c. Richardson and Cooke having informed against all those with whom they were connected, Kennett was amongst the number; and accordingly he was apprehended, and brought to trial at the Old Bailey; when he was found Guilty on the evidence of his accomplices, which was fully corroborated by the testimony of other witnesses. When brought up to receive sentence, and asked the usual question what he had to say why sentence of death should not be passed on him, he addressed the Court, saying that he was convicted on the testimony of those who, he urged, were not entitled to credit. He then adverted to the deplorable state of his family, consisting of a wife and four children; and added, that his eldest son died fighting for his king and country; a circumstance for which he thanked God, as he was thereby saved from the horror of witnessing the ignominious fate of his miserable father. He then remarked that some of his ancestors had obtained the highest honours which the city of London had to bestow; and that his uncle (Alderman Kennett) had filled that chair, as chief magistrate, from whence sentence of death was about to be passed on him. He concluded by imploring mercy. After which the Recorder passed sentence in the usual form. On Wednesday, June the 16th, 1813, this unhappy man was executed in front of Newgate. He was brought upon the scaffold at eight o'clock, dressed in a plain suit of mourning, and attended by the Ordinary of Newgate, with whom he remained some time in prayer During this short and awful period be appeared to be perfectly resigned to his fate, which he met with becoming fortitude. *Note: The Letters referred to are as follows:-- Lieutenant-Colonel Taylor presents his compliments to Mr. Kennett, and is directed by the Duke of York to transmit to him a copy of a letter from Mr. Pitt's private secretary, in reply to the application which his Royal Highness made in Mr. Kennett's favour for the Collectorship of the Customs of Surinam; which answer, his Royal Highness regrets, is not conformable to his wishes. Colonel Taylor would have sent it earlier, had he not been absent from London when it was sent to the Horse Guards. August 7th, 1804. Downing Street, Friday, 2d August, 1804. My Dear Sir,-- I have not failed to state to Mr. Pitt the wishes of his Royal Highness the Duke of York, communicated through you, that he would nominate Mr. Kennett to the office of Collector of his Majesty's Customs at Surinam; and I am directed to request that you will submit to his Royal Highness, that, desirous as Mr. Pitt must at all times be to attend to his Royal Highness's commands, he is fearful that, from prior engagements, he is so circumstanced, as not to have it in his power to do so on the present occasion. I am, &. (Signed) W. D. Adams.' ADDRESSED-- 'Lieut.-Colonel Taylor.' Colonel Taylor presents his compliments to Mr. Kennett, and is extremely sorry that be could not wait, as the Duke's carriage was waiting for him. He is directed by. his Royal Highness to say, that he will apply for the situation of Assistant Commissary-General, &c. &c. at Surinam; but that he will be able to do it with more effect, if Sir H. Mann will write to his Royal Highness, recommending Mr. Kennett. Robert Kennett, Esq. &c. &c. &c Horse Guards, Aug. 15. Bromley Hill, Kent, Aug 30th. Sir,-- I am sure Mr. Pitt would have been very happy to have attended to your request, respecting Mr. Kennett; but I know, upon the application of the Duke of York, he was informed that the office of collector had been appointed to. As to the other office, having received a letter, written by the desire of his Royal Highness the Duke, I made the inquiries respecting it, and I do not find that there is any such office as Assistant-Commissary and Agent for Prisoners, (or Commissary-General, as it was called in the Duke's letter,) to be appointed from hence: the Commissary-General in the West Indies, Mr. Glassford, recommends such deputies as he finds necessary for conducting the business of his department; and they are usually appointed the Treasury in consequence. The office of Agent for prisoners I conceive to be under the direction of the Transport Board. Believe me, Sir, most faithfully yours, C. Lowe. Lieutenant-Colonel Taylor encloses, for Mr. Kennett's perusal, a letter from Mr. Chapman, and is very sorry to find from it that the situation of Vendue Master is disposed of. Mr. Chapman has been out of town, which accounts for the delay in regard to the receipt of the information now given. Should Mr. Kennett wish to see Colonel Taylor, he will be here to-morrow, between three and five o'clock. Horse Guards, 22d Nov. 1804. (Private.) Downing Street, 22d Nov. 1804. DEAR TAYLOR,--Lord Camden desires me to request you will express to the Duke of York his great regret that the office of Vendue Master of Surinam was disposed of before your communicated his Royal Highness's wish in favour at Mr. Kennett. Believe me, very sincerely yours, JAS. CHAPMAN. I should have give you an earlier answer, but have been out of town.' ADDRESSED--Lieut-Col Taylor, in an envelope, To Mr. Kennett, &c. WILLIAM BADCOCK, R. BRADY, Alias OXFORD BOB, AND S. HILL Executed for Forgery. THESE offenders were brought to justice through the information of two accomplices, Richardson and Cooke. They all met at the Horns Tavern, Doctors' Commons, where they agreed to commit forgeries on some banking house in the city. It was agreed that Hill was to procure genuine checks, from which Cooke was to execute the forgeries. Badcock was then to procure porters to carry the forged checks, that they might be cashed; and Richardson was to watch the porters, to see that the checks were paid without hesitation, and to return and inform Badcock 'that all was right.' On the 4th of September, 1812, Hill received three checks from Parsons, a hay-salesman, in White-chapel, who did not know for what purpose they were wanted. From one of these Cooke forged, in the name of Burchell and Co. to the amount of seven hundred and fifty pounds on the house of Robarts, Curtis, and Co. The first check being paid. they forged the two others; and, in two days they robbed the one banking house of three thousand and eight hundred pounds which these worthies divided among them at the Moorgate Coffee House. The notes were then sold at twenty per cent. discount to one Edmund Birkett, who was subsequently brought to justice. These facts were fully corroborated by other witnesses in addition to the evidence of the accomplices, Richardson and Cooke; and the prisoners were found Guilty -- Death, at the Old Bailey, July 17th, 1813. On Thursday, July 29th, Badcock was executed in the front of Newgate; Birkett, already mentioned, suffered also with him; as well as one Ennis, for forgery, and William Smith, for taking money out of a letter in the Post Office. These unhappy men were brought upon the scaffold a few minutes before eight o'clock; and, after Ennis had remained in prayer some time with a Catholic clergyman, and the three others with the Ordinary of Newgate, they met their fate with becoming fortitude. Smith and Ennis evinced great penitence. Birkett had contrived to secrete a pistol, with so much address as to evade detection upon the search which took place the night before the execution; and about eleven o'clock, although a fellow-prisoner and one of the turnkeys were in the cell with him, he discharged a ball into his left side. He failed, however, in his object of destroying himself, and only inflicted a wound which caused much pain. He ascended the scaffold without assistance, and submitted to his fate with the others. Brady and Hill subsequently underwent the sentence of the law in the same place. DAVID SPREADBURY, Executed for Forgery. Tins case illustrates the remark we have often made, that crime, however ingeniously committed, cannot escape detection -- nay, the very solicitude to avoid suspicion is frequently the cause of creating it; and it generally so happens; that, while the depredator thinks he is flying from danger, he is only plunging into the coils of justice. David Spreadbury arrived in the dress of a gentleman at Deeping, on the 26th of March, 1813, in the Peterborough coach, and ordered a chaise from the New Inn, saying he was going to Lincoln. Before he took his departure, however, he got the proprietor of the inn to change for him a note for ten pounds, which afterwards turned out to be a forgery: it purported to be of the bank of Johnson and Eaton, of Stamford. He was next found on the road from Newark to Grantham, having hired a chaise at the Kingston Arms, where he got another ten-pound note exchanged. He said, at Newark, that his luggage had gone on by the coach, and that be was anxious to overtake it. He accordingly set off in the chaise; but, suspicion arising, the note was shown to some person, who was a good judge, and found to be a forgery. One of the waiters now mounted a swift horse, and pursued the villain, of whom he got information at Foston toll-bar, where he had received good notes for another forgery for ten pounds. The waiter, hearing this, continued the pursuit. The post-boy suspected that all was not right, in consequence of Spreadbury saying at each turnpike that he had no change, and presenting a ten-pound note in payment, and actually passed through one without paying, though the post-boy knew he had abundance of change in his pocket. The post-boy at length observed that they were pursued; and, suspecting that it was some one from his master, he slackened his pace. Spreadbury observed this, and urged the boy to proceed, but without effect; for he refused to use the whip, and kept moving slowly. Near Grantham Spreadbury expressed his apprehensions that their pursuer was a highwayman; and, as the post-boy continued obstinate, he thought it better to trust to his heels, and accordingly jumped out of the chaise. He ran forward to Grantham; but the post-boy and waiter did not lose sight of him, and he was apprehended in a little lane, which he thought to make his way through, but was disappointed, as there was no egress at the extremity. On searching him, there were found on his person about forty pounds in good notes, and some silver; and, in the passage where be thought to secrete himself, were discovered seven ten-pound notes, forgeries, and one blank-note, unsigned, rolled up. There was no doubt but he had dropped these when he found there was no hope of eluding his pursuers. At the summer assizes, at Lincolnshire, he was capitally indicted for uttering forged notes, knowing them to be such. Of his guilt there could not be a doubt, and he was accordingly convicted. The judge passed on him the awful sentence of the law, and the unfortunate man suffered, on Friday, Aug. the 13th, 1813. JOHN BRITAIN, Executed for the Murder of his Wife. This is a melancholy case; and the victim of offended laws excites our pity, though we must approve his punishment. John Britain was indicted at the Warwick assizes, August the 18th, 1813, for the wilful murder of his own wife. On his trial the principal evidence against him was his own son, who, on the sight of his father, was scarcely able to sustain the shock. His countenance betrayed his horror at the painful part he was called on to act: nor were his feelings confined to himself: judges, counsel, jury, and spectators, were alike affected at the scene. After some time had been allowed the witness to recover himself, the judge (Sir S. Le Blanc) told him that the task was, indeed, a painful one; but that it was a duty he owed to his God, his country, and the memory of his deceased mother, to relate to the Court such circumstances of the murder of his deceased parent as were within the compass of his knowledge, recollecting that his father had broken the chain that binds society together. After repeated encouragement from the counsel, he proceeded in his testimony, with but little interruption, and in the course of it stated the following facts: The witness was sleeping, on the morning of the 6th of April, in the same room with his father, mother, and a younger brother; about six o'clock, on being suddenly disturbed by a noise which proceeded from that part of the room where his parents slept, he rose and went to the spot, and there found his father standing in a threatening attitude over the bed in which his mother lay. On examining the bed, be found his mother weltering in her blood, which flowed from a wound she had received from a bar of iron which his father held in his hand. The prisoner was again in the act of raising his hand to strike the deceased, when witness rushed up to him, and wrested the bar from his grasp, exclaiming at the same time, 'O, my dear father, have mercy!' and, in his endeavours to obtain the murderous weapon, received a violent blow on one of his arms. On his father becoming cooler, witness went again to his mother, and saw that she was much bruised about the head and face, her blood flowing very fast: her speech was gone, and she appeared to be in extreme agony. He wiped the blood from her face with some water, and his father in a short time came to the bed and assisted him. Witness left the room to call for the assistance of his neighbours, and then proceeded in search of medical aid. The witness further stated, that he had often been disturbed in his rest, during the last six or seven months previous to the murder, by his father's singular behaviour; as, for instance, by getting out of bed at night, going down stairs, and misplacing the furniture, and by his use of strange expressions. He was convinced that his father laboured, at times, under mental derangement, but nothing had occurred of that description within a mouth previous to the murder. Some other evidence, in corroboration of the facts above stated, was gone through, when the prisoner was called upon for his defence. He accordingly uttered a long and unconnected address, partaking more of a soliloquy than of any thing else. He seemed to rely on his insanity at the time the fatal deed was committed, and on the act being voluntary and unpremeditated. The learned judge, in summing up, stated to the jury that they had to confine themselves to the question, whether the prisoner was sane at the time of committing the deed, the fact of the deceased having met her death at his hands being indisputable. The jury in ten minutes returned their verdict -- Guilty. On the following Friday he was executed in front of Warwick gaol, in the presence of a large concourse of spectators. He declared that he had no animosity against his wife the time he went to bed on the night of the murder; but that, on a sudden and irresistible impulse, and without any provocation, he jumped out of bed, and perpetrated the horrid crime with a bar of iron. After condemnation he manifested an appearance of calmness and serenity. He left three children to lament his shocking end, and bewail the fate of their mother. JOSEPH RICHARDSON, JAMES SYMONS, AND NATHAN SYMONS; The Two First Convicted of Stealing, the Last for Receiving Stolen Goods. ON the night of the 29th of March, 1813, the house of the Marchioness of Downshire, in Hanover Square, was broken into, and robbed of plate, jewels, &c. to the amount of four thousand pounds. The villains effected their entrance by means of a lamplighter's ladder, which they had released from the place where it had been lodged behind the marchioness's stables. For several days they escaped the most diligent pursuit of the police, but were at length brought to justice through the information of their accomplice, Richardson, who, it appeared, had been the principal executer of this robbery, though not the planner of it. Richardson, although but a young man, is supposed to have committed a number of daring robberies, and had broken out of two of the strongest prisons in the kingdom. Being suspected of this robbery, he was apprehended by Becket, an officer, who, on searching him, found banknotes to the amount of five hundred and twenty-three pounds, which he offered to give Becket if he would let him go; he was, however, conveyed to the House of Correction, where he disclosed the circumstances of the marchioness's robbery, and accompanied the officers to various places in search of the parties concerned. At No.4, Seymour Court, they found Old Symons in bed, and took him into custody. He at first denied that his name was Symons, but Adkins knew him when he had put on his clothes. Under the bed, in a box, they found a large quantity of the marchioness's property. Next day more rings and jewellery were given up by Richardson; and Harry Adkins found young Symons locked up in a cupboard in the house of one Levi, a Jew. The family of the Symons' were a notorious set of cheats and robbers, and on this occasion planned the robbery which the young Symons and Richardson executed. The mother and daughter, having shared in the plunder, were also apprehended, as well as one Frankill, a well-known character. The parties were indicted at the Old Bailey, June the 5th, 1813, when, after a protracted trial, young Symons and Richardson were found Guilty -- Death; and Old Nathan Symons guilty of receiving the property, knowing it to be stolen. The others were acquitted for want of evidence, and Richardson, in consequence of his timely information, was considered a fit object for a commutation of punishment. He was subsequently pardoned, and became an useful spy for the police. The trial excited great interest; and the Duke of Sussex, Marchioness of Downshire, and several of the nobility, were present the whole time. LUKE HEATH, Executed for Murder. WE have thought it our duty, frequently, to remark upon the evil consequences of excessive drinking, as we find it, too often, the immediate cause of many of those crimes which bring ruin upon families, and disgrace and ignominious death upon individuals. Yet, fraught as intoxication is with evil, we still hesitate to pronounce it as productive of crime in its consequence as that demoralizing vice -- seduction. The case we are about to detail saves us from the necessity of comment, as it fearfully illustrates the fatal tendency of this too common sin; and holds out an important lesson to the youth of both sexes, in which they may learn that forbidden enjoyments, and honourable fidelity, are as opposite to each other as light and darkness. Luke Heath was the son of a respectable farmer, who lived in the parish of Cow-Honeybourne, Gloucestershire. In the same parish, and within a quarter of a mile of Heath's residence, dwelt a poor man, named James Harris, the father of three daughters, two of whom were married, and the youngest, Sarah, lived in the house with him. Unfortunately, Luke Heath formed an acquaintance with this girl, and, dreading that the old man would not sanction his addresses, he prevailed on her to permit him to visit her without her father's knowledge. Unhappily, she consented, and, from meeting him in the pent-house, she agreed to admit him to her bedroom, after the old man had retired to rest. The better to prevent a discovery of their stolen hours, they oiled the hinges of the doors which led to their apartment, lest their creaking might create suspicion in the father, who, thus undisturbed, slept soundly, nor dreamed of the destroyer of his child being under one roof with him. In unhallowed love, the birth of the enjoyment is the death of the passion; and the woman who complies with the lover's importunities, soon witnesses a termination of his attentions. Heath and his mistress soon repented of their criminal intercourse; for appearances were beginning openly to declare that she was about to become a dishonoured mother. Their meetings were no longer attended with impatient rapture. Reproach was all on one side, and repentance on the other, while the intervals were spent in fruitless conjectures about what should be done. No doubt she requested of him to blot disgrace from her character by marriage, and the sequel seems to imply that he must have consented. On the night of the 22d of June, 1809, James Harris and his daughter retired to rest. Next morning the old man arose; but, as he could not go to the kitchen without passing through his daughter's room, he was somewhat alarmed at finding her door open, and herself not in bed, which, at the hour, was rather an unusual thing. Suspecting that she had gone into the garden, he went to look for her, and on his way found the back door ajar, a pitchfork thrown across the path, hut no appearance of his daughter. He then proceeded into the village, and, at the house of one of his married daughters, learned, for the first time, that Sarah was with child by Luke Heath. This information increased the poor man's apprehension for the safety of his child; and, after going to the house of his third daughter to inquire for her, he returned home, and was told that Sarah was found in the pond into which it had been thrown after it was murdered. There was a scar on the left temple, and a hole in the back part of the head; the fork was found bloody, which the old man had not observed before, and blood was also scattered about the pent-house and the path adjoining. The pond where the body had been found was about sixty yards from the house. The village was now alarmed, and suspicion instantly fell upon Heath, who was apprehended on his father's farm, dressed in a dirty smock frock. He denied all knowledge of the murder, and, when asked where was his other frock, he said be had no other. He attended the coroner's inquest; but there being no evidence to implicate him, he was acquitted. In a few days, however, circumstances arose to increase the suspicion against him, in consequence of which a warrant was granted, but he could not be found, neither could anything be discovered in his father's house which might throw light on the mysterious affair. But his sudden flight was presumptive evidence of his guilt; and accordingly every exertion was used to apprehend him. The officers of justice were dispatched throughout the kingdom in pursuit of him; and, after a diligent search of three months, they returned unsuccessful. Near four years had elapsed, when Heath was discovered to have been living, during the two preceding years, in the neighbourhood of Kidderminster, as a farm servant, where he went under the name of Farmer John. Information was given to a magistrate, and he was taken into custody. He denied he knew Sarah Harris, that he ever heard of her mother, or that he ever lived in Gloucestershire; but, on Cow-Honeybourne being mentioned, he hid his face in his hands, became greatly agitated, and shed tears. Who asked where he had spent the two intervening years between his departure from Gloucestershire and his visit to Kidderminster, he said he was on beard a man of war; but an officer of marines, being present, questioned him, and, from his answers, inferred that he had never been on board ship in his life. While Heath remained in Kidderminster gaol, he confessed to a fellow-prisoner that Sarah Harris had been pregnant by him, that she was murdered with a pitchfork, and he was the man, but hoped he would not tell. Heath was now removed to Gloucester, where his trial came on at the summer assizes, when the evidence of his guilt was conclusive. The jury found him guilty, and the judge passed on him the awful sentence of the law. On Heath's return to prison, after his condemnation, he made a full confession of his guilt, and appeared truly penitent. On Monday, August 30. 1813, he was executed. The multitude who witnessed his sufferings were immense; but he did not address them. After a short ejaculation he was turned off; and, having hung the usual time, his body was given to the surgeons for dissection. JOHN HANNAH Executed for the Murder of his Wife. This case exhibits so much brutal insensibility, that we shall give it in the words of the witnesses on whose testimony he was convicted. He was indicted at the general sessions for Yarmouth, September the 3d, 1813, for the wilful murder of his wife. His age was sixty-seven years. On the trial, Elizabeth Betts deposed that she rented a room directly over the one in which the prisoner lived; that on the morning of the 15th of April she was alarmed about three o'clock with a dreadful cry of murder; she went down stairs and called out, 'You old rogue, you are murdering your wife;'-- she heard Elizabeth Hannah say, 'For God's sake come in, for my husband is murdering me!' but witness, knowing the violence of the prisoner's temper, was afraid, and said she dare not go in, but went up stairs to dress herself, with a view of procuring assistance; she went out and told a neighbour, of the name of Thomson, that Hannah and his wife were quarrelling, and was going to the watch-house to procure some assistance; she, however, did not succeed, the watch being off duty; on her return her children were crying and out of bed, which obliged her to remain with them; she called frequently to the prisoner to come out of his room, or he would be the death of his wife; she heard the cries of the deceased about a quarter of an hour after her return from the watch-house; she distinctly heard three heavy groans, after which all was silent, and she went to bed; she got up about six o'clock, and did not leave the door of the prisoner till it was opened by the constable. James Storey, a constable, deposed that he broke open the door of the house, and entered the room with several neighbours, when he saw Elizabeth Hannah lying on the bed, dead, with her arms by her side, as if laid out, and the bedclothes covered smoothly over her; the bed-clothes were removed, said he saw the deceased had apparently a bruise on the front of her neck; he saw the prisoner sitting near the bed-side, smoking a pipe, and looking at the bed. He said to him, 'Why, John, surely you have murdered your wife:' to which he replied, 'She was always quarrelling with me.' Witness said there were other means of getting rid of her than killing her. The prisoner made no reply. The prisoner made no defence, and the jury brought in their verdict, Guilty. The trial lasted five hours, during which the prisoner, who was represented of a most ungovernable temper, remained entirely unmoved. He behaved likewise with the same brutal insensibility at the place of execution on Monday, September 6th, 1813. On ascending the gallows he confessed 'That he was the murderer of his wife, by strangling her with his hands, and not with a rope, as had been stated; he said they had lived a very uncomfortable life for many years past, owing to his wife giving her company to other men, which was the cause of his committing the murder.' The instant before being turned off, he particularly requested to see his daughter, when he was informed it was not possible, as she was confined in Bedlam; he also desired the gaoler to look under the step of the cell, and he would there find four shillings and sixpence. He had disposed by will of some little property, the joint savings of himself and his wife. A signal was then given, and the unfeeling man was immediately launched into eternity. The body, after hanging the usual time, was delivered to the surgeons for dissection. The gaoler, on his return, found the money, as described, in the cell. MICHAEL M'ILVENA, Executed for Celebrating a Marriage, He Being a Layman. THE happiness of the greater portion of mankind may be said to be domestic; and, as this depends entirely upon the female part of the community, any thing which tends to destroy their character, and consequently their peace of mind, should be guarded against as a direct attack upon the happiness of society in general. Woman, deprived of her maiden innocence in civilized countries, may be said to be an outcast from society -- deserted by her own sex, and insulted by that of her destroyer; abandoned to despair, or plunged into prostitution, where the excess of crime may cause a momentary forgetfulness of her miserable condition. The man who prevails upon her to make the first fatal step toward such a vicious course deserves the universal execration of his species; but the villain who steals her virtue under the sanction of apparent matrimony, and, when she fondly imagines she is an honoured wife, finds herself a forlorn object for the finger of Scorn to point at, deserves what befell Michael M'Ilvena -- the gallows. This villain was an impostor, who aspired to no greater notoriety than that which he acquired by cheating the credulous and simple inhabitant of a village. He was a native of Ireland; and, in his migration. through the, northern part of that kingdom, personated, successively, the characters of a Catholic priest, a Protestant minister, and a lawyer. The last place we find him in was the village of Ballinahinch, where he went under the appellation of The Counsellor. While here he became acquainted with a man of the name of Christopher Jennings, with whom he conspired to debauch a young girl, named Mary Hair. This unsuspecting creature was only seventeen years of age; and had been servant, a year and a half, with Mr. Knox, of Drumanockan, near Dromore. Having spent the Christmas of 1812 with her father and mother, she was returning to her master's house, when she met Jennings on the road, with whom she had been acquainted. He took her into a public house, and made, as he had often done before, proposals of marriage to her. The artless girl consented; and both proceeded to Ballinahinch, with the intention of procuring a clergyman. Jennings took her into a public house, where M'Ilvena was sitting, and to whom she was introduced by her intended husband; who said, There is the minister who will marry us.' It must be observed that Mary Hair was a Protestant and Jennings a Catholic; consequently it was necessary the ceremony should be performed by a Protestant clergyman; for a Catholic is prohibited marrying a Protestant subject under any circumstance; and Jennings might have suspected that Mary, simple as she was, would have declined the union, had M'Ilvena professed himself any thing but a Protestant clergyman. M'Ilvena, with assumed sanctity, pulled out his book, and went through, what Mary thought, a ceremony; joining their hands, and interrogating the parties in the usual form. After the ceremony the poor girl asked for a certificate. This at first was refused; but, as she insisted on it, he took pen and ink, and wrote the following:-- 'These are to certify that Mary Hair is this day joined in marriage to Christopher Jennings, of Drumara. As given under my hand, this 26th December, 1812. W. M'G.' This scrawl contented the deluded girl; and the mock parson intimated that he was always paid for such duties. Mary then gave him ten tenpennies, which he threw on the table in an indignant manner; saying, 'Am I to be college-bred, and learned, and not. receive my just dues?' To carry on the farce, Jennings said, 'And please your reverence, Mr. Gawdy, whatever is your demand I'll pay.' The parson then took up the tenpennies, and put them in his pocket; after which he went out to procure the new-married couple a lodging. In a short time he returned, saying he had engaged lodgings for them; and, after partaking of another jug of punch, he conducted them to the house of a poor woman, named M'Kee who, hesitating to admit them, M'Ilvena declared they were man and wife, lawfully married; which the old woman still seeming to doubt, he said, 'Blud and ounze, won't you believe my word of honour?' This succeeded; and the unfortunate girl admitted the villain; Jennings, to the rights of a husband. Next morning Jennings directed her to give notice to her master; and he undertook to break the business to her father and mother. The poor girl was parting from him with reluctance, when he told her unblushingly that she was not his wife, and that she was deceived. The unhappy girl was awakened to all the misery of her situation; and ran, in a state of distraction, to her parents, to whom she related all that had occurred. The necessary proceedings were immediately taken, and the counsellor and Jennings were committed to prison. At the summer assizes for Downpatrick, August the 17th, 1813, they were brought up for trial. M'llvena was first indicted; and, Mary Hair having deposed to the foregoing facts, she was cross examined, with a view to affect her testimony, by endeavouring to make her acknowledge a former connexion with Jennings. This she indignantly denied; and, when asked if she had had any objections to be treated by Jennings, she replied to the counsel, 'I suppose you have treated a girl before now yourself.' M'Ilvena, in his defence, produced Jennings, who swore to palpable falsehoods. First, that he had an intimate knowledge of the prosecutrix long before the time mentioned in the indictment; next, that she never represented herself as his wife; and that M'Ilvena never pretended to join their hands together, or otherwise unite them in marriage. Jennings, having given his evidence, was ordered back into the dock from whence he had come, and M'Ilvena was found guilty: after which he was called on, in the usual form, why sentence of death should not he passed on him. He appeared quite unmoved; and said he was not guilty of the crime imputed to him. The judge then proceeded to pass sentence on him; which he did in a very impressive manner, though frequently interrupted by exclamations of innocence from the prisoner. The offence being made by a particular act of parliament a capital felony, he was sentenced to be hanged. He asked for a long day, which was humanely granted, and his execution was deferred to the 18th of September, on which day it took place, in the midst of a vast concourse of spectators. The day after M'Ilvena's trial, Jennings was placed at the bar, on an indictment for conspiring to debauch Mary Hair. He was almost instantly found Guilty; when the judge told him his crime was much enhanced by the attempt he made to screen his accomplice from punishment, in which he committed wilful and corrupt perjury. The sentence of the Court was, that he should stand for an hour on the pillory, be imprisoned for one year, and pay a fine of fifty pounds. JAMES LEARY, Executed for the Murder of Edward Clifford. IT has, no doubt, been observed by our readers, that no small part of ours Calendar has been occupied with details of atrocities, in which the natives of the sister island have been concerned. There are causes which tend to demoralize and deprave the lower orders of that unfortunate country,-- their local insurrections, and continual migrations. The first, in addition to its evil tendency, subjects them to the vengeance of penal laws; and the latter exposes them to all the temptations to which poverty is subject, when released from those wholesome restraints which keep poor men temporal and honest. The nominally high wages in this country, when contrasted with the low price of labour in Ireland, induce many of that kingdoms to emigrate to England, where they find, too late, that the poor man may change his master, but not his condition; for he that has to live by labour must labour whilst he lives. By far the greater portion of them, however, like birds of passage, pay us only periodical visits; and these, whose strange manners and singular dress make them little less remarkable than the cuckoo, are mostly natives of the barren mountains of Connaught, which they desert, in summer, for the fertile plains of England.*[see note]. But there is another race of Hibernians, very different from these -- natives of the south of Ireland, who are either obliged to fly from the violated laws of their country, or desert it in the hopes of bettering their condition. Liverpool, Bristol, and London, are the scenes where they play their part, and where, it must be admitted, they exhibit the degrading vices of human nature in the utmost perfection. This does not arise from any innate depravity, or national propensity to vice: it proceeds directly from circumstances. Speaking a different dialect, frequently a different language, and professing a proscribed religion, they encounter everywhere prejudice and reproach; to fly from which they are compelled to associate with each other, and drown their misfortunes in gin and brandy: vice follows as a thing of course, and crime too often ensues. The poor man, thus, who in his native village, was sober and industrious, because he had a character to lose, is gradually initiated into vice, because he has no longer a character to sustain. Such a man has no sufficient inducement to he moral -- and soon learns that, where so many are otherwise, individual wickedness is likely to pass undiscovered. Add to this the influence of bad example, and it can be no longer surprising that the labouring Irish in London are brutal, drunken, and vicious. These observations have been drawn from us in consequence of the case we are about to narrate, and in the hope that it may be read by some of the Irish themselves. From it they may learn to refrain from transmitting false intelligence to their countrymen at home, whom, instead of deluding to quit Ireland,*[see note 2] they should deter from visiting London, where they are sure to encounter misery; and that too often leads to those crimes, for which many, who, like them, were once innocent, have suffered an ignominious death. James Leary, whose case is now before us, was a native of Ireland, and, in addition to the shrewdness and cunning of his countrymen, possessed that persevering and concealed wickedness which belongs to criminals of all nations. Of his guilt there does not remain a doubt; yet the deliberate and hardened cunning of the man has thrown such a mystery over the whole case, that no one can pronounce with certainty who actually perpetrated the murder. There is, however, a melancholy consolation in knowing that Leary deservedly suffered; for, if he did not strike the blow, he confessed he was a spectator, and might have prevented it. Edward Clifford was a native of Cahir, in the county of Tipperary, Ireland. He there became acquainted with a woman, named Burke, whose husband had deserted her. She was the mother of four children, and, in 1813, was pregnant of another, of whom Clifford was the father. To avoid the disgrace which the publicity of their criminal intercourse would surely bring upon them, they resolved to quit Ireland, and remove to London, where Clifford promised to support Mrs. Burke and her children by his labour. Clifford had saved, by his earnings, sixteen or seventeen pounds, and Mrs. Burke's effects produced thirty pounds. With this sum they set off for the British metropolis, where they arrived early in the July of 1813. Clifford could not speak a word of English; but Mrs. Burke, who now assumed the name of Clifford, could, as she had been in London when a child. When they alighted from the waggon, at Fleet Market, they sat down on the flags, and were addressed by one of their countrywomen, who turned oat to be the wife of Leary. She affected much kindness, and they were happy in meeting with one so cordial in a strange place. They inquired for lodgings, and Mrs. Leary invited them to her own room, in a lane that led into the market, to which they instantly removed, and where they passed for man and wife. They continued four days with Leary, who was a bricklayer's labourer, and were charged two shillings and sixpence a night for their bed, which they were told was too much by one Slattery, whom they had known in Ireland, as he had only left it three months before. Slattery recommended them to a room in Church Lane, St. Giles's, to which they removed, and he went to lodge with them. Here they continued for three weeks, without any hope of procuring employment, and Clifford seemed anxious to return to Ireland. On Saturday night, July the 24th, Leary, for the first time, paid them a visit, at eleven o'clock, and, being asked what brought him so late, answered he came to let Clifford know he had procured him work. Next morning Clifford went to Leary's lodgings about the work; and his wife, or rather she who assumed the title, followed him. They appeared to have been quarrelling, and, Leary saying Clifford was to dine with him, she insisted he should not. During the time they remained in the room Leary contrived to whisper in Mrs. Clifford's ear that her husband was determined to set off for Ireland, but charged her, for her life, not to mention who told her. She, notwithstanding, accused Clifford with intending to desert her; but he denied it, and inquired who told her, which she refused to answer. Clifford and his wife, after this, returned to their own lodgings, where they remained until five o'clock, at which hour, just as they were sitting down to dinner, Leary and his wife, unexpected, and uninvited, came in. Mrs. Clifford was much displeased, as Mrs. Leary was very drunk, though her husband was quite sober. Some beer was sent for, and about eight o'clock they stood up to go home. Previous, however, to doing so, Leary had drawn from Mrs. Clifford the particulars of how they kept their money; for she had imprudently told Mrs. Leary, on her first coming to town, that they had a trifle. On this occasion she acted with similar incaution, and informed Leary that her husband kept his own money about him, and that she had also a small sum, about which he knew nothing. On Leary's going down stairs he called Clifford, and took him off with him. The poor unfortunate woman, apprehensive, from what she heard in the morning, that herself and children would be deserted, went out in search of her husband. She found, at nine o'clock, that he was drunk in Leary's room, and insisted on his going home with her he complied, and in their way was overtaken by Leary, who took them into a public house, and made Clifford drink a glass of gin. After coming out of this one, he wheeled them into another, where they had some beer. Here he promised Mrs. Clifford that her husband should be in work on the morrow. On their way up Holborn Hill, they walked too quick for Mrs. Clifford, who was far advanced in pregnancy. She requested they would wait for her; but Leary said they were going to his employer. She remonstrated against it, as it was too late to call on any gentleman, particularly as it was Sunday evening. 'Never fear, Mrs. Clifford,' said Leary; 'do you take your time, and we shall be home before you, and have half a gallon of beer on the table.' They then left her, it being near ten o'clock. The unfortunate woman then made the best of her way home; and, seeing her .husband had not arrived, she sat up smoking the pipe -- no uncommon amusement with her countrywomen -- until the clock struck twelve. Slattery was in bed, and bore evidence to this fact. Being uneasy about Clifford, she arose about two, and between three mad four went to Leary's lodgings. The door was locked on the outside, and Mrs. Leary said her husband was not within; for he had concealed himself when he heard the knock at the door. She then returned home, with intention to follow Clifford, who, she supposed, had set off for Ireland, and requested of her brother, who lived in Parker Street, Drury Lane, to procure her a pass from the parish. Between seven and eight o'clock, however, she heard of the murder of Clifford; and being taken to a public house in Grey's Inn Lane, where the body was, she recognised it. The remains of this unfortunate man were found in a pond at the bottom of Gray's Inn Lane, into which he had been thrown, after being murdered: his brains had been knocked out with, as was supposed, a hammer, and one of his pockets was turned inside out: in the other were found only three halfpence, although it appeared he had, the preceding evening, thirteen or fourteen pounds about him. Suspicion immediately fell upon Leary. Two officers went to his lodgings, at which his wife appeared greatly alarmed. and refused to tell where her husband worked. They, however, discovered; and, on going there, they saw him descending a ladder, with a hod on his shoulder. Unwilling to surprise him, they inquired for his master, when he replied, 'It is not my master you want; it is me.' They said it was, and apprehended him. On their way to the office, Leary said, 'I have hard of this poor man who has been killed.' On being asked how he heard, he said, 'Never mind how; I have heard.' On his person was found only one shilling and sixpence; nor was any money found in his room, though it was searched. A hammer, which seemed to correspond with the cuts in the hat of the deceased, was found buried in some coals. After Leary was put in the strong room, he wished to see a person named Macarthy, a shoemaker, to whom he said, 'What do you think of this job of mine?' Macarthy replied, 'I think it a very bad case, and that the evidence brought against you will hang you;' and pressed him to acknowledge his guilt. Leary then hinted that, if he could get a person to prove that he was at home at ten o'clock, it would set all right. Macarthy said, 'Suppose you could do that, where were you between the time you left Mrs. Clifford and ten o'clock?' Leary said, 'There is where I shall fail.' Macarthy said he thought there was nothing would get him through it. 'Nothing,' said Leary, 'but one thing; and that is, to fix it upon somebody else.' Macarthy replied, 'If that is what you wanted me for, I will leave you to your fate, and you will be hung like a dog, and not one of your countrymen shall come forward to give one shilling.' On parting, Leary said, 'I know I shall be hanged: may I go to hell if I have any more to do with the murder than you.' The coroner's inquest having sat on the body of the unfortunate Edward Clifford, it was removed, on Monday evening, to a public house in St. Giles's, there to be waked after the manner of his country. Several hundred persons went to see the remains of the unfortunate man, and on Thursday Leary was brought from the House of Correction, Coldbath Fields, in a hackney coach, heavily ironed, and well guarded, in order that he might see the body he was charged with so cruelly mangling. On entering the room, the lid of the coffin was removed, and his motions were watched. He took the hand of the deceased, declared his innocence of his blood, and said he should not know the man. He was certainly much altered. Leary trembled exceedingly; but, on going down stairs, he resumed his fortitude, and drank a pint of porter in the parlour: after which he was removed to Hatton Garden for further examination. On Friday evening the remains of poor Clifford were buried in St. George's burying-ground, attended by multitudes of his country-people. From the time Leary beheld the mangled remains of Clifford he laboured under great agitation of mind, and was troubled with frightful dreams -- the midnight testimonies of a guilty conscience. He appeared horror-struck; and parted, at night, with reluctance from the turnkey. On Sunday he wished to see the gaoler; and, after confessing that he knew of the murder, signed a long statement, in which he attempted to throw the charge upon the miserable widow -- we call her widow, as we have called her wife, to prevent confusion in our narrative. In consequence of this pretended confession, Mrs. Clifford. or rather Mrs. Burke, was committed to Coldbath Fields' Prison, and her children were sent to St. Pancras Poor-house, although a benevolent lady, Dear Fitzroy Square, had undertaken to provide for them. So great was the interest excited in her behalf, that some gentlemen had subscribed fifty pounds; but, at the request of the magistrates, they held it over, until some light was thrown upon the mysterious affair. Leary's statement displayed a mind of great acuteness and circumspection; but, as it was not founded on truth, his allegations were easily confuted. In minor points he strictly adhered to facts; but, in the most material, he evidently departed from truth: for it was proved, by more than one witness, that Slattery, whom he accused of throwing the body into the pond, stopped at home the whole evening, and that Mrs. Clifford purchased a candle, and lit it in the street where she lived, at eleven o'clock. It is true, the unfortunate woman, Mrs. Clifford, or Mrs. Burke, as we shall call her in future, did not exactly communicate her situation to the magistrates at the first and second examination; but delicacy might, and no doubt restrain her from acknowledging that she was not married to the deceased, or that her husband, who had culpably deserted her, was still living. But, while we make this extenuation of her conduct, let as not be accounted advocates for its impropriety; on the contrary, we condemn her, not only for concealing these facts on so solemn an occasion, but also for alleging that she had no money, when she had placed six pounds in the hands of a chandler to keep for her, end which six pounds she hail without Clifford's knowledge. On the other hand, it must be admitted that Leary's statement evinced much cunning and wickedness; he took care to hint that Mrs. Burke had meditated the crime, as he said he felt a stick under her clothes, insinuating the hammer with which the deed was perpetrated; and, that the act might appear to have had a motive, he alleged that Slattery aided her, from which it might he implied that herself and Slattery made away with Clifford, that they might cohabit together. This was a deep-laid scheme to implicate them both; and, to qualify himself for a king's evidence, he stated that he was looking on while the bloody deed was doing. Luckily for the ends of justice, this statement was satisfactorily contradicted in evidence, by which it appeared he pursued his diabolical ends with the most cruel patience, inebriating his victim, and then, under pretence of taking him to his employer, way-laying him. Still it must be admitted that he could have no enmity to the man, and that, if plunder was his object, he could have robbed him, as he was drunk, without murdering him to prevent detection. These are considerations which superadd to his own declaration of not having actually perpetrated the deed, and which must for ever involve the case in mystery. Mrs. Burke was delivered in prison of her fifth child, and, at the next examination, which, for her convenience, took place at the House of Correction, Coldbath Fields, her other four children, three girls and a boy, were also present, and the two eldest gave their testimony a very correct and respectful manner, which interested all present, among whom were some of the royal family, and numbers of the nobility; so great an interest did the case excite. After this examination Leary was committed to Newgate; and on Friday, September the 17th, he was arraigned at the Old Bailey. Mrs. Burke appeared as principal evidence against him, and her testimony was corroborated by that of several others. Leary, in his defence, complained of misstatements in the newspaper, and charged several of the witnesses for the prosecution with perjury. He said he was the son of a schoolmaster -- to show he was not ignorant; and that, unlike others in his station of life, he was not addicted to petty theft. He received an excellent character from several persons; but the jury found him Guilty, and he was sentenced to be hanged the ensuing Monday. He now became visibly affected, burst into tears, and seemed lost in affliction. He shook his head with bitterness at Macarthy; but, before his removal from the dock, he extended it to him with apparent forgiveness; but Macarthy refused to take, what he called, his blood-stained hand. On Monday morning the platform was erected as early as five o'clock, with the railing round it. At six the circle was formed by the constables, and the crowd began to assemble from all quarters of the town. The day was remarkably fine, and every window, and all the tops of the houses that had any view of the gallows, were covered with spectators. The Rev. Mr. Devereux arrived about six o'clock, and was admitted to the unfortunate prisoner, whom he found walking about his cell with hurried steps, clenched hands, and his eyes turned about seven minutes, Denton's cap being pulled over his face all the time. Leary appeared very penitent and attentive to Mr. Devereux. At seven minutes before eight his cap was pulled over his face, and they were both launched into eternity. After the bodies were cut down they were put into a cart, and conveyed to the dissecting room, St. Bartholomew's Hospital, escorted by the city marshals, and a large posse of constables, where they were delivered up to the surgeons. Leary was observed to be a full quarter of an hour in convulsive agony, but Denton was dead almost as soon as he was let drop. We have used no common diligence in collecting the particulars of this mysterious case, and shall not protract it by any comments of our own. One thing, however, may not be unnecessary to state, as it holds out a forcible lesson to our readers. Drunkenness appears to have been the means by which the murder was perpetrated. Had the unfortunate Clifford continued sober, he had escaped assassination; and, though his former conduct in cohabiting with a married woman, and then bringing her from her own country, deserves loud condemnation, yet it produced less mischievous consequence than that of getting inebriated. May others learn, from this case, that the man who, under the mask of good fellowship, prevails on his friend to drink till he is intoxicated, is a concealed enemy, and should be studiously avoided. Note 1: We take the following description of Irish cottiers from the 'Dublin and London Magazine,' for 1825:-- 'The word cottier, in Ireland, is synonymous with labourer in all other countries; and those who come under the denomination are composed of that class of society who are doomed, by a wise Providence, literally to earn their bread by the "sweat of their brow." We have no right, therefore, to expect in these any thing not found in the major part of the population of all kingdoms -- any thing but a perpetual necessity to toil and economise -- any thing but what are the associates of a poor man -- want, worldly want, and a long train of what many will consider privations. Nine-tenths of mankind are necessarily reduced to this condition; and, whatever theorists may say, in this condition they must continue while the economy of this world prevails. 'An Irish cottier is to be looked upon as the poorest man in the kingdom; one who, if he was not entitled to the appellation he bears, would be called a labourer, depending on his daily toil for support. At present he enjoys a portion of independence, which he would then lose; and cannot be under the apprehensions of him who has to provide for the day that is passing over him, because he can, if the fault is not his own, always possess an annual supply of provisions which habit has reconciled him to, that places him beyond the reach of absolute want, pauperism, and hunger. 'A cottier in Ireland is a poor man, who possesses from one to ten acres of land, upon which stands his habitation -- mean, to be sure; but in what country do the poor possess splendid dwellings? For this holding he is generally obliged to work for his landlord -- sometimes all, and sometimes half his time, according to the quantity of ground he occupies; but he frequently pays a certain rent, and employs his time in whatever way he thinks fit. Those who pay in labour are small cottiers, who have not more than two or three acres, which supply them with oats and potatoes; their employers, in almost every instance, being bound to give them feeding for a cow, and one or more sheep. 'The nominal price of labourers -- six or eight pence a day -- sounds low; but it should be recollected that, in Ireland, the farm-servants are all boarded; and that those who are thus paid are constantly employed -- in their own words -- wet and dry. The cottier has his work always provided for him, and for this, if he has common industry, his family are put in possession of absolute abundance; for a single acre of land, properly cultivated, will produce him at least sixty pounds of potatoes for every day in the year, while his cow supplies him with milk; and, as he can keep a pig, a goat, sheep, poultry, &c. he can have meat, drink, and clothes.' *Note 2: As late as 1824, near two hundred Irish peasants were literally kidnapped by an unprincipled Master of a steam packet, which sailed between Cork and Bristol. He sent his agents through the country, to the distance of twenty miles, to inform the peasantry that thousands of hands were needed in London, where men received six and women four shillings a days, and that there was a certainty of constant employ for five years. The credulous people, who were only paid sixpence a day. and board, at home, immediately began to prepare for their journey, and, to provide for the expenses, sold their pig, pot, and every thing else they wore possessed of. They paid sixteen shillings for their passage; yet the unfeeling wretch who commanded the packet, and whose conduct deserves execration more than half the depredators recorded in this work, refused to let them either boil a kettle, or have boiling water, without sixpence for every time they wanted it, so that, on their arrival in London, they had not a farthing in their pockets. Finding that they had been cruelly deceived, they wandered through the streets, not knowing what to do. Information being given at Marylebone Street Police-office, they were brought up, when an old woman, named Eleanor Walsh, with much feeling detailed the above particulars. She implored, above all things, that they might be sent home; for, though their cabins and everything else were gone, still they would be able to make out something to eat in their own country, which they could not hope to do in this. The magistrate expressed his indignation at the supineness of the authorities in Cork in permitting mach an imposition, and wrote concern-rag it to the Home department, in consequence of which instructions were given to provide against a repetition of such a transaction. The poor people were sent home. JOHN DENTON, Executed for the Murder of Mrs. Denton. This unfortunate man, whose case becomes doubly notorious from the circumstance of his having suffered at the same time with Leary, fell a victim to passion, brought on by intoxication. It is a melancholy truth, and one which should be impressed on the mind of the reader, that the greater number of malefactors who fall victims to the violated laws may attribute their misfortunes to drunkenness, and its concomitants, poverty and debauchery. The facts of this case are short. John Denton had been a sailor in the early part of his life, but latterly followed the trade of a rigger, and was accounted a good workman. He was acquainted with a man of his own name, and, after his death, became very attentive to his widow, who resided in Bow Lane Buildings, in the parish of Bromley. Denton sometimes lived in the house: but it does not appear that any improper connexion took place, though they were very intimate, and he was very partial to her. On the 13th of June, 1813, Denton was somewhat outrageous in his manner, no doubt from frequent potations of gin and beer, as it was fair time; and he struck a woman named Mrs. Whitehead. The widow considered his conduct improper and unmanly; and desired him to leave her house, and never enter it again. He came, however, in the evening, about seven o'clock, manifestly for the purpose of having revenge for the supposed insult. Mrs. Denton had her daughter and female friend with her when he entered; he kept one hand in his breast, and held a pot of beer in the other. He wanted the widow to drink with him, but she refused, and took some liquor of her own, saying 'Get you gone, John; you are a disgrace to your sex.' He asked 'What do you say? am I disgrace to my sex?' She replied in the affirmative, and he started up, drew a knife from his breast, rushed upon her, and ran her through the arm, the point of the knife penetrating her side. He was immediately taken into custody; and, when asked what induced him to commit the crime, he answered 'It was all for love.' The widow survived only a month; for the artery of her arm being divided, a mortification ensued, which terminated in death. Denton was brought to trial at the Old Bailey, September the 18th, 1813; and though several witnesses deposed to various acts of extravagance, with a view to prove him insane, he was found Guilty. The particulars of his execution we have already given in the preceding case. THOMAS FOSS, Executed for Forgery. THE man who fabricates a single bill, or check, may say something in palliation of his crime; but the deliberate forger of a bank-note has nothing to advance in extenuation of his guilt. He goes systematically to work, procures agents, and deliberates upon the means of defrauding the public in a permanent manner. Few forgers of a more dangerous character than Thomas Foss have ever committed depredations on the public. He had been long employed in the Bank of England as copper-plate printer; but left it to commence business on his own account. He joined another person; but kept a private press of his own, without the knowledge of his partner. So persevering was his industry, that he learned the art of engraving, and invented a method for impressing the water-marks upon paper. Having thus arranged every thing necessary for his purpose, he struck off some notes, and gave them to two persons, named Norman and Gwyn, to pass. These fellows had not continued long in their nefarious traffic, when their career was stopped t they were detected, and committed to prison. While in confinement each of them, unknown to the other, offered to become king's evidence, and they were both admitted. In consequence of their information Foes was taken into custody, and the whole apparatus for fabricating forged notes was discovered. Foss was indicted at the Old Bailey, September 18th, 1813, when, in addition to these facts, the printer to the Bank swore that the signature to the notes was in Foss's handwriting. He was accordingly found Guilty, received sentence of death, and was executed in front of Newgate, November the 10th, 1813. He died penitent. CHARLES CALLAGHAN, Executed for the Murder of Miss Gompertz's Butler. HARDENED depravity attended this unfortunate and guilty young man through his short and vicious life; for, though he was not more than nineteen years of age, he committed many depredations, and when justice overtook him he refused to repent. He died as he lived.-- without the fear of God in his heart. About the middle of December, 1813, the Misses Gompertz, who lived in Vauxhall, were alarmed one night by the report of a pistol, and, on going down stairs, found that their butler had been murdered by some villains, who had effected their escape. Several articles of plate were missing, and information of the robbery and murder was given at the different police-offices. Soon after, Callaghan, and one Hylas Parish, were apprehended on suspicion, as they were about leaving London, under very mysterious circumstances. No evidence, however, could be adduced against them, sufficient to detain them, on that charge; but, fortunately for the ends of justice, there were found on Callaghan duplicates of pledged property, which warranted their committal for a burglary in the house of Mr. Taylor, of Chatham. These youthful depredators had not remained long in prison when Parish was induced, in the hope of pardon, to make a full confession. He stated that himself and Callaghan became acquainted at Vauxhall Gardens, and that they subsequently lodged together in the London Road. Callaghan and he agreed to commit a robbery, in the hope of recruiting their exhausted finances; and Callaghan proposed the house of the Misses Gompertz as the object of attack, as he had lived there for some time in the capacity of footman. Having thus agreed on their plan, they went one evening, about dusk, to reconnoitre the premises; after which they went to the Surrey Theatre. When the performance was over. they returned, and, having gained admission into the garden, they forced open the kitchen window-shutter, but could not open the window itself, in consequence of which they cut out a pane of glass and, having disburdened themselves of their coats, they forced their way through. When they had got in, they were alarmed by a rustling. noise, .which soon ceased, and they supposed it was made by a cat. Parish stuck a light, he having some tinder with him; and, observing the tea-things on the dresser, they took up six silver spoons and a pair of sugar-tongs. Before they proceeded any further they took off their shoes, and then went into the pantry, where they were surprised to find the butler asleep in bed. This caused them to retreat into the kitchen, where they found two silver waiters. Callaghan then recollected that the butler had a watch, which always hung at the head of his bed, and desired Parish to go and fetch it. Parish accordingly went, and while he was feeling for the watch the unfortunate man awoke, and, thinking it was a cat that was annoying him, hissed it away; immediately after he started up, and ran to the kitchen window; at which Callaghan exclaimed 'Give it him -- give it him, Bill!' Parish accordingly, to intimidate the butler, fired his pistol into the ceiling; but Callaghan, coming up to him, placed the muzzle of his close to the unfortunate man's ear, aid blew his brains out. In their flight Callaghan left his shoes behind him; but they carried off part of the silver, which they pledged next day in town, except a small portion, which they carried to Gravesend, where they sold it. In consequence of this confession Parish was admitted king's evidence, and Callaghan was indicted at the Surrey assizes, March the 31st, 1814, when the testimony of his accomplice was fully corroborated by that of other witnesses. He made no defence, and was instantly found Guilty. On the ensuing Saturday he was executed, at the tap of Horsemonger Lane Prison, At half past nine o'clock he was removed to the chapel, from whence, after remaining a short time, he was brought out to have his irons knocked off, previous to his having the sacrament administered to him; in the course of which he was frequently exhorted to confess his guilt of the crime for which he was about to suffer. But the pious solicitude of the chaplain was of no avail; and in that state of obdurate hardihood which attended him throughout he was launched into eternity, after which his body was given to the surgeons. JOHN DREW MAY, Executed for Forgery. THE advocates for the abolition of capital punishment might adduce this case as a further illustration of the principle, that hanging one man does not prevent another from failing into the same crime; otherwise we should not see, at each successive sessions, men arraigned for forgery whose situations in life warrant us in supposing that they were not ignorant of the consequence of detection when they committed the crime. How many have suffered for forgery, who had not even a remote intention of fraud! A merchant's credit, like a woman's honour, (once suspected, it is lost,) is frequently at the mercy of an hour; and, to prevent the tottering reputation ,from falling, forgery, particularly of bills, is too often resorted to as the means of obviating a temporary embarrassment. It is, no doubt, a dangerous resource; but it is one which some, whose credit is yet high, have ventured to adopt, escaping detection by timely meeting their engagements; whilst others, incautious and unfortunate, have been disappointed in their expectation. The bill has been dishonoured, the forgery has been discovered, and the miscalculating culprit has been suspended on the gallows, because he had not a few pounds to take up a fictitious endorsement.*[see note]. We do not think that the man on whose case we are now entering comes under the description of those whose crime admits of palliation. He pocketed the money, and could not possibly refund it; and therefore we must condemn him as the very worst of forgers, for he imposed upon those who confided in him, and defrauded those whom he could not afterwards remunerate, if his villainy passed undetected. In October, 1813, Mr. John Drew May, a respectable bill-broker, was brought before the lord-mayor on a charge of altering end interlining a certain bill, which was originally drawn for twenty-eight pounds, eight shillings, and sixpence, but which Mr. May paid away to a Mr. Berry, for one thousand and twenty-eight pounds, eight shillings, and sixpence, an addition being made to it, while in his possession, of one thousand pounds. The discovery was made by Mr. Berry carrying the bill, for discount, to the house of Down, Thornton, and Co. where it was found to have been altered. May, on being questioned on the subject, said he received it from a person at the west end, whose name and residence he was entirely ignorant of. May was remanded, to admit of further inquiry; and on the 12th of June he was brought up for final examination, when the prosecutor, Mr. Thornton, wished to decline proceeding, in consequence of two similar charges being about to be preferred against the prisoner by the admiralty; but the lord-mayor thought it was no longer optional with Mr. Thornton, and, therefore, bound him over to prosecute. The next charge preferred against Mr. May was for altering a navy bill. The case was this:-- The victualling board had various contracts, and these were uniformly paid by bills, at different dates, on the treasurer of the navy, and which bills passed, in the money market, with the facility of bank-notes. In the present instance a bill for seven hundred and thirty-two pounds, thirteen shillings, and eight pence, was paid to a Mr. Ringsford, payable in ninety days. This bill, after passing through several hands, came, at length, in its original state, to Mr. May, and he was charged with inserting the figure of one before the seven, making the bill appear to have been drawn for one thousand, seven hundred, and thirty-two pounds, thirteen shillings, and eight pence. Whether he actually did so himself, or not, it is impossible to say; but it was proved that he personally received that sum for it, from Bruce, Warren, and Co. bill-brokers. The bill continued in circulation until due, each succeeding hand taking it for the value of one thousand, seven hundred, and thirty-two pounds, thirteen shillings, and eight pence, without inspecting the body of the bill; and. what appears still stranger, it was actually paid at the navy board for that amount. At length the fraud was discovered, and Mr. May was charged with the forgery. For this last offence he was indicted at the Old Bailey, December 2, 1813, when the bill was traced, in its original state, to his hands, and was proved to have been passed by him in its interpolated condition. His counsel exerted themselves much to throw the blame upon Mr. May's clerk, named Lacey, his brother-in-law, who was thoroughly in his confidence, but who had absconded. It was proved that Lacey carried Mr. May's check-book, which he occasionally filled up, Mr. May's signature being affixed to the blank check. But, on the other hand, it did not appear that Lacey had any benefit in interpolating the bills, supposing he had done so; nor did May show that Lacey had either defrauded him or others. Mr. May, being called on for his defence; addressed the jury with much feeling, observing that not only his life, but, what was infinitely dearer to him than life, his character and honest fame, were now in their hands. He was one of eight children, and had received a liberal and virtuous education; and, till the moment of this accusation, had lived with credit and reputation. He was content that his life should be forfeited, if any man could say that he had been wronged by him. He had been bred to business, had a wife and three children, and, after the labour of the day, was wont to seek domestic enjoyment in the bosom of his family, where he was sure to find it. Was it probable that a man so circumstanced would resign his claim to these endearments by committing a crime which could not fail to bring ruin on himself, and disgrace on those who were nearest and dearest to his heart? There was no proof that he had forged the bill, none that he had uttered it, knowing it to be forged; the cue rested upon mere suspicion; and upon that suspicion any man might be placed at that bar. He had reposed unlimited confidence in his clerk, and had left blank checks with him to fill up. His clerk was now beyond his reach; nor, if he was present, could he be compelled to answer any question which might criminate himself. Should the jury entertain any doubts, (and he was convinced they must have insurmountable ones,) the judge would tell them that he, the prisoner, was entitled to the benefit of them. He made no complaint on the subject of the prosecution, nor of the manner in which it was conducted; and he was certain the public prosecutor, having discharged what he conceived to have been his duty, would be the first to rejoice at his acquittal. Several witnesses were then called, who gave the prisoner an excellent character for integrity and honour in his commercial transactions; and, the judge having summed up the evidence, the jury retired, and continued in consultation for two hours -- a dreadful interval of suspense to the unfortunate prisoner, who, on their returning with a verdict of Guilty, became so agitated that he was scarcely able to stand. When brought up to receive sentence, Mr. May briefly addressed the Court. He stated that, though, on his own account, he had no wish to live, stripped of the unblemished reputation he had formerly enjoyed; yet, for the sake of his parents, and of near and dear connexions, he wished his life to be spared. He acknowledged he had been found guilty after a long and patient trial; and hoped that the long confinement he had undergone, and the anxiety of mind with which it had been accompanied, would be looked upon as some expiation, even upon the supposition that he had been guilty of the imputed crime. It had not been proved that the bill, in its original state, had ever been in his hands, or that he had either forged it himself, or had uttered it, knowing it to be forged. The forgery must have been by another, who entirely possessed his confidence, and who had left the country. Did he seek to elude justice? He had been seized in the bosom of his family, in all that security that was the attendant on innocence. The bill had passed undetected through the hands of others; in the same manner, also, it might have passed through his. From the pressure of extensive business, he had been unable to examine all the bills that had passed through his hands, and the examination of them had in consequence been frequently intrusted to his clerk, as also the filling up of checks. He hoped it would be stated to the prince regent, that the jury had taken three hours to consider their verdict, which showed that no common doubts hung over his case. At all events, he was confident that he was before a tribunal where any doubts on the side of justice would leave room for the voice of mercy to be heard, and to prevail.-- The most profound silence obtained while Mr. May was addressing the Court. Sentence of death was then passed on the unfortunate man in the usual form. From the time of Mr. May's condemnation his friends spared no exertion in endeavouring to procure an extension of the royal mercy; and their hopes were alive until Friday evening, April the 3d, 1814, when they were given to understand that the law should take its course. The unfortunate man took leave of his three brothers that afternoon, as his execution was appointed for the next morning. His unhappy wife, being confined by indisposition, was saved the misery of a last interview. He suffered with four other unfortunate men for forgery, Sturman for setting fire to his house, and another man, for burglary. May, being asked how he felt, answered 'Happy,' and requested that his friends might be assured of that fact his last words were, parting at the scaffold, 'This is the worst part of the ceremony; to go forth thus, and to die in a manner which will cast reflections on my posterity -- it is this only part which gives me pain.' *Note: On Tuesday, June the 8th, 1813, Joseph Nash, a grocer, in Newgate Street, was found guilty of forging an endorsement on a bill for four hundred and eighty-nine pounds, and three shillings. It appeared that bills with the same name endorsed on them had been frequently passed and honoured; but, in consequence of temporary embarrassment, he was unable to meet this one when due; though his property was fully adequate to discharge all his debts, and, a few days after the bill became due, he offered the money it the Bank, which was refused. Here was absence of guilty intention, and Mr. Nash was afterwards pardoned. JOHN ASHTON, At his Execution, he Jumped back onto the Scaffold, and had to be Pushed off again. THE circumstance which attended the execution of this unfortunate man alone entitles him to a place in our pages, for otherwise his case is void of interest. He was apprehended for a highway robbery, and convicted at the Old Bailey, when he received sentence of death. From the time of his conviction, he either affected, or suffered, complete insanity; but this did not release him from the consequence of his sentence; and, on Monday, August 22d, 1814, he was executed in front of Newgate, along with William Henry Lye, for burglary; John Mitchell, for forgery; Francis Sturgess, and Michael Mahoney, for highway robbery; and John Field, alias Jonathan Wild, for burglary. By half past six o'clock the Old Bailey, and houses adjacent, were crowded to great excess. At half past seven Mahoney was brought forward, for the purpose of being disencumbered of his irons. While his irons were knocking off, it was found necessary to search for a knife to cut some part of the cordage, which confined the irons. Mahoney, seeing this, stooped, and, with an Herculean effort, tore it asunder. This being the only Catholic, the Rev. Mr. Devereux attended him in constant prayer, in which he joined most fervently. Sturgess, Field, and Mitchell, conducted themselves with great propriety. The unfortunate Ashton had been in a state of insanity since the receipt of the awful warrant for his execution. In the Press Yard he distorted his countenance horribly. He was the fifth who mounted the scaffold, and ran up the steps with great rapidity; and, having gained the summit of the platform, began to kick and dance, and often exclaimed, 'I'm Lord Wellington!' The Rev. Mr. Cotton, who officiated for the first time as Ordinary, enjoined him to prayer, to which he paid little attention, and continued to clap his hands as far as he was permitted by the extent of the cord. Mitchell often invited him to prayer. All that could be done was ineffectual, and it was necessary to have two men to hold him during the awful ceremony. When they released him for the purpose of the Lord's Prayer being said, he turned round, and began to dance, and vociferated, Look at me; 'I am Lord Wellington!' At twenty minutes past eight o'clock the signal was given, and the platform fell. Scarcely, however, had the sufferers dropped, before, to the awe and astonishment of every beholder, Ashton rebounded from the rope, and was instantaneously seen dancing near the Ordinary, and crying out very loudly, and apparently unhurt, 'What do ye think of me.? Am I not Lord Wellington now?' then danced, clapped his hands, add huzzaed. At length the executioner was compelled to get up the scaffold, and to push him forcibly from the place which he stood. JAMES MITCHELL, Executed for the Murder of Miss Welchman. JAMES MITCHELL was a native of Salisbury, where he first lived with a farmer in the capacity of ploughboy. He afterwards removed to Loudon, and became a gentleman's servant. While in this situation he got acquainted with Miss Mary Ann Welchman, to whom, for two years, he was in the habit of paying his addresses. Miss Welshman was a ladies' dress-maker, and lived as forewoman with Miss Macey, who carried on that business in Mount Street. She was an elegant young women, about four-and-twenty years of age, and of a most amiable disposition. To her, in an evil hour, Mitchell paid his addresses, under the name of Smith, and represented himself as purser on board some ship. The credulous girl believed him worthy and honourable, and permitted him to visit her, at the house of her employer, where he was, for some time, treated with politeness and friendship. At length his own conduct betrayed his deceptions; he obtruded himself at improper hours, and more than once offended the young ladies in the workroom by the coarseness and indelicacy of his conversation. This coming to the knowledge of Miss Welchman's brother, he prevailed, with some difficulty, on his sister, to forego the acquaintance of Smith, alias Mitchell. In accordance with her brother's advice, Miss Welchman had several interviews on the subject with Mitchell; but still he. continued coming to the house, notwithstanding her prohibition, and persevered in his visits, although she had repeatedly denied herself. On Friday, August the 5th, 1814, he called at Mount Street, and was ushered into the workroom, where Miss Welchman was sitting. He continued in the room the whole of the evening, and was very abusive in his language. Miss Welchman desired him several times to leave the house; but he refused, unless a letter was returned to him, which Miss Welchman declared she had destroyed. He then wanted her to provide supper, which she refused; he next wished her to go out with him, which she also refused, and declined lending him some money which he requested of her. About eleven o'clock Miss Macey and her work-people went down to supper. Miss Welchman followed, leaving Mitchell above, without any one with him; but, as if recollecting something, she returned, saying she wasted to be alone with him for about five minutes. She had scarcely entered the room when a loud scream was beard, and presently the report of a pistol, which was instantly followed by another. The house sad neighbourhood became greatly alarmed. The assassin was seen descending from the first-floor window, and running, without a hat, down the middle of the street. The people of the house, on entering the room, saw the once lovely Miss Welchman a lifeless corpse, a pair of pistols lying on the floor, which on inspection bore evident marks of being the instruments with which the murder had been perpetrated. There was also found in the room the hat of Mitchell; and it appeared that, during the tune of Miss Welshman's absence, he had opened the window-shutters, as they had been previously closed, and could not have been opened in the interval between the firing of the pistols and the escape of the assassin. On examination, it was found that Miss Welchman had been shot in the head; one bullet had entered her temple, and the other had been resisted by the substance of the forehead. She lived a few minutes, but was unable to speak. It was evident Mitchell was the assassin; for no other man had been in the house, and several persons proved that no one whatever went out through the hall from the time the report of the pistol had been heard till after the examination of the premises. The apprehension of Mitchell was now desired by all. The officers of justice were dispatched in pursuit of him, but without effect; for, as he had been for a length of time out of place, a clue to his last residence was not easily found. At length word was brought to town that he was in custody at his native place, Salisbury, to which he had bent his steps, and where he had been recognised by his old master, the farmer, who, having heard of the murder, immediately had him secured. On the 13th of August he was brought up to Bow Street, in the custody of Taunton, where he underwent an examination, after which he was fully committed to Newgate. Mitchell appeared very little affected at his situation, and preserved a sullen silence. Friday, September the 16th, Mitchell was arraigned at the Old Bailey, for the murder of Miss Welchman. The evidence was circumstantial, but conclusive; and, when called on for his defence, he denied the crime with which he was charged, and said that it was not proved the pistols and hat were his. He called no witnesses, and the jury, having been charged, retired for a few minutes, and returned with a verdict of Guilty. The Recorder, after silence hid been proclaimed, then pronounced the dreadful sentence of the law, which was heard by the prisoner without the least apparent emotion. 'Odious,' said the Recorder, 'as the crime of murder always was, in this instance it was attended by every possible circumstance of aggravation. He had, in the gratification of his blood-thirsty vengeance, taken away the life of an unoffending female, with whom he had proposed to connect himself in marriage. Where Nature had called aloud for kindness, he had exhibited cruelty; where he should have appeared in the character of a protector, he stood her murderer. In relation to an offence of such enormity, human laws concurred with the divine precept, "Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed." The sentence of the law was, that he shall be taken back to prison, and on Monday morning taken to some place of execution, there to be hanged until dead, and his body delivered to the surgeons for dissection.' As this malefactor suffered along with Hollings, we shall give his case next; after which we shall give the particulars of the execution of these two atrocious monsters. JOHN JAMES Executed for Murder. THIS unfortunate man was a farmer at West Witten, in the North Riding of Yorkshire, and the crime for which he suffered was the consequence of a litigation between him and his landlord. In November, 1813, one William Ridley, a sheriff's officer and auctioneer, went to seize some hay of James's, under pretence that he was in arrears for rent, which it subsequently appeared was not legally due. James had several reasons for disliking Ridley, in addition to that arising from his officiousness on the present occasion. He had, not long before, seized some of his hay, and, being auctioneer at the sale, he knocked down to himself, at fifteen shillings, what was well worth five pounds, if fairly exhibited. The unfortunate James, teased by litigation, and naturally irritable, vowed vengeance on the present occasion against Ridley, if he attempted to distrain for rent which was not due. The bailiff, hardened in such scenes, treated the denunciation with contempt, and proceeded directly to the field where the hay-stack was situated. Just as he opened the gate to give admission to his followers, the revengeful and infatuated James rushed from behind a hedge, seized Ridley, and, in an instant, plunged a knife several times into his back and neck. The bailiff, without a groan, fell down and expired. James was now taken into custody, and brought to trial at York, March the 28th, 1814, when he was found Guilty; for, though it was fully proved that he owed no rent, and that the conduct of the deceased was highly aggravating, still it did not justify the summary vengeance inflicted on him, or extenuate the crime of murder. When asked what he had to say why sentence of death should not be passed on him, he briefly replied, 'That he submitted to the laws of his country, though he had no law shown to him.' The judge then proceeded to animadvert on the enormity of his crime, and ordered him for execution the next day but one. William, the brother of John James, was indicted for aiding and assisting; but the charge against him amounted only to some words subsequently spoken, expressive of his satisfaction at the death of Ridley; and these, though they evinced a malignant obduracy of heart, were not sufficient to implicate him in the crime of his brother; consequently he was acquitted. On the fatal consequences of giving way to sudden bursts of passion we have frequently remarked; and we hope our readers have not forgotten the examples we have adduced: if they have, we can only recommend their reflecting for a few minutes on the fate of this unfortunate man -- torn from home, and all the endearing associations which made home agreeable, and afterwards suspended an ignominious spectacle on the gallows, because he had not learned to curb the natural viciousness of his temper, and seek justice where it would not ultimately be denied him. ADMIRAL BRADLEY Transported for Forgery. HIGH and chivalrous honour has always characterized the British navy; hut, as it is composed of several thousands, we cannot hope to see it entirely free from unworthy members, though we really did not expect to find a rear-admiral convicted of a petty fraud, in practising which he committed a deliberate forgery to obtain the mighty sum of three pounds, eight shillings, and sixpence. All vessels which bring home foreign letters are entitled to twopence for each, as a remuneration for their trouble, and this they are always paid by the postmaster of the port where they come to anchor. The gallant admiral availed himself of this circumstance to commit the fraud for which be was transported. On the 10th of March, 1814, he brought four hundred letters to the post-office at Gosport, and received two-pence for each letter. He subsequently repeated his visits, and on the 10th of the following month he brought one hundred and eleven letters, which he said had come in the Mary and Jane, then lying at Cowes. For these he was paid three pounds, eight shillings, and sixpence, for which he gave his receipt, and signed it with the name 'William Johnson.' The postmaster's son, suspecting that all was not right, made inquiries about the Mary and Jane, and found that there was not, nor had been, any such vessel at Cowes. In consequence of this, a constable was sent to where Admiral Bradley lodged at Southwich, for at this time he was on the retired list. The admiral was asked if his name was Johnson: he said no, but that he had a friend in Portugal of that name. He denied being at Gosport with the letters: but the postmaster, his son, and daughter, knew him quite well, having seen him frequently. The admiral was now fully committed, and brought to trial at the summer assizes at Winchester, in 1814. The above facts were fully proved, and it appeared in evidence that the admiral's conduct, at times, was very eccentric. He received a very good character from several naval officers; but he was found Guilty, and received sentence of death, to be executed on Saturday, the 6th of August. His friends succeeded in averting such a disgrace, and had the sentence commuted to transportation for life. WILLIAM QUIN Imprisoned and Whipped for a Malicious Assault on a Strike-breaker THIS misguided man was a native of Dublin, where he worked in a coach-maker's yard. In 1814 these was what is called a turn-out amongst coach-builders for higher wages, and Quin was one of those who contended for the new regulations. On the 1st of September he met a man named Kelly, a blacksmith, who had come up from the country in the hope of getting employment. He asked Kelly what he was doing. 'Looking for work,' he replied. What hire did you ask?' inquired Quin. Kelly replied, 'Not any particular wages; but a gentleman told me there was a turn-out amongst the men, but that, if I chose to work for sixteen shillings and three-pence, he would employ me.' 'I won't go into any yard,' said Quin, 'under nineteen shillings and sixpence or a pound,' and then left him. Kelly, driven by distress, did go into Mr. Long's yard, in Mary Street, for sixteen shillings and three-pence a week, where he had only worked a few days when the combinators resolved to slate him, the Dublin flash word for an unmerciful beating. On the 15th of the same month they put their threat into practice, just as Kelly and two other men were going across the street to their work. The two men saw their danger, and ran; but Kelly, apprehending no danger, was proceeding regularly into Mr. Long's yard, when a man came up, and struck him in the eye with a stone. Kelly, being recently from the country, knew how to handle his limbs, and tripped up his assailant; another, who attacked him, he served in the same way; when four men, armed with clubs, ran across the street, and knocked him down; and, when down, pommelled his face against the pavement, until released from his perilous situation by Mr. Long's men. Kelly recognised Quin as being the first of the four men who beat him, and it was Quin who knocked him down with the new spoke of a coach-wheel. For this barbarous attack upon an unprotected stranger Quin was apprehended, and indicted September the 24th, 1814, for the assault, The jury, without hesitation, found him Guilty; and the recorder, previous to pronouncing sentence, observed that, if the prisoner possessed any of the common feelings of humanity, he must perceive the wickedness of the act he had committed, from the situation in which he had left the unfortunate prosecutor. The Court were at a loss what punishment to inflict for a misdemeanour accompanied with such atrocities. There was no crime short of murder or high treason that called for a higher degree of punishment than that of which the prisoner had been convicted: yet he trusted that the sentence which he was about to pronounce would have a more salutary effect than that which was pronounced, not a fortnight ago, for a similar offence. If that sentence had had the desired effect, the prisoner would not now be standing at the bar of the Court, an atrocious offender against the peace of the country. There was, however, one consolation, that, under such circumstances of brutality, death did not ensue; for, if homicide had been the consequence, no power on earth would have prevented the prisoner from suffering an ignominious death. When men of the description of the prisoner enter into those illegal combinations, they do not see the fatal consequences likely to follow: they are as bitter enemies to themselves as to the man they attack -- disgraceful to themselves, disgraceful to their families, and disgraceful to their country: and all this is done, and those atrocious acts committed, to prevent an innocent and unoffending man from earning an honest livelihood,-- against a man guilty of no other crime--against whom there was no cause ever to harbour resentment: but it seemed to be the determination of such men as the prisoner to carry their rules and regulations into execution with more despotic sway than is practised in the most inflamed counties. The prisoner was sentenced to be imprisoned for six months on each of the indictments; and, on the indictment for the assault with an intent to murder, to be publicly whipped twice, to be fined fifty marks, and to give security for good behaviour, himself in one hundred pounds, and two sureties in fifty pounds each. On the 2d of November Quin underwent the first whipping; but it appeared the common executioner by no means did his duty, and for this purpose another was provided for his second laceration. The figure of this person was highly grotesque: he appeared to be an able tall man, in a grey coat, with a huge wig, and a large slouched hat; but his face was the most singular part of his appearance; it was completely covered with yellow ochre, strongly tattooed with deep lines of black. He, however, fully answered the purpose for which he was employed, cutting the unfortunate and misguided man's back at every stroke, which he bore with a firmness and stoicism worthy of a better cause. Quin chewed a bullet between his teeth the whole of the way, and did not suffer even a groan to escape him. When arrived at the Royal Exchange he smiled on the crowd with the air of a martyr; and the people set up a shout, mixed with hisses and execrations, against the magistrates and police; but the executioner was the principal object of their fury, and they manifested every disposition for riot, which was timely suppressed, and several of the ringleaders were taken into custody. MAJOR J. G. SEMPLE, ALIAS LISLE Several Times Convicted of Swindling and Theft. This notorious character was born in Scotland, of a respectable family, in 1769. In 1775 he entered the army, and went to America, being then only sixteen years old. The following year he was taken prisoner, but was soon released, and shortly afterwards sent home, in consequence of being wounded. Being afterwards on the Continent, he entered the army of Frederic the Great, at the time when that monarch was marching against the Empress Queen Maria Theresa. In 1779, however, he quitted the Prussian army, and returned to England, but immediately repaired to the Continent again. At Harwich he became acquainted with an English lady of great respectability, whom he soon married. Being a short time after in France, his wife introduced him to the Duchess of Kingston, who persuaded him to accompany her to Russia, where he was soon appointed by Prince Potemkin a captain in the Russian army. His conduct was such as gained him various honours from Potemkin; but, being dissatisfied with the service, he quitted it in 1784, and retired to Copenhagen, from whence, after visiting the King of Prussia, he returned to England. We wish the after-occurrences of Major Semple's life were as free from censure as those we have already enumerated; but our narrative is unfortunately interrupted by a circumstance, which appears to justify various assertions derogatory to his character that were afloat previous to this period. On the 1st of September, 1785, the major was indicted at the Old Bailey, on a charge of feloniously stealing a post-chaise, value fifty pounds, the property of John Lycett, a coachmaker in Whitechapel. The indictment charged him with hiring a post-chaise for a limited period, which he never returned; the defendant, however, protested that the chaise was regularly ordered and sent home, and therefore the transaction could be only looked upon as a debt. The judge, however, thought otherwise, and the prisoner was found Guilty. Semple, in his own Memoirs, speaking of this occurrence, says: 'The case stood thus with me: I had bespoke a travelling post-chaise of a coachmaker, Mr. Lycett. It was ordered to be finished on a particular day, and on that day he sent it home. My then situation rendered such a carriage necessary for me, and I was at that time able to pay for it; but my fatal turn for extravagance soon put that out of my power. After remaining some time in town, I went again to the Continent, and, during twelve months, passed and repassed very frequently; on which occasions several attempts were made to arrest me for the debt: nor was there any idea of calling it a fraud till a year after the carriage was delivered to me at my lodgings at Knightsbridge. I am far from vindicating the non-payment of a just debt, but I solemnly declare that I had not the smallest idea of defrauding the coachmaker.' After sentence Semple was of course committed to the charge of the keeper of Newgate, by whom he was lodged in the state apartments, where he remained a considerable time, until he was sent to Woolwich, where, by the intercession of his friends, he received his majesty's pardon, on condition of going abroad. While in Newgate he invented a new saddle and accoutrement for cavalry, a model of which he sent to the King of Prussia. From Woolwich Semple went to France, where he became acquainted with Bernyer, Pethion, Roland, and several of the then leaders. He was present at the trial of Louis XVI. and shortly after resolved on returning to England, in consequence of the irruption with this country, which he then saw was inevitable. He therefore obtained a passport, which he had scarcely done when he was denounced to the Committee of Public Safety, as a spy, and going to join the enemy. Being, however, secretly apprized of what was going forward, he was able to effect his escape, although with some difficulty, before the arrest was issued. On his escape Semple joined the allied army against France, and distinguished himself on various occasions, particularly in the battle of St. Fronde, which lasted three days. On the retirement of the King of Prussia from this campaign, Semple lost his best friend, and, being shortly after wounded, he found himself incapacitated from service, and almost destitute of the means of existence. After a short retirement, however, he recovered sufficiently to remove to Augsburgh; on his arrival at which place he was suddenly arrested by order of the Baron d'Ompteda, in the name of his Britannic Majesty; no reason, however, was assigned for the arrest, and he was liberated in a short time. Considering he had been ill used on the Continent, Semple again returned to England; and in 1795 we again find him at the bar of the Old Bailey, on a charge of stealing in the shop of Mr. Wattleworth, in Wigmore Street, one yard of muslin, two yards of calico, and one linen shirt. It was proved that the prisoner came into the shop of Mr. Wattle-worth, about noon, on the 10th of November, 1794, and, showing two patterns, one of muslin, and the other of calico, said he wanted them matched for Mrs. Coningham, of Egham Green. They could not find an exact match in the shop to the muslin; but he chose one; and a yard being cut off and two yards of calico, he said he would give them to the lady's servant, then at the door, and, calling in a man, gave them to him. He then said that he had just arrived from the Continent, and should want a quantity of shirts, and wished to take one with him to consult his sister, who, he thought, would be a better judge of the linen than he was; that he would bring it back in the morning, and then give his order. This sister he called Coningham; and, as the witness had a customer of that name, he made no hesitation, but gave him the shirt under those conditions. This happened in November; but the prosecutor never saw the prisoner again until January, when he was in custody in Bow Street. The counsel for the prisoner contended that they had not made out the charge of the felony, the evidence, if true, amounting only to that of obtaining money under false pretences. Mr. Justice Buller, who tried the cause, admitted the counsel was perfectly right as to the calico and muslin; but he did not agree with him in respect to the shirt, and therefore should leave it to the jury. Semple, being called upon for his defence, begged permission to read a few words which he had put to paper, fearful his embarrassed situation might otherwise prevent him from saying what be wished. This paper stated that he did not mean to deny he had unfortunately been in that place before; but some of the public prints had so misrepresented facts, that he had reason to fear the minds of the public might be so far prejudiced against him as to suppose he had spent his whole life in committing depredations: to prove that this was not true, he begged to show bow his latter time had passed. On going abroad, he found the French engaged in a war, fighting, as he thought, for freedom; he entered their service, and was soon honoured with rank in their army. This, however, at much hazard, he quitted, on their declaring war against this country. and went over to the Austrians, with whom he for some time served as a volunteer. The commander, noticing his exertions, gave him a commission of so small rank, in which he continued until he was recognised by some British officers, and it was instantly circulated through the army that he was the convicted Semple, he having taken upon himself the name of Lisle. On this he was obliged to quit that service; but, still willing and, desirous to serve, he went toward the Rhine, and obtained a commission under the hereditary prince. He had not, however, been long here, when a British officer sent to the commandant that he had been condemned to transportation, without stating that the time had expired. Being thus suspected of being a runaway felon, he was taken into custody by the police, and confined in a prison for more than five weeks, without even the permission of pen and ink. The fact being cleared up, he was set at liberty, but not without losing his situation; he again, however, went into the field, and was twice wounded. This induced him to return home, and he sent a letter to Mr. Dundas, a copy of which he desired might be read; but the Court thinking it irrelevant, it was not admitted. He then concluded, that he had been thus persecuted because he was Major Semple, and which had also brought him to that bar on that day, upon a charge of which he was totally innocent. The jury, however, found him Guilty of stealing the shirt, but Not Guilty upon the charge of the muslin and calico; and he was accordingly transported. Had this action failed, several other indictments were out against him, on various charges of swindling; notwithstanding which, such was the mixture of Semple's character, that various persons of the greatest respectability interested themselves in his behalf, among whom were Burke and Boswell, who both wrote to the under secretary of state, interceding for the royal mercy. After remaining in Newgate, on the state side, for two years, in a state of uncertainty as to his future destiny, he was at length removed to Portsmouth, and from thence proceeded to New South Wales. On his passage a mutiny took place on board the vessel, and twenty-nine persons were sent adrift in an open boat, among whom was Semple, who had contrived to conceal a quantity of gold in some soap, by which stratagem he succeeded in taking it with him. After a dangerous passage they landed in safety at Fort St. Pedro, in the province of Rio Grande. The governor of the fort received them with great hospitality, and Semple was introduced as a Dutch officer and passenger. In consequence of a quarrel, however, with an ensign, the latter exposed Semple's character, which so irritated him that he would have murdered him with his sword, if he had not been prevented. After remaining some time in the Brazils, he left it in 1796, and arrived at Lisbon, where he was arrested in consequence of his Brazilian quarrels. By an order, however, from the British minister at Lisbon, he was sent on board an English vessel, and conveyed to Gibraltar. While here he was arrested on account of the discovery of a conspiracy; nothing, however, appearing against him, he was conveyed to Tangier, where he remained some time. In December, 1798, an order arrived from England, ordering him home in custody; and he was accordingly sent on board a ship, and arrived at Portsmouth the following April. He was immediately conveyed to Tothillfields' Bridewell, where he remained till he was again sent out of the country. From this period nothing particular occurred in the major's life until his return from Botany Bay in 1810, when he resorted to his former evil practices; but as he became more notorious he became less successful, until at length he was reduced to the utmost distress, and had recourse to the basest means of supporting a miserable existence. In 1814 he went into a cheese-monger's shop in Devonshire Street, Queen Square, and ordered a small quantity of bacon and butter to be sent to No.42, Cross Street. He met the messenger at the door, and, taking the articles from him, seat him back for six pennyworth of eggs. When the boy returned he knocked at the door, and was informed that the person he inquired for did not live there, and that they knew nothing about him. This was true, for the major had only made a feint of going in to deceive the boy, and had made off when the lad was out of sight. For this offence he was apprehended, and brought to trial at the Middlesex sessions, December the 3d, 1814, and found Guilty, when, for the third time, sentence of transportation for seven years was passed on him. It must be lamented that a man possessing the courage and ability which Semple certainly did would not pursue the path of honour, which he might have done so profitably to himself and so serviceably to others. As an additional proof of his talent, we insert the following lines, which were written by him to a young lady at Richmond, in Yorkshire, to whom he was to have been married, but fortunately his character was timely discovered:-- For ever, O merciless fair! Will that cruel indifference endure? Can those eyes look me into despair, And that heart be unwilling to cure? How oft what I felt to disguise Has my reason imperiously strove, Till my soul almost felt from my eyes, In the tears of the tenderest love! Then, Delia, determine my fate, Nor let me to madness be drove; But, oh! do not tell me you hate, If you even resolve not to love.' CHARLES WELLER Convicted of Stealing Notes and Bills. THIS malefactor was paid to protect the property he stole, being guard of the Swansea mail-coach, out of a parcel sent by which he purloined notes and bills to the amount of two thousand three hundred pounds. In the month of October, 1813 the above parcel was forwarded from the bank of Newport, in Monmouthshire, to Down and Co. bankers, in London; and, for the better disguising its value, the property was put into a box, and the box packed in a coarse canvass bag, and directed to Mr. Fothergill, a relation of one of the partners in the bank. The box and bag arrived as directed, but without the property, and every exertion was made to detect the robber. In the course of his inquiries, Vickery, the Bow-Street officer, learned that some bank-notes had been concealed at a place called Totterdown Hill, near Bristol, by a woman named Hickman, with whose daughter the prisoner was particularly intimate, and who absconded soon after; but being apprehended, as was Weller also, she was admitted evidence against him. The notes were traced in various directions, some even to Paris. On Saturday, January the 14th, 1815, Weller was indicted for this robbery; and, the facts being proved, he was found Guilty; but, the offence not being capital, he was only sentenced to fourteen years' transportation. Many men have been hanged for a crime of much less magnitude. SARAH STONE Transported for Stealing a Child THE public attention was so much excited by the case of Mrs. Magnis, who stole the little boy in 1811, that an express act of parliament was passed, making child-stealing felony, thereby subjecting the offender to transportation -- a punishment by no means too severe for this species of crime, by which families are thrown into the greatest confusion and distress. The following curious case was the first which occurred after the passing of the act; and, though we rejoice at the conviction of the woman, we cannot but smile at the simplicity of the ignorant tar, whose credulity seems extraordinary, though his paternal affection was amiable. At the Old Bailey sessions, January the 18th, 1815, Sarah Stone was indicted for feloniously stealing, on the 14th of October, 1814, a female child, seven weeks old. The following was the evidence against her:- Catharine Kreemer, the prosecutrix, deposed that she was a poor woman, residing at No.3, Swan's Court, Cowheel Alley, Golden Lane: her husband was a labourer; she had had six children, two of them twins, and was occasionally obliged to solicit charity in the streets for their support. On the 14th of October the twins were about seven weeks old, on which day she went out with one of her children, five years old, having her twins in her arms; and, whilst she was sitting on the steps in St. Paul's Churchyard, the prisoner accosted her -- gave her a penny, saying she had fine babies in her arms -- and observed that, if she would go with her she would introduce her to a .fine lady, who would give her half a guinea. She accordingly set off with the prisoner, carrying her twins, and followed by her other child. In Cheap-side her cloak fell from off her babes, when she requested the prisoner to put it over them, to prevent them from catching cold, who offered to carry one of them. She delivered the largest of them into her arms, and they proceeded together to the Commercial Road, where, at the corner of a public house, the prisoner gave her threepence, to get something to drink. The prosecutrix thanked her for the money, but said she did not want either beer or gin, but wished to see the fine lady. The prisoner said she would go and show the lady her fine twin, and immediately return to her. She followed the prisoner up a court, not choosing to part from her child, when her little girl, who was walking by her side, fell over some bricks. She assisted her to get up, and then turned round to look for the prisoner, who was gone out of sight. The prosecutrix immediately screamed out, being unable to pursue the prisoner, from the incumbrance of her two children. Her cries collected a number of people about her, some of whom were going to take her into custody, on account of the clamour she raised. This was about three o'clock in the afternoon; she ran about in search of the prisoner and her child until half past seven o'clock. She particularly noticed the prisoner's person, who had a tooth broken out in her right upper jaw, was of a swarthy complexion, had dark eyes, and was much pitted with the small-pox: she was dressed in a reddish spotted gown, a light shawl, and a black straw bonnet. Poor as she was, the prosecutrix immediately had advertisements and hand-bills published, with this description of the prisoner, for which she paid seventeen shillings. The same night she gave information at Lambeth Street police office. Six weeks afterwards she was taken on board a ship in the Thames, when the prisoner was pointed out to her, and she immediately recognised her, and found her lost child in the prisoner's arms. As she ascended the side of the ship she heard a child cry, and knew it was the voice of her infant. The moment she perceived it she asked the prisoner to let her have a kiss of her baby, when a sailor, who was standing by, said 'No, not if you were the Queen of England,' and took the child out of the prisoner's arms. Her child appeared thinner than it was when she lost it. The prisoner was not suckling the child.. She never entertained a doubt of the prisoner being the woman who stole her child. Dalton then took the prisoner into custody, and went ashore with her, the prosecutrix, and child. When she undressed the child she found the piece of blanket it had on when she lost it round its body. The prisoner said it was very silly of the prosecutrix to think the child was hers, it being her own, and seemed very unwilling to part with it. The twins were females, and greatly resembled each other. The sailor said he was the father of the child, and acted as if he thought so. Elizabeth Murray, a widow, deposed that she lived next door to the prosecutrix: had known her for fifteen years: remembered her being delivered of twins: saw her in Golden Lane about six or seven o'clock in the evening of the day on which she lost one of them; saw a child that was found on board of a ship by the prosecutrix, which she believed was the same that was lost, though it was much wasted. It died last Friday. The mother had plenty of milk, and kept them in 'good case.' Ebenezer Dalton, the officer, deposed that he went with the prosecutrix on board the Hugh Inglis East Indiaman where he saw the prisoner, and, from the description he had had of her from the prosecutrix, immediately knew her: she had a child in her arms, which she fed with pap. He told the prisoner he had come about the child, which she said was her own, and she would show him the room where she was delivered: that she was taken in labour in the Minories, and named the very day on which the child was lost, when she stated a young woman took her to her apartments, where she was immediately delivered, in White Horse Court, Rosemary Lane: the young Woman's name, she said, was Mary Brown. When there, she could show the officer where the man-midwife lived who was fetched to attend upon her, as it must be near the place, the young woman who went for him having been absent only a very short time; that she was delivered at three o'clock, and returned to her home in Blythe's Buildings, Sun Street, Bishopsgate, at five o'clock, in a coach, where she lived with her mother, though in a separate apartment; and Swaine (the sailor who refused to let the prosecutrix kiss the child) was its father. When the prosecutrix first saw the prisoner with the child in her arms, she flew towards her, and would have struck her if he had not interfered, exclaiming, 'That is my child, and that is the woman who stole her from me.' The prosecutrix's description of the prisoner's person was correct, except with regard to her age. He brought the prisoner to London, accompanied by the prosecutrix, who refused to be again separated from her child, and it was restored to her by the order of the magistrate. He then inquired ineffectually, at every house in White Hart Court, for a person named Mary Brown; and, on telling the prisoner of his ill success, she said she must have mistaken the name of the court; but, if she were to go herself, she could find the place. He went with her by desire of the magistrate, and she led him to Johnson's Court, Rosemary Lame, and pointed out a house, in which she said she was delivered in the front room, up one pair of stairs. Miller, another officer, who was along with them, went into the house, and returned with Elizabeth Fisher, who inhabited the room described by the prisoner, who, when she saw her, appeared much confused, and said she did not know her, though she was sure of the house; and Elizabeth Fisher professed herself unacquainted with the prisoner. He went to the only man-midwife near, who said he had never delivered a woman in the house they mentioned, and the prisoner said he was not the person. Swaine gave up his voyage, and accompanied the witness and prisoner in a post-chaise to London, to assert his right to the child. There were other women with children in their arms besides the prisoner on the deck of the ship, when the prosecutrix, without hesitation, fixed upon her as the woman who stole her child. Isabella Gray deposed that she lived at No.3, Blythe's Buildings, in Sun Street. The prisoner and Swaine lodged in her house as man and wife. Saw the prisoner go out about one o'clock on the 14th October: remembers her dress, which she described to have been the same as that the prosecutrix swore was worn by the woman who stole her child. Prisoner had lodged in her house about three months. The witness went out in the afternoon, and on her return was told by the prisoner's mother that she was delivered. Saw the child, and remarked it was a very large one, appearing like a child of a month old more than like a new-born infant. The prisoner heard her say this, but made no reply. Swaine was in the room at the time: witness asked him if that was his child. He said 'So they told him: he had just come into the house.' Prisoner had previously appeared like a woman who was pregnant: never saw any medical man or other person attending the prisoner on account of her lying-in. Grace Brown deposed that she lived opposite to the prisoner in Blythe's Buildings: saw her come into the court about five o'clock in the afternoon of the 14th of October. The prisoner did not appear as if she had been just delivered: she had had children herself, and did not believe that any woman who had been only delivered that afternoon could have walked up the court as prisoner did. Prisoner had been big six months: she had jumped out of a two pair of stairs' window whilst she was said to be pregnant: never spoke to the prisoner. The prisoner, in her defence, told the same story to the Court which she had related to Dalton, and pointed out Elizabeth Fisher as the person who took her into her room, where she persisted she was delivered, and that Elizabeth Fisher called herself Mary Brown, to which name she said she answered before the magistrate. Elizabeth Fisher was called, and declared she never saw the prisoner before she was brought to her house by the officer; that, when before the magistrate, she had answered to the name of Brown, on some person's addressing her by that appellation, being greatly alarmed by the circumstance of appearing before a magistrate. The mother of the prisoner, Swaine, the reputed father of the child, and two other persons, ineffectually endeavoured to establish the prisoner's innocence, and to prove that the child was her own. The jury unhesitatingly found her Guilty; sentence, seven years' transportation. A sum of money, for the relief of the prosecutrix, was subscribed by the jury. ANNE RADFORD Transported for Perjury. Few subjects have excited greater complaint than the inconsistency of the English criminal code. A man is hanged for cutting or maiming, with intent to kill, because, say the commentators on the law, though the wounded man recovers, that is no palliation of the crime, for the offender deserves the same punishment as if the object of his attack had actually expired, the intention being the same. By analogy, this argument applies to those who falsely endeavour to swear away the life of a man; yet the most aggravated perjury is only punished with transportation, and in most cases with only fine and imprisonment, though an artful perjurer may as much endanger the life of an innocent man as the infuriated assassin, for circumstances may be such, in either case, as to preclude the possibility of defence. The case we are going to narrate will illustrate the foregoing remarks. In the latter end of the year 1814, Anne Radford, a poor man's daughter, aged nineteen, accused her sweetheart, John Bird, a farmer's servant, of having murdered a rival of his, one Buckhill, a gentleman's servant, two years before. Bird was accordingly apprehended, and his accuser deposed as follows: -- That one evening, in the month of June, she and Bird were walking along the road, about eight o'clock, when they met Buckhill, whom Bird immediately attacked, knocked him down, cut his throat, and then dragged him into a neighbouring corn-field, where he buried him. The particulars she described with such apparent candour and minuteness, that it was impossible to suspect her story to be fabricated. Bird was committed to Exeter gaol; and Anne Radford, not being able to procure bail to prosecute, was also sent to prison, there to be taken care of until the ensuing assizes. The momentary wonder which this extraordinary charge excited having somewhat subsided, the sober part of the people began to reflect on its improbability. The publicity of the place where the alleged murder was committed, the early hour at which it took place, and the silence which attended the transaction, no one having ever heard of any such murder in the neighbourhood, seemed to attach falsehood to the charge, and throw discredit on the accuser's story. But then the circumstantial manner in which she described the deed, and the absence of any inducement to prompt her to fabricate so atrocious a statement, as well as the fact of Buckhill not having been since seen in the neighbourhood, were considered corroborating proofs of the truth of her charge, which she alleged having made to rid her conscience of an intolerable burden that pressed heavily upon it during the last two years. The magistrates had her brought to the field where she stated Buck-bill to have been buried, and had the place dug up where she described the body to have been deposited; but, though the utmost diligence was used, nothing was found to lead to a supposition that any such interment had taken place. In the mean time it was confidently reported that Buckhill was still alive; and Bird's master, whose humane and praiseworthy exertions merit the highest eulogium, went in search of him. Having travelled seven hundred miles, he at length found the object of his pursuit, who had just returned from France, where he had been with Lord Beauchamp's family during the two years preceding. To save a fellow-creature from ignominy and death, Buckhill hastened to Exeter, where the assizes were about to be held; and, on Radford hearing of his presence, she declared her whole story was a falsehood, though up to that moment she persisted in her wicked allegations. When Bird was arraigned at Exeter, January the 16th, 1815, in a most crowded court, the Recorder asked Radford what she had to say: she replied, 'Nothing, sir; I am guilty:' upon which Bird was discharged, and a bill of indictment was then presented to the grand jury, and found against Anne Radford, for wilful and corrupt perjury. She was immediately put upon her trial, and said, 'Though I know I am guilty, I am advised to plead Not Guilty.' Her affidavit having been read, Buckhill, the man stated to have been murdered, was called. He deposed that he never knew Bird, and consequently that he could not have had any quarrel with him. About two years before he was in the habit of privately visiting the prisoner in her father's garden, during the eleven days which he stopped in the country, since which time he knew nothing of her. Bird having also been called, and his evidence gone through, the jury, without hesitation, found the prisoner Guilty, and she was sentenced to seven years' transportation. Were it not for the zeal of Bird's master in finding Buckhill, the circumstantial and minute evidence of this wicked girl would in all probability have convicted him of murder. What a lesson for jurors! WILLIAM SAWYER Executed for the Murder of Harriet Garrett. WILLIAM SAWYER was a young man in the commissariat department of the British army, and the circumstances of his case are of a most extraordinary and singular nature. In the month of February, 1814, he went out to Portugal, where he lived in the same house in the Campo Major, at Lisbon, with a friend, Mr. Riccord, who had a female, named Harriet Gaskett, under his protection. An attachment grew up between this unfortunate woman and Sawyer, though he had a wife at the time in England; and his attentions were so apparent that they excited jealousy in his brother officer, who appears to have remonstrated with his friend and mistress, which occasioned much infelicity. On the 27th of April they met at dinner, with two or three other officers; but such was the agitation of their feelings, that Riccord, Harriet, and Sawyer, ate no dinner. The latter appeared greatly dejected; and, as well as Harriet, withdrew as soon as possible. In the evening the party heard the report of three pistol-shots; and, on going into the garden, Harriet and Sawyer were found both lying on the ground. Harriet was quite dead, but Sawyer had not been mortally wounded. On being removed into the house, he was left in the care of a brother officer, while the others went in search of a physician; and during their absence he contrived to get a razor, with which he cut his throat in a dreadful manner, but not mortally. Next day the officers met, and reduced the facts to writing, which Sawyer signed. When he was sufficiently recovered he was removed to England, where, shortly after his arrival, he was indicted at the Old Bailey, April the 7th, 1815, for the above murder. His case excited great interest, and the court was filled long before the arrival of the judges. The above facts being deposed to -- Mr. Tobin was called.-- Was at Lisbon at the time of this unfortunate transaction. Knew the parties before the 27th of April, and saw them together the evening before. Mr. Riccord seemed indisposed. Witness called to see him the next morning; saw the prisoner on that occasion: he requested him, the witness, to accompany him to view a house which he wished to take. Witness did so, and advised him not to take the house; he, however, said he would take it. In the evening, about eight o'clock, Mr. Riccord and Mr. Green called at his house: they were much agitated. They stated that the prisoner and the deceased had murdered each other, or something to that effect. and requested witness to go and render what assistance he could. Witness went to Mr. Riccord's house, and found the prisoner lying on the floor, with his throat cut, and a wound in his temple. Remained some time with him, and assisted in washing his wounds. There was a paper on the table, on which the prisoner appeared to have been writing. Witness inquired where Harriet was; and, handing that paper, the prisoner wrote that she lay in the garden in the first lane from the house. Witness went in consequence of this information, and found the deceased. She was quite dead. There was a wound in her temple. The prisoner was finally removed from the floor on which he lay to a sofa in an adjoining room. About eleven o'clock the doctor came. Saw nothing more that night: went to the prisoner the next morning at eleven, and found him in bed. Several gentlemen were assembled to inquire into the facts of the case, who judged it advisable that the prisoner should be called upon to give some account of the fatal transaction. In consequence of this opinion witness wrote down on a paper such facts as had come to his knowledge respecting the calamitous circumstance. This paper was read over to the prisoner distinctly; he afterwards read it himself, and subscribed to the corrections of its contents: he also signed his name to it. Upon this paper having been read over, they saw that it was not sufficiently clear for the want of the word 'my.' Witness, therefore, went once more to the prisoner the next day, and requested permission to amend it. He pointed out that the paper, as it existed, left room to doubt whether Harriet had not murdered herself: he therefore requested the prisoner to say who had fired the pistol-shot by which she had been killed. The prisoner said he fired it, and desired the necessary correction to be made to the paper, which was accordingly done. There was also another memorandum written, to which he likewise signed his name. To these papers there were four subscribing witnesses. The papers in question were now put in and read. The first was dated 28th April, 1814, and was, in substance, as follows:- 'Having laid violent hands upon myself, in consequence of the death of Harriet, I think it but justice to mankind and the world, being of sound mind, solemnly to attest that her death was occasioned by her having taken part of a phial of laudanum, and "my" discharging a pistol at her head, provided for the occasion. I took the residue of the laudanum myself, and discharged two pistols at my head. They failing in their effect, I then retired to the house, and endeavoured to put an end to my life, leaving myself the unfortunate object you now behold me. '(Signed) WILLIAM SAWYER,' And three witnesses. The word 'my,' in the above paper, was interlined, as stated in Mr. Tobin's evidence. The second paper was dated seven o'clock, Saturday evening, the 30th of April. It was nearly as follows:-- 'The word "my," interlined in the above paper, was inserted with my full concurrence. I have heard the contents of that paper deliberately read, and entirely agree to them. We mutually agreed to destroy each other; and then she requested me to destroy her previous to my destroying myself.' Captain Thomas Tyrrell witnessed the signing of the second paper by the prisoner, and, at Mr. Riccord's request, produced to him another paper for him (the prisoner) to sign. This was for the purpose of removing any imputation against Mr. Riccord's character. Witness then read over a paper of considerable length, which was signed by the prisoner: it was, in substance, as follows:-- 'On my arrival in Lisbon I called upon Mr. Riccord, who, in consequence of some attention which I had shown him, when ill, on a former occasion, received me with great kindness, and invited me to his house. I lived there with Harriet and him for some time, with great happiness, till about three months back, when Mr. Riccord manifested some displeasure, in consequence of some civilities, of more than a common description, which I paid to Harriet. This, however, was soon forgotten, as I assured him there was no ground for his suspicion. On or about --- Harriet gave way to my solicitations, and agreed to live with me, provided Mr. Riccord went to England, and was restored to his family: Here the witness stated, that, in addition to the declarations, he had put several questions to the prisoner, which he had answered. They were as follow:-- Q. Harriet having declared, in the most solemn manner, to Mr. Riccord, that she never had any connexion of an intimate nature with you, it is but just that you should state whether you had such connexion, and when and where that connexion took place?-- A. I had connexion with Harriet, and slept with her three times, during the time that Mr. Riccord was obliged to sleep at the Convent. Q. When Harriet ran towards the well, did not Mr. Riccord tell you might live together, and that he would go to an hotel, and only waited for Harriet to hand him some things?-- A. He did. Q. Then, if you had this permission, why did Harriet require you to shoot her, when you had a full opportunity of living together?-- A. Harriet assigned as a reason for asking me to shoot her, that, if she lived with me, she was sure Riccord would shoot himself; and, although she had promised not to live with me, she had not promised not to die with me. Q. Was it not Harriet's request that you should destroy her, because you said you would destroy yourself if she did not live with you?-- A. No, so help me, God! I declare that she entreated me to shoot her, without any such declaration on my part. The prisoner was then called upon for his defence, and put in a written paper, in which he stated that, in consequence of his being unable to articulate, from the wound in his throat, he had committed to paper all he had to say in his defence. The paper then went on to state that the prisoner had felt the sincerest affection for the unfortunate individual in question; towards whom he had never meditated the slightest injury. He perfectly recollected her having entreated him, to shoot her, but had no idea of what passed subsequently, till some time afterwards, when he was told he had signed papers, of the contents of which he had no recollection. He then expressed acknowledgments for the efforts made by his prosecutors to bring forward Mr. Riccord, who would have been a material witness in his behalf; and had only to lament that these efforts had not been attended with success. Several persons were then called to speak to the general humane character of the prisoner, among whom were General Sir Edward Howard, Colonel Sir William Robe, W. Stacey, Esq., E. Weaver, Esq., Mr. Wells, and Mr. Guy. A Mrs. Nicholls proved that the deceased had lodged with her from June, 1813, to February, 1814. She was of a most violent and tyrannical disposition, and had a pistol, which she kept constantly in her room. Lord Ellenborough summed up the evidence, when the jury retired, and, after an absence of two hours, returned with the verdict of Guilty; but recommended the prisoner strongly to mercy, on the ground that there was no malice on his part towards the deceased, further than the act itself imported. Lord Ellenborough now desired to hear whether any thing was to be submitted as a ground for respiting the sentence of the prisoner. Mr. Alley repeated his former arguments, and contended that the prisoner could not legally receive sentence for a crime committed in another kingdom, where there were laws to which he was distinctly amenable. Lord Ellenborough considered this point as decided, and therefore did not think it proper to reserve it. He was induced to believe, however, that there were other grounds upon which a motion for a respite of sentence might have been claim ed. He desired the counsel for the prisoner to look to the indictment, and see whether that did not present some points which it would be proper to reserve for discussion. Mr. Alley and Mr. Curwood having looked in compliance, with his lordship's intimation, to the indictment, but not immediately discovering any points of the nature alluded to his lordship, to save the time of the Court, stated there were two points which had presented themselves to him, on the face of that indictment, as sufficient under the set to warrant him respiting the judgment of the prisoner:-- The first was, that the prisoner was said to have committed the murder in question 'against the form of the statute,' bit the particular statute infringed was not specified, as it ought to have been; and, next, it was not stated that the prisoner was a 'British subject;' and therefore the Court adjudged that the sentence should be respited accordingly. On the 12th of May Mr. Sawyer was brought up to receive the decision of the judges, which Sir Simon .Le Blanc delivered as follows:-- 'William Sawyer wee tried and convicted, under the authority of a special commission, appointed for that purpose, for the wilful murder of Harriet Gaskell, in the kingdom of Portugal, a subject of our lord the king, and in the peace of the king. 'Upon this conviction, three objections were taken upon the indictment, in arrest of judgment. The first of these was, that the jurisdiction of this country had no power whatever to try the offence of an individual committed in a country beyond the seas, and under the dominion of a foreign power; second, that the indictment did net, upon the face of it, show that the parties were British subjects; and; third, that the indictment did not conclude, as being agreeable to the form of the statute, &c. With respect to the first point of objection, namely,. that which related to the 33d of Henry VIII., the words and construction of that statute must be taken as implying that the offender must be tried by a jury where the offence is committed; but it also appeared, from that statute, that, if a murder is committed upon a British subject, it may be lawful, upon information of such murder being given, for any of his majesty's counsel to bring the offender to justice, whether the offence he committed within or without the kingdom, or any of his majesty's shires. That such offender shall be tried under a special commission of the great seal, either within or without the kingdom, or any of his majesty's shires, for such offence, the words were sufficiently clear, and admitted of the construction which had, since the passing of the act, been put upon them.' [He then cited three cases where convictions had taken place pursuant to this statute. The first was the case of one Chambers, who had committed a murder in Barcelona, in the kingdom of Spain, in 1709, when the law took its course: the next was the case of one Ealing, who was convicted of a murder committed in Sweden in 1720: and the third was that in which Captain Roche was convicted of the murder of one Ferguson, at the Cape of Good Hope, in 1775.] 'In all these cases the construction of the act quoted applied, and the law had taken its regular course. They were all cases, too, where the offence had been committed beyond the seas, and out of the dominions of his majesty. With regard to the second objection, the words of the statute are, "that if any person shall commit such offence of murder against any subject, in the peace of the king," &c. and sufficient appeared upon the face of the indictment to show that the subject so murdered was a British subject, and in the peace of the king. As to the last objection, stating that the indictment did not conclude "under the form of the statute," &c. it did not appear of so much importance, being interwoven with the other arguments, and sufficient appearing on the face of the indictment to make the case dear, agreeably to the statute.' The learned judge concluded by saying, that, after the fullest consideration that could be given to the case, the judges were unanimously of opinion that there was no ground whatever for arrest of judgment. The recorder then proceeded to pronounce the awful sentence of the law. The prisoner appeared deeply affected throughout, and, upon hearing the awful decision and sentence, remained motionless for some time. when at length he faintly requested one of the officers to entreat the Court to recommend him to the royal clemency. He was then taken from the dock. Monday, May the 22d, 1815, being the day appointed for the execution of this infatuated man, at an early hour an immense number of spectators assembled in the Old Bailey, to witness the awful scene. Since the sentence of death was passed on him he assumed a degree of sullenness; and the only declaration he was heard to make was 'that he would not be executed:' this was considered to import the he was resolved on self-destruction. His intentions, however, if such they were, were defeated by the constant attendance of two officers night and day. On Sunday he received the sacrament, after which he appeared more composed. About three o'clock on Sunday his wife went to the prison, for the purpose of taking a farewell: she was announced by an officer; but the unhappy man gave a peremptory order that she should not be admitted, and all that could be urged could not induce him to see her. When he went to his cell he was much depressed, and refused any kind of sustenance: about two o'clock he laid down, and soon after became very sick, and vomited copiously. He continued restless until half past six o'clock, at which time he was visited by the Rev. Mr. Cotton who prayed to him fervently. A little before eight o'clock. Mr. Sheriff Reay, attended by the usual officers, proceeded from Justice Hall towards the cell. The unfortunate gentleman was introduced into the Press-yard by the Ordinary: he was very dejected, and did not utter a word during his being conveyed to the platform. At eight o'clock precisely, every necessary arrangement being complete, the fatal signal was given, and the unhappy man was launched into eternity. During the ceremony a profound silence prevailed throughout the populace. He died under evident symptoms of paroxysm, and a quantity of blood gushed from his mouth, from the cut in his throat. At nine o'clock the body was taken to Bartholomew's Hospital in a cart, attended by the under-sheriff and officers. He was dressed in a suit of black, and was not ironed. THOMAS JESSON Executed for the Murder of a Child. The man who has no self-respect, or principles of honour, is seldom virtuous; and, though reason may conduce to good conduct, yet ninety-nine men out of every hundred are influenced by feeling only; and, happily for society, the general feeling of mankind is on the side of virtue and morality. In the case before us we have a deplorable instance of the bad consequences which uniformly proceed from conduct in opposition to what the world approves. Jesson married a woman with an illegitimate child, the daughter of a wealthy seducer, at her breast; and, though he promised to protect, and apparently did caress the infant, yet he privately hated and detested the innocent cause of his anger; for he was aware of the circumstances attending its birth and filiation before he married its imprudent mother. Whoever reads the history of delinquents (and we know not one more copious than the 'Newgate Calendar') must be struck with the obvious advantages which, even in this world, attend a life of propriety and virtue. Scarcely a case of atrocity, horror, or dishonesty occurs, but we find the parties concerned immersed in sin and crime. If men, they are the companions of prostitutes, whose extravagance and dissipation are to be supported by illegal means; and, if women, we find them either abandoned to shame and infamy, or living in secret or open defiance of the laws of God and society. The parties before us, though not exactly of this class, were nevertheless far from being models of propriety: the woman was a mother before she was married; and the man undertook to father her child begotten in shame. From such a connexion little good was to be expected. though what followed could not possibly be anticipated. Thomas Jesson, a nailer, aged twenty-five, was indicted at the Salop assizes, March the 24th, 1815, for the wilful murder of his wife's child, in the parish of Hale's Owen, on the night of Saturday, the 28th of the preceding January. By the evidence of a surgeon it appeared that the right cheek and temple were bruised very much, the skin was ruptured on the right side of the child, and the lower jaw was broken exactly in the centre. He observed a large fracture on the back part of the head: after removing the scalp two large portions of the bone were entirely detached, and pressed upon the brain. A single blow would not have caused the fracture of both the jaw and the head. The prisoner stated that he was in a fit when it was done; and that he knew not how it happened. This, however. did not appear from the. evidence to be the fact; and the jury brought in a verdict of Guilty, in the propriety of which the judge fully concurred, and immediately passed sentence of death upon him. JOHN MURDOCH Executed for the Murder of James Murdoch. PHILIP, King of Macedon, derived less glory from all his victories than from one single act of justice. One of his veterans had been billetted on a poor peasant, who treated him with great hospitality; but the base soldier, in return for such kindness, resolved to ruin his host: he fabricated a tale for the ear of his commander, injurious to the character of the peasant, and solicited for himself the home and geld of his benefactor. His villainy was detected, and the indignant monarch ordered to be branded, on his. forehead, 'The ungrateful guest'-- a stigma which, in Christian times, is, we are sorry to say, often merited by modern soldiers, as the following case will show:-- John Murdoch was a discharged soldier, who, in the beginning of the. year 1815, visited a namesake of his, with whom he was formerly acquainted, at Langrig, a small village near Whitburn, Scotland. Although of the same name, there was no relationship between them; but, on the strength of nominal connexion, the veteran received a hearty welcome from his friend, James Murdoch, who lived in a house by himself, and kept a little shop. For eight days the old soldier was hospitably entertained; but, like the 'ungrateful guest,' he wished to possess himself of the property of his host, and, horrid to relate, he one night took up a carpenter's adze, and clove the poor man's head in two! after which he concealed the body in a corner. Next day, the shop not being opened as usual, the neighbours became alarmed, and, going to inquire, they were told by the murderer that the old man had gone to Whitburn, and would not return until the evening. This not satisfying the people, they rushed forward, and soon discovered the mangled corpse of the deceased. The 'ungrateful guest' attempted to escape; but he was pursued, and quickly overtaken. When examined, the money of the poor shopkeeper, as well as his watch, was found upon the wretch, who was fully committed for trial. On Monday, February the 18th, 1815, he was indicted for this murder in the High Court of Justiciary, Edinburgh, and found Guilty. The execution of a murderer does not take place in Scotland so soon after conviction as in this country; and this malefactor did not suffer until the 29th of the following March. JOHN ELLEM Executed for Ravishing a Young Girl THIS brutal and unmanly villain richly deserved the fate he earned for himself; for he that forcibly violates the person of an unprotected female is unfit to fill any station in civilized society, and commits a private injury which nothing on earth can recompense, as his unfortunate victim may be said to walk through life an animated corpse, shunned by the living, and insulted by the wicked and the thoughtless, while the commiseration of the humane only renews those tortures which nothing but death can assuage. The man who subjects a female, otherwise innocent and lovely, to such a life as this, deserves more tortures than are found in physical death. John Ellem, a wealthy rope-maker, at Barking, was indicted at Chelmsford, July the 14th, 1815, for ravishing Anne Pearson, on the 24th of March. Anne Pearson, the prosecutrix, stated that she was sixteen last Christmas. On the 24th, her master, his wife, and the servant boy, went out to go to London, but her master returned in about half an hour; it was about six o'clock: he asked her if the kettle boiled, and told her to get the things; there was no person in the house but themselves; having placed the tea-things, he desired her to go up stairs and fetch his pocket-book; she went, but could not find it; she called down stairs to say it was not there; he again called up to look into his waistcoat pocket; she did, it was not there; she told him so, and he desired her to look into his jacket pocket; it was not there: she then heard him coining up stairs, and she, having a suspicion of his intention to take improper liberties with her, shut the door and locked it; he knocked at the door, and desired her to open it; she refused, unless he would go down stairs; he said if she did not open the door he would break it open, adding, what the hell do you think I want with you? She then opened the door; he immediately threw her upon the bed: she got up once, and had reached the door, but he again caught her and accomplished his purpose; he then went down stairs, and she followed in about two minutes; he walked about the room whistling; she left the house in less than half an hour, and went to her mother's. On her way she met a young friend, who asked her what she was crying about. She said her master had behaved rude to her; she told her mother the same, but did not then tell her the whole. Her friend came in shortly afterwards, and she told her the particulars, desiring that she would tell her mother, as she did not like to do it herself. In the evening, when she went to bed, disclosed the whole to her mother, who (on the Monday), this being Good Friday, sent for Mr. Desormeaux, the doctor.-- She was subjected to a very severe cross-examination. She said she could not have been heard to cry out; she could not get to the window; she denied having had any loose conversation with a milkman on that same day; she knew a Mr. Smith, a doctor, at Barking, but she had never applied to him for any medicines, or had ever spoken to him. Her mother, Mr. Desormeaux, and Caroline Walker, were called, who confirmed her as to her immediate disclosure of the facts, except that Mr. Desormeaux said, that, in stating the mode of perpetration, she had described it differently with respect to confining her hands. The prisoner, being called upon for his defence, said he left it to his counsel. They called witnesses to show a contradiction in parts of her testimony. The washerwoman's girl said, that, when she had brought the waistcoat, she had another girl with her, and that she came in a laughing manner, as though nothing had happened; but the principal witness was Richard Baker Smith, who described himself as a surgeon and apothecary, now residing at Ilford, then at Barking. He said the girl came to his house about ten o'clock on the night of the 1st of April. When he opened the door, he supposed she came about a certain disorder, and he asked her if it was so. She said no; but some young men had been playing tricks with her, and she wanted some physic. A woman was with her, wrapped in a red cloak. He told her to come in the morning. He was sure it was her, as he knew her and her family. Upon cross-examination he proved a most ignorant man; so much so, that he spelt dropsy, dropsee, and fistula, festerly. He insisted, however, that he was a regular-bred medical man, and had two hundred venereal patients from Barking alone, and produced a certificate, which, upon examination, proved to be a certificate written by himself. The girl, who was confronted with him, most solemnly denied ever having spoken to him. He named also the mother's brother as his patient. He happened to be in court, and denied the fact. The witness said, 'If not him, he had had his wife under his care.' His lordship expressed great indignation at the conduct of this witness. The foreman of the prisoner was called to prove a conversation between the girl and a milkman on the day of the transaction, which she denied. He said two other persons heard it, but they were not present. The noble and learned judge having detailed all the evidence on both sides, the jury, after a very short deliberation, found the prisoner Guilty. His lordship immediately passed sentence of death upon him, assuring him that he need not hope for mercy in this world. ELIZABETH DREW, Tried for Robbery. THIS singular trial took place at Cornwall, July the 26th, 1815, and occupied the Court for a considerable time, during which the spectators, the Bar, and the Bench, were convulsed with laughter. Elizabeth Drew was indicted for robbing Thomas Martin of a watch, some wearing apparel, &c. &c. The prosecutor, who was an Irish seaman, with his arms folded, in an erect though careless attitude, a smile of apparently invincible good humour on his countenance, and every minute casting a significant glance on the prisoner, answered the interrogatories of the Bench in a language which his lordship declared to be wholly incomprehensible but which was composed of technical phrases, delivered with a rather slight brogue. In vain was it that he was desired to cut short his prolix narrative: honest Tom Martin knew how to keep, but not to abridge, a log-book; every interruption caused him to lose his reckoning, and he found it easier to begin anew than to splice a broken story. He had marked down every course he had steered, and every variation of wind and weather he had experienced -- every port he had made, and every harbour which he had anchored -- from the time he had embarked with the prisoner to the hour of his appearance in court; and he would relate the whole. He said he was armourer of the Severn frigate, and was in Hamoaze in the beginning of the present month, when he got his long liberty. He knew the prisoner; and why should he not? She washed for him, and was a country girl of his own. He was surprised that the judge did not know that long liberty lasted a month. The prisoner was on board the Severn for four or five days before he got his long liberty, and he told her he was going to spend it in Ireland. On her expressing a wish also to visit her dear country, which she had not seen for three years, he said he would pay her passage. This offer she accepted on condition that one bed should serve them during their voyage; to which, of course, he made no objection. Some smugglers coming on board, he resolved to have a parting jollification with his messmates, and bought half a gallon of rum. He had a hearty booze before he left the ship, so that, when he came on shore, he was rather top-heavy. On coming to North Corner he gave his companion two pounds to take her clothes out of pawn; after which they shortened sail, and came-to at the second public house on the right hand as you go up. Here they drank some beer, and Tom got intoxicated, so that he determined to cast anchor, and take a nap. However, having the same confidence in his country-girl as if she had been his real wife, he gave her charge of his money, which amounted to twenty-seven pounds, before he turned in to sleep. A canvass bag, containing five white shirts, four pair of stockings, and sundry other articles of wearing apparel, with a prayer-book, called the 'Key of Paradise,' a pocketbook, and a green book that he used to keep his accounts in, he left in the bar. He had his watch in his pocket when he fell asleep. The prisoner took the bag from the bar, his watch from his pocket, and the lady even took his handkerchief from his neck, and put an old rag in its place, not worth a penny. The watch was as good a watch as ever went; she was worth ten guineas of any man's money. The seal and key were gold; the chain was what is called composition, and he could not tell what it was worth. But, after all, he wished his country-girl should have fair play: he was sorry to come against a woman; he would rather come against a man by ten degrees. Finding himself plundered, he made inquiry for his companion, and he just got a sight of her in the public house; but she gave him the double, and he saw her no more till, after a long chase, he made her out at Callington. When he saw her he clapped his hand on her shoulder this way (giving a specimen of his mode of salutation by a smart slap on a gentleman's shoulder who sat near the witnesses' box); but, said he, 'madam knew nothing about me; she did not know me at all.' The manner in which he pronounced this, with an arch smile on his countenance, pointing to the prisoner, and casting a significant glance first on her, and then on the judge, would have done honour to the most celebrated of the Thespian votaries; it was one of the best pieces of comic acting we ever saw, and completely overturned the gravity of the Bench, drawing a peal of laughter and applause from a crowded Court. Order being restored, Tow Martin proceeded with the same degree of sang froid. Having once got sight of the chase, he was not to be baffled, but kept her close on board until the constable, whom he had hailed on reaching Callington, had procured a warrant. His ungrateful countrywoman, finding she could not give him the double a second time, resolved to adopt soother manoeuvre, and, desiring to be left alone with him, gave up the watch as a peace-offering. Being desired to produce the watch, Tom first hesitated, and then owned that he had pawned it for two guineas, in order to prevent the necessity of his going on hoard before his long liberty was expired; a circumstance that he appeared most seriously to deprecate. His lordship then asked what he had done with the double he said the prisoner had given him. 'What did I do with it?' replied the witness, evidently much amused at the misconception of the Bench; (his lordship supposed that by double was meant a duplicate given by pawnbroker;) why I could do nothing; she gave it to me entirely: But, as it is going as it is, I'll out with the whole on her. This waistcoat on me, my lord'-- Judge.-- 'No matter about did waistcoat; it is not mentioned in the indictment.' Witness.--'Ay; but I'll tell all about it.' His lordship, however, would hear nothing about the waistcoat, and told the witness he knew not what to make of his story; on which Tom replied -- 'I believe, my lord, I've told it very fair; it is very fair doctrine, and there is no Englishman but will understand what it means.' His canvass bag, he said, was found at the prisoner's lodgings; but the 'Key of Paradise,' and the rest of its contents, except a pair of stockings, were gone, His lordship summed up the evidence, as well as he could collect it from the prosecutor; and the jury, not thinking that the things produced were sufficiently identified, acquitted the prisoner. WILLIAM BRADFORD Executed for Forgery. This unfortunate culprit was a young man, twenty-three years of age, of most respectable connexions, and held a situation as clerk in the Victualling Office, where he had various opportunities of becoming acquainted with the forms of bills, as well as a correct knowledge of the handwriting of those by whom they were usually signed. Thoughtless extravagance plunged him into pecuniary difficulties, from which he resolved to relieve himself by committing forgery. Desperate and criminal as the resolution was, he carried it into effect by fabricating a bill for eight hundred and sixty-eight pounds, nine shillings, and sixpence, purporting to be drawn on the commissioners of his majesty's Victualling Office by Robert Tieverton, purser of the Acasto, and certified by Alexander Robert Kerr, the captain. Bradford then procured an unsuspecting friend, named Williams, to carry the bill for acceptance to the Victualling Office; and so well was it executed, and every thing managed with such adroitness, that it passed through all the necessary offices without exciting the least suspicion. He next sent it to the Bank of England, and got it discounted. Suspicion was, however, subsequently excited, and Bradford was taken into custody. A fifty-pound note was found in his lodging, which turned out to be one of those paid for the bill at the Bank: and eventually every one of the notes was traced to his possession; even a ten-pound note, with which he redeemed his watch, proved to have been one of these. The trial of this miserable young man came on at the Old Bailey, October the 28th 1816, and lasted for five hours. The evidence was conclusive, and he was accordingly found Guilty. When he was removing from the bar he fainted, so great was the impression made upon him by the verdict. The efforts of his friends to procure a commutation of his sentence proved unavailing, arid the law was left to take its course. On December the 8th, he was visited by his two younger brothers, for the purpose of taking leave of him; but when the hour of parting came, their feelings were wound up to such a pitch, that the keepers with difficulty separated them from the unhappy sufferer; and, even after they had been taken from the cell, the younger brother clung to every object in his way, exclaiming, in a dreadful paroxysm of grief, 'My brother! oh, my unhappy brother!' At length they were tranquillized, but did not quit the mansion of misery for some time. During Tuesday night Bradford was attended by, the Rev. Mr. Budge, and he appeared tranquil, joining most fervently in prayer with his friend. In the course of the night he took a little negus, but it did not remain on his stomach. He slept for about two hours, and afterwards partook of some toast and water. The next morning, Wednesday, December the 10th, 1816, being the time appointed for his execution, he was brought, at eight o'clock, to the Press-yard, and disencumbered of his irons: after which he walked with a firm step to the scaffold; and his last words were – 'O Lord, spare my soul; for I am a miserable sinner!' ELIZABETH WOOLLERTON Executed for Poisoning. This wicked woman, unlike the unfortunate Eliza Fenning, had the crime brought home to her, which she aggravated by attempting to throw the charge upon her daughter. Elizabeth Woollerton, the wife of a farmer, residing at Denton, Norfolk, and the mother of nine children, was tried on a charge of having mixed a certain quantity of arsenic in a cake, which cake she sent as a present to her uncle, Tifford Clarke, Esq. on the 2d day of July, 1816, thereby intending to kill him; and part of the said cake being eaten by Robert Sparkes, son of Benjamin Sparkes, occasioned his death. Mr. Benjamin Lone, apothecary at Bungay, said that the prisoner had purchased from him a quantity of arsenic on the 22d of June; also on a prior occasion. It was proved by the prisoner's daughters, who were admitted evidence against her, that she had made the cake in question, and sent it to her uncle. it further appeared that she stood indebted to her uncle in the sum of two hundred pounds, and who intimated leaving her by his will a further sum of five hundred pounds. Mr. Clarke proved the having received cakes from the prisoner on a former occasion, the eating of which had made him extremely ill, and in consequence he desired her not to send him such cakes in future; and for the reason alluded to he refused to eat of the cake in question. The housekeeper of Mr. Clarke, upon this, unknowingly sent the poisoned cake to her son-in-law, Sparkes, who had a family of five children. Upon receipt of it, the mother of the deceased divided the cake into equal portions for the children's breakfast next morning, previous to their departure far school at an early hour. The youngest of these, a boy six years old, was the first to eat his portion, which ultimately proved fatal to him; the other four were dangerously ill, but by means of timely assistance recovered, not having ate their full proportions: owing to this circumstance, the eldest, a girl about twelve years old, perceiving an acrid taste, took from her brothers and sisters that which remained uneaten. The surgeons who opened the body of the deceased proved, by means of analyzation, that that part of the cake found in the stomach contained arsenic, occasioning the death of the boy; and, in like manner, that part of the cake which had not eaten. The prisoner, in her defence, persisted in her innocence, after an attempt to throw it upon her daughter, an interesting girl fourteen years of age! She was found Guilty -- Death; and pursuant to her sentence was executed on Monday, July 17, 1816, at Ipswich, amidst an immense crowd of spectators. ELIZABETH HUNTER AND REBECCA JARVIS Convicted of Roasting a Child. THESE were worthy descendants of Mother Brownrigg, of notorious memory; and, had not their wicked proceedings been fortunately interrupted, no doubt they would have earned for themselves the fate of their infamous predecessor in this unnatural species of cruelly. Elizabeth Hunter, aged forty-six, resided in the parish of Barking, and was in the habit of receiving parish children to nurse. Rebecca Jarvis aged twenty-one, was a servant in Hunter's employ. Catherine Evans stated on the trial that she was in the habit of washing and ironing clothes for the prisoner, and that on the morning of the 24th of May she went at an early hour to look for work, when she found Hunter chastising one of the children she had under her care, whom she told to strip. The child did so, when Hunter and Jarvis bound it hand and foot. Evans asked the former what she was going to do with the child, when she replied that she was going to roast it. Evans instantly apprized a neighbour, and they went together to Mrs. Hunter's, whom they found with her servant holding the child stripped before the fire. The child was very close, and cried out greatly. They were so shocked at the sight that they ran out of the house; but returned again, when the child was gone. Not being able to get a sight of it, they went to the parish officers, and informed them of the circumstance. Au officer was in consequence sent to take away the child, who being found in a dangerous state, the perpetrators of the cruel act were apprehended, and indicted at the Chelmsford assizes on the 3d of August, 1816, when they were found Guilty, and Mrs. Hunter was sentenced to eighteen months' imprisonment, and Rebecca Jarvis to six, in the county gaol. JEREMIAH GRANT Executed for Burglary. Illustration: Grant and his Companions attacked by the Military. THE exploits of this celebrated Irish freebooter were fully equal to those of the accomplished robber Duvell. Captain Grant was the son of a poor peasant in the Queen's County, and early evinced a predilection for the bread of idleness. His progress in literature was very trifling; indeed it has been stated that he could neither read nor write. His fertile genius, however, obviated this misfortune, and his daring spirit triumphed over minor obstacles. He sallied out, before the age of twenty, to levy contributions on the highway, and before he was twenty-one a chosen band of followers hailed him Captain. His depredations for several years were confined to his native county, where his improvident liberality secured him the esteem and blessings of the lower orders, while the terror of his name, and dread of his vengeance, kept those of a higher rank in complete subjection to his authority. Like Rob Roy, he levied an annual tax on the farmers, which they cheerfully paid, as it secured them from the nocturnal visits of his followers; for Grant was a man of strict honour and a rigid disciplinarian, who punished with severity any dereliction of duty in his band. Notwithstanding the offer of reward for his apprehension, Captain Grant, as the country people called him, was to be seen at every fair and pattern in the country, and had a more numerous acquaintance than the village doctor. At every farmer's table he was welcome, and the cottages that gave him shelter were sure of reward; for he freely shared the contributions he obtained with danger. With the ladies he was a second Macheath, and more wives than one claimed him for their husband; and no wonder, for he was frequently complimented, on his person and manner, by the mistresses of those houses which he visited without the formality of an invitation. But it must be observed that Grant never forgot his accustomed humanity and politeness; and, unless when attacked by the police, he never did an individual a personal injury. His behaviour always evinced a degree of refinement above his education and birth; so much so, that even those who suffered from his depredations never spoke of him but as an accomplished villain. His person was of the most elegant symmetry, and his agility surprising. At rural games he had no rival; and he danced with so much grace, that the country girls were often heard to wish he had not been a robber. His character at length grew so notorious in the Queen's County, that a consultation of magistrates was held for the purpose of devising means for his apprehension. In consequence of the measures they adopted several of Grant's followers were brought to justice, and they died, as their Captain expressed it, of the 'gallows fever.' . For some time his knowledge of the country and the partiality of the peasantry towards him, aided him in evading the pursuit which was made after him; but a traitor was found, and Grant was delivered into the hands of the Philistines. The gentry of the country, and ladies of the first rank, crowded to the gaol of Maryborough to see the 'bold outlaw,' which, it was supposed, so much affected his sensibility, that he took his departure, one night, from prison, through a window, having first contrived to cut the bars that guarded it. Dreading another specimen of the rudeness of the Irish aristocracy, he prudently resolved to leave the Slieve-Bloom mountains, and, with the remnant of his banditti, he removed to the wood of Killoughran, in the county of Wexford, within four miles of the town of Enniscorthy. Here he continued for some time, and made frequent visits to the neighbouring towns, where he was known by the name of Cooney. In the March of 1816 he made a journey to his native county, where he robbed the house of Thom Cambie, Esq. of money and plate to a large amount. Mrs. Cambie .was at home, and he behaved with so much politeness, that she ordered him supper and wine. The captain, being impatient of delay, applied his teeth to extract a cork from a bottle; upon which the mistress observed 'it was a pity to spoil his fine white teeth,' and immediately stood up and procured him a cork-screw. Grant, on his departure, took the liberty to borrow Cambie's horse and gig, in which he rode to his retreat in the wood of Killoughran. The captain's occasional depredations in the county of Wexford excited great alarm, for a robbery there then was a thing of very rare occurrence. Notice was given of the banditti retreat, and Archibald Jacob marched the military out of Enniscorthy and surrounded the wood. Some of the soldiers and yeomanry penetrated the fastness, and in the thickest part of the shade they discovered the 'Robber Chief,' and five of his followers, on a bed of straw, situated in a romantic cave. The freebooters defended themselves with desperate valour, and, ere they surrendered, wounded five of the military. In the cave were found all the utensils of housebreaking, and abundance of arms. The captain was committed to Wexford gaol by the name of Cooney; but. the evidence against him being doubtful, it was apprehended he would be acquitted, when fortunately it was discovered that he was the celebrated Captain Grant. The gaoler of Maryborough now claimed his body, and he was forthwith transmitted to his former abode. This was fortunate for the ends of justice; for it was discovered that on the night of his removal he had matured a scheme of escape from the Wexford gaol. His trial came on at Maryborough August the 16th, 1816, when he was found Guilty of the burglary in Mr. Cambie's house. To the question 'What reason he had why judgment and sentence of death should, not be passed on him?' he replied in the most firm, collected, and, indeed, feeling manner,-- 'My lord, I only beg of the Court some short time to arrange things before my departure for another place; not in the idle hope of escape or pardon, but to make restitution to the persons who have suffered by my had line of life. I have been visited in my cell by some blessed people, who have, thank God. given this turn to my mind, and to which I implore your lordship's attention.' Grant's conduct throughout the trial was firm and collected, and was spoken of by the judge in terms of melancholy approbation. Sufficient time was allowed him to make the arrangements he wished, after which he met his fate with decent fortitude and pious resignation, at Mary borough, August the 29th, 1816. JAMES MARSH Executed for Murder. THIS was a most hardened and deliberate murderer, and had the audacity as well as wickedness to face his God with 'all his. sins upon his head,' and no 'preparation made.' James Marsh and a man named Parsons lived in the employ of Mr. Metford, of Glastonbury, in Somersetshire. One Saturday morning, Parsons was going, as usual, for the purpose of paying the spinners of Mr. Metford their wages, and carrying in his cart a supply of work for the ensuing week. He was assisted in loading the cart by Marsh, who afterwards followed him on the road towards Wells. On his way he provided himself with the bone of a horse's leg, and got permission of Parsons to ride with him in the cart. At a moment when Parsons was offering him a pinch of snuff, he knocked him down with the bone, repeated his blows and afterwards cut his throat. He was immediately after detected in endeavouring to hide the body. He fled instantly, but, being closely pursued, was apprehended, and confessed the murder. The deceased had twelve pounds of his master's money; and this sum, it was supposed, tempted the wretch Marsh to take away his life, as he was in want of money to provide for his wedding, which was appointed to take place the ensuing week. This money was found on him. For this dreadful deed he was brought to trial at the Spring assizes for Somersetshire, in 1816, when he was found Guilty, and ordered for execution. From the time of his apprehension Marsh appeared quite insensible to the enormity of his crime, and behaved in the most hardened and audacious manner. He confessed his crime to the chaplain; but assigned no reason for it. On arriving at the fatal spot, finding the chaplain about to call him to prayers, he said 'No, I shall say no more -- where is the man? (meaning the executioner;) I am ready.' He was, however, prevailed on to join in prayer, after which he again called for 'the man,' and frequently repeated 'Make haste, I am ready.' Thus perished this desperate murderer, in the 26th year of his age. He was a good-looking man, and of a mild countenance; not at all indicating the dreadful depravity of his mind. THOMAS CARSON Condemned for the Murder of C. Cassidy, but escaped by changing clothes with his brother. THE Irish, though seldom successful on the stage, are nevertheless capital actors, but generally give to tragic parts a comic effect. The following case of successful adroitness is only one out of many such tricks played off through the prisons of that country. Similar cases have frequently occurred, and a few years before this period two convicts made their escape the same day, unknown to each other, out of Wexford gaol. Thomas Carson, and his brother John, were tried at the Meath assizes in the spring of 1816, for the wilful murder of a man named Cassidy. The Carsons belonged to a corps of yeomen, that is, a kind of local militia, and, being Protestants, were thus privileged to carry arms. Of these, however, they made a bad use, and turned them against one of his majesty's subjects, named Cassidy, whose life they took away, through wanton cruelty, in 1800, in Kilmainham Wood, in the county of Meath. John was acquitted; but Thomas Carson was found Guilty, and ordered for execution on the following Friday morning, at one o'clock. At five o'clock on Friday morning a brother of the prisoner went to see the unhappy culprit, and informed the gaoler that Mr. Wainwright, the clergyman would attend in a short lime to pray with, and administer the sacrament to, his brother. The judge had, from humanity, directed that his relations should have free access to the prisoner, so that his brother was permitted to go into the condemned cell to him. Some time after the gaoler entered the cell, and said that the time was very abort, and, if the clergyman was expected, they had better send for him. The brother offered to go for him, and accordingly did. Shortly after Mr. Wainwright came; and being shown into the cell, continued a long time in prayer with the prisoner. The time of execution approaching the gaoler came in accompanied by the prisoner's uncle. The clergyman told the prisoner he had no time to lose -- that his uncle had come, and would communicate with him in the administration of the sacrament. The prisoner entreated to be allowed to pray a little longer, and appeared absorbed in devotion. At length the gaoler becoming quite impatient, he rose from the straw on which he was kneeling, and welcomed his uncle. The latter instantly exclaimed, Good God! how grief has altered him! -- this cannot be Tommy!' and, looking nearer No, said he 'this is Anthony Carson!' The clergyman was amazed -- the gaoler ran down stairs, and discovered that the person whom he had sent for the clergyman was no other than the convict himself, who had not thought proper to return. Coming back into his cell, the gaoler cried out in a rage, 'Your brother is gone off! what shall I do? I am ruined!' 'Gone off!' cried Anthony, with great surprise; 'Oh! he has taken away my big coat!' The two brothers served in the same corps, and were so alike in appearance that Anthony came to the prison in a frieze great coat, which he gave to the convict, who, thus disguised, passed all the doors of the prison, and walked deliberately into the street, from whence, in great apparent affliction, he looked up at the preparation for execution, and passed on as if to Mr. Wainwright's house. Diligent search was made for the fugitive, but without effect. The brother was detained, but the extent of his crime was a misdemeanour. CAPTAIN GEORGE HARROWER Convicted of Bigamy. ALTHOUGH the conduct of Captain Harrower was far from blameless, yet we have no hesitation in pronouncing him a 'man more sinned against than sinning.' He met treachery, in more instances than one, where he had a right to expect gratitude; and was prosecuted by him who should, for many considerations, have been his friend. The captain's conduct, even from the most fastidious, admits of many palliations. His first wife might be said to be, though not physically, morally dead, and his treatment of his second seems to have been honourable, kind, and tender; for she reprobated his prosecution, and continued to perform towards him, even after accusation, all the offices of an affectionate wife. But, whatever censure may be cast upon him, it was not for the ungrateful father of his second wife to drag him to a court of justice, in the hope of transporting him from his country, for the base purpose of revenge or lucre, at the expense of his daughter's happiness. At the Old Bailey sessions, February the 17th, 1816, Captain George Harrower was indicted for having married one Susannah Anne Giblett, on the 12th of October, 1812, his former wife, Mary Usher, being then living. It appeared in evidence that the captain was married at Bombay, in 1794, to Mary Usher, who afterwards becoming a lunatic, he was obliged, on leaving that country, to leave behind him. After residing some years in this country, and feeling conscious that the unfortunate state in which his wife remained at Bombay precluded the possibility of his ever seeing her again, he resolved on marrying Miss Susannah Giblett, the daughter of a butcher in Bond Street, which he did on the 12th of October, 1813, with whom he lived in perfect happiness. The circumstance of his former marriage, however, coming to the ears of his father-in-law, Giblett, the latter took advantage of it to obtain money from Harrower, who, in his defence, adverted to the period when he had the misfortune to become known to the prosecutor, Giblett, who, in draining him of his purse, and instituting proceedings against his liberty and character, had left him but one consolation, an amiable and beloved wife, unfortunately the daughter of the worst of men. The prosecution, he said, was the result of a foul and infamous conspiracy, and not that of a desire to support the laws of the country, or to punish those who transgressed them. He had been introduced to Giblett in an unguarded way, and, feeling a consciousness of his own integrity, did not suspect a contrary principle to prevail in him. After the acquaintance between them was matured, he married his daughter, upon whom he settled a jointure of ten thousand pounds. He afterwards lent Gibbett sums of money amounting to seventeen thousand pounds; and further sums, which raised the whole of what Giblett had succeeded in drawing from him to more than thirty thousand pounds. In fact, he had not only deprived him (Capt. Harrower) of all the money he could by possibility extract, but he had robbed his own daughter of the ten thousand pounds which had been settled upon her. Every means was used by Giblett to cause his wife to leave him, and live at home with himself, when he offered to give up certain apartments in his house for her accommodation; adding, that they would be able to get the whole of the money to themselves, and he (Captain Harrower) 'might go and starve.' These proposals, however, were always uniformly and indignantly refused by his wife. He alluded to the commission of bankruptcy which had been issued against Giblett, by which he had contrived to defraud him of his money, and mentioned a circumstance which that person had been heard to declare, namely, 'that he would try and get the money into Chancery, if other designs failed of depriving him of the property.' He went into a variety of other statements, the object of which was to represent Giblett to be a character of the worst description; a character such as he never thought existed in England, and as he trusted never would be found in it again. He concluded by protesting his innocence, and trusting that the Court would rescue him from the infamous plot which had been laid against him, and restore him to the arms of a beloved and only partner. The jury, after retiring half an hour, brought in a verdict of Guilty. but strongly recommended the prisoner to mercy. The laudable recommendation of the jury was subsequently attended to, and Captain Harrower, after a short confinement, was restored to society, and the arms of her who at least deserved to be his wife. In less than two years afterwards Giblett was committed to Newgate, and confined to the apartment which Captain Harrower had occupied, for not giving satisfactory answers to the commissioners, on his bankruptcy. SUSANNAH HOLROYD Executed for Poisoning her Husband and Two Children. THIS is a most shocking case, and shows to what an extent human depravity may be carried. Susannah Holroyd was the wife of a weaver, named Matthew Holroyd, who had the misfortune not to live on good terms with her, though they had three children. She was in the habit of nursing illegitimate children, and at the time of poisoning had one of these in the house, as well as its mother. About a fortnight previous to the horrid deed she had a very extraordinary conversation with this woman, whose name was Mary Newton. She told her that she had had her fortune read, and that in the course of one week, and within the period of the ensuing six weeks, three funerals would go from her door. She did not delay her destined purpose, however, until the six weeks of the fortune-teller had expired; for in about a month afterwards she went to the shop of a chymist, and purchased an ounce and a half of arsenic, to fulfil the prophecy. This happened on Saturday, the 13th of April, 1816, being Easter-Eve. Next morning her husband had some coffee for his breakfast, and soon after became ill. The children were likewise affected. To restore them she prepared some water-gruel, and in it she mixed the poison. The wretched man felt that the gruel had an uncommon taste, and at first refused to take it; but she urged him so strongly, by telling him that it was 'the last gruel she ever would prepare for him,' that he complied with her entreaties, not knowing the enigma hid under these words. As he grew worse, she called in a doctor, the better to allay suspicion, and was intrusted by the physician with the remedies to be administered; but she refused to apply them, saying 'her husband would die.' The wretched man died on the 18th following, and his son, a boy of eight years old, survived him only six hours, and the child of Mary Newton died the Tuesday following, in great agony. This wicked woman was now apprehended, and on being brought before a magistrate, made an unreserved confession of her guilt. Her trial came on at the Lancaster assizes, September the 13th, 1816, when she was found Guilty on the clearest evidence, and the judge pronounced on her the awful sentence of the law, ordering her for execution on the following Monday. She evinced throughout her trial the greatest indifference to her situation; but on hearing her sentence she appeared somewhat affected. In addition to the horror felt at her crime, there was a pretty general belief that, in her occupation of nursing illegitimate children, she had murdered, at different times, several infants in the same manner that she had taken away the life of her husband and the other two victims of her unprovoked malice. GEORGE VAUGHAN, ROBERT MACKEY, AND GEORGE BROWN Convicted of a Conspiracy. WHILE the lord-mayor was detecting the 'men of blood' in the city the magistrates at Bow Street were not less meritoriously employed in tracing similar crimes to a police-officer, named Vaughan, and several others not immediately employed by the magistrates, but who were well known as loungers about the different offices. Several of these atrocious wretches were apprehended, and many revolting circumstances disclosed. George Vaughan, Robert Mackey and George Brown, were tried at the Middlesex sessions, on the 21st of September, 1816, on a charge of conspiring to induce William Hurley, Michael Hurley, William Sanderson, William Wood, aged thirteen, and Dennis Hurley, to commit a burglary in the house of Mrs. M'Donald, at Hoxton; arid, by having them convicted of the fact, thereby procure for themselves the rewards given by parliament for the conviction of housebreakers. It appeared on the trial that Drake,[*see note] who had been au acting lieutenant in the navy, had been introduced by Mackey to Vaughan, when the latter proposed that Sanderson and the others should commit a burglary at the house of a friend of his in Gray's Inn Lane. Drake accordingly spoke to Sanderson and the others, who agreed to do it. This he communicated to Vaughan and Mackey, and they went to Brown's house to talk over the matter. About eleven at night Drake went with the men to the house which was to he robbed, but which they could not effect in consequence of the watchman. Some time after, the burglary in Mrs. M'Donald's house was planned, for which Vaughan found the money. Brown kept Mrs. M'Donald out of the way, and Drake took the five men to the house, when Vaughan and Mackey came up, and took the men into custody. Vaughan had promised Drake part of the rewards. Various witnesses were examined, who proved the facts against the prisoners, and Mackey made a full confession, which exposed the nefarious conduct of the conspirators, and stated that Vaughan furnished the skeleton-keys and crow-bar which was used at Mrs. M'Donald's. The prisoners being found guilty, the Court sentenced them to five years' imprisonment in the House of Correction, and at the expiration of that time to find security for three years, themselves in eighty pounds, and two sureties in forty pounds each. Vaughan was tried two days afterwards, with John Donnelly. The latter for burglariously breaking into the house of James Poole, and stealing therein thirty yards of cloth; and the former for counselling, aiding, and abetting him in the same, on the 16th of December, 1815. On which charge both prisoners were found Guilty. *Note: William Drake, the accomplice and evidence against Vaughan in one of his exploits, is a person whom the town loungers and treasurers of electioneering anecdotes will recognise as an accuser of the late Mr. Sheridan, whose natural daughter he married. It seemed that Drake forged a certificate from that gentleman, while Treasurer of the Navy, recommending a Jew slopseller to the captains of ships of war, for which he obtained five guineas, or thereabouts. This affair Drake made known to Mr. Paull; and by means of a petition of the latter to the House of Commons against Mr. Sheridan's return for Westminster, an investigation took place, when it plainly appeared that Drake had taken advantage of his known connexion with Mr. Sheridan to sell a forged recommendation, and afterwards, in revenge for merited neglect, had attempted to prove him corrupt, by means of his own forgery, offering his services to Mr. Paull, who was his dupe, for that express purpose. The extreme contemptibility of this man, and that of another reptile with whom he was connected, were so apparent to the house, that Drake was, by unanimous vote, committed to Newgate, and the whole business fell to the ground. He said he had lost his leg at Camperdown -- it was not true: that he had half a dozen pensions for services -- he had only one from the Greenwich chest. His time, place, and circumstances, with respect to the immediate subject of his evidence, were nearly all proved false; and, in short, he was altogether disregarded as a dissolute and abandoned character. His real history proved him to be a young man whom an unfortunate accident injured in his professional career, and who had consequently fallen into idleness and bad company. His utter degradation at present it is unnecessary to dwell upon, presenting, as he does, the horrible picture of superior address and cunning prostituted to the vilest purposes. And hence another feature of the blood-money system; the friends it creates are all of the specious Belial kind -- creatures who possess talents to concert means and ends with exceeding plausibility. The necessity of making such men as Drake witnesses, too, grows out of it; for though it fortunately happens in the present case that his evidence is fully supported, the indecency of this exhibition, combined with impunity to so much wickedness, produces a sensation of moral loathing, which saps the foundation of general philanthropy and good will to mankind.-- W. Hone. ROGER O'CONNOR, ESQ. Indicted for Robbing the Mail. THIS gentleman, though of retired habits, has had the misfortune to be almost perpetually before the public, and sometimes in situations and under circumstances very inconsistent with his rank or fortune. Although Mr. O'Connor has been most honourably acquitted on more occasions than one, we shall make no apology for introducing his case here; for, as all men are liable to be accused of malpractices, it is satisfactory to know, that there is but one legal ordeal for the high and the low, through which they may expect to come off honourably, if not guilty. Mr. O'Connor traces his ancestry to the last king of Ireland, and has uniformly evinced an extraordinary attachment to his native country. Whether the links of genealogy are unbroken or not is of little consequence; for the individual must be judged by his actions, and not by his name or pretensions. Mr. O'Connor, though not an Irish monarch, which some of his countrymen say he ought to be,*[see note 1] is certainly an independent Irishman. His education was that of a gentleman; his profession that of the law; and his fortune ample, being at least four thousand pounds a year. The reader may recollect the case of Arthur O'Connor, which we have already given. That gentleman was brother to the subject of this sketch; and the principles for which Arthur was prosecuted were supposed to be those of his elder brother, Roger. Accordingly we find him apprehended, on the suspicion of treason, at his seat of Connor-ville in the county of Cork, in 1796, and from that year to 1803 he may be said to have been a state prisoner; for he was no sooner liberated than he was again arrested, and passed, a state shuttlecock, several times between the Irish and English ministers. During these peregrinations he displayed great firmness, and, on the coast of Ireland, actually saved the lives of the officers in whose custody he was. Refusing the terms accepted by his brother, and the other state prisoners, in 1798 he was transmitted to Fort George, in Scotland, and, at length, was liberated from prison, on condition that he should reside in Middlesex, for the absurd timidity of the government apprehended his influence in Ireland too much to permit his return; and when they did comply with his earnest solicitations, it was on condition that he should not visit the south, where his name was supposed to be a tower of strength. In consequence of this prohibition Mr. O'Connor had to dispose of his family mansion, and choose another place of residence. He became the purchaser of Dangan, in the county of Meath, the estate of the Marquis of Wellesley, where he continued to live engaged in agriculture and literary pursuits, never mixing in politics; and, although the intimate friend of Sir Francis Burdett, he has never appeared to give either the baronet or his friends any support, though possessed of large property in England. O'Connor was what is called in Ireland a marked man; that is, he was one whose movements the minions of power watched closely, and, consequently, in a country where the gentry are all connected with the powers that be, he was not regarded with much respect. Almost every assizes exhibited a case in which O'Connor was either a witness, a plaintiff, or a defendant; and wherever his name appeared, angry discussion was sure to follow, though his fearless independence, and well-known courage, kept it within proper bounds. For several years his name, except when introduced at the assizes, was almost forgotten, until the year 1817, when a most extraordinary charge was exhibited against him; nothing less than an accusation of having robbed the Galway mail five years before. Two notorious characters, named Owen and Waring, were apprehended for a robbery in 1817, tried in Dublin, and found guilty. They received sentence of death, and the day of execution was appointed; but before the fatal hour arrived they charged Mr. O'Connor with being the captain of the banditti who had robbed the Galway mail. The circumstances which they detailed were so minute, that O'Connor was apprehended, and the two approvers received the royal pardon, to qualify them as witnesses against the persons accused, for O'Connor's steward, named M'Keon, was also included in the charge. The robbery of the Galway mail had taken place in 1812, ten miles from O'Connor's residence at Dangan; but the mail-bags, and some of the fire-arms, were subsequently found in the demesne, a circumstance which, when combined with others,*[see note 2] served to give a probability to the charge of Owen and Waring. The arrest of O'Connor upon such a base charge produced au extraordinary sensation, not only in Ireland, but in England, which was considerably heightened by an address from that gentleman, then in Newgate, entitled "Third Attempt upon the Life of O'Connor." In this pamphlet he attributes, perhaps justly, the prosecution to a conspiracy against his life; but when he insinuates that government, from political motives, brought all their power and influence to give effect to the charge, we can hardly suppose it possible, though we are ready to admit that the gentlemen of the post-office, as they were bound to do, supposing him guilty, did all in their power to convict him. Mr. O'Connor's trial came on at Trim, August the 6th, 1817, the prisoner having been removed thither, by habeas corpus, from Newgate. The court was crowded to excess, and O'Connor, with his friend Sir Francis Burdett, were allowed to sit within the bar. Several witnesses having proved the robbery of the mail on the 2d of October, 1812, and the conviction of Richard Waring for the said robbery, Michael Owen, the chief informer, was called. He stated that he had been a labourer in the employ of Mr. O'Connor, at Dangan, and that previous to the robbery he was asked by his master if he would join in robbing the Galway mail; he said that he would; and that Mr. O'Conner procured him and others arms; that they repaired to the turnpike gate at Cappagh Hill, stopped the mail, shot the guards, and robbed the coach and passengers; that on their arrival at Dangan Mr. O'Connor met them -- hoped they had had 'good luck,' and then in a private part of the demesne proceeded to divide the booty, which amounted to three hundred and fifty pounds each -- that O'Connor took his portion, and obtained two hundred pounds more from two of the robbers, to whom he had afforded previous protection. Owen further stated he had been twice tried for the robbery -- once on the capital charge, and at another time for passing some of the stolen notes; that he had been recently found guilty of a robbery in the county of Dublin, and sentenced to death, and that he obtained his pardon for having given information against Mr. O'Connor. On his cross-examination he admitted that he could not tell the number of robberies he had committed, they were so many. After the examination of other witnesses, Sir Francis Burdett deposed to his knowledge of the prisoner, to whom he gave a high character for honour, principle, and integrity. The jury, without retiring, gave a verdict of -- Not Guilty, and the court rang with approbation. 'I have suffered mach.' said O'Connor, 'What what would I not suffer for a day like this?' Mr. O'Connor, being thus triumphantly acquitted, commenced a prosecution of Waring for perjury. Waring's trial came on at Greets Street, Dublin, October the 30th 1817; and the post-office, as if still believing in his statement, employed the most eminent counsel to defend him. From Mr. O'Connor's evidence it appeared that he had more than once given Owen and Waring good characters, when on their trial for robberies; and it was proved that he had evinced great solicitude fur them at one of the Trim assizes. This suspicious attachment of Mr. O'Connor for such abandoned ruffians as murderers and mail-coach robbers produced its effect upon the jury; but what helped to throw complete discredit on Mr. O'Connor's evidence was the fact, elicited on his cross-examination, that he did not believe in the Jewish dispensation, or the Christian atonement. This acknowledgment of his infidel opinions created a buzz of disapprobation; and, when the acquittal of the prisoner was announced, it seemed to give great satisfaction: so fickle is the opinion of the multitude, that a word will convert their applause into condemnation! In this case there appears something very strange and unsatisfactory; but, as we are unable to penetrate the mystery which must for ever environ it, we leave our readers to draw their own conclusions. One word, however, is necessary. Mr. O'Connor was acquitted by a jury, and is therefore to be considered innocent; while it is very possible that his apparent solicitude for such wretches as Owen and Waring might have arisen from the purest humanity, and active friendship for the unfortunate portion of his countrymen, with whose destiny he boasts to have connected himself. At all events, let it not be supposed that we 'set down aught in malice,' either in respect to Mr. O'Connor or his prosecutors. Since 1817 Mr. O'Connor has published the 'Chronicles of Eri,' and, if we believe himself, he was, at the time of his trial, engaged on a work on the Bible. It has not yet appeared, and, it is to be hoped, never will. *Note 1: In a humorous little work, lately published by Mr. Moore, entitled, 'Memoirs of Captain Rock,' the etymology of the name is thus accounted for: R for Roger, O C for O'Connor, and K for King. e. Roger O'Connor King. This is a double-edged satire, for it ridicules at once the supposed pretensions of the individual, and the folly of etymologists. *Note 2: An extraordinary robbery took place at Dangan in 1813. We extract the particulars from the Irish papers, and can vouch for their authenticity; for they were afterwards fully proved in evidence when an action was brought to recover the sum lost from the county:-- 'Mr. Roger O'Connor, of Dangan, in the county of Meath, for which place he pays an annual rent of one thousand five hundred pounds to Colonel Burrowes, who resides in London, has been in the habit of refusing to pay his rent at any place but on the premises. A Mr. Francis Gregory, agent to Colonel Burrowes, after some preliminary discussion with Mr. O'Connor, employed Mr. Doyle, postmaster of Trim, to receive the latter half-year's rent. On the 28th ult. Mr. Doyle went to Dangan for this purpose: at the gate he was accosted by a person, who said he was stationed there to give Mr. O'Connor immediate notice of his approach; and Mr. Doyle followed him into the house, where he found Mr. O'Connor and his Son Roderick; when Mr. Doyle entered, O'Connor desired his son to withdraw. He then proceeded to pay Mr. Doyle the rent, amounting to seven hundred and fifty pounds, and which was chiefly in one-pound notes. Mr. Doyle observed upon the inconvenience of that mode of payment, and requested the use of pen and ink to mark the notes. This was refused: Mr. Doyle, after counting the notes, left the house -- and within thirty yards of it, and before he had got to the stable, he was attacked from behind by two persons in disguise, whose faces were masked; they knocked him down, tied a handkerchief over his face, robbed him of the money he had just received, and some silver of his own; having bound his legs with a cord, and forced a sack over his head, they left him. During the whole transaction, the robbers never uttered a word. No person whatever having come to his assistance, Mr. Doyle remained for some time before he was able to extricate himself. On his return to the house he saw a lady, to whom he mentioned how he had been treated. Shortly after Mr. O'Connor arrived. who expressed great surprise at the robbery. Mr. Doyle then took his departure. The robbery been committed at eleven o'clock in the day, the necessary steps are in progress to levy the money upon the county of Meath. We have every reliance that the gentlemen of that vicinity will use their best exertions to discover the persons engaged in this most mysterious transaction.' PATRICK DEVANN. Executed for the Murder of the Lynch Family in Wildgoose Lodge. Illustration: The Attack on the Lynch Family In the county of Louth in Ireland, and at the distance of about nine miles from the town of Dundalk, stood some years ago a house called Wild-Goose Lodge -- a name conferred upon it from its whimsically chosen situation on a small peninsula jutting into a marsh meadow, which was occasionally transformed into a lake by the winter floods of the Louth. In summer, the residence was reached from the meadow without difficulty; but during winter, the case was very different, it being then approachable only by a narrow neck of land hemmed in by the surrounding waters. At a period to which we refer, Wild-Goose Lodge was tenanted by an industrious man, name Lynch, and his family. Lynch had been successful in improving a few fields attached to his dwelling, and somewhat elevated above the yearly inundations; he was in the habit also of raising a considerable quantity of flax, which he manufactured into cloth, and carried to the adjoining markets of Dundalk or Newry, where it was readily sold to advantage. By these means he rose in respectability among his neighbours, and comfort and contentment smiled around his dwelling. But an evil hour came, and he himself was unhappily in some measure instrumental in bringing it on. An illegal association, bound by secret oaths, sprung up among the Roman Catholics living around Wild-Goose Lodge. Lynch, though a moderate man, believed that such a combination, on the part of those who held the same opinions with himself, was necessary to counteract similar demonstrations on the opposite or Protestant side, and he therefore joined the association. A very short time sufficed to show him the imprudence of his conduct. Wild-Goose Lodge was a central point in a remote and secluded district; and the members of the association, not without the countenance at first of the occupier, began to make the house their usual point of assemblage. Their numbers, however, speedily increased so much as to submit the family to great inconvenience; and their views, besides, so far exceeded Lynch's own in violence, as to place him under just apprehensions lest he should be held as the leading promoter of all that might be said or done by those who made his dwelling their nightly haunt. Forced to act, in this dilemma, for the sake of himself and his family, he came to the resolution of desiring his neighbours to assemble no more under his roof. This interdict excited a strong feeling of ill-will against him among the leaders of the combination, and they afterwards habitually gave him every annoyance they could think of, with the view of ejecting him from the place. Once liberated, in some degree, from the consequences of his imprudence, Lynch persisted in the line of conduct he had entered upon. The result was, that one night a party of men, disguised, entered his house, stripped him in presence of his family, and after flogging him, destroyed his furniture, insulted his wife, and cut the web in the loom from the one selvage thread to the other down to the beam on which it rested. These wanton injuries to an honest, industrious, and (leaving aside his junction of an illegal union) well-conducted man, were galling and hard to bear. Lynch was the husband of an amiable, affectionate wife, and the father of a young family, depending on him for subsistence. If he did bear it in silence, further injuries might follow, and himself, with the wife of his bosom and his helpless babes, be deprived of their all, and thrown upon the world to beg for subsistence. Again, to denounce those with whom he had joined in an oath, was a proceeding not only full of danger, but to which Lynch could with difficulty bring his mind. Anxious and irresolute, he appealed to the minister of his religion for protection, but it was of no avail. His midnight persecutors continued to harass him; and at last, seeing the ruin of his family inevitable, unless he bestirred himself, and being able to point out and identify those who had injured him, Lynch determined to brave the anger of his assailants, and appeal to the laws of his country. Having formed this resolution, he held to it, in spite of the most awful and ominous endeavours to intimidate him; and two of the party, who had attacked his house, were prosecuted, convicted, and suffered death. Terrible was the wrath of the secret associates, among whom it chanced there were some men of such characters as are happily rarely to be met with in the world. One of the oaths taken by this body was, that no one member should bring another before the bar of justice. Certainly this oath, bad as it was in every sense, never contemplated that one member was not to resent the gross injuries done to him by another. But, as might have been anticipated from the previous exhibition of feeling, Lynch was held, in the strongest sense of the word, to have violated the oaths he had taken. Not far from Wild-Goose Lodge stood a chapel, where the association met after the ejection of its members from the house of Lynch. The leading man of the body, Patrick or Paddy Devann, was clerk to the priest of the district, and had the charge of the chapel. Within this building, consecrated for widely different purposes, the midnight band assembled on a night destined by the leaders of the party for the destruction of the unfortunate Lynch. Devann, the principal agent in the scene, in order to make a deeper impression on the minds of the crowds present in the chapel, assembled them around the altar, and after administering an oath of secrecy to them, descanted on the falling off of Lynch, and the necessity of suppressing all defections among themselves. He then darkly hinted the object of the meeting to be Lynch's punishment, and hoped that it would serve as a warning to them all to be firm to the obligations on which they had entered, and true to the interest of the body. Having finished his address, Devann then lifted from before the altar a potsherd containing a piece of burning turf, and, moving from the chapel, desired them to follow him. Some scores of the band were on horseback, having come from distant places at the imperative summons sent to them. Many more were on foot; and all these moved stealthily onwards, Devann preceding them, towards the devoted victim. To the credit of human nature it must be stated, that few of this numerous party had the slightest idea of what was intended by the originators of the movement. As the men went along, they were inquiring among themselves in whispers, what was to be done; even those who had heard Devann's threats did not believe that they would be enforced, or that any further injury would be done than had been inflicted before. Silence reigned along the party's route, as they approached the abode of the unoffending, unsuspecting, and sleeping family. While the majority of the persons present still remained ignorant of what was to be accomplished, but obeyed their leaders passively, an extensive circle of men was formed by Devann's directions around the devoted dwelling. Then those few who were aware of all the enormity of the project, crept forward along the ground towards the house, the pike in one hand and the lighted turf in the other. Well did the wretches know that there was no chance of escape for those within, for the house was filled with the flax by which poor Lynch made his bread; and as soon as it was caught by the flame, extinction was a thing next to impossible. The turfs were applied, and in a few minutes the house was on fire -- with a family of thirteen souls beneath its blazing roof! The flames rose towards the sky, and illuminated the adjacent scene. Speedily were heard from within the supplicating cries .of the miserable victims, "Mercy! for God's sake, mercy!" But the cry was vain. So far from evincing any feelings of compunction while the work of destruction was going on, the wretches who had caused it stood ready with their pikes to thrust back those who might attempt to escape. One attempt was made to move their pity; and had the men hearts, they must have been moved. The wife of Lynch, while her own body was already enveloped in flames, had endeavoured to preserve the infant at her breast, and she appeared at the windows, content to die herself, but holding out her child for mercy and protection. Frantically she threw it from her. And how was it received? On the points of pikes, and instantly tossed back into the burning ruins, into which at the same time sunk its hapless mother. One other only of those within, and this was a man, one of Lynch's assistants, appeared on the walls, beseeching for mercy; but he likewise received none. The veins of his face were visible, swollen like cords, and horror was painted on his whole aspect. He, and all who were within, perished. Lynch himself, either cut off early, or resigned to his fate, never appeared, either to denounce the act of his persecutors, or to supplicate their pity. It is impossible to say with what feelings the main party encircling the house at a little distance beheld the consummation of the purposes of the night. The majority of them certainly felt horror, while others, in whose mind a blind hatred of Lynch was predominant, felt mingled sensations of horror and exultation; and the conjoined feelings expended them selves in cries, that were re-echoed by the groans of the victims. The terrified peasantry of the neighbourhood who had not joined the associated throng, started from their pillows, and gazed towards the ascending flames of Wild-Goose Lodge with fear and shrinking; for they too well knew the feelings of the district to regard it as a common accident, which it would have been their duty and their pleasure to have aided in suppressing and relieving. Until all sounds of life, therefore, were extinct within the burning house, the authors of the deed looked on undisturbed. When all was over, they skulked away, each to his own home. The winds of autumn and the storms of winter had swept the ashes of Wild-Goose Lodge over the fields which Lynch had cultivated, ere any one of the actors in this atrocious crime was brought to justice. But the presence of some of the less guilty of them having been discovered, and brought home beyond a doubt, these, in order to save themselves, made a revelation of all they knew and had seen. Anticipating this, the ringleaders fled to various parts of the country; but the arm of the offended law overtook them. Devann was found in the situation of a labourer in the dockyards of Dublin, and others were taken at different times and places. Eleven were executed; and to mark the atrocity of their crime, their bodies were hung in chains at Louth and other spots in the neighbour hood of Wild-Goose Lodge. Devann was executed within the roofless walls of the house in which his victims were immolated, and his body was afterwards suspended beside those of his associates. The date of his trial was the 19th of July 1817, and he was executed immediately afterwards. JAMES HARRY, ALIAS HARRIS Executed for the Murder of his Wife. GUILT was brought home to this man by a succession of circumstances which at once established his crime, and showed the finger of Providence visibly pointing out the murderer, whose deep-laid schemes of secrecy could not shelter him from the punishment awarded by justice. Harry, alias Harris, lived in the parish of Dixtone, in Monmouthshire. For fourteen years he had been from home, and during his absence his wife supported herself by attending women lying-in and by sewing. After his return they lived very unhappily; it appeared that the wife had a most aggravating tongue, and Harry was not blessed with much patience. On Sunday, the 30th of March, 1817, Mrs. Harry was seen, as usual, at church, and subsequently at her own cottage, dressed in her accustomed gown, shawl, &c.: but next morning she was missing. Harry said she had been called up during the night, and he expressed much surprise at her not appearing during the ensuing week. At length, the murdered remains of the unfortunate woman were found buried in an adjoining wood, and from attending circumstances suspicion fell upon Harry, who was apprehended, and brought to trial, August the 15th,1817, at the Monmouth assizes, when it was satisfactorily proved that he had murdered his unfortunate wife; and, for concealment, had buried her in an adjoining wood. On the following Monday this wretched man paid the forfeit of his existence on the gaol of Monmouth, in the presence of several thousand spectators. No sooner was the unhappy culprit convinced that he had no mode of escape, than he sunk into a sullen apathy. His brother, his son, and his friends, were alike regarded by him as obtrusive, and were forbade his presence. Avarice seemed to be his ruling passion, and the loss of the trifling property, in amassing which he had derived so much pleasure, seemed to have solely occupied his mind. At length, by the exertions of the chaplain, he was induced to confess his guilt. He admitted the justice of his sentence, and acknowledged the fact of his having murdered his hapless wife, under circumstances, however, he said, on her part, of great aggravation. It appeared, from his statement, that he killed her on the Sunday night by a blow on the temple with some heavy instrument, but not the stone produced on the trial; and when her spirit had fled for ever, he employed himself in cleaning up those traces of the deed which her flowing blood produced. Having at length partially accomplished this work, he secreted the body under the bed, and in the garden buried some of those clothes with which he had been performing his terrific labours.-- Thus matters rested till the succeeding night, when he went forth to the Cross Wood side, and there dug the grave, in which he immediately deposited the remains of the deceased, hoping that by the course of conduct which he had adopted he should avert suspicion, until be should he enabled to depart from a spot which his conscience rendered peculiarly terrible. JEREMIAH BRANDRETH, WILLIAM TURNER, AND ISAAC LUDLAM Executed for High Treason. IN an introductory paragraph to our account of the Spafields' riot we took occasion to mention the most prominent causes of public discontent; and though these had partially disappeared in 1817, still the impulse given to disaffection continued to operate for a considerable time, being protracted by the injudicious, if not unconstitutional, resort of government to the base system of spies and informers, who no doubt fanned that flame of disloyalty which had nearly caused a traitorous explosion in the county of Derby, more formidable and appalling than that for which Brandreth and his ill-fated companions suffered. No doubt the seeds of disloyalty, at this period, had been sown through the kingdom with a strange industry, and that the infatuated populace were too accessible to opinions of a dangerous tendency; but was it wise, was it humane, to take advantage of their ignorance and delusion, to hurry them upon illegal proceedings, that their crimes might qualify a few of them for that punishment which was to be inflicted only for the purpose of warning others of their danger, and deterring the infatuated by exhibiting the decapitated victims of the law? The vile agent of government, in the northern districts, was a wretch named Oliver, for whose history and practices we refer the reader to the Parliamentary Reports of 1818. Of Oliver, it is supposed, the three unfortunate men, who form the subjects of this case, were victims; for the contemptible insurrection which they headed originated among the peasantry of Pentridge, Southwingfield, and Wingfield Park, in Derbyshire, the last places in England that w could be suspected of becoming the scene of treason and rebellion; and, therefore, it is rational to conclude that no ordinary deceptions were practised on them to cause a departure from their peaceful habits and contented homes. The country is fertile and picturesque; the population thin and scattered; and the inhabitants simple, industrious, and affectionate. How these became the willing instruments of villainy, we are unable to state; but it has been fully ascertained that they were deluded by those who were in correspondence with Oliver, and who consequently were his dupes. Jeremiah Brandreth, better known by the name of the Nottingham Captain, was one of those original characters for which nature had done much, and education nothing. Of his parents, or early habits, we know nothing; for on these subjects he maintained a studied silence, and since his executive nothing calculated to remove our ignorance on these points has come to our knowledge. All we know with certainty is, that he had been in the army, and that his wife, and three children, resided at Nottingham, where he was compelled to apply to the parish officers for occasional support. The figure and countenance of this man were subjects well adapted for the wild and impassioned pencil of Salvator Rosa, and would not have been unsuitable to stand prominent in a group of mountain banditti. His age was not more than six-and-twenty; yet he evidently possessed an influence of command, and resolution, irresistible to common men. His eye was black and piercing. and his whole face indicated a character of daring intrepidity, and decision of no ordinary kind. Those who had seen him declared that it was no wonder that ordinary men looked on him with a kind of awful respect, not unmixed with dread; for he might have sat for the picture Lord Byron has drawn of the 'Corsair.' 'BUT who that chief? -- his name on every shore Is famed and feared -- they ask, and know no more. With those he mingles not but to command, Few are his words, but keen his eye and hand. 'His name appals the fiercest of his crew, And tints each swarthy cheek with sallower hue; Still sways their souls with that commanding art That dazzles -- leads -- yet chills -- the vulgar heart. What is that spell, that this his lawless train Confess, and envy -- yet oppose in vain? What should it be that thus their faith can bind? The power, the nerve, the magic of the mind! Linked with success -- assumed and kept with skill That moulds another's weakness to its will Wields with their hands -- but still to these unknown, Makes even their mightiest deeds appear his own 'Unlike the heroes of each ancient race, Demons in act, but gods at least in face. In Conrad's form seems little to admire, Though his dark eye-brow shades a glance of fire. Robust, but not Herculean -- to the sight No giant frame sets forth his common height; Yet in the whole -- who paused to look again, Saw more than marks the crowd of vulgar men They gaze and marvel how -- and still confess That thus it is, but why they cannot guess. Sun-burnt his cheek -- his forehead high, and pale, The sable curls in wild profusion veil. 'There breathe but few whose aspect could defy The full encounter of his searching eye. 'There was a laughing devil in his sneer, That roused emotions both of rage and fear; And where his frown of hatred darkly fell, Hope withering fled -- and Mercy sigh'd farewell.' Such was the man who might have done honour to a better cause, had fortune afforded him the opportunity. His companions, though not more fortunate, were less remarkable. William Turner lived in the village of Southwingfield, where he erected, with his own hands, a neat stone cottage for his parents; his character was unimpeachable until this insurrection, and his only fault was that of being too partial to drink, under the influence of which he lost all sense of prudence, and all power of control. Isaac Ludlam had, until this event, also possessed the esteem of his neighbours. He inherited some property from his father, and had rented some farms; but, speculating too high, he became unfortunate, in consequence of which he assigned all his effects to his creditors. He then endeavoured to support himself and family, consisting of a wife and twelve children, by providing and carting stones for house-building. In the severe pressure of the times this resource failed him, and, in an evil hour, this grey-headed old man joined in Brandreth's desperate attempt. Ludlam regularly attended the Methodist meeting, and, in the absence of a preacher, conducted the prayers and praise of the people. These unfortunate men acted under complete illusion. Formal statements of the number of the disaffected were given them, as well as the quantity of arms and ammunition, &c. accompanied with flattering pictures of the liberty, happiness, and wealth, which were to wait upon success. On the 5th of June, Brandreth came from Nottingham to the neighbourhood of Pentridge, to take command of the rebel forces; and on the 9th, they proceeded on their march for Nottingham, where it was reported several thousand anxiously waited their coming, that they might unite in forwarding a revolution. Their numbers were truly contemptible, not exceeding forty or fifty; yet, small as they were, they committed several excesses, and Brandreth shot one harmless man. It was during the night they commenced operations; and next morning, on the approach of a score of cavalry, they precipitately fled, leaving their arms promiscuously scattered behind them. Several were then apprehended, and several more the two or three ensuing days, Brandreth among others. To try these thoughtless rebels, a special commission was issued, which was opened at Derby, October the 15th, 1817. Brandreth was the first put on his trial; and as the evidence against him was conclusive, he was, of course, found Guilty. Turner and Ludlam were also convicted, as well as a young man named Weightman, whose sentence was afterwards commuted to transportation. Justice being now satisfied, twelve men pleaded Guilty, and the remainder were discharged. Those who pleaded guilty received sentence of death, but were afterwards respited. The unfortunate Brandreth, on being removed to prison, after his conviction, although he exhibited a manly firmness, was, nevertheless, much affected. The other prisoners thronged around him in anxious suspense to hear his fate. He uttered the single and appalling word -- Guilty and, in a moment, a perfect change was visible in the countenances of those whose fate was undecided. Brandreth throughout his confinement seemed to have entertained a confident expectation of acquittal, and this hope appears to have rested solely on the supposed impossibility of identifying him, as he was a total stranger in that part of the country, and had, from the time of his committal, allowed his beard to grow, which completely shaded his whole face. The singular cast of his features, however, aided by the peculiar and determined expression of his eye, rendered his identity unquestionable; and almost every one of the witnesses swore to the person of the 'Nottingham Captain.' This wretched man, both before and after his conviction, evinced the utmost propriety of conduct. He appeared calm and happy, and exhibited great firmness in the contemplation of his unhappy fate. His companions in misfortune, however, evinced much less fortitude; for each appeared the very picture of despair. They attributed their melancholy situation to Brandreth, and a man, named Bacon, who seems to have evaded the punishment merited by his crime. November the 7th, 1817, was the day appointed for the execution of Brandreth, Turner, and Ludlam. At a quarter before twelve, the hurdle was drawn up at the door of the prison, into which Brandreth got; and proceeded immediately to the scaffold. He looked coolly round upon the immense multitude of spectators, and in a load and firm voice said 'God bless you all, and Lord Castlereagh!' He stood resolute and silent, whilst the executioner adjusted the rope; and at twenty-five minutes before one the drop fell, and he was launched into eternity; after hanging half an hour, the body was cut down and laid on the bench. The cap was removed from the head; and the neck having been pressed close on the block, the executioner struck the blow, and the head was at once detached from the body. The head fell into the basket; and the hangman, seizing it by the hair, held up the ghastly countenance to the populace, exclaiming, 'Behold the head of the traitor, James Brandreth!' From the manner of this functionary the mob were apprehensive that the head was to be flung in the midst of them, and they rushed back in great precipitation. They were, however, soon undeceived, and upon the same course being pursued with regard to Turner and Ludlam, they had regained their confidence. DR. LAURENCE HYNES HALLORAN Transported For Forging A Frank. THIS unfortunate gentleman was a scholar and a clergyman. For many years he was head of a seminary where some of the brightest characters of the day had received the rudiments of a classical education. Yet this venerable preceptor, in the winter of life, was transported to Botany Bay for seven years -- a punishment which some Of our readers will doubtless think disproportioned to his offence, when they hear that his crime was that of having forged the frank of a letter whereby he defrauded the Post-office of tenpence. When placed at the bar of the Old Bailey, September the 9th, 1818, and asked the usual question by the clerk, he addressed the Court as follows:-- 'My lord, owing to the long period of my confinement on this charge, upwards of twenty months, the death during that period of the only witness who could substantiate my innocence, the exhaustion of my pecuniary resources, and my consequent inability to employ counsel, or have the advantage of professional advice, I have no alternative left me but to plead guilty to the offence with which I am charged.' Mr. Baron Graham advised him to consider well the effect of his plea. He replied: 'My lord, I have no alternative; I stand here unarmed and defenceless against a phalanx of powerful opponents arrayed against me, and determined to prosecute. It would be a waste of your lordship's time to plead not guilty. I must persist in my plea.' His plea was then recorded, and he was ordered from the bar. September the 30th be was brought up to receive sentence, when he addressed the Court at considerable length, reflecting severely on the motives which influenced the prosecution, and urging the improbability that a man not in s state of actual infatuation would voluntarily commit such en offence as that laid to his charge for the sake of tenpence, and that not to pass into his own pockets, but into that of the promoter of the prosecution. He was then sentenced to seven years' transportation. SAMUEL DICK Convicted of Abduction and Rape. Illustration: The Abduction of Miss Crockatt. THE barbarous practice of forcibly carrying off females prevails in Ireland to a shameful extent. Dishonoured women are too often induced to bestow their hand on the ravisher, and thus the success of one villain stimulates the lust and avarice of twenty. The law, which visits this crime with death, has not been sufficient to abolish so base and abominable a practice, as the Irish newspapers are, from time to time, filled with details of cases of abduction. The robber may plead necessity, and the murderer provocation; but the wretch who deliberately invades the chastity of a female whom he wishes to make his wife, is not only without any excuse whatever, but betrays such a total absence of manly feeling that we know not any offender whose crime deserves a more speedy and capital punishment. Such a monster should be hurried, with a fearful precipitancy, out of society; for he has given proof that he is unfit for the company of virtuous and honourable men, by deliberately attempting to debase what all the world regards as sanctified and pure. Among the lower orders in Ireland, and sometimes among those of a higher rank, this practice is not looked on in the light it deserves. Indelicate and gross minds can see no moral turpitude in an abduction which terminates in marriage; but, as female purity is the vital essence of morality in society, whoever invades that source of all our virtues, and all our happiness, should be hunted down as a monster that preyed upon the dearest interests of man. Besides, it is a crime fearful, not only in its consequences, but in its commission. Family anguish must proclaim its commencement; virgin screams announce its completion; and protracted grief seal its guilt; for how can that woman, though a wife, feel happy, who is liable to have the 'slow unmoving finger of scorn' pointed at her, as one that had been 'dishonoured among men?' Samuel Dick was one of those contemptible wretches. who would arrive at wealth through the charnel-house of lust, where his own sister stood the officiating goddess. His case is one of revolting indelicacy and deep-laid villainy. We shall give it in the words of the counsel retained to prosecute the accused at the Carrickfergus assizes, March the 21st, 1818. "The prisoner, Samuel Dick (said he) stands indicted for the forcible abduction and subsequent defilement of Elizabeth Crockatt, the prosecutrix. She is a young woman of respectable family in Derry; and upon the death of her father she became possessed of about two thousand six hundred pounds: this property, her youth, being scarcely seventeen, and her personal attractions, have been the causes of two different atrocious outrages, for the purpose of obtaining possession of them. In August last, upon the Sabbath day, while returning from the meeting, she was forcibly carried off, and taken to Ballymena, where she was rescued by her brother and her uncle. On their return home, her mother, alarmed for her safety, sent her for some time to reside within a few miles of Stewartstown, with a Mr. Matthew Fairservice. On the night of the 3rd of November, Mr. Fairservice's family were invited to spend the evening at Mr. Henry's, where the prosecutrix met Miss Jane Dick, sister to the prisoner, and who is related to the prosecutrix. The prosecutrix, with Mr Robert Fairservice, his sister, and Miss Dick, then went from Mr. Henry's upon the car to a ball at a Mr. Park's, where she danced the greater part of the night. While at Mr. Park's, Miss Dick invited prosecutrix to Stewartstown, which she declined. When they had got on the car, Robert Fairservice drove rapidly towards Stewartstown, without paying any attention to the remonstrances of the prosecutrix; when in Stewartstown they drove to the prisoner's house, where she saw the prisoner: after breakfast Miss Dick asked Miss Fairservice and the prosecutrix to go to Dungannon with her, as she wished to make some purchases. She was prevailed upon, and did go into Dungannon; remained shopping there until the evening; returned to Stewartstown, dined in the prisoner's house; and about nine or ten o'clock the prosecutrix was asked by Miss Dick to go out to the next door to assist her in purchasing some thread; and the distance being so trifling, she did not think even of putting on her bonnet. When out of the hall-door, she was forcibly seized by some person, and put into a chaise in which was the prisoner, who caught her by the arm; when in the carriage she found her cloak and bonnet had been previously placed there, which was sufficient proof of the preconcerted plan. The prosecutrix, the prisoner, with Miss Dick, and the other person, were driven to Lurgan, a distance of twenty miles, before day-light in the morning, the prisoner Dick guarding the prosecutrix with a pistol! After some time she was again put into the chaise, and driven to the house of a person named Swayne, where, after having wept and fasted the whole day, she was prevailed upon to go to bed with Miss Dick. From the fatigue she had suffered the two preceding nights, joined to the anxiety of mind she had undergone, she fell asleep; and found on awaking, that in place of Miss Dick being her bed-fellow, the prisoner at the bar was. The next morning the prisoner attempted to soothe the prosecutrix by promises of marriage, and went to Dr. Cupples, of Lisburn, to procure a licence, leaving his sister and the other person to watch over her till his return; in spite of them, she contrived to escape to the house of a Mr. English, where she was protected until delivered into the hands of her uncle." This statement being supported by the evidence, the jury without hesitation found the prisoner Guilty -- and he was sentenced to death. JOHN DRISCOL, WILLIAM WELLER, & GEORGE CASHMAN Executed for Forgery. THAT the punishment of death does not deter from the commission of crime is very evident in cases of forgery; for though an offence rarely pardoned, yet its progressive increase had now become an undoubted fact, at once alarming and melancholy. In 1814 the number of detected one-pound forged notes on the Bank of England was 10,342; in 1815, 14,035; in 1816, 21,860; in 1817, 21,421; and from the 1st of January to the 10th of April, 1818, 8,937. The facility of imitating the Bank of England notes at this period, and the ease with which they were put into circulation, were the inducement to hundreds who embarked in this dangerous trade; and though they knew the consequence of detection, yet each hoped he was the fortunate one who was to escape. This is the 'flattering unction' which every criminal lays to his soul, and no fact can more forcibly illustrate the impolicy of capital punishments. At this period, 1818, the victims of forgery were more than ordinarily numerous. Days were occupied at the Old Bailey with their trials and convictions only; while Newgate was crowded to excess with those who waited, in horrid suspense, for the Recorder's report. The public mind, ever alive to sympathize with the unhappy, took the alarm, and felt great indignation at the conduct of the Bank, who, they thought, should have procured a bank-note, impossible to imitate by the ordinary process of engraving. In consequence of this general complaint, a committee of scientific men sat to examine all specimens that might be submitted to them by artists. Many curious engravings from copper, wood, &c. were sent in, but none of these, it seems, though some of them were ingenious and beautifully executed, were of a nature that would warrant their adoption, as engravers were found who could exactly imitate them in a few days. From this it appears nothing could be fabricated, but what could be imitated by ingenious villainy. At the same time, it must be observed that the public were too easily imposed upon; for most of the forgeries were so indifferently executed that the least attention would be sufficient to detect the counterfeit. It was a very erroneous. though very prevalent, opinion, that the Bank had a private mark by which they instantly detected a forgery. They had not, nor could not have, any such distinguishing mark. Another complaint was, that the Bank had no right to assume the office of prosecutor, when they never sustained any loss. But it was necessary for them to protect the public, among whom their paper passed with as much facility as the current coin of the realm, and in discharging this duty they incurred incredible expense.*[see note] The public voice, in some measure, prevailed; the Bank was compelled to change its mode of proceeding, and allow the accused to plead guilty to a minor charge, which subjected them to transportation, whereas the evidence against them would have proved the capital charge. Numbers availed themselves of this privilege, and even those who traversed were tried only on the minor charge; a course rendered absolutely necessary from the number of convictions, as the public could not, at the time, have endured the spectacle of twenty or thirty persons suspended on the gallows for passing forged notes. In that case, indeed, the satirist might exclaim:-- Scarce can our fields, such crowds at Tyburn die, With hemp the gallows and the fleet supply Driscol, Weller, and Cashman, were three of those, however, on whom the law was allowed to take its course. They were tried, on separate charges, at the Old Bailey, September the 12th, 1818, and were individually convicted of having sold forged notes. Driscol pleaded guilty at first, but was prevailed upon to alter his plea. The witnesses against them were two persons of bad character, but there was no doubt of their guilt. Whether they had been entrapped into the crime is not exactly known. Driscol was an illiterate Irish labourer, and likely to be operated on by a designing villain; but Weller and Cashman were old offenders, and could not be suspected for dupes. Cashman was a Jew, and had not long returned from the hulks. The fate of these men was no sooner known with certainty, than a meeting was held in the 'Bread Street Ward,' where a petition in their behalf was agreed to. They were also induced to apply themselves to the fountain of mercy. These applications proved, however, unavailing, and the unhappy men were left to their fate. A man of the name of Williams was to suffer with them, and he and Weller received the sacrament on Sunday, when the Rev. Mr. Cotton preached a very appropriate sermon. Driscol, being a Roman Catholic, did not attend, and Cashman, being a Jew, was visited, in his cell, by members of his persuasion, who were constant in their attentions. It is a custom with the Jews to watch every motion of a brother, for some hours before the fatal moment arrives. Ten men sat up with Cashman the whole of the night. The visits during the day were all cheerfully received, with the exception of those from a wife or child, which sometimes broke in upon the train of meditation from which so much relief had been obtained. On Tuesday morning, December the 15th, 1818, at five o'clock, the usual apparatus, preparatory to the execution of criminals, was moved to the front of the debtors'-door of Newgate. From this moment to the time of execution the crowd increased till the Old Bailey and all the avenues to it were completely filled. At half past seven the sheriff entered the inner yard, when the prisoners, Driscol, Weller, Williams, and Cashman, had their irons knocked off. At eight o'clock the bell tolled as usual, and the prisoners were brought out. A Quaker lady (Mrs. Ripley) had been admitted to the prisoners, and had taken much pains to give them religious instruction; she was with them again by six o'clock on Tuesday morning, by their own desire. Driscol was the first who mounted the platform, which he did in almost hurried manner, and with great agitation. Having ascended it, he gazed wildly around upon the spectators, and once or twice pushed his cap from his mouth. Weller was the next ushered to the scaffold, and he exhibited a considerable portion of firmness. Williams followed. Cashman, alias Emanuel, followed: he was a Jew, and, by the tenet of the Mosaic religion was not permitted to sleep during the night; he was attended by a priest of his own persuasion, and Mrs. Ripley, who manifested great anxiety for his future state. She accompanied him even to the scaffold, but there her feelings overcame her, and she burst into tears. The priest who attended him furnished the executioner with a peculiar kind of cap, which was substituted for the ordinary one used upon such occasions. By a quarter past eight, all the malefactors were arranged, Driscol labouring under great emotion and agitation. The Mosaic priest, the Rev. Mr. Devereux, and the Rev. Mr. Cotton, continued for a few minutes addressing prayers to the delinquents, when Mr. Cotton gave the signal, and thus they were launched into eternity.-- Immediately upon the unfortunate culprits being launched off, some of the populace vociferated --'Shame! shame! Murder! murder!!'-- After hanging the usual time, their bodies were cut down, and given over to their friends for interment.-- The Rabbis who attended Cashman were permitted to cut him down. They took away the rope along with the body. Shortly after, a great crowd of Irish, men, women, and children, applied for the body of Driscol, which they bore away with the usual custom of howling. The bodies of the other two were taken into the prison, to be delivered to their friends. So much had been apprehended from the public indignation on this occasion, that the Bank had a body of guards down lest an attack might be made, by the mob, upon that establishment. Within the walls of Newgate preparation had also been made to resist any attack, and similar precaution was manifested in other places. Happily no disturbance took place on the melancholy occasion. Note: An account of the number of persons prosecuted by the Bank for forgery, or for uttering or possessing forged notes, from the 1st of January, 1798, to the 1st of January, 1819; stating where prosecuted, and the total expense incurred each year on account of such prosecutions up to the 1st of October, 1818, being the latest period to which the account could then be made up, was laid before parliament about this time, of which the following is a brief abstract. In the year 1798 the prosecutions took place in four counties; the number amounted to twelve, and the expense was 4,130l. 16s. Year. Counties. Prosecutions. Expense. 1799 8 15 £5,705 0 10 1800 14 44 12,753 7 6 1801 12 54 11,349 18 7 1801 20 63 15,618 19 1 1803 7 9 3,861 1 6 1804 5 25 6,148 3 4 1805 15 28 9,873 1 7 1806 6 10 2,849 17 9 1807 15 45 11,844 12 3 1808 13 34 8,136 16 7 1809 16 68 16,414 9 3 1810 15 29 8,070 19 9 1811 9 33 7,536 12 6 1812 13 64 15,752 1 5 1813 16 65 15,306 17 1 1814 12 47 10,952 10 11 1813 17 63 13,818 13 3 1816 22 120 25,971 8 11 1817 25 143 29,910 4 1 1818 26 242 34,357 7 0 Next to Middlesex, Lancaster presents the greatest number of prosecutions: indeed, during the first half of the years here quoted, the number prosecuted at Lancaster considerably exceeded those tried at the Old Bailey. From another paper prosecuted, including the same period, from January, 1798, to January, 1819, it appears, that Bank forgeries have increased in number from 1,102 to 30,476, and, in value, from 8,139l. to 36,301l. The account stands thus:-- Year Total Number. Total Net Value. 1798 1,602 £8,139 1818 30,476 £36,301 There is a curious disproportion between the value, as compared with the number, in these two cases: which is explained by the fact, that in the first of the years quoted, there were 139 forged notes above 20l.; and in the last only one above that value. JOHN KINNEAR, MOSELY WOOLF, AND LEWIS LEVY, Convicted of Conspiracy. The commercial world affords great opportunities for knaves to practise their impositions in, but we are not aware that it has ever been subjected to a more extensive system of fraud than that effected by the trio whose names head the present article. These dishonest sons of Israel were reputed merchants in London, and contrived for several years to keep up a tolerable character. They were in extensive trade, and kept separate concerns, turning each in business something like three hundred thousand pounds a year. With the profits resulting from this trade they were, however, dissatisfied, and resolved to grow rich by speedier means. They originated three mercantile houses, and placed as proprietors in them three men, who were, in fact, merely paupers. The first was John Meyer, a Jew, who kept a house on Tower Hill, for the reception of sailors. This man they supplied with money, gave him a character, and reported him as a merchant of an inexhaustible capital. The next was Henry Weiller, a German Jew, who, having served under Napoleon, came, in 1816, to England, with ten francs in his pocket. This fellow they dressed up, and instructed him to represent himself as a foreign merchant. Weiller having been once in business in Paris, and being known to a respectable house there, he procured a letter of recommendation to a London banker. By this means he established his credit, and began to pass bills with amazing rapidity. Having these two houses under their control, they wanted another, and in the formation of this they shewed the greatest skill; for they established it in such a manner, as to procure goods to a large amount, without creating suspicion. They took a Jew boy, named Joseph Leigh, who had been once or twice tried at the Old Bailey, and represented him as the son of a Dutch merchant. Levy then called upon a man named Reeves, who had been known in the Manchester trade, but who had been unfortunate in business, though his character stood yet high at Manchester. To him Levy represented Leigh as a youth well acquainted with the Continental trade, and stated that his father, being a wealthy man, proposed giving him a thousand pounds, provided he could get a person to join him who understood the country trade of England. Reeves consented to become his partner, and articles of partnership, with a great shew of candour, were drawn up between them. The one thousand pounds was then handed to Reeves, and lodged at a banker's. Levy also lent them five hundred pounds, and appeared a very good friend. He introduced Reeves to Meyer, as well as to Weiller, and recommended his dealing with them, as they generally traded on ready money. Reeves readily became their dupe. He made a circuit of the manufacturing countries, being supplied with the loan of one thousand pounds, and sent home goods to the amount of thirty-three thousand pounds, for which he paid by bills on Meyer. Before the conclusion of his business, however, he was informed that Meyer had absconded; and, on hastening to London, he found himself not possessed of a shilling, all the goods he had purchased having been sold, on their arrival, to Meyer. A disclosure now took place, and it was found that these fictitious houses had practised the vilest impositions. Weiller was sent out of the way, but, being apprehended in Holland, he was brought back, and made a bankrupt of. On his examinations it was discovered that Kinnear, Woolf, and Levy, were the contrivers of the fraud, and, in consequence of this information, they, with several others, were indicted for a conspiracy. Meyer and several others who were implicated escaped detection, but the three leaders in, and contrivers of, the scheme were brought to justice in the Court of King's Bench, April the 20th, 1819, before Lord Chief Justice Abbott and a special jury. Reeves, Leigh, and Weiller, were the principal evidence against them, and after an investigation of two days they were found guilty. No sooner was the verdict made known, than the vast crowds who waited for the decision manifested the greatest satisfaction. A man named Le Vay, who was indicted with them, was acquitted. The trial disclosed the means by which they procured credit. One of the fictitious houses served to give a character to the others, while at the same time they played into each other's hands, by drawing and discounting bills, accepting and negotiating drafts, &c. &c. The goods thus dishonestly procured were shipped off to Holland, India, &c. on Levy's account. On the 30th of April a motion was made for a new trial, on the ground of the jury having dispersed and slept at home, no officer being sworn to keep them together, or prevent their intermixing with the multitude. The Court, however, decided that the mere separation of the jury was no ground for setting aside the verdict, unless some improper tampering with them could be shown, the Court having a discretion to allow the jury to disperse. The application was, therefore, refused, though it was the opinion of some leading counsel that a new trial would have been granted in consequence of this irregularity. On the 14th of May they were brought up to receive judgment, when two affidavits were put in on the part of the defendants, stating that the deponents had seen two of the jurymen, on the first night of the trial, conversing with Mr. Harmer and Mr. Adams, the solicitors for the prosecution. In answer to these, affidavits of the jury, the above gentlemen, &c. were put in, denying that any such intercourse had taken place; also two affidavits of the owners of the houses, where the deponents on the part of the defendants stated themselves to reside, stating that no such persons lived there; whence they were supposed to be fictitious names. The sentence of the Court was, that John Kinnear should be imprisoned in the gaol of Ilchester for two years; that Lewis Levy should be imprisoned in the gaol of Gloucester for two years, and pay a fine of five thousand pounds; that Mosely Woolf should be imprisoned in the House of Correction, Coldbath Fields, for two years, and pay a fine of ten thousand pounds: and that Levy and Woolf should be farther imprisoned till those fines were paid. Levy had sent large quantities of goods to India, obtained by this conspiracy, and the Court considered that from the sale of those goods he might obtain remittances to pay his fine. ROBERT JOHNSTON. Executed for Robbery after an Attempted Rescue from the Scaffold The extraordinary circumstances attending the execution of this unfortunate man give his case a melancholy interest. Our readers, doubtless, recollect the singular conduct of the Edinburgh mob, at the execution of Porteous. A scene, if possible more disgraceful, occurred on the present occasion. Robert Johnston was a native of Edinburgh, where he spent the first part of his life without reproach. His parents were poor, and Robert was employed as a carter. In his twenty-fourth year he got into bad company, and was engaged in the robbery of a chandler in Edinburgh, and being apprehended he was brought to trial with two others, and found guilty. His companions had their sentence commuted to transportation for life, but on Johnston the law was ordered to be put in force. The execution was directed to take place on the 30th December 1818, and on that day, the judgment of the law was carried out, but under circumstances of a most extraordinary nature. A platform was erected in the customary manner with a drop in the Lawnmarket, and an immense crowd having assembled, the unfortunate culprit was brought from the lock-up house at about twenty minutes before three o'clock, attended by two of the magistrates, the Reverend Mr. Tait, and the usual other functionaries. The customary devotions took place, and the unhappy wretch, with an air of the most undaunted boldness, gave the necessary signal. Nearly a minute elapsed, however, before the drop could be forced down, and then it was found that the toes of the wretched culprit were still touching the surface, so that he remained half suspended, and struggling in the most frightful manner. It is impossible to find words to express the horror which pervaded the crowd, while one or two persons were at work with axes beneath the scaffold, in the vain attempt to hew down a part of it beneath the feet of the criminal. The cries of horror from the populace continued to increase with indescribable vehemence; and it is hard to say how long this horrible scene might have lasted, had not a person near the scaffold, who was struck by a policeman, while pressing onward, cried out 'Murder!' Those who were not aware of the real cause of the cry imagined that it came from the convict, and a shower of stones, gathered from the loose pavement of the street, compelled the magistrates and police immediately to retire. A cry of "Cut him down -- he is alive," then instantly burst from the crowd, and a person of genteel exterior jumped upon the scaffold, cut the rope, and the culprit fell down in a reclining position, after having hung during about five minutes only. A number of the mob now gained the scaffold, and taking the ropes from the neck and arms of the prisoner, they removed the cap from his head and loosening his clothes, carried him, still alive, towards High Street; while another party tore the coffin prepared to receive his body into fragments, and endeavoured unsuccessfully to demolish the fatal gallows. Many of the police were beaten in this riot; and the executioner, who was for some time in the hands of the mob, was severely injured. In the meantime the police-officers rallied in augmented force, and retook the criminal from the mob, at the head of the Advocates' Close. The unhappy man, half alive, stripped of part of his clothes, and with his shirt turned up, so that the whole of his naked back and the upper part of his body were exhibited, lay extended on the ground in the middle of the street, in front of the police-office. At last, after a considerable interval, some of the police-officers laying hold of him, dragged him trailing along the ground, for about twenty paces, into the office, where he remained upwards of half an hour, while he was attended by a surgeon, bled in both arms, and in the temporal vein, by which suspended animation was restored; but the unfortunate man did not utter a word. In the meantime a military force arrived from the Castle under the direction of a magistrate, and the soldiers were drawn up in the street surrounding the police-office and place of execution. Johnston was then carried again to the scaffold. His clothes were thrown about him in such a way, that he seemed half naked, and while a number of men were about him, holding him up on the table, and fastening the rope again about his neck, his clothes fell down in a manner shocking to decency. While they were adjusting his clothes, the unhappy man was left vibrating, upheld partly by the rope about his neck, and partly by his feet on the table. At last the table was removed from beneath him, when, to the indescribable horror of every spectator, he was seen suspended, with his face uncovered, and one of his hands broke loose from the cords with which it should have been tied, and with his fingers convulsively twisting in the noose. Dreadful cries were now heard from every quarter. A chair was brought, and the executioner having mounted upon it, disengaged by force the hand of the dying man from the rope. He then descended, leaving the man's face still uncovered, and exhibiting a dreadful spectacle. At length a napkin was thrown over his face amidst shouts of "Murder," and "Shame, shame," from the crowd. The unhappy wretch was observed to struggle very much, but his sufferings were at an end in a few minutes. The soldiers remained on the spot till the body was cut down; and, as it was then near dusk, the crowd gradually dispersed. The bleeding of the unfortunate culprit by a surgeon, with the view of restoring animation, was, we apprehend, an illegal torture, as by it the poor wretch was made to suffer a double death. It is true the authorities did not call in the surgeon; but it is equally true that they did not prevent, when they might, the surgical process. The whole proceedings were afterwards properly investigated, and those to whom blame was attached were punished. The following is a remarkable instance of a similar scene which occurred in France in the year 1828. Peter Hebard, who had been confined in the prison at Abbey, in France, for five months, expecting the final order for his punishment, having been convicted of a murder, committed under aggravated circumstances, and who had been allowed to indulge in hopes of a reprieve, was told to prepare for death in the afternoon. For nearly five years an execution had not taken place at Abbey, and the consequence was that an immense crowd assembled, which could with difficulty be kept in proper order by a large body of gendarmes. The prisoner was bound to the board laid across the scaffold; and upon the usual signal, his head was placed between the lunette in the guillotine. The knife fell with a trembling motion, but did not touch the criminal. A cry of horror arose from the crowd. The knife was again lifted -- it fell a second time, but without reaching the criminal's neck. A volley of stones was discharged at the executioner and his two assistants. For the third time the instrument was let down, but it only inflicted a slight wound. The executioners then quitted the scaffold for fear of the stones, and the criminal's head continued for some minutes bound to the block. The chief executioner again mounted the scaffold, and the knife fell twice more without success. The excitement in the crowd became indescribable. The executioner fled, the criminal lifted his head up, and was greeted with cries of "Bravo!" but he could not get away from the cords. One of the executioners then got on the scaffold, told the unhappy man to turn his head, and at the same time seized him by. the neck, and gave him several wounds with a shoemaker's knife. Hebard's head, nearly half off, hung on his shoulder; the spectacle was so horrible, and the spectators so enraged at the executioner, that he was obliged to make his escape amongst the gendarmes. Hebard, who was found standing up to the block, still breathed, and remained for two hours in that situation, during which time he frequently opened his mouth. It appears that the scaffold had been intentionally damaged by a person who acted as assistant to the executioner on account of a grudge. A question might arise, whether the executioner's assistant had a right to stab the criminal, and so alter his punishment, which was to die by the guillotine. HENRY HUNT A Speaker at the Peterloo Massacre, Convicted of a Misdemeanour. Illustration: The Peterloo Massacre The name of Mr. Hunt is too well known to require it to be introduced to our readers with any long explanation of the particular character which he filled up to the time at which he underwent an imprisonment for a misdemeanour against the government. He was probably the most popular demagogue of the day, with the exception of Wilkes; and, like his prototype, he appears to have been totally undeserving the confidence or the applause of the people. Like Wilkes, too. he was the occasion of several deluded people losing their lives, while he himself escaped with a comparatively trifling punishment. Hunt was born at Widdington, in the parish of Upavon, near Salisbury Plain, on the 6th November 1773. His father was a respectable farmer; and our hero, when young, being designed for the church, obtained the rudiments of a classical education. At sixteen years of age, however, he altered his mind and joined his father, and having attained great proficiency in his new business, he was treated with great confidence by his father, from whom, at this early age, he imbibed principles diametrically opposed to those which he afterwards espoused. At the time of the threatened invasion in the year 1795, Hunt joined the Evelyn corps of militia; but his commanders having refused to permit their men to quit the county in which they were enrolled, our hero, indignant at the supposed cowardice of his fellows, after having delivered himself of his maiden oration, urging them to volunteer in a new corps, threw his sword at his commander's feet, and immediately afterwards joined a corps established under the patronage of Lord Bruce. It appears, however, that although his lordship's loyalty was greater than that of the officers of the Evelyn militia, his attachment to his manorial rights was so strong, as to occasion a serious quarrel with his followers; for some of them having exercised their powers of sharp-shooting against his lordship's pheasants, they immediately obtained their dismissal from his troop. Hunt was enraged at this supposed affront, and riding to the parade, he publicly challenged his late noble commander to fight a duel. Lord Bruce had not expected to meet with so violent a reception, and fairly fled; but in a few days afterwards he obtained a criminal information against his challenger, in the Court of King's Bench, who was in consequence fined 100l., and sentenced to six weeks' imprisonment. Old Hunt by this time had discharged the debt of nature, and the penalty was soon paid; but the six weeks during which our hero was detained in the Queen's Bench prison served to banish all those feelings of loyalty with which he had before been inspired; and having associated himself with some persons, who were professed democrats, he soon joined them in their political creed. At about this time he was married to the daughter of a respectable inn-keeper, for whom he is said to have formed a most romantic attachment. The heat of his passion appears to have worn off very soon; and ere five years had elapsed he seduced another man's wife, who eloped with him from Brighton. The conduct of Hunt in reference to this person appears to be of a most extraordinary character; for in his Memoirs, he speaks of the unalterable attachment which he bore her, and with the most fulsome declarations of his love for her, dwells on the happiness which he had experienced in her society up to the time of the publication of his work, when she was still living with him (1824). His indignant and injured wife, it appears, received an annuity of 300l. from him, with which she continued to maintain her two daughters, while her son remained under the care of his father, and his mistress. Mr. Hunt, at this time, appears to have been living in a style of considerable pretension. The high prices of farm produce enabled him to maintain a large establishment, and he followed the sports of the field with great avidity, while he resided in Bath during the months which constituted the "season" of that then gay city. We do not profess to give any lengthened history of his remarkable career, because to do so would be to exceed the limits and intention of a work of the character of the present; but the following, we believe, will be found to be a faithful, though necessarily short, narrative of the chief circumstances of his life. While in Bath Mr. Hunt formed an acquaintance with the son of a brewer, who deluded him into a partnership; and it appears that he absolutely lost eight thousand pounds in a brewing concern at Bristol, which was the first occasion of his becoming acquainted with the people of that city. In 1804 he first attended a public meeting, which was held at Devizes, respecting the conduct of Lord Melville; and, in the next year, he first affixed his name to a public address, calling on the inhabitants of Wiltshire to oppose the corn laws. Having once embarked in politics, he was ever restless, and on every possible occasion he forced himself upon public notice with officious zeal; and in 1807 he came forward at Bristol, to propose Sir John Jarvis, as a fit representative for that city. His noisy interference on all public questions at this time, drew upon him a host of enemies, particularly among his own neighbours, who forbade him to sport upon their grounds; and, as no gentleman would hunt with him, he was obliged to dispose of his stud of horses. On one occasion he committed a trifling trespass, on which an action was brought against him, when he effectually pleaded his own cause, and, encouraged by success, he determined, from that day forward, to dispense with the assistance of counsel in any legal proceedings in which he might be engaged. In 1809 he held the first meeting for reform, for by this time he had become a disciple of Cobbett. In 1811 he took a large farm in Sussex, called Rowfant, where he continued to reside for one year, at the expiration of which he sold it, and went to live at Middleton cottage, which is situated on the western road, three miles from Andover. In 1812 he stood twice candidate for Bristol, but was defeated by a large majority on the opposition of the venerated Sir Samuel Romilly. This year he also became a liveryman of London, and from that time Guildhall was often favoured with his presence. He now attended almost every public meeting throughout the country, and gradually became the idol of the mob, to whose comprehension his speeches were admirably adapted. His patriotism, however, proved injurious to his private affairs, for we find, that in 1815, he had overdrawn his account with his bankers, who refused to advance him any more money. In 1816 he attended the notorious meeting in Spa-fields, where he acted as chairman; but it is only justice to say, that he had held no previous communication with Thistlewood and his colleagues, except for the purpose of striking out some portion of their resolutions, which he considered as offensive. In the year 1818, he appears to have become so flattered by the success which his previous exertions as a popular speaker had gained for him, that he resolved to stand for Westminster, in opposition to Sir Francis Burdett; but whatever may have been his popularity among his own peculiar party, the experiment was unsuccessful, and at the close of the poll it was found that his friends had given only forty-one votes for him; and he had also to regret his rashness in thus publicly thrusting himself forward, as, while upon the hustings, he was soundly horsewhipped by a gentleman, upon whom he had previously inflicted a cowardly and an unmerited injury. In the year 1819 the principles of radicalism appear to have reached a point of almost ungovernable fury, and Hunt secured to himself the character of the best and firmest champion of the party, by his conduct at a public meeting, which took place at Smithfield at this period, and at which, in truth, it appears that he acted in a manner without reproach. An event, however, soon afterwards occurred which procured for him still greater notoriety. The Manchester reformers, who had posted up notices of a meeting to be holden on the 9th of August in this year, for the purpose of proceeding to the election of a representative, as at Birmingham, where the people had, some time before, elected Sir Charles Wolseley as their legislatorial attorney or representative, was informed by the magistrates that as the object of the proposed assemblage was unquestionably illegal, it would not be permitted to take place. In consequence of this expressed determination on the part of the authorities, the meeting was abandoned, but fresh notices were issued for a new assemblage on the 16th of the same month, with the avowed legal object of petitioning for a reform in parliament. An open space in the town, called St. Peter's Field, was selected as the place of meeting, and never upon any former occasion of a similar nature was so great a number of persons known to have met together. For some hours before the proceedings were appointed to commence, large bodies of people continued marching into Manchester from the neighbouring villages and towns, formed in ranks five deep, and many of them armed with stout staves, while the whole body stepped together as if trained for military purposes. Each party bore its own banners, and among others two clubs of female reformers made their appearance, bearing flags of white silk. By mid-day it was calculated that 60,000 persons had assembled. The magistrates, it appears, were anxious that the peace should be preserved, and a number of special constables were sworn in, who formed themselves in a line, from the house in which the justices were sitting, to the stage or waggon fixed as a platform for the speakers. Soon after the business of the meeting had commenced, a body of yeomanry cavalry entered the ground, and advanced with drawn swords towards the stage, when their commanding officer called to Mr. Hunt, who was addressing the meeting, and informed him that he was his prisoner. Mr. Hunt endeavoured to procure tranquillity among the people, and offered to surrender himself to any civil officer who should present himself, and should exhibit his warrant; and a constable immediately advanced and took him into custody, with some other persons who were similarly engaged. Some uneasiness being now exhibited among the mob, the yeomanry cried out to seize their flags. The men stationed near the waggon, in consequence began to strike down the banners, which were attached to the platform, and a similar course being pursued with respect to those which were raised in other parts of the field, a scene of the most indescribable confusion ensued. The immense number of persons on the field, rendered it almost impossible for the military to move without trampling down some of them underfoot; and some resistance being offered, many persons, including females, were cut down with sabres, and while some were killed, the number of wounded amounted to between three and four hundred. In a short time, however, the ground was cleared of its original occupants, and as they fled in all directions, military patroles were immediately placed in the streets, to preserve tranquillity. It would be almost impossible to give any lengthened or minute description of this riot, or "massacre," as it has always been called by the radical opponents of government, without in some degree entering into the very strong feeling of party prejudice, which has been universally excited upon the subject. The real circumstances of the case may be said to be unsettled even to this day; and while the magistrates and their friends declare that, the Riot Act having been read, the subsequent proceedings on the part of the soldiery were both justified and necessary, the friends of the people as invariably deny the allegation of the reading of the Riot Act, and therefore contend that the introduction of a military force was harsh and unconstitutional. The whole transaction does not appear to have occupied more than ten minutes, in the course of which time the field seems to have been cleared of its recent occupiers, and filled with different corps of infantry and cavalry. Hunt and his colleagues were, after a short examination before the magistrates, conducted to solitary cells, on a charge of high-treason, and on the following day notices were issued by the magistrates, by which the practice of military training, alleged to have been carried on in secret, by large bodies of men, for treasonable purposes, was declared to be illegal. Public thanks were, by the same authority, returned to the officers and men of the respective corps engaged in the attack; and, on the arrival in London of a despatch from the local authorities, a cabinet council was held, the result of which was, the return of official letters of thanks to the magistrates, for their prompt, decisive, and efficient measures for the preservation of the public tranquillity; and to all the military engaged, for the support and assistance afforded by them to the civil power. The circumstances of the Manchester case eventually turned out to be such, that government, by the advice of the law officers of the crown, found it expedient to abandon the threatened prosecution of Mr. Hunt and his colleagues for high-treason. Those persons were accordingly informed that they would be proceeded against for a conspiracy only, which might be bailed; but Mr. Hunt refused to give bail, even, as he said, to the amount of a single farthing: but some of his friends liberated him. On his return from Lancaster, where he had been confined, to Manchester, Hunt was drawn about two miles by women, and ten miles by men. In fact, his return was one long triumphal procession, waited upon by thousands, on horse, on foot, and in carriages, who hailed him with continued shouts of applause. The sensation produced throughout the country by this fatal business was intense. Hunt's conduct was universally applauded, and he received the thanks of nearly every county in England, and those even who opposed him on principle now forgot their enmity, and hailed him as the uncompromising champion of liberty. His entry into London was public, and some of the first characters of the day honoured him with their presence, whilst hundreds of thousands welcomed him with deafening applause. The agitation had hardly subsided when true bills were found against Hunt and his companions, and their trials came on at York, and continued, without intermission, for fourteen days, during which time Hunt displayed powers of intellect, and acuteness of perception, of which even his friends did not suppose him to be possessed. He was found guilty, however, and ordered to be brought up to the Court of King's Bench for sentence, but he afterwards moved, in person, for a new trial. Although he argued with all the tact and ability of the most experienced lawyer, his motion was refused, and he was sentenced to two years and a half imprisonment in Ilchester jail. He had not been long incarcerated when he brought to light a system of the most infamous cruelty which had been practised on the unfortunate inmates of that prison by the barbarous jailor. Mr. Hunt himself, being treated with great cruelty, addressed a letter to Mr. Justice Bayley, detailing cases of atrocious cruelty; and the question being at length brought before the House of Commons, an inquiry followed. Hunt substantiated all his charges, and the inhuman jailor was dismissed and punished, while the country rang with the praises of his accuser. The period of his imprisonment having expired, he again made a public entry into London; but he found that the times had changed, even during that short time. The public prosperity had banished discontent, and with it that wild enthusiasm, which had before been exhibited in his favour, and he was greeted with none of those demonstrations of delight which had been before exhibited. He made several attempts to arouse the lethargy of his former admirers, but in vain; and he at length betook himself to repair his broken fortunes by the manufacture of English coffee, with roasted corn, and subsequently in 1824 he added that of blacking; and so successful was he in this enterprise, that "Hunt's matchless "became almost as celebrated as the polish of Messrs. Day and Martin. Mr. Hunt was subsequently returned as member for Preston in Lancashire, and he died while yet representing that place in parliament. JACOB MAGENNIS Executed for Shooting a Constable. This culprit was a native of Ireland, and by trade a weaver. In 1816 he came to England, and worked at his business at Stockport, where his restless disposition led him to associate with the reformers, who at this period were extremely violent. Magennis seems to have been an enthusiast in the cause, and constantly attended the sermons of a disaffected man named Harrison, who was subsequently tried, convicted, and punished, for having preached sedition. The pulpit should never be converted into a rostrum for popular declamations; for religion and politics have no necessary connexion. This Harrison kept a school at Stockport, and officiated on Sundays as a dissenting clergyman, in which capacity, it is to he apprehended, he did much mischief. The magistrates of Stockport became alarmed at the doctrines publicly preached by this reverend demagogue, and issued a warrant for his apprehension; but, being aware of their design, Harrison left Stockport. A bench warrant was then procured, and a constable named Birch was sent to execute it. He did so, and on the 23d of July, 1819, brought the divine a prisoner to Stockport; and, for security, kept him confined in his (Birch's) house. It was no sooner known that the idol of the mob was in custody, than a number of people collected in a very tumultuous manner about the constable's house. Alarmed for safety, Birch went out by a back door, with the determination of consulting a magistrate concerning his duty, but had not proceeded far when a man named Bruce accosted him. Having known this man before, Birch stopped to speak with him; and, while in conversation, he received the contents of a pistol, fired over Bruce's shoulder by Jacob Magennis. In the confusion that ensued Magennis made his escape, and passed over to Ireland, where he was apprehended, and brought to Chester gaol. Bruce was also taken into custody on the charge of aiding and assisting, as it was supposed he acted is concert with Magennis and another man, who could not be identified, though only the three were by at the transaction. Bruce was a stranger at Stockport, not having lived in it more than a few months, during part of which time he acted as usher in Harrison's school, and latterly had taken a school on his own account. He also kept a nightly school, where people were taught to make speeches. His manners and address were, however, far above that of his noisy pupils. Birch's wound happily did not prove mortal; and on the trial, which took place on the 8th of April, he was able to give his evidence. The Jury found both Guilty, and when the verdict was pronounced, Magennis declared that Bruce was innocent; for it was he (Magennis) who fired the pistol. Bruce was afterwards respited, and finally received the royal pardon, for it appeared he was not guilty; but Magennis underwent the awful sentence of the law at the time appointed. He was a man of strong capacity, but uneducated. He employed his few last days in writing his life, which he desired to be published; but it never was. He met his fate with fortitude,, and was sincerely penitent. JAMES LIGHTFOOT, Executed for the Murder of Thomas Maxwell. The guilt of this young man was established with irresistible certainty, and other circumstances which transpired after his execution leave no doubt of his having perpetrated the crime for which he suffered. Yet, untainted with either sedition or infidelity, which are often forced to account for moral phenomena, independent of their influence, Lightfoot solemnly protested his innocence with his last breath, and surrendered his life on the scaffold with a coolness and fortitude that would be celebrated in a martyr. This malefactor's case shows that a man conscious of a deadly crime can die with all the appearance of innocence, apparently pious, and seemingly impressed with the truth of Christianity, which excludes the liar and the impenitent from the joys of Heaven. We cannot find, even in the full view of dissolution, a refutation or confirmation of any system of opinions, so contradictory are the operations of the human mind. James Lightfoot was one of nineteen children by the same parents, thirteen of whom were living at the time of his execution. His father, who had been accidentally killed in 1816, was a poor man, and his children had all to earn their bread by laborious industry, and were generally employed as servants by farmers in Cumberland, in which county they all resided. James, in 1820, lived with a farmer, named Leach, at Cumwhitton, and had got married about twelve months before, his age not being quite twenty-one. In the neighbourhood of Cumwhitton lived a tailor, named Maxwell, who, with his son, Thomas Maxwell, an amiable youth of eighteen, worked for all the people in the place. Thomas and Lightfoot were inseparable companions, whenever leisure permitted their being together; yet this youth, generally beloved and esteemed by all who knew him, was treacherously assassinated by Lightfoot, for no other discoverable motive but that of robbing him of fifteen shillings, four of which he had himself paid him a few minutes before. Country tailors generally go from house to house to work, and are frequently obliged to give servants and poor people credit until such time as they can get money. The 20th of May, in Cumberland, is the day for hiring and paying servants their wages; and this too is the time when country tradesmen expect to get their money. On the eve of this day, in 1820, Thomas Maxwell, being going his annual round to his customers, called at Mr. Leach's, where he was kindly received, as indeed he was everywhere. Having smoked a pipe, he went to the barn where Lightfoot was threshing, to give him a smoke. While in the barn Lightfoot asked his master for four shillings, which be gave to Maxwell, being that sum in his debt. After a little time the youth took his departure, signifying his intention to cross a ford, which was situated a few hundred yards tress Mr. Leach's house, His way lay through a plantation, and here it was that he was murdered. Immediately after his departure, Lightfoot entered the kitchen, sad took out a loaded gun, although he had been repeatedly told not so touch it. Shortly after, a report of a gun was heard in the plantation through which Maxwell had to pass, and Lightfoot, who had been missed from the barn, was seen running towards the house in a crunching manner, as if he wished not to be seen. His master had entered the house before him, and, though angry at seeing the gun in his hand, he forbore to speak, as Lightfoot was to leave his service the next day. The father of the murdered youth, alarmed for his son's absence, was inquiring next morning for him; and apprehensive, as the river was much swoln, that he might have been drowned, he had it dragged for the body. Notwithstanding all the poor man's exertions and anxiety, the deceased was not found for a week, so secluded was the place where the mangled remains had been deposited. Suspicion immediately fell upon Lightfoot, and when taken into custody his exclamation betrayed his guilt; for when the constable arrested him his first words were -- 'What! me murder Tom Maxwell on Friday!' The reply of the officer was pointed --'You know the day better than I do.' When taken before the coroner he said to the father of the deceased, 'Do yon think I would murder your son for fifteen shillings?' Fifteen shillings was the exact sum the poor boy had about him; for before he left his father's house his sister saw him put eleven shillings into his parse, which, with the four received from Lightfoot, made the fifteen shillings. The purse was found empty, lying beside the mangled remains of the unfortunate boy. On the 16th of August, 1820, Lightfoot was brought to trial at Carlisle, and was found Guilty, after a protracted inquiry into his case. The evidence against him was conclusive, though circumstantial; and the learned judge (Bayley) concurred in the verdict of the jury, though in his charge he had mentioned every thing that bore in favour of the prisoner, saying that a verdict of acquittal would not establish the innocence of the accused, but imply that the evidence was not sufficient to convict him. Lightfoot, on being removed from the bar, declared that he was a murdered man, being perfectly innocent of the charge imputed to him. An idea that the denial of his guilt would diminish the disgrace brought upon his family was probably the motive of his obstinate protestations of innocence. His mother visited him the day before execution, and indirectly encouraged him to deny his crime, by saying, 'You are innocent, James; keep up a good heart.' Yet this woman was well aware of his guilt; for the Sunday after the murder had been committed, and before any one had been accused, she was heard to exclaim, in a fainting fit, 'My son has murdered a man!' Lightfoot's wife brought forth her first child about the time he perpetrated the murder, and so shocked was the poor women on hearing the charge against her husband, that she had not recovered at the time when he was ignominiously launched into eternity. JAMES NESBETT. Executed for the Murder of Mr. Parker and his Housekeeper. The night of Friday the .3rd of March 1820, was marked by the perpetration of a murder, not exceeded in point of atrocity by any whose circumstances are detailed in our Calendar of Crimes. It bears a striking resemblance to that committed by Hussey; for the victims were an old gentleman and his housekeeper -- a Mr. Thomas Parker, aged seventy, and Sarah Brown, about forty-five years old. Mr. Parker had been a working jeweller in London, where he had made a fortune sufficient to enable him to retire to Woolwich, where he resided for twenty-three years. His house was situated in Mulgrave-place, Red Lion Street, at a short distance from the Artillery Barracks. He was an inoffensive, gentlemanly man, and was much respected by the whole neighbourhood. At one o'clock on Saturday morning, the 4th of March, the sentinel on duty at the north arch of the Artillery Barracks observed a dense smoke rising from Mr. Parker's house. He gave an alarm; and several of the artillerymen rushed forth, and found the flames bursting from the parlour window. The men rapped at the door with great violence, but no answer was returned. The cry of "Fire" spread; two engines arrived on the spot, and commenced playing into the window. The men then forced the street-door, and rushed into the passage; and from thence they went up stairs into the front room on the first floor. Here the ravages of the fire were perceptible; the furniture of a bed had been partly consumed; but in the bed itself there was no appearance of a human being. The men then ran into the bed-room on the second floor, which was found in flames; but having extinguished them, they continued their search for the inmates of the house; but neither Mr. Parker nor his servant could be found. It was now discovered that the flames were bursting forth with great violence from the parlour below, and that they were spreading rapidly to the upper floor; and every exertion became necessary to procure their suppression. A hole was cut in the floor of the bed-chamber, through which water was poured; and by this means, added to the incessant playing of the engines without, the danger was subdued. In a short time the parlour-door was thrown open, and a man belonging to the artillery having entered, he perceived a heap of something lying behind the door. He attempted to lift it up, when he found it to be the mutilated remains of a human body which was much burnt. A second body, which proved to be that of a female, was found stretched in the same place, although not so much disfigured. A further investigation of the premises now took place, when it was perceived that blankets had been nailed up against every window, as if to conceal the appearance of the flames within. Fire had been communicated in three different places -- the parlour on the ground floor; the bed-chamber on the first floor; and the bed-chamber on the second floor. The drawers about the house were found standing open, and articles of apparel were lying about; and in the kitchen, some silver utensils were strewed on the floor. At break of day the bodies of Mr. Parker and his servant were examined, and it was found that the former was burnt nearly to a cinder; the left leg and foot, on which there was a black silk stocking and a shoe, only remained entire. The skull, however, although the flesh was burnt off, remained whole, and afforded convincing testimony of murder: on the left side, towards the back, there was a terrific fracture. The woman lay stretched upon her face; her apparel was partly consumed, and her hair, which was very long, was hanging around her in matted and dishevelled locks. A horrible wound, apparently inflicted with a blunt instrument, was discovered over her eye, and at the back of her head there were three distinct fractures. The fact that the whole circumstance was the effect of a diabolical plot to murder Mr. Parsons and Mrs. Brown, and to conceal the crime by firing the house, now became obvious; and the utmost exertions were made by the police to apprehend the perpetrators of the foul deed. Several persons, whose conduct was deemed suspicious, were taken into custody; but as the evidence against them was very trifling, they were discharged. At length, however, the real murderer was apprehended at Portsmouth, and several articles of Mr. Parker's property were found in his possession, particularly two watches, some silver spoons, a silver ladle, &c. This person went at Portsmouth by the name of James Watson, but his real name was James Nesbett. He had been in the artillery for twenty-three years, and after his discharge lived in Woolwich, where his wife kept a chandler's shop. They had five children; the eldest aged eighteen years, and the youngest at this time only sixteen months old. Nesbett himself followed that vicious and dangerous occupation -- smuggling; bringing lace, silk, &c. from France, and carrying back other contraband goods from this country. In pursuit of this traffic he stopped some time at Portsmouth, where he cohabited with a girl of the town, who was afterwards the principal witness against him. While sleeping with this girl she observed him to be very much troubled in his mind, as he frequently started in his sleep, and sometimes terrified her; so much so, that she left him on that account only. He, however, allured her back by presents; and, to account for the unnatural agitation in his sleep, he told her that he had killed two men in a duel, and one woman with a blow; and also promised to communicate another important secret to her. From this he was prevented by his being taken into custody; but he had already told her enough to induce the strongest suspicions as to his guilt. When brought to Woolwich the people received him with a shout of exultation -- a circumstance which affected him so much, that he was obliged to be carried before the justices, who were then sitting. He denied the crime with which he was charged; but after his committal to Maidstone, he confessed that he had been privy to it, having stood sentinel at the door while the work of destruction was going on inside. His accomplices he stated to have been old soldiers, whom he did not know -- a tale as improbable as untrue; for it was distinctly proved that he was himself the only person engaged. Nesbett's trial came on July the 28th 1820, when his guilt was established by a chain of circumstantial evidence so conclusive, that the jury did not hesitate many minutes about their verdict'. In addition to other facts proved against him, it appeared that when he first visited Portsmouth, he was remarked for possessing excellent sight, but that after the murder he wore, whenever he appeared abroad, spectacles -- the identical pair he had taken from Mr. Parker. In addition to the spectacles, he wore different dresses to disguise himself; but, notwithstanding all his caution, he was known, and apprehended; not, however, without much difficulty, for he attempted to shoot the officers, having a case of pistols loaded to the muzzle. Fortunately he was prevented from firing, and thus was preserved from having an additional murder to answer for. Nesbett's countenance indicated great firmness of purpose, but nothing of atrocity. During his trial he showed great fortitude and self-possession, which was not disturbed by his hearing the awful sentence of the law, which consigned him to an ignominious death. This wretched criminal was executed according to his sentence on Pennenden Heath, July the 31st 1820. It is gratifying to know that, in the interval which elapsed between his condemnation and execution, he acknowledged the justice of his sentence. ROSALIE CURCHOD Indicted for Child-Murder, but Acquitted. THIS lovely but ill-fated girl was a native of Switzerland. Her father resided at Lausanne, and a young gentleman of that town had paid his addresses to her, contrary to the wishes of her family, who had forbad him the house. His attentions, however, were clandestinely continued for a considerable length of time, until Mademoiselle Curchod's health becoming seriously affected, her friends, guessing the secret, determined to remove her far from the cause of her indisposition, hoping that, by change of scene, her health would be restored, and that she would forget the object of her attachment. England was resolved upon as the place of her sojournment. The prospect of so painful a separation produced the strongest sensation in the minds of the lovers. An opportunity for a stolen interview was found, and in the tumult of ardent passion that event occurred which, in the end, plunged the unhappy object of ill-fated love into the deepest affliction. She reached England; and the friends to whom she was recommended thought that, by employing her mind, the purpose of her friends might be more effectually accomplished, and they therefore placed her at the boarding-school of a lady named Siffkin, at Barking, in the capacity of French teacher. There she continued until the month of December, 1818. In the unhappy interval she experienced the progressive symptoms of approaching child-birth. On the 20th of December she was delivered of a male infant unknown to the family. In three days afterwards the dead body of the infant was found in a pan in her bed-chamber, and in the result, after a coroner's inquest, she was consigned, in the prime of youth, beauty, and finished accomplishments, to the horrors of a dungeon. The author of her sufferings had been informed of the consequences of their illicit intercourse (but before they became exposed), and had set out for England with slender means, intending at all hazards to unite his hand to hers in marriage. He had arrived at Paris in pursuit of his Journey: but his pecuniary funds being exhausted, he was detained so long, that he did not reach England until three days after the victim of his attachment had been committed. At the ensuing spring assizes she was indicted for the murder at her child, and at the hour appointed for her trial she was conducted into court with the assistance of some female attendants. Agitated in every limb, and overwhelmed with grief, she was almost carried into the dock, and seated on a chair. She was attired in deep mourning, and her face was completely concealed with a veil, which, if even removed, would not have been enough to satisfy the brutal curiosity of some individuals in court, whose unfeeling anxiety to behold the beauty of her countenance called forth the indignant animadversion of the judge, who checked the inhuman indifference to her awful situation. Her head, during the whole time, was bowed on her bosom. Nothing but the contour of her elegant person confirmed the opinion entertained of her charms. With great difficulty. she sobbed aloud, in French, that she was not guilty. Fortunately for her, the surgeon who attended her during her illness could not swear that the child had been born alive, and, consequently, she was acquitted. JAMES MACKCOULL, alias MOFFAT Convicted Of Robbery after a Long Career as a Thief. Mackoull Robbing the Minister of his Watch on Quitting the Pulpit. The name of this offender is already known to our readers, by his connexion with his no less notorious compeer, Huffey White, whose case is already given. Mackcoull, though he had an honest father, was educated a thief, and from infancy was initiated into all the mysteries of picking pockets, shop-lifting, and house-breaking. He was born in the parish of St. Sepulchre, London, in the year 1763. His father, Benjamin Mackcoull, a man of good character, was a pocket-book maker; but, being unfortunate in business, he was appointed a city officer, in which situation he continued until his death. This poor man did all in his power to bring his children up in honesty; but, unfortunately, his praiseworthy exertions proved abortive, in consequence of his wife being a base unprincipled woman, who might be said to have educated her offspring for the gallows; for though they all, except one, singularly escaped such an ignominious death, they are all allowed to have richly merited it. James had three sisters and two brothers. The daughters emulated the example of the mother, and were, with her, frequently convicted of petty crimes, being among the most expert and notorious thieves in London. They all lived till within a few years of James's death, notwithstanding their abandoned and vicious lives. The younger brother, Benjamin, was executed in 1786 for street-robbery; but the eldest, John, was always fortunate in eluding justice, though well known as a notorious character. He was frequently tried for various offences, but uniformly escaped conviction. James Mackcoull received a very limited education, and could just read and write. At school he was frequently detected purloining the playthings of other boys; and at a very tender age he robbed a poor man who sold cats'-meat through the streets. The young villain saw the vender of offal put his money, as he received it, into a bag which hung on the handle of his barrow, and, watching his opportunity, when the owner's back was turned, he cut the cord, and carried off the booty. Emboldened by success, he ventured again and again, and soon associated himself with gangs who were known to infest the entrances to theatres and places of amusement. The father, ignorant of the vicious habits of the son, bound him apprentice to a leather-stainer, in Clerkenwell; but James, encouraged by his mother, adhered to his former comrades, and soon gave occasion to his master to discharge him. He now became a notorious thief, and, by shifting his quarters, continued to elude detection; but, having been engaged with another in snatching the seals of a gentleman's watch in St. James's Park, they were pursued. Mackcoull's companion was apprehended; and he only escaped detection by going at night on board the Tender, at Tower Hill, and entering as a volunteer. For two years he remained on board the Apollo frigate, in the character of an officer's servant, and afterwards on board the Centurion, in the same capacity. In the absence of temptation even a rogue may be honest; and Mackcoull acquired so good a character in the navy, that he was in a few years appointed purser's steward, and in the course of nine years saved a considerable sum of money. In 1785 he returned to London, where, in a short time, he dissipated all his earnings in the society of the dissolute and abandoned, and to repair his finances had recourse to his former habits of dishonesty. He soon eclipsed all his companions in iniquity, and shone pre-eminent as a pugilist, horse-racer, cock-fighter, gambler, swindler, and pickpocket. To carry on his depredations with success he assumed various characters, and succeeded in all. Not even the sanctuary of religion was free from his desperate villainy; for he frequently went there to pick pockets, and on one occasion deprived the preacher of his watch, on his way from the pulpit. The knowledge and acuteness he displayed, as well as the successful manner in which he avoided discovery, procured him among his associates the appellation of "The Heathen Philosopher." Being at Brentford during an election, Mackcoull saw a self-important baker very busy among the electors, and observed him put a bundle of notes into his side pocket. Desirous of possessing the notes, Mackcoull made various attempts, but failed until the evening, when, learning the baker's extreme passion for the science of astronomy, he went into his shop and invited him out to view a strange alternating star. The baker declared he would not lose the sight for fifty pounds, and accordingly hastened into the street, and, while he was busy with his telescope viewing the starry heavens, Mackcoull contrived to ease him of the notes in his breast pocket, after which he quitted the spot and hastened to London. A thief, to use a vulgar adage, throws out with a shovel what he brings in with a spoon; or, in other words, his improvidence is greater than his precarious gains, and, in addition to a thousand other apprehensions, he lives in continual dread of want and poverty. Mackcoull, notwithstanding all his address, was in continual pecuniary embarrassments, and when unsuccessful as a pickpocket at the theatre, or a fair, had to go to bed supperless. His particular misfortunes seem to have consoled, on various occasions, his less notorious brethren, for it has passed as a remarkable saying among the thieving tribe, 'That the best hand will miss at times, like Jem Mackcoull.' In his twenty-eighth year he married the mistress of a brothel, and assisted her in furnishing her house in Clifford's Inn Passage, which, in addition to its being a receptacle for unfortunate women, he made a depot for stolen property. He planned several burglaries, but was an actor in none. The stolen property he always deposited in a recess, formed by the shutting up of a window, which he called Pitt's picture, in allusion to the window-tax. This secret recess was, however, discovered by the ferrets of the law, and Mackoull was obliged to make a trip to the West Indies, a phrase he frequently made use of to signify a removal from London,. His friends endeavoured to hush the business, but their efforts failed, and Mackcoull was compelled to quit the country. In 1802 he arrived at Hamburg, and took the name of Moffat. In company with two others he affected the air of a merchant, and pretended to have large consignments from England and Scotland. Of the latter country he said he was a native. He had recourse here to his former practices, and supported himself by gaming, picking pockets, and shop-lifting. He was no sooner suspected in one town than he removed to another, but had to make a precipitate retreat in 1805, and came home. In London he found it not prudent to stop, and therefore went to Edinburgh, where he arrived the 10th of September, and called himself Moffat. In Scotland he followed his usual practices, and, the better to conceal his real character, pretended to follow the business of a dyer of leather, and took premises for the purpose, into which skins sere seen to be taken, but no one ever saw any coming out. A gentleman pickpocket was then a character unknown north of the Tweed; and Mackcoull had so plentiful a harvest, that he brought his wife from London, and she passed in Edinburgh for a genteel proper woman. Being of a facetious turn, full of anecdote, and not deficient in low wit, Mackcoull was regarded as an agreeable companion, and was known in the different taverns and coffee-houses as the good-humoured red-faced Englishman. In the beginning of November, 1806, William Begbie, porter to the British Linen Company, was assassinated in the entry leading to the bank at Edinburgh, and robbed of a bag containing five thousand pounds. Though this daring murder took place in clear day-light, the perpetrator was never discovered; but subsequent events lead to the presumption of Mackcoull being the ruthless assassin. The large notes, payment of which was stopped, were afterwards found in a spot frequented by Mackcoull, who no doubt purposely left them there. Until 1808 Mackcoull committed his depredations with impunity; But about this period he was detected picking a gentleman's pocket in the theatre; for which offence he was committed to prison; but, strange to say, he was liberated without being prosecuted. He now returned to London, and concealed himself for some time in the neighbourhood of Somers Town, but again visited Scotland the following year. on his arrival he was apprehended for passing forged notes; but having artfully got change of a five-pound note on his journey in presence of a fellow-passenger, the latter, a respectable man, came forward and procured Mackcoull's liberation. After this he visited Glasgow, Perth, Dundee, and Montrose, and during his migrations met with a notorious character named French, with whom be agreed to rob one of the Scotch banks, and they hastened to London to procure the necessary implements. On their arrival French was apprehended on a charge of burglary, tried, and sentenced to transportation for life, in accordance with which he was sent to the hulks. In consequence of this event the robbery of the Scotch banks was deferred. Meeting with the notorious Huffey White, whose case we have already given, Mackcoull agreed with this expert housebreaker to rob the Chester bank. White, having just escaped from the hulks, was very poor, so that Mackcoull had to provide for the expenses of the journey, &c. White at the time lodged with a blacksmith, named Scoltock, who lived in Tottenham Court Road, and who supplied him with the implements of housebreaking. Arrangements having been made with this descendant of Vulcan, the villains set off for Chester, to reconnoitre, desiring that the keys, &c. should be forwarded to them on a certain day, directed to James Wilson. Scoltock executed his order with punctuality; but on the way the box, in which the implements were sent, yielded to the friction of the coach, and one of the skeleton keys protruded through an opening. An officer being sent for, he concealed himself in the office until Mackcoull and White called, and then took them into custody. When taken before the magistrate, Mackcoull said his name was James Martin, and White said his was Evans. Not being able to give an account of themselves, they were committed, May the 17th, 1810, to the House of Correction, as rogues and vagabonds. Information of the transaction being given at Bow Street, an officer was dispatched to Chester, who soon recognised this pair of notorious villains. White was tried the ensuing assizes for being at large before the expiration of his sentence, and was condemned to death, but had his sentence commuted to transportation for life. On the 10th of January, 1811, Mackcoull was discharged from Chester Castle, and on his arrival in London he met French, who had made his escape from the hulks, and they agreed to go and put their former determination of robbing a Scotch bank into execution. But as neither of them were very expert at the business, they resolved to release Huffey White from the hulks, whose abilities in this way were of a superior order. They soon effected the escape of White, and all three set off for Glasgow, Scoltock, as usual, promising to send the necessary implements of housebreaking after them; for which he was to be paid when the job was done; indeed, so poor were the parties, that French had to sell his furniture to meet the expenses of the journey. On their arrival in Glasgow they took lodgings in the house of a Mrs. Stewart, and gave their names as Moffat, Stone, and Down, and spent their time chiefly in smoking and drinking, occasionally going out to adjust their keys, &c. under the pretence of fishing. The Paisley Union Bank, in Ingram Street, was the object of their attack; but on the arrival of the implements they found they could not open it. White, alias Down, thought to obviate this difficulty by making a pewter key, but neither would this answer, and Mackcoull had to set off to London to give Scoltock the necessary instructions. On his return they were too successful, and robbed, one Saturday night, the bank of Scotch notes to the amount of twenty thousand pounds, after which they posted to London, changing a twenty-pound note at every stage. As the thieves had, on leaving the Bank, locked the doors, the robbery was not discovered until Monday morning, when a person went in pursuit of the fugitives, and traced them to London. An officer from Bow Street was then dispatched in search of the robbers, and that evening White was apprehended in Scoltock's house, where Mackcoull had only a few minutes left him, to provide some wine. The implements of housebreaking were found on the prisoner, but no money; for on their arrival in London Mackcoull had deposited the whole with the noted pugilist, Bill Gibbons, who acted as flash banker to such characters. There is no honour among thieves. Mackcoull assured his companions that the booty amounted only to sixteen thousand pounds, thus pocketing four thousand pounds for himself. On the apprehension of White, Mackcoull went into concealment, and French, who dreaded the ferrets of the law, sent for Mrs. Mackcoull, and proposed, as the only way to save their lives, to return the money to the bank, and thus hush the business. To this she consented, and her husband also acquiesced with the view of making his own fortune. His wife had been an acquaintance of Sayer, an officer who attended on the king, and through him she procured a pardon for her husband as well as for White and French for escaping from the hulks, on giving up the money to the bank- To this proposal the agents readily agreed; but, when Mrs. Mackcoull brought the notes, they were found only to amount to eleven thousand nine hundred and forty-one pounds, with which the gulled agents were obliged to return to Scotland. The pardon obtained for White and French did not relieve them from their former sentence of transportation, and, accordingly, White was once more transmitted to the hulks. French for a while kept out of the way; but, meditating revenge on Mackcoull for the part he had acted, the latter contrived to have him apprehended, and sent to New South Wales. Mackcoull, being now in possession of eight thousand pounds, had it reported that he was gone to the West Indies, when, in fact, he was passing the notes in Scotland, in the purchase of English bills. In 1812 he was arrested in a brothel in London, having abandoned his own wife for the charms of one Mary Reynolds, who had turned housekeeper, alias mistress, of a brothel. Mackcoull was now transmitted to Glasgow, where he arrived the 8th of April, 1812, and committed to gaol. While here he did not seriously deny the robbery, but offered to make restitution to the bank, and promised their agent one thousand pounds, and gave them a bill for four hundred pounds. The bank not being at this time prepared to substantiate his guilt, he was discharged the following July, and the agent of the bankers absolutely received from Mr. Harmer, of London, the one thousand pounds, which, however, Mackcoull subsequently recovered by suit at law from that able solicitor, he having paid it without sufficient authority. Mackcoull now considered himself beyond all danger, and in company with one Harrison, a brother of Mary Reynolds, made several trips to Scotland, and purchased commercial bills in the name of James Martin, a merchant, and everywhere introduced his friend Harrison as a most respectable merchant. In 1812 he opened a deposit account with Messrs. Marsh and Co. bankers, in the name of James Ibel, and had in their hands at one period above two thousand pounds. In March, 1813, he again visited Scotland to vend more of the stolen notes, but was taken into custody, and bills and drafts, in favour of James Martin, to the amount of one thousand pounds, which he had purchased, taken from him. Owing; however, to Mackcoull having run his letters against his Majesty's advocate, he could not again be committed for the same offence, and consequently he was discharged out of custody, the bank, however, holding the bills. On his return to London he paid a, visit to his wife: but an altercation ensuing, he struck her; for which he was, after being tried at the Quarter Session, sentenced to six months' imprisonment. While in 'durance vile,' Huffey White 'died in his calling,' an event which gave Mackcoull mach satisfaction, as he apprehended great danger when he heard of his old associate below at large. In 1815 he resolved to recover the bills and drafts from the magistrates, by whom they had been taken from him; and as they refused compliance with his request by letters, he visited Glasgow in person, and demanded, in the most insolent manner, the restitution of what he called his property. This being refused, he commenced an action against them, which, more than any other case that ever came before a court of justice, proves the glorious uncertainty of the law; for it continued to be litigated for five years; and, the bankers having become the defendants, the country, for the first time, witnessed the singular fact of an acknowledged thief contending with persons for the property he had actually stolen from them. During the progress of this protracted case, Mackcoull attended the courts of law in person, and gave instructions to his agent. He always conducted himself with the greatest sang froid and treated with contempt and derision the allusions made by counsel to his character. At length it was ruled that Mackcoull should be interrogated in person before the court; and after some hesitation he consented. This circumstance was no sooner known, than crowds flocked to hear his examination, which lasted for several days. He behaved in the most cool and determined manner; and when his absurd replies elicited a laugh in court, he always smiled with seeming self-approbation. The account he gave of himself was that he traded as a merchant, and that he chiefly transacted business with one James Martin, whose residence he could not tell. He objected to many questions put to him with the acuteness of a lawyer, and at length the session rose without having come to any decision; and Mackcoull returned to London in great spirits, to arrange with his brother John about some letters he had, on his examination, promised to write to Mr. James Martin, who was obviously a fictitious character. The following letter and answer were then prepared by John, and both, as was afterwards proved, in his handwriting:-- Edinburgh, 10th May, 1819. 'Dear Sir -- I am still detained here with that infernal suit against the partners of the Paisley Union Bank, whose agents here, while in the act of themselves robbing that bank with both hands, have made myself a most unwilling instrument in their hands, and art and part guilty with them. The Lord Ordinary, when I complain to him of this, tells me, that they must not be obstructed in their lawful avocations; and how long I am to be stuck up between the bank and their agents, or, in other words, placed between the hammer and the anvil, will depend upon the ability of the bank or of myself to continue the litigation. For six years has this process been most actively carried on before Lord Gillies, Ordinary, who they say is among the hest of the Scottish judges, without one relevant averment, and without a definitive judgment. Though his lordship sees the most pointed charge of forgery made by me against one of the bank agents, and has admission of all of them distinctly stated upon his record, of their having robbed me by a prostitution of the police law, he, nevertheless, refuses judgment:-- he has not energy to direct them to return my money, which the defender admits was forcibly taken from my person. 'His lordship, after six years' litigation, is going to send the bank defence to the Jury Court, namely, that I and one White robbed with false keys their bank; and this pretty little defence, which the rhetoric of Mr. Erskine, the celebrated Scotch counsel, who wrote on Black of Inverkeithing's case, has spun out in two thousand folio pages, embraces all that they have been speaking about for the last six years. Lord Gillies, fatigued with this nonsense, has at last obliged them to plead issuably, and to confine their pleas to the fact of the robbery; but, ere the bank can enter the Jury Court, it has occurred to them as proper, after so long an acquaint. once, to discover, from myself, who I am? where I come from? what business I follow? and whether my conduct through life has been, like theirs, honest and moral?--it has pleased the Scottish judges to indulge their curiosity in all this, so that the bank agents, as one of the honourable judges expressed himself from the bench, might have an opportunity, from "his biographical sketch," to trammel me before the jury, in case the history of my life, taken by surprise, and upon their interrogatories, shall be incorrect. This, you must know, is Scotch law, and Scotch practice, and, I may add, Scotch breeding; and I have, of course, submitted to three several examinations before this inquisitorial court. These honourables have now got my life and travels for those last sixteen years, together with some account of yourself; for they have made, of necessity, the discovery that you and I have been most deeply connected in business together. What this biographical account may suggest to the fertile mind of our modern Cicero, whose grimaces in pleading are really frightful, I know not; but, if you come to this country soon, you had better empty your pockets ere you cross the Tweed, for greater ruffians never infested Hounslow Heath than those who have robbed me with impunity. I have myself expended eight hundred pounds in my attempts to get my money from them, of which, without the least dread or fear for the consequences, they openly confess in a court of law that they robbed me! I want a judgment in terms of their own confession, and that I cannot get. I never knew what a court of inquisition was till I came to Scotland. In my judicial declaration, I was asked if I made any entry, in any memorandum book, of the money I received from your cousin and Harrison? "declare, I dare say I did." Interrogated, What book I referred to, and where it now is? "declare, I think it was a memorandum book for the year 1815, which, I think, is now in the hands of Mr. James Martin, but that I am not sure." Being requested to write Mr. James Martin to transmit all his books, for the purpose of being put into the hands of the clerk of the process, "declare, that he has no objection to write to Mr. Martin, as desired, but be is sure Mr. Martin will not pass the books out of his hands." So you see what has passed; and it lies with you to say what I shall report to the Lord Ordinary. The session has risen, and will not again sit till May, when I shall thou use every exertion in my power to get away with my property and with my character from that court and that country where I now am, through the medium of a jury. I have sacrificed eight hundred pounds of law expenses. I have lost six years of my time, together with the fatigue and trouble of going and returning to London, and hitherto for no other purpose than to hear myself abused. For these six years my life has been made a burden to me. Mr. Jamieson, who conducts my suit, often tells me, what I believe to be true, that not a person in the whole United Kingdom could have manifested so much resolution and firmness; and he tells me that not one case could so opportunely occur to show the general distress of the nation. God only knows whether the practice is general: if so, I sincerely pity those who shall run the hundredth part of the gauntlet I have done; for it is a general robbery. The Scots live like fishes -- the large devour the small! 'If there is any truth in the story about the bank being at all robbed with false keys, it may, as I am told, happen that this man White, who is said to be my accomplice, may turn out to be some Edinburgh deacon or magistrate, with a gold chain and cocked hat; for it was by them, along with, the procurator fiscal, that my money was first of all taken forcibly from my person, under the pretence of a crime, but for the covered purpose of taking my money. They have dropped the charge, but detained my property! You can have no conception to what length corruption and oppression is gone in this part of the United Kingdom; and what is most lamentable, the higher orders of society are chiefly implicated in it: this you will see from the advocation. In short, my good air, all I can tell is, that, after the most active research which, during the course of six years, could be made after roguery, all that is hitherto made out is, that, of all of us concerned in that fraudulent inquiry, there is but one honest man among us, and that is myself: they are all of them chargeable, from the face of the records, but one. But, put jests aside, I have been shockingly used; and, if you can make a step down this way, as a witness for me at the jury trial, I shall be well enough pleased? I am,' &c. [The reading of this letter occasioned a great deal of amusement in court, from the grave folly in which it is couched, particularly its reflections on the Scotch courts.] 'And this,' continued the learned counsel, 'is from an honest man, demanding the surrender of his own books!' He would now read the answer of Mr. Martin, which was of a piece with the foregoing, and was written according to the instructions of Mackcoull, by Mackcoull's own brother. The jury would perceive what a fraternal correspondence it was:-- 'April 13, 1819. 'Sir,-- Your application to me, relative to the books in my possession, is so very strange and absurd, that I am really at a loss to account for it. In the name of reason, what can the books have to do with the bills taken or stolen from your person? It is but a short period since you informed me that Sir William Forbes and the Commercial Bank had declared they cancelled the bills -- and I am now told they are not cancelled. What am I to think of this juggling? if yon report truly, I do not only think, but am justified in saying, Sir William Forbes and the Commercial Bankers are a set of scoundrels, and the greatest villains in existence; and certainly not deserving any credit whatever. I shall, most assuredly, report their conduct, not only to the bank directors of England, but post them in every commercial town in Europe. 'Let these fellows have any books belonging to me, or in my possession! Certainly not. Pray let me ask, how am I to know, when they are in such villainous hands, what use they may make of them to answer their own ends and purposes? Afterwards I may then be told by some of the gang, "O, they are honourable men, and would not do so bad an action!" and so to be cozened by their honourableships. Although I am but a plain, blunt Englishman, I know these sort of honourables too well to trust them with any thing they can construe to make subservient to their purpose. I would not, after such swearing, lying quirks, tricks, and subterfuges as these honourables have been guilty of, trust them with the piece of tobacco paper now before me. I therefore decidedly decline having any thing to do with such honourables, and wish to have no other communication with them but in a court of justice, where I could scarcely even there think myself safe (particularly in a Scotch court, where they are permitted to say and swear what they please through their agency.) 'I shall be away from here in a day or two, either for Berne or the Italian States. I am exceedingly ills and have been for a long time; indeed my health is daily declining. Your agent, Mr. Jamieson, certainly knows what is best to be done with these honourables; and, therefore, if there is no other alternative, you must wait with patience the issue. Trusting you are better in health than I am, I remain 'Your very sincere friend, (Signed) 'JAMES MARTIN' At the close of every session, during the progress of the case, Mackcoull went regularly to London by sea; and returned in the same manner, when the courts met. On these occasions he was to be seen in Edinburgh every evening at a low public house, surrounded by journeymen and apprentices, whom he amused with his humorous description of Scotch bailies, lawyers, and bankers, applying to them the most ludicrous names and epithets that could be devised, denouncing against them vengeance and public exposure. He was extremely generous, and was looked on by this low company as a little king. During the summer sessions he produced the letters supposed to be to and from Martin, and, as if now confident of success, he urged his counsel to accelerate the business; but, as before, the court rose without coming to any decision. The bank was at this time in a critical situation: unless they proved Mackcoull's participation in the robbery, and that the bills &c. were purchased with notes stolen from the bank, they would have to deliver up to Mackcoull not only the bills, &c., but to pay all attendant expenses, besides incurring the disgrace of losing the action -- an action unparalleled in the annals of any court of Europe, brought by a public depredator -- a convicted rogue and vagabond -- who was at large, and who was prosecuting with their own money a respectable banking company, for attempting to keep part of the property of which he had robbed them. But this was not all. Mackcoull's intention, if successful, was to follow up the decision with an action for damages, in which it was the opinion of many that he would also succeed. In December 1819, Mackcoull and his agent urged the matter so strenuously, that the trial was fixed for the 20th of February 1820; and the issue to be tried was, whether Mackcoull was concerned in the robbery. To prepare for the trial, the bank sent Mr. Donovan, an intelligent officer in Edinburgh, from Glasgow to London, to trace the route the robbers had taken nine years before, and to procure witnesses. Donovan was successful, and brought down with him Scoltop, who had prepared the instruments by means of which the robbery was effected, Mrs. Huffey White, several waiters at inns, and even Mrs. Mackcoull, who consented to give evidence against her husband. The most eminent lawyers at the Scotch bar were engaged on each side; and on the morning of the trial, May the 11th 1820, every avenue to the court was crowded to excess, so intense was the interest excited by the case. The result was against Mackcoull, for the witnesses completely established his guilt; and so unexpected was the appearance of some of them to him, that he frequently ran out of court, and on seeing Scoltop actually swooned away. Mackcoull's career of villainy was now near its end. On the 19th of June he was indicted for the robbery, in the High Court of Justiciary; and the same witnesses being again examined, the jury returned a verdict of Guilty -- Death. Towards the conclusion of the trial Mackcoull often looked about him with a kind of vacant stare, and was observed frequently to mutter and grind his teeth. When the verdict was announced he gave a malignant grin; and when sentence was passed, he bowed respectfully to the court. On being carried back to jail his fortitude forsook him, and he appeared overwhelmed with despair. At this moment he said with emotion, "Had not the eye of God been upon me, such a connected chain of evidence never could have been brought forward!" His spirits, however, soon returned, and he received the number of visitors, who were led by curiosity to see him, with great cheerfulness. Although he had treated his wife with great unkindness, she now came forward and supplied him during his imprisonment with every luxury in profusion. She also made application for a reprieve: and whether from her exertion or not, on the l4th of July a respite arrived, and in three weeks after a reprieve during his majesty's pleasure. All who visited Mackcoull did not do so from mere curiosity. One man went for the laudable purpose of awakening in his mind some sentiments of religion, and to induce him to repent of his manifold crimes, as a necessary means of salvation. This person was attached to the Methodists, and one day brought with him a friend, a missionary, whom he introduced to Mackcoull. The convict received his guests with great politeness, and soon began to question the missionary so closely concerning his travels in Germany. that he was glad to fly to Poland and Silesia; when, finding that Mackcoull had not been there, he began to expatiate on the ignorance and barbarism of the people, wham he represented as eating jackasses. 'Hold! hold!' said Mackcoull, 'I do not believe you; for, if they eat asses, how the devil did you escape being devoured?' In the month of August, the wretched prisoner fell into a natural decline, and his mental faculties completely forsook him. In the course of a short time his hair, which had been previously nearly jet black, became a silver gray, and at length he died in the county jail of Edinburgh on the 22nd day of December 1820, and was decently interred at the expense of his wife, in the Calton burying ground. Thus terminated the mortal existence of a man who seemed destined by Nature for a better fate. That he possessed abilities which, with honest and industrious application, might have rendered him a useful member of society, cannot be denied: but it is difficult to overcome the effect of early impressions -- he was reared and nurtured in a hot-bed of vice. He felt no spur, no incentive, to virtue; and he implicitly followed the impulse of a polluted conception. His whole life may thus be considered as one uninterrupted career of villainy, almost without a parallel. That he did not expiate his crimes on a gibbet, was merely owing to circumstances which are not worth explaining; but, during the period of his imprisonment, he suffered many deaths. Of the fatal tree he spoke without fear; but the dread of a future tribunal paralyzed his understanding. He saw and trembled at the approach of that unerring shaft which no earthly ruler could control; while the horrors of his mind, by affecting the nervous system, accelerated his dissolution. The retrospect of his life often obtruded itself with new modifications of insupportable reflection -- the prospect of futurity he could only contemplate with fearful apprehension. He felt the wakening of a seared conscience, from which there was no retreat. He crawled about, grinding his teeth; his intervals of slumber were broken and interrupted with the most frightful visions, and he saw the hairs of his head become grey with anguish! The picture is too horrible to finish. To Religion he was a stranger, a total stranger, in this hour of need: he felt not her soothing influence -- he cherished not the hope of forgiveness or mercy. Unhappy man! he looked to God as to a cruel and vindictive ruler, at whose hands he could only expect the full punishment of his crimes: his resignation was despair! FREDERICK WHITE Wrongly Convicted of Highway Robbery, but Pardoned. The extraordinary escape of this young man from an ignominious death demands a notice, of which the circumstances of his conviction would otherwise be unworthy. It appeared on his trial that he was present at a fire in Wardour Street, Soho, on the 30th of November, 1820, when a gang of pickpockets, the usual attendants at such scenes, among other depredations made an attack upon an individual in the crowd, and succeeded in robbing him of his chain and seals. White, who was near enough to witness the transaction, was seized by the person robbed, charged with the theft, and taken in custody to the watch-house. As he was entirely alone, he could do no more than declare his innocence, which was attested at the time by a stranger, who followed him to the watch-house. The complainant and the guardians of the night naturally enough suspected this voluntary witness for an accomplice, and discredited his testimony: White, however, who knew its truth, begged of him 'to come to-morrow for him.' He accordingly attended at the police-office in the morning, and obtained precisely the same credit he had gained the previous evening. White was, therefore, fully committed: the grand jury found the bill against him on Wednesday, December the 5th; and on the Friday following he was brought to his trial, and capitally convicted. The only evidence of importance against him was that of the prosecutor, who swore to his person, and that he kept pulling, and made a screw to get the watch out at the time he (the prosecutor) had hold of him. Two persons who had accompanied the prosecutor to the fire did not see the robbery, being then at some distance, but assisted in securing and conveying the prisoner to the watch-house. The stranger who had previously appeared as the prisoner's witness, made it his business to examine the list at the Old Bailey; and without any communication with, or solicitation from, White or his friends, again tendered his evidence on his behalf. His testimony was, that the prosecutor, after declaring his loss, seemed much confused, and stood two minutes or more before he laid hold of any body: that presently after there was a great rush of all the mob; the prisoner was seized, and he followed him to the watch-house to say he did not think the prosecutor could swear to the man, as he was greatly confused, and appeared much intoxicated. The prosecutor being again called, declared he was sober at the time; and this testimony being corroborated by his two companions, who both declared he was perfectly sober, the stranger of course was discredited, and the conviction of the prisoner necessarily followed. The unhappy youth concealed his actual situation from his friends, in the delusive hope that some chance would save both him and them the exposure, till it was too late; for, strange as it may appear, his first communication to his mother of his awful situation was not made until the morning on which the grand jury found the bill against him; and so little acquainted were his friends and himself of his danger, or the common means of averting it, that a learned gentleman, a relation of the family, and who might have rendered him great assistance, was left wholly unacquainted with the facts of the case till the trial was over. Such was the situation of the youth when his unhappy fate attracted the attention of Mr. Sheriff Waithman, who ascertained, from undoubted testimony, the previous good character and conduct of the prisoner himself, and the respectability of his parents, with whom he resided, in the neighbourhood of the fire, to which his curiosity unfortunately led him. That he was unconnected with the gang by whom the robbery was committed is obvious, from the circumstance that, although there were ten or twelve of them together, the prisoner used no endeavours to escape; not the slightest attempt was made to rescue him; nor had he been visited during the whole of his imprisonment by any persons but those of his family, or their immediate friends. The fact, however, was put beyond doubt by the affidavit of a respectable gentleman, who was wholly ignorant of White's unfortunate situation, but who, when referred to, deposed (in corroboration of a statement previously made by the prisoner) that he was passing near the spot on the night of the fire, and within a few minutes of the time of the robbery; that he there saw and spoke to White; that he was entirely alone, and no person whatever in company or conversation with him. The stranger, who so perseveringly appeared on the prisoner's behalf was proved, by evidence most satisfactory, to be a young man of character residing with his mother, and in no way acquainted with White or any of his family; and the veracity of his testimony was established by the voluntary declarations of eight or ten respectable individuals, all of whom agreed as to the intoxication of the prosecutor on the evening in question; which, added to the state of confusion such an attack was likely to occasion, left no doubt but that he must have been mistaken in the person of the prisoner. In the prosecution of his inquiries Sheriff Waithman judged it important to ascertain the grounds upon which the verdict of the jury was as founded; and in answer to a letter on that subject, addressed by him to the foreman, he received a declaration, signed by all the jury, that their verdict was given upon the conviction that the prosecutor and his companions were sober at the time of the robbery, and their disbelief of the evidence of the witness to the contrary, whom they viewed in the light of an accomplice rather than a disinterested person, as he stated himself to be. These concurrent testimonies in the youth's favour were communicated to Lord Sidmouth as they were obtained; but, to the great surprise of the sheriff, an obstacle of a serious nature presented itself at the outset of his exertions. A petition had been delivered at the office of the secretary of state for the home department, purporting to be signed by the prisoner, in which he confessed his guilt, and acknowledged the justice of his sentence. It has, however, been subsequently established, by the most indubitable testimony, that, although this petition had been drawn up under an impression generally entertained in the prison that a denial of guilt would be considered as an imputation upon the court and the jury, and render all applications for mercy unavailing, the prisoner, fully aware of this circumstance, could by no entreaty be prevailed upon to acknowledge guilt, even for the chance of saving his life. A pious fraud was therefore committed, and the prisoner's name affixed to the petition by his brother, without his knowledge or consent. Lord Sidmouth, the home secretary, received these communications with caution, not giving the sheriff any hope of a pardon, but determined to submit the whole to the consideration of Mr. Baron Garrow, before whom the prisoner was tried; who gave it as his decided opinion that if such evidence had been brought forward at the trial, the jury would have found the prisoner not guilty. Lord Sidmouth had now no hesitation in recommending him as a fit object for the royal clemency, and he was of course discharged. At the same time with White a youth named Harley, was liberated from Newgate on his majesty's free pardon. The circumstances of his case are singular and remarkable. Harley was convicted at the January sessions, 1821, of a street robbery near Northumberland House, on Monday, the 11th of December, 1820. The prosecutor was surrounded and hustled by fifteen or twenty fellows, and had his watch forcibly taken from him. He seized one of the gang. but the others fell upon him directly, rescued their companion, and then beat the prosecutor unmercifully. He subsequently described the dress and person of the man who robbed him; and, upon that description, Harley was taken into custody. He was put into a room with ten or twelve others, and the prosecutor, when sent by the officers, recognized him immediately. The evidence of the prosecutor, on the trial, was positive and direct. He saw the prisoner pull the watch from him, and hand it to another. When asked if he was sure of his person, he replied, 'If he was tarred and feathered all over, except his face, I could swear to him.' Harley, in his defence, attempted to prove an alibi; but as his witnesses were the inmates of a brothel, where he had actually been at the time, they received no credit, and he was found Guilty, and received sentence of death. Fortunately for him the prosecutor swore that he knew his person previous to the time of the robbery, having had Harley pointed out to him as a notorious thief on a certain Saturday; on which day, it afterwards appeared, Harley had been in custody on another charge. This fact was brought under the cognizance of the secretary of state, and it appeared that another person, exactly resembling Harley, both in person and dress, was known as a hustler, a respite followed of course; and the prosecutor stating that he swore to him on the presumption of his being the person so pointed out, a free pardon was obtained. Between White and Harley there was no similarity, further than their innocence of the crime for which they had been convicted. White was a youth of correct morals and virtuous habits, but Harley was known as a bad character; and, on his hair-breadth escape, he returned to his former vicious companions. JOHN THOMPSON AND JOHN BARNICOAT Executed for the Murder of William Hancock. THERE is every reason to believe that the latter of these unfortunate men died innocent of the crime for which he suffered. In proof of this opinion we have, in addition to his own dying declaration, the testimony of his guilty companion on the fatal gallows. Jurymen should always bear in mind that the accused is entitled to the benefit of every possible doubt which the case admits of, and we do not know why the witnesses for this unhappy man, who proved a complete alibi, were considered unworthy of credit. They differed certainly from each other in immaterial facts; but when have two men, without previous communication, given precisely the same account of a trivial occurrence? On the night of the 12th of August, 1820, several robberies, and one murder took place, on the highway, near Helston, in Cornwall. A man named Jose, and his wife, were robbed and wounded, and another man, named William Hancock, was shot, and treated so unmercifully that he died a few days after. Previous to his death, however, Barnicoat was brought before him, when he declared that he was one of the men who robbed him, and identified him as the man who struck him with a long pole after he had been shot. Barnicoat denied this, upon which the dying man asked him, 'How he could say so, as he stood over him, and threatened to knock his brains out.' Hancock also identified John Thompson as one of the villains who had attacked him. In consequence of Hancock's dying declaration, Barnicoat, John Thompson, and his brother, Thomas Thompson, were committed to gaol, and brought to trial, March the 30th, 1821. Barnicoat produced witnesses to prove an alibi, but as they contradicted each other in parts of their testimony, they were disbelieved, and a verdict of guilty was pronounced against Barnicoat and John Thompson. Thomas Thompson was acquitted, the declaration of the murdered Hancock not having included him. Barnicoat was in his twenty-fourth year, and Thompson only in his seventeenth. On Monday, April 2, 1821, these two miserable youths underwent the awful sentence of the law at Launceston. About half past nine they were lead to the scaffold, which was erected in the Castle Green, adjoining to the gaol. Barnicoat manifested a considerable degree of firmness; but it was found necessary to support Thompson, who was placed on a chair on the drop. Whilst standing on the fatal platform, the chaplain asked Barnicoat if he still persisted in his declaration of being innocent of the offences for which he was about to suffer. He replied, with much earnestness, that he did; adding, that he knew so more about the attack on Jose, or the murder of Hancock, except what he had heard of them, than the child unborn, and that he was at home in bed during the whole of the night on which the attacks took place. For the truth of his assertions respecting his innocence he solemnly appealed to Thompson, who was now beside him, and about to suffer with him. Thompson confirmed the declaration of Barnicoat, as far as came under his own knowledge. He declared that Barnicoat was not present at either the attack on Jose or the murder of Hancock, nor did he know any thing of them; the persons concerned were himself, his brother William and Thomas Dawe; that Dawe was the person who shot both Mrs. Jose and Hancock; and that it was he himself who carried the pole, and who beat Hancock after he fell: the pole he had was the handle of a pike. The necessary preparations being completed, the chaplain spent a few minutes in prayer with the culprits, and then withdrew; almost immediately after, Barnicoat gave the signal previously agreed we and with his companion was launched eternity, in presence of a great concourse of spectators. BRIDGET BUTTERLY AND BRIDGET ENNIS Executed for the Murder of Miss Thompson. MURDER becomes doubly revolting when perpetrated by a female, and receives its last hue of enormity when committed without provocation. These malefactors were natives of Dublin, and Butterly had been servant with Captain Peck, who resided at Portland Place on the banks of the canal, north of the city. The captain's wife, Mrs. Peck, author of several novels, did not live with her husband, but he kept under his protection a young lady named Thompson, alias Bailis, a native of England. Butterly states that while in Captain Peck's service she had improper connexion with her master, and on being turned out of his service she became jealous of Miss Thompson, and consequently wished to do her some harm. It is but justice to state that Captain Peck denied having had any improper connexion with Butterly, but she declared to the contrary a few minutes before her execution, and it is not likely that on the verge of the grave she would persist in a falsehood, which served no purpose but to add to the infamy of her own memory. After leaving the service of Captain Peck she went to lodge with one O'Brien, in Summer Place, where she had Ennis for a fellow lodger. The latter, after some time, proposed visiting England -- the common resource of all the vagabond Irish, from the Giants' Causeway to Cape Clear. Butterly consented, and offered to provide funds for the journey by robbing the house of Captain Peck. This was agreed to, and on the 28th of March, 1821, they watched the house until they saw the captain go into town, when Butterly went up and knocked at the door. Miss Thompson received her with great kindness, shook her by the hand, and took her into the parlour, where Butterly took up a child of two years old, and began to caress it. In a few minutes Ennis knocked at the door, and on gaining admission she desired Butterly to put a handkerchief round Miss Thompson's mouth, to prevent her from giving alarm. Butterly immediately did as desired, and dragged the poor young lady down stairs into the kitchen, where she kept her until Ennis had procured the trunk and writing desk, in which was money to a considerable amount. Ennis on going away cried out from the top of the kitchen stairs, 'Butterly, don't injure the young lady on your life.' But she had no sooner closed the door after her, than jealous fury took possession of the atrocious wretch, and she took up the poker, with which she struck Miss Thompson on the head, and repeated her blow until life was extinguished. The sight of death seems to have softened the savage barbarity of her heart; for, with an unaccountable impulse, she took up the mangled body in her arms, and wished that she could again infuse life into that once beauteous form. But as this was now impossible she thought of her own safety, and ran up stairs. In the hall she met Miss Thompson's child; kissed it, and carried it into the parlour, after which she took her departure. On going to her lodgings she was alarmed by not finding Ennis at home, and suspecting that all was not right she became dreadfully agitated. In the mean time, Captain Peck's servant, who had followed her master to the market, returned, and not gaining immediate admission looked down the kitchen window, where she saw her mistress lying on the floor. Giving the alarm, the door was forced open, when the robbery and murder were quickly made known, and thousands flocked to Portland Place, to inform themselves of a fact which at first appeared too atrocious for belief without ocular demonstration. The sensation produced in Dublin by this mid-day murder was intense; the youth and beauty of the deceased deeply affected all who saw her mangled remains; and, fortunately for the ends of justice, the culprits did not long enjoy their ill-acquired wealth. Ennis went to a grocer in Great Britain Street, and having ordered some tea tendered a note, which she called a pound-note, for payment. The grocer, whose name was M'Gloin, seeing that it was a ten pound-note, questioned her, and finding that she became alarmed he sent for a peace-officer, and had her taken into custody. The note was soon identified by Captain Peck, and Ennis having mentioned her lodgings, the officers proceeded thither, when they found Butterly, with part of the money, as well as the trunk and writing-desk; for Ennis had returned soon after Butterly, and deposited these things in her room. These wretched women were no sooner committed to prison than they acknowledged their guilt, and, through the influence of the priest who attended them, Captain Peck was put in possession of the remainder of his money. On the first of the following May they were tried and convicted, and on Monday the 4th were executed in front of Kilmainham gaol, amidst an immense concourse of spectators. Soon after they had been turned off, a butcher's dog got into the circle kept clear about the fatal drop by the dragoons, who attended for that purpose. One of these now made a cut of his sword at the dog, who immediately attacked his horse, and in the confusion which ensued the people imagined that the soldiers had charged the people. The consequence was a simultaneous movement to get away, and in the hurry a young man was trampled to death, and several persons were dangerously hurt. The wretched culprits on the morning of execution confessed the crime for which they were about to die, and appeared truly penitent. DAVID HAGGART, ALIAS JOHN WILSON, ALIAS JOHN MORRISON, ALIAS BARNEY M'COUL, ALIAS JOHN M'COLGAN ALIAS DANIEL O'BRIEN, ALIAS THE SWITCHER Executed for the Murder of a Warder in a Jail-break. DAVID HAGGART was born at a farm-town called the Golden Acre, near Cannon Mills, in the county of Edinburgh, on the 24th of June, 1801. His father was a gamekeeper; but as his family increased, he followed the occupation of a dog-trainer, and was much taken up in accompanying gentlemen on shooting and coursing excursions. On these occasions David was employed to assist in keeping the kennel, and the gentlemen who had their dogs in training took great notice of him, and never failed giving him a few shillings for paying particular attention to their dogs He was also, when very young, taken to the Highlands for two seasons to carry the bag during the shooting time, and as be was always a merry boy, the sportsmen took a liking to him, and sent him home with plenty, so that he never wanted the means of indulging himself in childish follies.-- In these habits and these indulgencies an intelligent observer of human nature at once discovers, not the seeds of his vices, for they had their deep-rooted origin in human depravity, but the soil that pushed them forward to such an early and awful maturity. Perhaps there is nothing in every point of view more injurious to young persons, than a profuse supply of pocket money in proportion to their circumstances and stations in life. It takes off every stimulus to industry, and every incentive to frugality; promotes a spirit of selfishness, pride, and contempt of authority; exposes to the snares of evil company; multiplies the wants, and consequently enhances the privations of future life, or leads to unjust means of avoiding them. David Haggart acknowledged, that although he was so much employed in assisting his father in his business, his education was not neglected. His father early instructed him in religion;-- but while pursuing a course of life so replete with temptations to vice, it seemed only like building with one hand and pulling down with the other. Children are not merely to be told the way in which they should go -- but 'trained up' to go in it;-- they should not only be brought up in the nurture, but in the admonition of the Lord. Discipline must be carefully exercised, as well as instruction diligently imparted. In addition to domestic instruction, David was sent to school, where he acquired considerable knowledge of English grammar, writing, and arithmetic. He appears to have been a sharp active lad, and was always the leader of his schoolmates, both in learning and in sports. He did not recollect ever losing his place in the class for deficiency in acquiring his lessons, but was often punished for playing truant.-- This is an offence which boys at school too seldom look upon in the light of a crime. Many a boy, who would feel ashamed of being detected in what he considered a mean dishonourable action, will speak with great self-approbation of the adroitness with which he managed an enterprise of this nature; and too often parents are found thoughtless enough to encourage such conduct by making a laugh of it, and even relating their own feats of childhood. A little consideration of the bad principles thus called into exercise, and the exposure of bad company incurred, would certainly check such erroneous conduct. At about ten years of age, the subject of this narrative was seized with a fever, and on his recovery did not return to school, but stayed to assist his father in his business, and thus terminated his education for a considerable time. A trifling accident having occurred at home, through fear of punishment from his father, he came to the resolution of quitting his house; and from that fatal hour he dated the commencement of his sinful career. Perhaps he might, with great propriety, have gone back to that in which he first slyly staid away from school, and spent the hours with sinful companions in forbidden sports. A boy who had never been guilty of disobedience and artifice at school, would scarcely, on account of a small accident at home, have taken at once the rash step of forsaking a father's house. Young people!-- the distinction is not unimportant; if you wish always to shudder, as you now shudder at the thought of the second step in vice, take care to shrink from the first. At this time David observes he had formed no wicked acquaintances; perhaps he confined this epithet to those who had taken the same flagrant steps in vice to which he afterwards attained. A well-taught youth will apply it to all who are capable of disobedience to parents, artfulness, and irreligion. Being of a bold and fearless disposition, even at this early period of life, he committed several depredations. The first of these was stealing a bantam cock, the property of a poor woman: young Haggart took a fancy to it on account of its great beauty, and offered to buy it, but the owner would not part with it; so he got another cock, set the two a fighting, and ran off with his ill-gotten prize. He also tried shop-lifting, and carried off the till of a poor woman. He knew and felt all this was wrong: but fully employed in vice, he took no time to be sorry or repent; beside, he falsely and wickedly argued that it was of no use for him to repent, for he must fulfil his fate. There is not a more dreadful delusion, nor one perhaps that the great enemy of souls more frequently imposes upon wicked men, than that of charging their sins and miseries on fate. Often have these dangerous sentiment been uttered, and still oftener indulged:-- 'It was my lot to get among bad companions, and so fall into wicked ways.' 'If I am doomed to go on to my ruin, it is in vain to strive against it.' 'If I am to be saved at last, something will turn up for my conversion.' What can have a stronger tendency than sentiments like these to harden men in their sins? Haggart's next adventure was in accompanying a lad, with whom he had been very intimate, on a visit to a relation, six miles from Edinburgh. They saw a pony grazing on the road side, when Haggart, feeling himself tired, proposed to mount the beast, and return home; his companion did not object, and they set off at full gallop. The animal was very restive, and threw them several times. On reaching home they lodged him in a donkey hut, and kept him there several days, until traced by the owner, who threatened to have them both punished, but was appeased by the neighbours. Haggart declared that he had no intention of stealing the pony, but having once taken the notion of getting a ride home, he was determined to avail himself of the opportunity, and was afterwards at a loss how to return the beast. Shortly after this adventure, be went to attend Leith Races, in May, 1813; he had no previous intention of committing depredations, but merely to idle a few days, and amuse himself. But 'Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do;' and David Haggart was not the first, who on a race ground was led into vices and follies of which he had no previous intention or idea. In the close of the week, being in state of intoxication, he fell in with a recruiting party at the races, and got enlisted in the Norfolk militia. He soon learnt to beat the drum; and afterwards to blow the horn; he liked the red coat and the soldiering well enough for a while, but soon became tired of it; he found the confinement disagreeable, and the pay too small for his extravagant ideas. In about a year his regiment was ordered to England to be disbanded; and having made interest with his commanding he got his discharge in Edinburgh and returned to the house of his father, who again kindly put him to school, where he continued almost nine months, and obtained a further knowledge of arithmetic an, book-keeping. He was then bound apprentice to Cockburn and Baird, millwrights and engineers, for the period of six years. 'I had now,' said Haggart, 'reflected on my past follies, and formed a resolution of following my new business with honesty and zeal.' He applied himself closely to work for about two years, and acquired the good opinion of his masters, and perhaps inspired his afflicted parents with hopes of his permanent reformation. At this time he was entrusted to pay in and draw considerable sums of money at the bank, and appears to have acted with fidelity towards his masters; but at length he contracted an intimacy with several very loose characters, and was often engaged in disgraceful adventures in the streets at night; but they were in some degree limited, by his parents imposing on him the salutary restriction of keeping early hours, as also by his ignorance of houses for the reception of stolen goods. The affairs of his employers becoming involved, David was thrown on his parents; idleness exposed him afresh to temptation, and he pursued his former ill-habits with wretched proficiency and success. He was very fond of company, and having now greater opportunities of gratifying his propensities, he continually frequented dances and raffles, where he mingled in the society of both sexes of the most dissolute character. In less than three months from the time that young Haggart obtained unrestricted liberty to attend his sinful pleasures, he found himself, at the early age of sixteen, plunged into such a state of vice and wretchedness, that his mind could not endure reflection. He spent whole nights in the streets, or in worse places; every thing he saw, or heard, or did, was wicked; his nights and his days were evil; he could not bear to look at his relations, and growing at last impatient of the restraint of living in his father's house, he formed the resolution of shifting his scene of action. Among his wretched associates, he had formed a great intimacy with Barney M'Guire, an Irishman, considerably older than himself; of a bold, enterprising spirit, of great bodily strength, and a most dexterous pick-pocket. Instructed by this veteran in the arts of wickedness, they agreed to travel to England together, and share the fruits of their unlawful occupation. It was when in company with, and encouraged by the daring acts of this man, that he first attempted to pick a pocket in open day-light; and be it observed, this attempt was made on a race ground, and on the person of a gentleman who had been very successful in his bets. Haggart was so eager on his prey as to pull out the pocket along with the money, and nearly upset the gentleman, who turned quickly round and examined his hands; but the booty was already passed to his companion in wickedness, and the gentleman appeared satisfied of his innocence, but said some one had picked his pocket. The produce of this achievement was eleven pounds. From Portobello, Haggart and his wicked companion proceeded to Jedburgh, and thence to Kelso to attend St. James's fair. They repaired to the ground soon after breakfast, where they continued until dark. Having observed a man who had some horses for sale, and who had a bulk, apparently notes, in his breast pocket, Haggart came up to price a good looking horse, while Barney acted as his assistant. A discussion arising respecting the animal's age, the jockey, eager to satisfy them, held the jaws of the animal and shewed his teeth, and while his arms were raised, Barney contrived to ease him of the contents of his pocket, which, however, contained only nine pounds. Haggart immediately requested to see the horse's paces, and on the jockey complying they made off when his back was turned. During the day they committed other depredations, particularly on a gentleman whom Haggart watched all day. Soon after Dumfries fair invited the attention of the young plunderers: here they remained three weeks; but M'Guire being already known there as an old offender, kept in close, and the prosecution of their scheme of plunder was committed to Haggart and a brother of M'Guire, and as he also was a well-known pickpocket, Haggart kept at a distance from him, and never spoke to him in the street. What a wretched thing must it be, that regard to personal safely compels these chosen companions in vice, these partners in the gains of iniquity, to disavow and avoid each other in the presence of their fellow-creatures! Beside collecting about seven pounds in silver, (perhaps much of it from persons whom the loss might sink into deep distress,) Haggart, observing a person going about in quest of change for a ten-pound note, followed him into the shop of a hosier, under pretence of purchasing goods, but in fact for the purpose of plundering the unsuspecting stranger. He secured his booty, and decamped; and the day following, started with his companions to Annan, and thence to Lockerby, where a fair was about to be held. Here, at an inn, they got themselves into company with a farmer and drover, both pretty much in liquor, and in consequence inclined to quarrel. Of these circumstances the villains took advantage. Haggart fanned the flame of contention, and urged them on to fight; at length they rose and stripped; under pretence of dissuading and separating, irritated them the more, and involved them in a general scuffle, during which Hagga