On the 22nd of April, James Greenacre was found guilty of the wilful

murder of Hannah Brown, and Sarah Gale with being accessary after

the fact. A long and connected chain of evidence was produced, which

showed, that the sack in which the body was found was the property of

Mr. Ward; that it was usually deposited in a part of the premises which

led to the workshop, and could without observation have been carried

away by him; that the said sack contained several fragments of shavings

of mahogany, such as were made in the course of business by Ward; and

that it contained some pieces of linen cloth, which had been patched

with nankeen; that this linen cloth matched exactly with a frock which

was found on Greenacre’s premises, and which belonged to the female

prisoner. Feltham, a police-officer, deposed, that on the 25th of

March he apprehended the prisoners at the lodgings of Greenacre; that

on searching the trowsers pockets of that person, he took therefrom

a pawnbroker’s duplicate for two silk gowns, and from the fingers of

the female prisoner two rings, and also a similar duplicate for two

veils, and an old-fashioned silver watch, which she was endeavouring

to conceal; and it was further proved that these articles were pledged

by the prisoners, and that they had been the property of the deceased

woman.--Two surgeons were examined, whose evidence was most important,

and whose depositions were of the greatest consequence in throwing a

clear light on the manner in which the female, Hannah Brown, met with

her death. Mr. Birtwhistle deposed, that he had carefully examined

the head; that the right eye had been knocked out by a blow inflicted

while the person was living; there was also a cut on the cheek, and

the jaw was fractured, these two last wounds were, in his opinion,

produced after death; there was also a bruise on the head, which had

occurred after death; the head had been separated by cutting, and the

_bone sawed nearly through_, and then broken off; there were the marks

of a saw, which fitted with a saw which was found in Greenacre’s box.

Mr. Girdwood, a surgeon, very minutely and skilfully described the

appearances presented on the head, and showed incontestibly, that the

head had been severed from the body _while the person was yet alive_;

that this was proved by the retraction, or drawing back, of the muscles

at the parts where they were separated by the knife, and further, by

the blood-vessels being empty, the body was drained of blood. This part

of the evidence produced a thrill of horror throughout the court, but

Greenacre remained quite unmoved.

After a most impressive and impartial summing up by the learned Judge,

the jury retired, and, after the absence of a quarter of an hour,

returned into court, and pronounced a verdict of “Guilty” against both

the prisoners.

The prisoners heard the verdict without evincing the least emotion, or

the slightest change of countenance. After an awful silence of a few

minutes, the Lord Chief Justice said they might retire, as they would

be remanded until the end of the session.

They were then conducted from the bar, and on going down the steps,

the unfortunate female prisoner kissed Greenacre with every mark of

tenderness and affection.

The crowd outside the court on this day was even greater than on either

of the preceding; and when the result of the trial was made known in

the street, a sudden and general shout succeeded, and continued huzzas

were heard for several minutes.

THE EXECUTION.

At half past seven the sheriff arrived in his carriage, and in a

short time the press-yard was thronged with gentlemen who had been

admitted by tickets. The unhappy convict was now led from his cell.

When he arrived in the press-yard, his whole appearance pourtrayed the

utmost misery and spirit-broken dejection; his countenance haggard,

and his whole frame agitated; all that self-possesion and fortitude

which he displayed in the early part of his imprisonment, had utterly

forsaken him, and had left him a victim of hopelessness and despair.

He requested the executioner to give him as little pain as posiible

in the process of pinioning his arms and wrists; he uttered not a

word in allusion to his crime; neither did he make any dying request,

except that his spectacles might be given to Sarah Gale; he exhibited

no sign of hope; he showed no symptom of reconciliation with his

offended God! When the venerable ordinary preceded him in the solemn

procession through the vaulted passage to the fatal drop, he was so

overcome and unmanned, that he could not support himself without

the aid of the assistant executioner. At the moment he ascended the

faithless floor, from which he was to be launched into eternity, the

most terrific yells, groans, and cheers were vociferated by the immense

multitude surrounding the place of execution. Greenacre bowed to the

sheriff, and begged he might not be allowed to remain long in the

concourse; and almost immediately the fatal bolt was withdrawn, and,

without a struggle, he became a lifeless corse.--Thus ended the days of

Greenacre, a man endowed with more than ordinary talents, respectably

connected, and desirably placed in society; but a want of probity, an

absolute dearth of principle, led him on from one crime to another,

until at length he perpetrated the sanguinary deed which brought his

career to an awful and disgraceful period, and which has enrolled his

name among the most notorious of those who have expiated their crime

on the gallows.

On hearing the death-bell toll, Gale became dreadfully agitated;

and when she heard the brutal shouts of the crowd of spectators,

she fainted, and remained in a state of alternate mental agony and

insensibility throughout the whole day.

After having been suspended the usual time, his body was cut down, and

buried in a hole dug in one of the passages of the prison, near the

spot where Thistlewood and his associates were deposited.

T. Catnach, Printer, 2 and 3, Monmouth Court.

TRIAL, SENTENCE, CONFESSION, & EXECUTION OF F. B. COURVOISIER, FOR THE

Murder of Lord Wm. Russell.

THE VERDICT.

OLD BAILEY, SATURDAY EVENING, _June 20th, 1840._

After the jury had been absent for an hour and twenty minutes, they

returned into court, and the prisoner was again placed at the bar.

The names of the jury were then called over, and the clerk of the court

said--“How say you, gentlemen, have you agreed on your verdict? Do you

find the prisoner Guilty or Not Guilty of the felony of murder with

which he stands charged?”

The foreman of the jury, in a low voice, said--“We find him GUILTY!”

The Clerk of the Court then said: François Benjamin Courvoisier, you

have been found Guilty of the wilful murder of William Russell, Esq.,

commonly called Lord William Russell; what have you to say why the

court should not give you sentence to die according to law?

The prisoner made no reply. The usual proclamation for silence was then

made.

SENTENCE.

The LORD CHIEF JUSTICE TINDAL, having put on the black cap, said:

François Benjamin Courvoisier, you have been found guilty by an

intelligent, patient, and impartial jury of the crime of wilful

murder. That crime has been established against you, not indeed by

the testimony of eye-witnesses as to the fact, but by a chain of

circumstances no less unerring, which have left no doubt of your

guilt in the minds of the jury, and all those who heard the trial. It

is ordained by divine authority that the murderer shall not escape

justice, and this ordination has been exemplified in your case, in

the course of this trial, by the disclosure of evidence which has

brought the facts to bear against you in a conclusive manner. The

murder, although committed in the dark and silent hour of night, has

nevertheless been brought clearly to light by Divine interposition. The

precise motive which induced you to commit this guilty act can only

be known to your own conscience; but it now only remains for me to

recommend you most earnestly to employ the short time you have to live

in prayer and repentance, and in endeavouring to make your peace with

that Almighty Being whose law you have broken, and before whom you must

shortly appear. The Learned Judge then passed sentence on the prisoner

in the usual form.

The court was very much crowded to the last.

THE CONFESSION OF THE CONVICT.

After the Learned Judge had passed sentence on the convict, he was

removed from the bar, and immediately made a full confession of his

guilt.

THE EXECUTION.

At eight o’clock this morning, Courvoisier ascended the steps leading

to the gallows, and advanced, without looking round him, to the

centre of the platform, followed by the executioner and the ordinary

of the prison, the Rev. Mr Carver. On his appearance a few yells of

execration escaped from a portion of the crowd; but the general body of

the people, great as must have been their abhorrence of his atrocious

crime, remained silent spectators of the scene which was passing before

their eyes. The prisoner’s manner was marked by an extraordinary

appearance of firmness. His step was steady and collected, and his

movements free from the slightest agitation or indecision. His

countenance indeed was pale, and bore the trace of much dejection, but

it was at the same time calm and unmoved. While the executioner was

placing him on the drop he slightly moved his hands (which were tied

in front of him, and strongly clasped one within the other) up and

down two or three times; and this was the only visible symptom of any

emotion or mental anguish which the wretched man endured. His face was

then covered with the cap, fitting so closely as not to conceal the

outlines of his countenance, the noose was then adjusted. During this

operation he lifted up his head and raised his hands to his breast,

as if in the action of fervent prayer. In a moment the fatal bolt was

withdrawn, the drop fell, and in this attitude the murderer perished.

He died without any violent struggle. In two minutes after he had

fallen his legs were twice slightly convulsed, but no further motion

was observable, excepting that his raised arms, gradually losing their

vitality, sank down from their own lifeless weight.

After hanging one hour, the body was cut down and removed within the

prison.

AFFECTING COPY OF VERSES.

Attention give, both old and young,

Of high and low degree,

Think while this mournful tale is sung,

Of my sad misery.

I’ve slain a master good and kind,

To me has been a friend,

For which I must my life resign,

My time is near an end.

Oh hark! what means that dreadful sound?

It sinks deep in my soul;

It is the bell that sounds my knell,

How solemn is the toll.

See thousands are assembled

Around the fatal place,

To gaze on my approaching,

And witness my disgrace.

There many sympathising hearts,

Who feel another’s woe,

Even now appears in sorrow,

For my sad overthrow.

Think of the aged man I slew,

Then pity’s at an end,

I robb’d him of property and life,

And the poor man of a friend.

Let pilfering passions not intrude,

For to lead you astray,

From step to step it will delude,

And bring you to dismay.

Think of the wretched Courvoisier,

Who thus dies on a tree,

A death of shame, I’ve nought to blame,

But my own dishonesty.

Mercy on earth I’ll not implore,

To crave it would be vain,

My hands are dyed with human gore,

None can wash off the stain,

But the merits of a Saviour,

Whose mercy alone I crave;

Good Christians pray, as thus I die,

I may his pardon have.

PAUL & CO., Printers, 2, 3, Monmouth, Court, Seven Dials.

TRIAL, SENTENCE, AND EXECUTION OF ROBERT BLAKESLEY,

For the Wilful Murder of JAMES BURDON, in Eastcheap.

This morning soon after eight o’clock, Robert Blakesley was executed

in the Old Bailey for the murder of James Burdon, on the 21st of

September, by stabbing him on the left side of his belly. The prisoner

was tried at the Central Criminal Court before Lord Abinger and Mr

Baron Gurney. Mr Payne appeared for the prosecution. Mr C. Phillips

and Bodkin conducted the defence. The Jury after an absence of half an

hour returned into court finding the Prisoner GUILTY. The officer of

the court then asked the prisoner if he had anything thing to say why

sentence of death should not be passed upon him?

The Prisoner: So help me God I am innocent of all intention to murder

James Burdon.

Proclamation was then made to keep silence in the court.

Lord Abinger, having put on the black cap, addressed the prisoner as

follows:--Robert Blakesley, you stand convicted by a jury of your

countrymen of the atrocious and abominable crime of murder. Though you

appeal to God to bear witness of your innocence, yet it is by human

tribunals that you must be judged. If you are innocent God will not

hear that appeal in vain, but we can judge only by human testimony,

and the means we have of investigating guilt. Upon that investigation

no doubt can be entertained that you are guilty of the crime laid to

your charge. You intended to commit another murder; the first person

whose life you aimed at taking away was your wife. You then aimed at

taking away that of the unfortunate man who became the victim of your

anger, and his life has been taken by you, who gave it not, and who

cannot restore it. You have, to a certain extent, by your remorse,

appeared conscious of your offence. It is impossible for me, sitting in

this place, to take any other notice of that remorse than to express a

hope that it may be genuine, and that you may, in the short time you

have to pass in this world, endeavour to make your peace with God,

whose laws in this life you have violated by your crime. An attempt

has been made to excuse you on the ground of temporary insanity. You

have had a merciful and deliberate jury, who have paid the greatest

attention to to the evidence adduced before them upon that subject,

and your own father, who appears to be a person highly respectable,

has come forward to endeavour to prove that, as far as he could do so

consistently with the truth on your behalf. But, notwithstanding, all

the inclination which the jury must have felt to yield, if possible,

to the anxious wish of your parent, we have all found it impossible to

doubt that you committed this act with malice, with deliberation, and

with an intention you had no right or authority to feel, much less to

execute. You have taken away the life of one of your fellow-creatures;

another, that of your own wife, still remains in jeopardy. What can you

expect from human tribunals but that the law should be executed with

the utmost severity against you? Its sentence, and I pronounce it with

pain and sorrow, is, that you be taken to the place whence you came, to

be thence removed to the place of execution, then that you be hanged by

the neck till you are dead, and that your corpse be buried in the place

of your imprisonment, and may the Lord have mercy on your soul.

The prisoner, who had preserved the same coutenance and demeanour

unmoved, was then taken from the dock.

THE EXECUTION.

The moment the culprit appeared on the scaffold, there was a yell

from the multitude, but he took no notice of it, but muttering a

few words in prayer, he was launched into eternity. For the first

couple of minutes, the wretched man struggled very much, to the

great gratification of the crowd, at the pain he was supposed to be

suffering. After hanging the usual time, the body was cut down, and

deposited in a shell, in which he is to be buried to-night within the

precintes of the gaol.

PAUL & CO., Printers, 2, 3, Monmouth Court, Seven Dials.

VERSES ON DANIEL GOOD,

Who was executed this morning May, ’42, for the Murder of Jane Jones

[Illustration]

Of all the wild deeds upon murder’s black list,

Sure none is so barbarous and cruel as this,

Which in these few lines unto you I’ll unfold,

The recital’s enough to turn your blood cold.

In the great town of London near Manchester square,

Jane Jones kept a mangle in South street we hear,

A gentleman’s coachman oft visiting came,

A cold-blooded monster, Dan Good was his name.

As a single man under her he made love,

And in course of time she pregnant did prove,

Then with false pretences he took her from home,

To murder his victim and the babe in her womb.

To his master’s stables in Putney Park Lane,

They went, but she never returned again,

Prepare for your end then the monster did cry,

You time it is come for this night you must die.

Then with a sharp hatchet her head did cleave,

She begged for mercy but none he would give,

Have mercy dear Daniel my wretched life spare,

For the sake of your own child which you know I bear.

No mercy, he cried, then repeated the blow,

Alive from this stable you never shall go,

Neither you nor your brat shall e’er trouble me more,

Then lifeless his victim he struck to the floor.

And when she was dead this sad deed to hide,

The limbs from her body he straight did divide,

Her bowels ript open and dripping with gore,

The child from the womb this black monster he tore.

He made a large fire in the harness room,

Her head, arms, and legs in the fire did consume,

But e’er his intentions were fulfilled quite,

This dark deed by Providence was brought to light.

To a pawn-shop the coachman he did go one day,

A boy said some trowsers he did take away,

A policeman followed unto Putney Lane,

The coachman and trowsers to bring back again.

When in searching the stable the body he spied,

Without head, legs, or arms, and ript open beside,

Then a cry of murder he quickly did raise,

And the coachman was taken within a few days.

And when he was tried, most shocking to state,

The evidence proved what I now relate,

That Daniel Good murdered his victim Jones,

Then cut up and burnt her flesh and bones.

He soon was found guilty and sentenced to die,

The death of a murderer on the gallows high,

The blood of the murder’d must not cry vain,

An we hope that his like we shall ne’er see again.

J. Harkness, Printer, Preston.

THE EXECUTION OF JAMES BLOOMFIELD RUSH AT NORWICH CASTLE, APRIL 23rd.,

1849,

For the murder of Isaac Jermy, Esq., the Recorder of Norwich, and his

son, I. Jermy Jermy, Esq., AT STANFIELD HALL.

Between 11 and 12 o’clock the bell of St Peter’s, Mancroft, tolled the

death knell of the criminal. When conducted to the turnkey’s room to

be pinioned he met Calcraft, whereupon he said to Mr Pinson “Is this

the man that is to do the business?” The reply was “Yes.” When he was

pinioned he shrugged up his shoulders, saying “This don’t go easy; it’s

too tight.”

Within two or three minutes after 12 o’clock the mournful cavalcade

proceeded from the interior of the Castle to the spot on which the

gibbet was erected. The chaplain, who headed the procession, read, as

he passed along, part of the burial service.

When the procession left the Castle gate to proceed to the gibbet, Rush

presented a most melancholy and dejected appearance. He was dressed

in a plain suit of black, wearing no neck-hankerchief. His shirt

collar was turned down. For about twenty yards he walked with a firm

unwavering step, but in a moment afterwards he raised his pinioned

hands to his face and trembled violently. He then removed his hands

from his face, and turning up his eyes to heaven, assumed the attitude

of penitence and prayer. On reaching the gallows the rev. chaplain

offered up a prayer. While this prayer was being read the condemned

convict seemed to be deeply impressed with the awful character of

his situation. Immediately on the close of the prayer he beckoned

to Mr Pinson, the governor of the Castle, when the following brief

conversation ensued:

Rush: Mr Pinson, I have a last request to make to you. It is

that the bolt may be withdrawn while the chaplain is reading the

benediction--“The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God,

and the fellowship of the Holy Ghost, be with us all, evermore.”

Mr Pinson: I will communicate your wish to the chaplain, and I have no

doubt it will be attended to.

The hangman then placed the unhappy convict under the beam on which he

was to hang, and affixed the fatal rope around his neck. Rush said,

“For God’s sake give me rope enough. Don’t be in a hurry; take your

time.” Then moving his head about, he said “Put the knot a little

higher up, don’t hurry.” The rev. chaplain proceeded with the prayers,

and on arriving at the words “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ,” &c.,

Calcraft withdrew the bolt, the platform went down, and all was over.

His death was greeted with loud applause by an immense crowd who had

assembled to witness the execution.

Good people listen unto my song,

And girls to whom honest hearts belong,

Pay great attention to what I say,

And by the wicked be not led astray.

Poor Emily Sandford was learned well,

Yet mark what to her fatal lot befel,

The serpent’s tongue caused the tears to gush,

For she was betrayed by James Bloomfield Rush.

She begged most pleadingly to be his wife,

And lived with him a most unhappy life,

And though the hot tears down her cheeks did flow

The monster heeded not Miss Sandford’s woe.

But seeing that she now was ruined quite,

She stood upon her feet in female might,

And with her pale hand stretched towards his face

Said, “God will curse thee for my deep disgrace.”

Forboding were the words Miss Sandford said,

For murderous thoughts were in the wretch’s head.

He set to work, and speedily did plan,

The death of servants, husband, wife, and son.

A five barrelled pistol he soon did buy,

And then a mask upon his face did try,

Put on his hat and cloak and pistols drew,

Within its fold a bloody deed to do.

For Stanfield Hall he quick did start,

And old Squire Jermy he shot through the heart!

And while the grey-hair’d man lay bleeding there,

He shot his son and lovely wife so fair.

Eliza Chestney to her Mistress ran,

Saying, “dearest mistress, who is this man?”

And, while she pressed her mistress to her heart,

A bullet pierced in a dangerous part.

James Bloomfield Rush was then to prison sent,

Miss Sandford against him a witness went,

She was well avenged--for on the gallows high,

The base seducer was condemned to die!

The Judge soon told him that his race was run,--

That he must die for murderous deeds he’d done,

To use the time that yet on earth was given,

In making peace with his God in heaven.

O had you witness’d the parting hour,

Of this wretched man and his nine children dear,

Your hearts would break to think that they might see,

Their father hung upon a gallows tree.

J. Harkness, Printer, Preston.

EXECUTION OF JOHN GLEESON WILSON,

At Kirkdale Gaol, on Saturday, September 15th, 1849, the Murderer of

Mrs. Hinrichson, her Two Children, and Female Servant.

[Illustration]

One of the most appalling murders which has for years startled and

disgusted society took place on the morning of Wednesday, March 28th,

1849, at No. 20, Leveson Street, Liverpool, at mid-day. A miscreant in

the most brutal manner murdered two unprotected women and two helpless

children.

In due course Wilson was committed for trial, which took place before

Mr Justice Patteson and a respectable jury, who, in less than five

minutes, returned a verdict of GUILTY.

On Saturday morning, a few minutes before twelve o’clock, the iron gate

leading to the drop was opened, and the prisoner appeared between two

priests--the Rev. Mr Duggan and the Rev. Mr Marshall. A general feeling

of horror seemed to pervade all present, which found expression in the

most distant part of the assemblage by bursts of execration.

Calcraft, the London executioner, was unable to be present from

illness, and the office was performed by Howard, from York, who was

especially brought to Liverpool by the Under Sheriff. The priests read

in English, the service of the Catholic Church for a departing soul

until the bolt was drawn, and the wretched culprit was launched into

eternity.

Thus terminated the life of one of the greatest criminals that ever

disgraced the human family. Upwards of 100,000 persons were present,

the railway company running cheap trains from all available parts.

THE LIVERPOOL TRAGEDIES.

Come all you feeling christians and listen unto me,

The like was not recorded in British history,

It’s of three dreadful murders committed, I am told,

By one John Gleeson Wilson, for the sake of cursed gold.

On Wednesday the 28th, consternation did prevail,

In Leveson Street in Liverpool, where thousands did bewail,

The fate of this poor family, who we’re left to deplore,

Snatched from a father’s fond embraces, who ne’er will see them more.

This monster in human shape did go there to dwell,

And that he went for plunder to all it is known full well,

And when this callous villain saw their defenceless state,

He did resolve them all to kill and rob them of the plate.

His bloody work he did commence all in the open day,

By striking at the children while their mother was away,

The servant girl did interfere, said, “should not do so,”

Then with a poker in his hand he gave her a severe blow.

Numberless times he did her strike till she could no longer stand,

The blood did flow profusely from her wounds, and did him brand,

Then the eldest boy of five years old, in supplication said,

“Oh master, spare our precious lives, don’t serve us like the maid.”

This darling child of five years old he brutally did kill,

Regardless of its tender cries, its precious blood did spill,

The youngest child to the kitchen ran, to shun the awful knife,

This villain followed after and took its precious life.

The surgeon thus describes the scene presented to his view,

A more appalling case than this he says he never knew,

Four human beings on the floor all weltering in their gore,

The sight was sickening to behold on entering the door.

The mother’s wounds three inches deep upon her head and face,

And pools of blood as thick as mud, from all of them could trace,

None could identify the boy, his head was like a jelly;

This tragedy is worse by far than Greenacre or Kelly.

To the hospital in this sad state they quickly were conveyed,

The mother with her infant dear, and faithful servant maid,

Thousands did besiege the gates, their fate for to enquire,

But in three days from incise wounds, both of them did expire.

’Twill cause the captain many a pang to know their awful doom,

His loving wife and children sent to an untimely tomb,

’Twill make his hair turn grey with grief, no skill their lives

could save,

And he did go, borne down with woe, in sorrow to the grave.

But now he’s taken for this deed, bound down in irons strong,

In Kirkdale Jail he now does lie, till his trial it comes on,

May God above receive the souls of those whom he has slain,

And may they all in heavenly bliss for ever with him reign.

J. Harkness, Printer, Preston.

THE EXECUTION OF FRED. GEO. MANNING, AND MARIA, HIS WIFE.

At Horsemonger Lane, November 13th, 1849, For the MURDER and Robbery of

PATRICK O’CONNOR.

This morning the last act in the tragedy of the Mannings’ was performed

on the roof of Horsemonger Lane Gaol, in the presence of an immense

assemblage.

The gardens in front of the houses opposite the prison, and from which

the best view could be obtained, commanded high prices, and were

occupied by persons of apparent respectability, and amongst them were

many well-dressed females.

A few minutes before the clock struck nine, the bell of the prison

chapel was heard to give forth the fatal toll, and those who had

collected in the vicinity of the scaffold were observed to uncover,

which was taken up by the populace below as a signal to do the

same, and to call for silence. Immediately the roar of voices which

had previously prevailed became hushed and still, and the mournful

cavalcade ascended the steps of the scaffold,--Calcraft first, then the

Chaplain, followed by the wretched man Manning, who ascended the stairs

with a firm step, but appeared pale and emaciated. He was dressed in

deep black, with a long frock-coat. The rope having been adjusted and

the cap drawn over his face, Mrs. Manning, the female partner in his

crime was brought up. She was dressed in black satin, tightly bound

round the waist, with a long white collar fastened round her neck. On

advancing up on the drop, and observing her husband at her side, as if

acting upon the sudden impulse of the moment, she seized his right hand

and shook it for several minutes. The hangman then hurriedly completed

his deadly preparations, the next minute the slam of the drop was

heard, and the dread sentence of the law had been accomplished. Manning

gave a few convulsive jerks, and all was over, but his wife had a long

struggle with death, and it was some moments before the immortal spirit

had quitted her body for ever.

THE BERMONDSEY TRAGEDY.

BY J. CLARKE.

Come all you good people of every degree,

I pray you give attention and listen to me,

’Twas in the county of Somersetshire where I was bred and born,

And my wife she is a foreigner,--with her must die in scorn.

For the murder of O’Connor we are condemned to die;

My wife she said I’m innocent of that sad tragedy,

But ’twas she who shot O’Connor and swore she would shoot me,

Unless I would assist her to bury his body.

Four months before his murder his doom was ready sealed,

His grave made ready under ground his body to receive,

He little thought his death so near when to the house he came,

But his death was plann’d all by our hands his money to obtain.

For murder and plunder they both were fully bent,

They shot him with a pistol, and to his lodgings went,

They got his cash and jewels and quickly did repair,

To hide the guilt for the blood they’d spilt--oh! what a wretched pair.

At the Old Bailey, London, the trial it came on,

They were arraigned before the judge and English jurymen,

The counsel for the prisoners they nobly did defend,

And tried to prove their innocence, this point they did contend.

After the trial, Mrs Manning said,

I do protest I’m innocent and been unfairly tried,

Though you’ve pronounced me guilty, and doom’d me to be hung,

More like a dog than Christian, to a being thus undone.

With rage and desperation the keepers by them stood,

And to their gloomy prison they quickly were removed,

The coolness and courage which they before displayed,

Had now forsook them for a time, and they look’d quite dismay’d.

This wicked woman taken was unto Horsemonger Gaol,

Her husband followed after, and very soon did feel

Contrition for his guilty deeds, and to his wife he wrote,

Begging of her to think how soon she was to meet her fate.

The end of poor O’Connor will long in memory reign,

And shew the vice and folly which followed in its train.

Oh! may it thus a warning prove to shun bad company,

Never like the Mannings commit such a tragedy.

Now in their gloomy prisons bound down in irons strong,

Awaiting for the fatal morn when they will meet their doom,

For the murder of O’Connor--oh! what a horrid crime,

Now they are both cut off in the height of their prime.

Stewart, Printer, Botchergate, Carlisle.

THE ESHER TRAGEDY.

Six Children Murdered by their Mother.

You feeling christians give attention,

Young and old of each degree,

A tale of sorrow I will mention,

Join and sympathise with me;

It’s of a sad and dreadful murder,

I shall quickly let you hear,

Which was committed by a mother,

On her six young children dear.

The perpetrator of this murder,

Mary Ann Brough it is her name,

And formerly as you may see,

She nursed the blooming prince of Wales.

But now her days of happiness,

Are vanished like the evening’s sun,

Good people all, both great and small,

Reflect upon the deed she’s done.

One night she could not rest in slumber,

So her own confession says,

Her little children, six in number,

Thus she took their lives away.

’Twas with a sharp and fatal razor,

She committed this foul deed,

And one by one she cut their throats,

Which causes each kind heart to bleed.

The first and eldest whom she murdered,

Sad and dreadful to unfold,

Was a sweet and blooming girl,

Something more than ten years old,

And in her wrath and indignation,

Thus she slew them one by one.

Causing death and desolation,

What on earth could urge it on?

One little pretty boy amongst them,

Of the name of Henry,

He cried aloud with eyes of pity,

‘Mother, dear, don’t murder me,’

She heeded not his prattling tongue,

But like a demon fierce and wild,

‘My dear,’ said she, ‘it must be done,’

And thus she slew her other child.

From bed to bed, and to each chamber,

This wretched woman she did go,

While all around her own dear children,

Streams of crimson blood did flow.

The dreadful sight was most surprising,

To behold these children dear,

How their cruel hearted mother,

Cut their throats from ear to ear.

Oh! what must be the woman’s motive,

Did she think she’d done amiss,

Or did she think of death and judgment

To perpetrate a deed like this?

But now the wretch she is committed,

To a prison’s gloomy cell,

Where midnight dreams to her will whisper

And her deeds of blood will tell.

Within the prison’s massive walls,

What anguish will torment her breast.

When phantoms of her six dear children,

Will disturb her of her rest.

Such a sad and dreadful murder,

On record there is no worse,

Committed by a cruel mother,

Once the Prince of Wales’ Nurse.

Confession of the Murderess.

The following confession was made by the murderess, to Mr. Biddlecombe,

chief superintendent of the Surrey Constabulary:-“On Friday last,

I was bad all day; I wanted to see Mr. Izod, and waited all day. I

wanted him to give me some medicine. In the evening I walked about,

and afterwards put the children to bed, and wanted to go to sleep in a

chair.--About nine o’clock, Georgy (meaning Georgianna) kept calling

me to bed. I came up to bed, and they kept calling me to bring them

some barley water, and they kept calling me till nearly 12 o’clock. I

had one candle lit on the chair--I went and got another, but could not

see, there was something like a cloud, and I thought I would go down

and get a knife and cut my throat, but could not see. I groped about in

master’s room for a razor--I could not find one--at last I found his

keys, and then found his razor. I went up to Georgy, and cut her first;

I did not look at her. I then came to Carry, and cut her. Then to

Harry--he said, ‘don’t mother.’ I said, ‘I must’ and did cut him. Then

I went to Bill. He was fast asleep. I turned him over. He never awoke,

and I served him the same. I nearly tumbled into this room. The two

children here, Harriet and George were awake. They made no resistance

at all. I then lay down myself.” This statement was signed by the

miserable woman.

J. HARKNESS, Printer, 121, Church Street, Preston.

EXECUTION AT NEWGATE OF WILLIAM COGAN,

For the barbarous and cruel murder of his own wife.

The execution of William Cogan for the murder of his wife took place

this (Monday) morning at Newgate. The circumstances under which the

crime was committed will be fresh in the recollection of the public.

The prisoner and his wife were in the habit of getting drunk, and

while in that state quarrels took place between them. They had been to

a funeral on the day the occurrence took place, and they both drank

freely, and when they got home they quarrelled. About two o’clock in

the morning he rushed into the street with his throat cut. The prisoner

endeavoured to make it appear that his wife had first cut his throat

and then destroyed herself. Ever since his condemnation the culprit has

continued to assert his innocence, and on Friday last, when he parted

for the last time with his father and his sisters, he again positively

declared he was innocent. The condemned man slept soundly his last

night. On the fatal morning the executioner, Calcraft, was admitted

into the cell a few minutes before eight o’clock, and the culprit the

moment he entered appeared to recognise him, and rose from his seat and

submitted to the operation of being pinioned with the utmost composure;

and just as the clock of St. Sepulchre’s church chimed the hour the

mournful procession moved towards the scaffold. The culprit was then

placed under the fatal beam and the rope was adjusted, and after the

executioner had retired he prayed most earnestly with the Ordinary for

a short time, and almost the last words he uttered were a prayer to

God to forgive him. The drop fell almost at the same moment, and the

wretched man, after one or two convulsive struggles, ceased to exist.

After hanging an hour, according to the terms of the sentence, the body

was cut down and placed in a shell and removed to the interior of the

prison.

The crowd that was assembled to witness the execution, was very great.

During the whole of Sunday afternoon the Old Bailey was thronged,

and crowds of persons had assembled so late as twelve o’clock at

night, some of whom remained until the period of the execution. The

officials of the prison stated that it was one of the noisiest and

most disorderly crowds they ever remember to have seen upon a similar

occasion. The moment the wretched man made his appearance on the

scaffold there was a general cry of “hats off,” and the upturned

faces of the thousands of spectators presented a most extraordinary

spectacle. The culprit was twenty-six years old, and he was apparently

a strong muscular man.

A COPY OF VERSES.

Come, all you feeling Christians,

Give ear, I pray, to me;

It’s of a dreadful tragedy--

Explained it shall be.

In London town it happened,

As I can truly say,

William Cogan, the barbarous murderer,

With a razor his wife did slay.

CHORUS.

Kind friends, now a warning take--

Poor William’s life is now at stake.

Oh! drink--thou cursed beverage--

What acts thou prompts us to do;

To make me kill my loved wife,

Just as a fiend would do!

I once had love, as other men,

But on my heart a brand;

Entangled with loose company,

Committed now I stand.

Heart-rending ’tis to know it,

My orphan’s left behind,

That had a fondling mother,

Who unto them was kind:

But now she’s dead and buried,

Gone to that rest above,

Where all is joy and happiness--

Blest with that sacred love.

Oh, cold and stormy was that night,

And fast the snow did drop,

When Mary Ann was forced to fly

All from her father’s cot.

Though thinly clad, with her chemise on,

Her shawl upon her swung,

“My God! my God!” she thus did cry,

As thus her hands she wrung.

Exposed to wind and weather,

In a passage there she stood;

Her limbs were shivering with the cold,

And freezing was her blood;

But then she dare not enter

Where her demon father lay,

Fearful lest, as her mother,

She might become his prey.

So now, kind friends, take warning,--

A lesson let this be

Unto those drunken fathers

Who think of nought but “spree;”

And pray may God have mercy,

And show it to him soon;

And prepare this wicked person

To meet his awful doom.

Taylor, Printer, London.

EXECUTION OF THE WARWICKSHIRE MURDERER, GEORGE GARDNER,

_For shooting his sweetheart, Sarah Kirby_.

The condemned criminal, George Gardner, a ploughman, on Monday suffered

the last penalty of the law at Warwick. The execution took place at

ten o’clock, before the county gaol, and was performed by Smith, of

Dudley. The murder was a most unprovoked and cold-blooded one, by

which Sarah Kirby, his fellow-servant, was shot dead while she was

standing at her washing-tub, on the 23rd of April last. Both she and

the man Gardner were employed at a roadside farm, on the confines of

the county, and she was a very good-looking, well-conducted, pious

girl. He was a very great blackguard and a sot. Soon after he went to

the farm where the murder took place she complained to Miss Edge, the

housekeeper, that he annoyed her very much by his attentions, and his

attempts to kiss her. Mr Edge, her master, hearing of this, called them

both into the parlour, and told him he must not repeat his conduct to

her, whereupon Gardner said, “Well, if I can’t have her, no one else

shall.” No further complaints were made after this, though there is

reason to believe he continued his suit. He amused himself by looking

at her as she undressed at night through a chink in the wall which

separated their bedrooms. The only complaint he had against her was

that she would not draw him the proper quantity of beer; but the truth

was that he wanted more than his fair share. On the morning of the

murder he was at work in the plough-field, his master being absent at

a cattle fair, and he made remarks to the other labourers which showed

him to be contemplating some act of violence, saying he wished he had

“some one” before him--he would kill them, and so on; but he appears

to have left his work and returned to the house without causing any

suspicion to arise in their minds that he was about to commit the

crime of murder. Having reached the house, he asked this poor girl

to fetch him his master’s double-barrelled gun for shooting rooks.

He had been in the habit of using it for this purpose before, and no

surprise was felt by the girl or by Miss Edge, the housekeeper, who

saw her hand the loaded gun to him, Miss Edge remarking, “Mind, it is

loaded, George.” He said, “Yes, ma’am, I know it is,” and tried it by

taking off the cap and letting the hammer down. Finding it all right,

he followed Kirby to the wash-house, and shot her in the back of the

neck. He afterwards threatened Miss Edge, and there is no doubt that if

she had not concealed herself he would have shot her. He then escaped

with the gun, and was taken by the police on his way to Oxford. Some

delay took place in the execution; and from the bad adjustment of the

rope or some other cause, the criminal died very hard, struggling much,

until at last he hung motionless in the air. The crowd contained a

large proportion of women, but was orderly in the extreme, and began to

disperse as soon as the drop fell. Gardner died penitent, confessing

his crime. The following confession was made by Gardner before his

execution:--“I did not want to pay my addresses to Sarah Kirby, but

she would never draw me the proper quantity of beer, and that vexed

me. I did not know the master was away on the 23rd of April, and the

witness who said I asked him where he was will have to suffer for his

perjury. I tried my luck in the field by throwing up the “spud” of the

plough, which came down with the point in the earth. If it had fallen

flat I should not have killed her, but as it came down point foremost

I left the field with the determination to do it. I should have killed

Miss Edge if I had got near her, and it’s a good job no one stopped me

before I sold the gun.”

VERSES ON THE EXECUTION OF GEORGE GARDNER, FOR SHOOTING SARAH KIRBY.

Harkness, Printer, 121, Church Street, Preston.

The solemn knell does most awful sound,

Oh God in pity on me look down,

Forgive my sins and compassion take,

And grant me fortitude to meet my fate.

Oh what numbers approach to see

A wretched man upon the tree,

My time is come, and I must be soon,

A prey to worms in the silent tomb.

When I was scarce eighteen years of age,

As ploughman to Mr Edge I did engage,

He unto me was both good and kind,

But murder entered my wicked mind.

She would’t give me beer enough for weeks,

When to take her life I a plan did seek,

I pointed the gun one fatal day,

And with the same took her life away.

When from my labour I did return,

To do her harm my heart did burn,

I took the gun right speedily,

But little thinking she was to die.

Though fellow-servants I did not her like,

That was the reason I took her life,

That was the reason I did her kill,

Maidens never marry against their will.

My bosom heaves and borne down with woe,

The grave lies open and I must go,

To sleep with death till the Judgment day,

When God will pardon me I firmly pray.

It was cursed Satan led me astray,

It was Satan tempted me one day,

It was Satan prompted my guilty mind,

So slay Sarah Kirby both good and kind.

Young men and maidens ere ’tis too late,

Oh take a warning by my fate,

Trust in your Saviour who reigns above,

And never kill whom you cannot love.

It was well for me had I never been born,

To die a death of public scorn,

In youth and bloom on the fatal tree,

Oh God in mercy look down on me.

Petitions have in my favour been

Sent from Warwick town to my gracious Queen,

But alas no mercy is there for me,

And I must die on the fatal tree.

Three weeks I have lain in a gloomy cell,

Where my dreadful sufferings no one can tell,

To gain me pardon my friends have tried,

But oh, alas, it has been denied.

LIFE, TRIAL, AND EXECUTION OF WILLIAM G. YOUNGMAN, The Walworth

Murderer.

On Thursday, August 16th, William Godfrey Youngman was placed at the

bar of the Central Criminal Court to take his trial for the murder

of his mother, two brothers, and his sweetheart.--Shortly after ten

o’clock the learned judge, Mr Justice Wilhams, took his seat on the

bench. The prisoner, who was described as a tailor, and 25 years of

age, was then placed at the bar. He exhibited perfect coolness and

self-possession, and did not seem in the slightest degree affected

at his awful position. The indictment that was proceeded with was

the one charging him with the wilful murder of his sweetheart, Mary

Wells Streeter.--Mr James Bevan said: I reside at 16, Manor place,

Walworth. The prisoner’s father occupied the top floor of the house.

On the 31st of July his family consisted of his wife, two little

boys, the prisoner, and the deceased. I understand the prisoner had

come to see his father on a holiday, and he would sleep there. About

ten minutes to 6 in the morning I was in bed, and heard a noise and

a heavy fall on the top floor of the house. I got up to see what was

the matter, and before I could get to the door Mr Beard knocked at it

and said, “For God’s sake come here--here is murder.” I went upstairs

directly, and when I got to the top of the stairs I saw the elder boy

lying dead upon the landing, I did not see anything more then, but

went down and dressed myself, and I then saw the prisoner standing in

his nightshirt on the staircase. He said to me “My mother has done

all this--she murdered my two brothers and my sweetheart, and I, in

self-defence, believe I have murdered her.” I went out and fetched

the police.--Susannah Beard said: Me and my husband occupied the back

room as a sleeping room. About one o’clock in the morning of the 31st

of July, I heard a noise overhead like something very heavy falling

on the boards of the bedroom above ours. My husband went out to see

what was the matter, and he called out “Murder!” and came downstairs.

He afterwards went up again with the landlord. I went to the door of

our room and saw the prisoner standing on the staircase. He said, Mrs.

Beard, my mother has done all this. She has murdered my sweetheart and

my two little brothers, and I believe in self-defence I have murdered

her.”

Philip Beard, the husband of the last witness, said, I had seen the

prisoner in our house a few days. I remember being awoke by my wife,

and I heard a rambling on the landing. The noise was like that of

children running about. I went out of my room, and I heard a slight

scream. When I got to the outside of my room, I saw some blood on the

stairs, and on the top of the staircase I saw the little boy lying on

the landing. His throat was cut and he was dead. I then saw the body of

the deceased lying a little beyond that of the boy. I did not observe

any other bodies at the time, as I was very much alarmed, and I went

down and called the landlord, and we went upstairs together; and I went

to dress. I then fetched a policeman and a surgeon. I saw the prisoner

upon the stairs, and he told me that his mother had done it all, and

that he had murdered her in self-defence.

After the further examination of a number of witnesses, who

corroborated the evidence already given, Mr. Best, in a powerful and

touching speech, addressed the jury for the prisaner.

The jury retired, and in about 25 minutes returned into court, and amid

breathless suspense gave a verdict of Guilty.

The judge then put on the black cap, and delivered the following

sentence: Prisoner at the bar, you have been convicted of the crime of

murder, and one of the most heinous ever committed, but it is no part

of my office to dwell on the enormity of your guilt. It is my only duty

to pass upon the sentence of the law, and that sentence is--That you

be taken to the prison from whence you came, and then to the place of

execution, and there be hanged by the neck until you are dead. May the

Lord have mercy on your miserable soul!

EXECUTION.

Tuesday, September 4th, was the day appointed for the execution of

Youngman, the perpetrator of four murders at Walworth. At an early hour

people of the lowest order began to assemble in the neighbourhood of

the prison, and by five o’clock every available space was occupied. At

seven o’clock the chaplain entered the condemned cell to administer

religious consolation to the criminal, and remained with him until the

time of his execution. In reply to exhortations addressed to him by the

chaplain, he repeated substantially the story he had always told as to

his share in the crime. The chaplain urged him not to leave the world

with a lie in his mouth. “Well, if I wanted to tell a lie it would be

to say that I did it.” He, nevertheless, conducted himself towards the

chaplain with respect, listened to him with attention, and joined in

prayer; but, beyond those mechanical observances, he showed no evidence

whatever of feeling.

The minutes which remained to him to live might now be numbered. He was

then conducted to a gateway; in which a corridor he had to traverse

terminated, and there, a few minutes before nine, he was pinioned. The

procession then formed, the gates were opened, the chaplain commenced

reading the burial service, and, so escorted, the convict proceeded to

the beam. On arriving at the drop and confronting the mass of human

beings he looked wild and startled, but, recovering his composure he

allowed himself to be placed on the drop, and, with evident fervency

and an audible voice, he followed the chaplain in a prayer, clasping

his hands in unmismakeable devotion. For a moment he paused to request

the exeeutioner, who was adjusting the noose, to pinion his legs, which

was done; and his parting words addressed to the chaplain--were, “Thank

you, Mr. Jessop, for your great kindness; see my brother, and take my

love to him and all at home.”

The drop fell, and he died in a few minutes.

H. Disley, Printer, 57, High Street, New Oxford Street.

THE WIGAN MURDER.

EXAMINATION AND CONFESSION OF JOHN HEALEY.

John Healey, who stands charged on his confession with having been

concerned with four others in the murder of James Barton, at the

Button or Bawkhouse Pit, Haigh, near Wigan, on the morning of the 3rd

of January, 1863, was re-examined at Wigan, yesterday. The confession

having been read over, Mr. Lamb asked the prisoner if it was correct.

He said: it is not all correct, sir. I own to it that I had liquor with

the men, but then I do not recollect where I went.--Mr. Lamb: But that

portion about the murder?--Healey: I can then recollect the men and

then getting drunk, but I do not know what occurred after.--Mr. Lamb:

Well, then, how was it that you made that statement?--A man may be in

drink and not know what he is doing.--Mr. Lamb: You were not in drink

when you made the statement.--The prisoner: No.--Mr. Lamb: Then how was

it you made it? The prisoner made no reply. Evidence was then tendered

as to the discovery of the few remains of Barton, but nothing fresh was

elicited. The only evidence bearing upon the confession of Healey, was

that of Jane Little, a collier girl. She deposed that on the morning

of the murder she was assisting to load a boat with coal at the Bridge

or Pigeon Pit, situated on the canal bank, between the Bawkhouse

Colliery and Wigan. The towering path was on the opposite side of the

canal to the colliery, and the path was lighted by a light on the pit

bank. About a quarter-past two she was in the boat, and a man, named

Jordan, was above lowering the coals. He was approaching with a full

tub, when she saw four men come in the direction of Haigh. Jordan was

just lowering a tub as they came near, and when the men saw him they

stopped suddenly by a heap of ashes. Whilst he was fetching another tub

they walked sharply past and over the bridge, where they waited till

Jordan had gone away again. The men had caps on.--Having been charged

in the usual way, the prisoner said he had nothing to say, and he was

committed for trial at the next Liverpool assizes.--The evidence of

Little is, so far as it goes, corroborative of Healey’s confession, and

as it was never made public till yesterday, there is no probability

that the story of the prisoner with regard to the four men can have

been manufactured from the newspapers or from hearsay.

Come all you wild and wicked youth,

Listen to me, I will tell the truth

For that sad and dreadful deed

Has caused my very heart to bleed,

I could not sleep or take my rest,

I compelled was to confess.

CHORUS.

Though justice strictly searched about,

They could not find the murderer out.

Two long years have gone and pass’d,

And I, John Healey, have confessed.

At last to my grief and sad downfall,

I was taken to Wigan Town Hall,

Where I had to face Justice Lamb,

To answer was I the guilty man.

John Healey is my name,

It was strong whiskey did my head inflame,

With four companions at their desire,

At Button Pit near Wigan

To thrust poor James Barton in the furnace flames of fire.

Though, &c.

A warning take young men I pray,

For fear like me you should be led astray,

For nights rambling is my downfall,

And strong drink is the ruin of all;

I have taken father,

The mother left orphans to deplore,

May the Lord have mercy on his soul,

They will never see him more.

Alas in Kirkdale Gaol I lay,

A-waiting for the trial-day.

Harkness, Printer, Preston.

EXECUTION OF PRISCILLA BIGGADIKE, at Lincoln, for the WILFUL MURDER OF

HER HUSBAND.

Priscilla Biggadike, who was sentenced to death at the recent Lincoln

Assizes, for the wilful murder of her husband by poisoning, at

Stickney, a village near Boston, in Lincolnshire, was executed on

Monday morning, at nine o’clock.

The unfortunate woman has appearod to pay considerable attention to the

ministrations of the chaplain, but she declined to make any confession

of her guilt. On Saturday, she was visited by a brother and three

sisters, who remained with her upwards of three hours, and strongly

urged her to confess, but still she refused, and at length became

passionate at their repeated entreaties. George Ironmonger, one of the

persons who lodged at her house, also applied for permission to to see

her on Saturday, but was refused.

On Sunday she attended Divine service in the prison. She slept well

during the night, and was visited at seven o’clock yesterday morning by

the Rev. W. Richter, the chaplain, who again, without avail, implored

her to confess her guilt. At a quarter to nine she was pinioned by

Askerne the executioner, and although she fainted under the operation,

she immediately recovered. Five minutes afterwards, the sad procession

left the prison for the scaffold, which was erected within the castle

walls, on the east side of the Crown Court, a distance of nearly 200

yards from the prison door.

The unfortunate woman, who was supported by two of the warders, moaned

piteously, and appeared to take little heed of the chaplain, while

reading the solemn service of the dead. On her way to the place of

execution, she said to the warders, I hope my trubles are ended,

and then asked, ‘Shall we be much longer?’ to which a warder gave a

negative reply. The service was brought to a close at the foot of a

drop, and the chaplain turning to the prisoner, asked her whether she

still persisted in the declaration of her innocence? whether she had

anything to do with the crime, in thought, word, or deed? In a firm

voice she replied, ‘I had not, sir.’ She was then accommodated with a

chair, and the chaplain addressed her as follows:--I have spent an half

an hour with you this morning, in endeavouring to impress upon you, a

proper sense of your condition, for you are about to pass from this

world into another, and to stand before God, to whom the secrets of all

hearts are known, I implore you not to pass away without confessing all

your sins; not only generally, but especially this particular one, for

which you are about to suffer. I had hoped that you would have made

that confession, and thus have enabled me, as a minister of Christ,

to have pronounced the forgiveness of your sins, under the promise

that Christ came into the world to save sinners. It has grieved me

much to find that still persist in the declaration, that you are not

accountable for your husband’s death; that you still say that you did

not administer the poison yourself; that you did not see any other

person administer it, and that you are entirely free from the crime. Do

you say so, now?

The Prisoner, still in a firm voice, said, Yes.

The Chaplain.--There is only one left, that you have endeavoured to

confess your sins to God, though you will not to you fellow creatures.

All I can now say is, that I leave you in the hands of God; and may

he have mercy on your soul. What a satisfaction it would be to your

children, to your friends, to your relations, to know that you had

passed from death into life, in the full persuasion that your sins

were forgiven you, and that you were admitted into the blessed kingdom

of God. I fear that I can hold out no further consolation to you--the

matter rests between you and the Almighty. Had you made a declaration

of your sins, I should have done what, as a minister of Christ, I am

entitled to do--I should have told you that “your sins though many were

forgiven.” I am sorry I cannot exercise that authority at the present

moment. I must leave you to God.

The condemned woman was then assisted up the steps to the platform, and

placed on the trap door. When the fatal rope was being affixed, she

stood firm without assistance. The cap was then drawn over her face,

and she the exclaimed “All my troubles are over;” then suddenly “Shame,

you are not going to hang me!” “Surely my troubles are over.” The bell

of the cathedral here tolled forth the hour of nine, at that instant

the bolt was drawn, and the wretched woman was launched into eternity.

W. Smith, Printer, Lincoln.

EXECUTION OF FREDERICK BAKER.

[Illustration]

This morning, the wretched criminal, Frederick Baker, suffered the

extreme penalty of the law at Winchester Gaol, for the atrocious

murder of Fanny Adams, at Alton, on the 24th of August last. It is

satisfactory to state that since his condemnation, the conduct of the

unhappy man underwent a total change for the better, and he began to

realize the awful condition in which he was placed, and his callous

demeanour was changed into one of deep dejection. The prisoner has

been assiduously attended by the chaplain of the prison, and to

such a state of religious feeling had he been brought, that he fully

acknowledged the justice of his sentence. The sheriffs arrived at

an early hour. When the operation of pinioning had been performed,

the wretched man thanked the chaplain, the governor, and the other

officials for their kindness. The procession was then formed, and

slowly took its way towards the scene of execution. The cap and rope

was adjusted, the bolt drawn, and the prisoner was launched into

eternity.

You tender mothers pray give attention,

To these few lines which I will relate,

From a dreary cell, now to you I’ll mention,

A wicked murderer has now met his fate;

This villain’s name it is Frederick Baker,

His trial is over and his time was come!

On the gallows high he has met his Maker,

To answer for that cruel deed he’d done.

Prepare for death, wicked Frederick Baker,

For on the scaffold you will shortly die,

Your victim waits for you to meet your Maker,--

She dwells with Angels and her God on high.

On that Saturday, little Fanny Adams,

Near the hop-garden with her sister played,

With hearts so light they were filled with gladness,

When that monster Baker towards them strayed;

In that heart of stone not a spark of pity,

When he those halfpence to the children gave

But now in gaol in Winchester city,

He soon must die and fill a murderer’s grave.

He told those children to go and leave him,

With little Fanny at the garden gate

He said, come with me, and she believing,

In his arms he lifted her as I now state;

Oh do not take me, my mother wants me,

I must go home again, good sir, she cried;

But on this earth she never saw thee,

In that hop-garden, there, poor child, she died.

When the deed was done, and that little darling,

Her soul to God her Maker it had flown,

She cannot return at her mother’s calling,

He mutilated her it is well known;

Her heart-broken parents in anguish weeping,

For vengeance on her murderer cried,

Her mother wrings her hands in sorrow grieving,

Oh would for you, dear Fanny, I had died.

The jury soon found this monster guilty,

The judge on him the awful sentence passed,

Saying, prepare yourself for the cruel murder,

For in this world, now, your die is cast;

And from your cell you will mount the scaffold,

And many thousands will you behind,

You must die the death of a malefactor,

May the Lord have mercy on your guilty soul.

What visions now must haunt his pillow,

As in his cell he lays now almost wild,

She points at him, and cries, oh tremble, murderer!

’Tis I, your victim here--that little child!

The hangman comes, hark, the bell is tolling,

Your time has come, nothing can save you,

He mounts the scaffold, the drop is falling,

And Frederick Baker fills a murderer’s grave.

DOUBLE EXECUTION AT DURHAM.

TRIAL AND EXECUTION OF M’CONVILLE & DOLAN

For the Murder of Philip Trainer, of Darlington, and Hugh John Ward, of

Sunderland, in the County Prison, at Durham, on the 22nd instant.

Yesterday the two murderers, Dolan and M’Conville, were executed

within the precincts of the goal at Durham. M’Conville, who who was 23

years of age, worked as a furnace-man at Darlington, and was convicted

of the murder of Philip Trainer, on the 30th of January last, Dolan

murdered a man named Hugh John Ward, at Sunderland, on the 8th of last

December. The two convicts left the condemned cell shortly after eight

o’clock, each supported by a couple of warders, and attended by the

Rev. Canon Consett and Rev. G. Waterton, Roman Catholic priests. A

procession, headed by the under sheriff, moved to the west wing of the

prison, where the scaffold was erected. The warders conducted the men

chained from their cells, and they were taken through the corridors

to the pinioning room, where Calcraft commenced his duties. Both men

submitted quitetly, and prayed unceasingly with the priests. Canon

Consett ministered to M’Conville, and the Rev. Waterton to Dolan. At 6

minutes to eight the prison bell began to toll, the hour had scarcely

struck before the outer door of the pinioning room opened and the

procession issued into the inner court of the prison. It passed along

a narrow passage between two wards and abruptly turning to the left,

come into the open work yard, where the low gallows was erected. In

passing across the yard neither criminal seemed to notice the slight

swelling among the cinders and gravel close to their path, which

indicated the spot where their graves already dug were lightly covered

until the tenants for them were ready. Close to the gallows Calcraft

stepped forward and conducted M’Conville under the beam. The criminal

was deadly pale, but with upright bearing and steady steps advanced

without faltering, Calcraft completed his work in full view of Dolan,

who shuddered perceptibly, but never ceased joining in the prayers

& responses with the Rev. Waterton. At length Calcraft finished with

M’Conville, and then conducted Dolan under the beam. In a few seconds

this convict was made fast to the beam, the Clergy and Calcraft crept

off the drop, and while petitions for mercy were spoken aloud by both

the victims, the bolt was drawn. Dolan died almost instantaneously, but

M’Conville struggled for several seconds. After hanging an hour the

bodies were cut down, and an inquest was held at eleven.

COPY OF VERSES.

A double murder we have to tell,

Most dreadful to relate,

Dolan and M’Conville named,

Who met an awful fate.

Philip Trainer, of Darlington,

Was by M’Conville slain;

And Hugh Ward, of Sunderland,

Dolan murdered in the lane.

Two Roman priests attended them

In prayer the night before,

Who begged for mercy from on high,

And their sad crime deplore.

At eight o’clock precisely,

The prison bell did toll;

Each being led and supported,

Under the warders’ controul.

Where the gallows was erected,

And loosened from their chains;

Their graves too was constructed,

To receive their sad remains.

Within the prison they met their fate,

Now according to the law;

And Calcraft performed his duty,

For crimes mankind abhor.

A black flag was hoisted,

On the prison walls,

Denoting all was over,

The death that men appals.

May the Lord have mercy on their souls,

For their most dreadful crime;

And a warning let it be all

To the end of time.

W. Smith, Printer, Lincoln.

CONFESSION AND EXECUTION OF SAMUEL WRIGHT,

For the MURDER of MARIA GREEN.

At an early hour on Monday evening the people began to congregate

in front of the gaol and in the public-houses in the vicinity of

Horsemonger-lane Gaol, but as the night wore on they gradually

dispersed, until towards three o’clock there were only a few stragglers

to be seen. About this time the last of the barricades was erected,

and every precaution was taken to prevent any disturbance. It had

been reported to the prison authorities and the police that an

attempt would be made to rescue Wright, and in consequence 500 of the

reserves from the A, C, H, K, L, M, and P divisions were on the spot

keeping the ground round the prison clear. The arrangements made by

Mr. Superintendent Bradford were well carried out by his colleagues,

Superintendents White, Bray, Payne, and Gibbs, and Inspectors

Silverton, Fyfe, and Turpin, As the hour for the execution approached

the crowd began to increase, but all maintained the utmost decorum.

At times men were seen pervading the place with a flag, on which was

printed in large letters “Man’s Cry,” and several religious extracts,

while some of them read aloud from the Scriptures. After them followed

a number of young men singing psalms, the tunes of which were taken up

by the populace.

As the hour of seven o’clock approached, the public-houses on each side

of the gaol were cleared of their customers, and the doors and windows

entirely closed, and at Mrs. Wrangham’s, the Masons’ Arms, a number of

policemen took their station on the leads at the back and front of the

house. When daylight began to break the morning was chilly, damp, and

foggy; but, as the sun rose, it became more cheerful, and it was then

observed that nearly every private house opposite the gaol had all the

blinds down, as close as if a person lay dead within. Very few of the

windows were occupied, and they seemed to be the inhabitants of the

houses. The gardens were kept clear by the police.

Great surprise was felt as the hour of execution arrived at finding

that there were so few persons to witness the awful tragedy. Many had

refused to stay, saying they would have no hand in the murder of John

Wright, and all felt that he was undergoing a penalty that ought to

have been remitted. There were not on the whole more than 4,000 or

5,000 persons present, and being scattered round the avenues leading to

the place of execution, there was no difficulty in walking about freely.

The unfortunate man slept soundly during the night, and rose about six

o’clock. He was visited by the chaplain, who remained with him to the

last.

Shortly before nine o’clock the governor of the gaol, Mr. Kean, the

sheriffs, Calcraft, and other authorities, entered the cell and

pinioned the culprit. They proceeded to the gallows, Wright walking

under the drop with a firm step, followed by Calcraft, a warder, and

the chaplain. He bowed to the crowd while the cap was put over his head

and the rope adjusted round his neck. There were then loud shouts of

“Shame,” “Murder,” “Disgraceful,” “Townley,” and other manifestations

of displeasure on the part of the populace. Wright understood the

feeling of sympathy in his favour, and several times bowed his

acknowledgments, raising his hands spasmodically.

The fatal hour at length arrived, but there was some little delay

before the doomed man ascended the scaffold. Since his condemnation he

has behaved throughout with great decorum, and has seen the members of

his family several times. The Rev. Mr. Jessop, the chaplain, has been

unremitting in his attention to the unhappy man, and his ministrations

have been received with the most happy results. Wright, it appears, was

brought up a Roman Catholic at a place called Cossey, in Norfolk, and

since he has been in prison he has received a letter from the Roman

Catholic priest of that place, asking him not to desert the faith in

which he was educated. Mr. Jessop asked him if he would like to see

the Rev. Dr. Doyle, a Catholic priest, but he was perfectly satisfied

with the instruction he was receiving from the chaplain. He took the

sacrament on Monday at his own request.

At length the fatal bolt was withdrawn, and in a few moments the

unhappy man was launched into eternity.

Wright saw his family and friends a few days ago, and took an affecting

leave of them. He has also written two letters, of which the following

are copies:--

“Jan. 10, 1864, Horsemonger-lane Gaol.

“Dear Mother,--I feel it my duty to write a few lines to you

before I leave this world, although it is under such painful

circumstances. Although I have not written to you before, you

know how I am situated. I never thought that I should add to

your sorrow. Dear mother, I call you by that name, for you have

been to me as one, and I may say I to you as a son. I received

a kind and welcome letter from Mr. Hazembeth, and was glad to

hear that my Cossey friends showed so much sympathy towards

me. It is a great crime that I have committed, and I feel that

Almighty God will forgive me, and then I hope to join them

that’s gone before me. Dear mother, it grieves me very much

to think that my dear children will be left fatherless and

motherless, but there’s one above that has promised to be a

father to the fatherless.

“Since I have been here I have been treated with the greatest

kindness, and I am visited daily by the chaplain, from whom I

feel great comfort. I have but a few hours longer to live on

this earth, and they will be taken up with reading and prayer.

Dear Polly is quite well, and I will leave you to judge my

parent’s care; I have seen them several times, but my dear

mother does not know that I am condemned to die. I have had a

great number of friends who have tried to save me from this

end, and have failed; but thank God, I feel quite prepared to

meet it. Dear mother, I conclude with my kindest love to you

and my dear daughter. May the blessing of God Almighty be upon

you now and for ever. No more from your unfortunate son,

“Good-bye.”

“SAMUEL WRIGHT.”

“Jan. 11, 1864.

“Dear Mother,--I feel that I must write a few lines before I

leave this world, as Almighty God has given me strength so

to do. Dear Mother, although I am present here under a heavy

crime, I feel as if the Almighty God had freely forgiven me,

after all my sins. And what a blessing that is to think that

your dear son feels so glorified--that he dies in peace with

God, where I hope to meet them that are dear to us. I leave

one with you, my dear child, in remembrance of me, and may

the Almighty God give you health and strength to bring her up

in the ways of the Lord. Dear mother, I feel as if I cannot

last but a few days longer, and now I again take a farewell of

father, mother, sisters, and brother, and wishing the blessing

of God Almighty may be upon you, now and for ever, amen.

“Father’s blessing and a kiss for his child.

“SAMUEL WRIGHT.”

He made a free confession of the whole of the shocking transaction. He

said he could not exactly say how the murder originated, but it was

something in this way: That he was asleep in bed, and that the woman

came and took him by the waistcoat and said he should not lay sleeping

there. Some words ensued, and she threatened to leave him and go with

some other man with whom she had previously cohabited. Upon that he

jumped out of bed, and as the razor with which he had recently shaved

himself was lying on the table he took it up and cut her throat. It was

all the work of a moment. The father, the brother, and the brother’s

wife saw him for about an hour on Monday, and he has also seen his

daughter, a little girl about four years old.

He was aware of the efforts that were being made out of doors to save

his life, and appeared to feel very grateful to those who took so kind

an interest in him. Mr. S. Gurney, M.P., and Mr. J. Phillips, one of

the visiting justices, waited upon Mr Justice Blackburn on Monday, and

had an interview of about half an hour with him, urging everything they

could in Wright’s favour, but he refused to accede to their request,

and said the law must take its course. Mr. Ebsworth, a surgeon, of

Newington, took a petition to her Majesty at Frogmore Lodge. While he

was presenting the petition to Colonel Knollys her Majesty passed up

the stairs, and he saw Colonel Knollys deliver it into the Queen’s

hands, but the answer he received to it was that the Queen could not

undertake to advise her advisers.

Taylor, Printer, Brick Lane, London.

THE EXECUTION OF JAMES CLITHEROE,

Of St. Helen’s, for the Murder of Mary Woods, this day.

[Illustration]

James Clitheroe, the culprit in this remarkable case, suffered death on

Saturday, in front of the Kirkdale gaol, near Liverpool, though efforts

had been made to secure a reprieve. The circumstances in connexion are

of a somewhat peculiar description. Clitheroe was a married man with

a family, but his affections appear to have been divided between his

wife and Mary Woods, a poor paralytic woman, who earned a living by

keeping a school and selling small beer. The prisoner was in the habit

of sharing the murdered woman’s bed, and as his neighbours knew of this

he was twitted by them, in the intensely acrimonious manner peculiar to

vulgar and uneducated people, as to “the poor cripple Mary Woods” being

_enciente_ by him. This seems to have annoyed Clitheroe very much,

and his mortification and chagrin acting upon a morbid temperament

prompted him to murder. On the night of the 28th of December last he

visited Mary Woods’ house, and went to bed with her as was his wont,

but early next morning he cut her throat and his own too, though the

wound was only fatal in the case of the woman. Later in the morning the

school children were unable to gain admission to the house as usual,

and, as no one answered the door after repeated knocks, an entrance was

effected at the rear of the premises, and an investigation took place.

In an upstairs room the police found Mary Woods and the prisoner in bed

together--the woman quite dead, and with her throat cut, and the man in

an exhausted condition, with his throat cut also. The blood upon the

woman’s throat was dry, and she had evidently been dead for several

hours; whereas the blood upon Clitheroe was fresh, and his wound must

have been recently inflicted, because the blood was flowing freely from

the arteries of the neck when the police first entered. The prisoner,

when asked what he had been doing, stated that he and Mary Woods had

agreed to cut their throats, saying, “We made it up to cut our throats,

She told me that the razor was in the drawer, under the looking-glass.

I fetched the razor, got into bed, and first cut my own throat.” The

prisoner never deviated from this account of the transaction, either

before or after the trial, but it must have been untrue in point of

fact, because the strong and irresistible probability is, that the

woman’s throat was cut at five o’clock in the morning, and that she

was dead several hours before the prisoner made the attempt upon

his own life. When the prisoner was on his trial, Mr Justice Willes

directed the jury that if the prisoner counselled, assisted, or

directed the woman to destroy herself, he was guilty of murder.

THE EXECUTION.

The culprit, who was pinioned by Calcraft in the usual way, struggled

hard. To the last he persisted in the story of suicide. The crowd was

not so great as had been expected.

After hanging the usual time, the body was cut down, and the crowd

soon after dispersed.

J. Harkness, Printer, Preston.

HORRID MURDER OF A GENTLEMAN, IN A RAILWAY CARRIAGE.

Another base and dreadful murder,

Now again, alas, has been,

One of the most atrocious murders

It is, as ever yet was seen;

Poor Thomas Briggs, how sad to mention,

Was in a first-class railway carriage slain,

Between Old Ford and Hackney Wick,

Which caused excitement, care and pain.

Oh, listen to this railway murder

Poor Briggs received the fatal wound,

Between Old Ford Bridge and Hackney Wick

And very near great London town.

They found a hat in the railway carriage,

Made in Crawford-street, St. Marylebone,

In which poor Thomas Briggs was riding,

On his journey to his home;

Alas, poor man, he little thought

That he would be deprived of life,

In the railway carriage, by a villain,

At ten o’clock that fatal night.

Oh, little did he think they’d kill him,

He had no thought he was to die,

Upon that fatal Saturday evening,

On the 9th day of July;

The villains in the carriage slew him,

For plunder Thomas Briggs was killed,

In a first-class carriage they did rob him,

And all around his blood was spilled.

Thomas Briggs was a faithful servant,

To Robarts, Lubbock and Company,

Three hundred pounds rewards is offered,

Soon may the murderer taken be,

And brought to justice for the dreadful

Deed he done, as we may hear,

And glad we are there is before us,

A clue to the wicked murderer.

They have traced his watch-chain in the city,

The very key, as we are told,

Stole from poor Briggs that fatal evening,

Albert curb, with swivel seal in gold.

Robbed of nearly all that he possessed,

He was, upon that fatal night,

Between Old Ford and Hackney Wick,

In the Railway Carriage in daylight.

This sad affair has caused excitement,

Far and near, for miles around,

And thousands to the spot are going

From all around great London town.

And on the spot they look with horror,

Where poor Thomas Briggs was killed,

They view with grief, with pain and sorrow,

Where his crimson blood was spilled.

Oh, God above, look down from Heaven,

Point the murdering villains out,

Let stern justice close pursue them,

Never let them roam about;

On him, or them, we all are certain,

Has on the brow the mark of Cain,

Thus ends the brutal horrid murder,

Which has caused such grief and pain.

On that fatal Saturday evening,

They left him in his crimson gore,

July the 9th, in a railway carriage,

Eighteen hundred and sixty-four.

[Illustration]

Murder in the Railway Train.

Listen to my song, and I will not detain you long,

And then I will tell you of what I’ve heard.

Of a murder that’s been done, by some wicked one,

And the place where it all occurred;

Between Stepney and Bow they struck the fatal blow,

To resist he tried all in vain,

Murdered by some prigs was poor Mr Briggs

Whilst riding in a railway train.

Muller is accused, at present we cannot refuse

To believe that he is the very one,

But all his actions, you see, have been so very free,

Ever since the murder it was done;

From his home he never went, but such a happy time he spent,

He never looked troubled on the brain,

If he’d been the guilty man, he would have hid all he can,

From the murder in the railway train.

Muller he did state that he was going to emigrate

Long before this dreadful tragedy;

He often used to talk, about travelling to New York,

In the Victoria, that was going to sea.

Mr. Death, the jeweller, said, he was very much afraid,

He might not know the same man again,

When he heard of the reward, he started out abroad,

About the murder in the railway train.

If it’s Muller, we can’t deny, on the Cabman keep your eye,

Remember what he said the other day,

That Muller a ticket sold for money, which seems so very funny,

When he had no expenses for to pay.

They say his money he took, and his name entered on the book,

Long before this tragedy he came;

Like Muller’s, the Cabman had a hat, and it may be his, perhaps

That was found in the railway train.

Would a murderer have forgot, to have destroyed the jeweller’s box,

Or burnt up the sleeve of his coat,

Would he the chain ticket have sold, and himself exposed so bold,

And to all his friends a letter wrote,

Before Muller went away, why did not the cabman say,

And not give him so much start on the main

If the cabman knew--it’s very wrong--to keep the secret up so long,

About the murder in the railway train.

When Muller does arrive, we shall not be much surprised,

To hear that that’s him on the trial;

Give him time to repent, though he is not innocent,

To hear the evidence give no denial.

Muller’s got the watch, you see, so it proves that he is guilty,

But like Townley don’t prove that he’s insane

For if it should be him, on the gallows let him swing,

For the murder on the railway train.

Now Muller’s caught at last, tho’ he’s been so very fast,

And on him they found the watch and hat,

Tho’ across the ocean he did roam, he had better stayed at home,

And hid himself in some little crack,

Tho’ he pleads his innocence, but that is all nonsense,

For they’ll hang him as sure as he’s a man,

For he got up to his rigs, and murdered Mr. Briggs

While riding in a railway train.

London: Printed for the Vendors.

CHASE, CAPTURE, AND ARRIVAL OF MULLER, FOR THE MURDER OF MR BRIGGS, IN

A RAILWAY TRAIN.

The clue to the murderer of Mr. Briggs was obtained as follows:--A

little girl, the daughter of a cabman, was playing with a small card

box, such as jewellers put small trinkets in, and upon exhibiting it

to her father, he remembered the name of the jeweller with whom the

chain of the late Mr. Briggs had been exchanged, and upon questioning

the girl, she said that Franz Muller had given it her four days ago.

Muller, who is a German, a tailor’s cutter, had previously lived at

the house of the cabman. The police were immediately communicated

with. On the box being shown to Mr. Death, he at once identified it.

Mr. Death then accompanied the cabman and the police to a cottage at

Bow, where Muller had lived, and upon seeing a photograph Muller had

given the child, he at once recognised the features of the man who

changed the chain. The cabman identified the hat found in the railway

carriage as the one he had purchased for Muller about four months ago.

Inquiries were made, and it was ascertained that the suspected murderer

had sailed for New York, on board the Victoria. Inspector Tanner and

other officers immediately started for New York, to await the arrival

of Victoria. The Victoria, after a passage of forty days, arrived on

the 24th of August, when Muller was arrested, and the missing property

found in his possession. After certain forms were gone through, Muller

started for England, Sept. 3rd, on board the Etna, and arrived at

Queenstown on the 15th.

On Friday evening, September 16th, Muller arrived at Liverpool. Upon

landing he was taken to the central police-station, Liverpool, and

there remained till seven o’clock on Saturday morning. To avoid the

crowd Inspector Tanner took the prisoner to Edgehill station. He was

taken to a private room till the arrival of the nine a.m. train from

Lime-street, when he walked between Inspector Tanner and Superintendent

Wide to the carriage. When the train moved off attempts were made at

groaning, but cries of “Good bye, Muller,” prevailed. At twenty-five

minutes past three o’clock on Saturday afternoon the Liverpool

express train drew up to the ticket platform at the London and North

Western Railway, near Camden Town. Muller was taken to Bow-street

police-station, and the charge formally entered against him by

Inspector Tanner.

What a consternation there has been,

And time has swiftly gone by,

What great excitement has been seen,

Since the ninth of last July,

In Eighteen-hundred and sixty-four,

When Thomas Briggs was slain,

And found welt’ring in his crimson gore

Upon the railway train.

When Muller did the dreadful deed,

He flew across the main,

But Justice followed him with speed,

And brought him back again.

It was to New York, in America,

That wretched man did sail;

And justice for one moment,

To find him did not fail.

They followed the Victoria ship,

Unto Columbia’s land,

Determined, if ’twas possible,

To take that wicked man.

While the ship was on the ocean,

The stormy winds did blow,

She could not get a headway,--

A murderer was below;

The passengers did oft remark,

We all must rest assured;

There must something dreadful have been done,--

A murderer is on board.

On the twenty-fourth of August,

The Victoria was espied,

And the officers of justice,

On board her quickly hied;

All things were planned so cleverly,

Just as it ought to be,

That Muller had not the least chance

From Justice for to flee.

They soon had him in custody,

All on the raging main,

And found upon the murderer,

Poor Briggs’s watch, ’tis plain;

Although the crime he did deny,

When the property was found,

The murderer was landed

Upon America’s ground.

In New York he was examined,

Then in the Etna, o’er the main,

They brought the wretched murderer

To England again.

News flew like wind the country round

Franz Muller had arrived,

They ran from every quarter,

To behold him they did strive.

Conversations on the murder,

Has by thousands taken place;

Though the circumstances are as clear

As the nose upon his face:

His flying to America,

Across the ocean wide,

They found on him poor Briggs’s hat

And the gold watch besides.

Franz Muller now is landed,

Once more on England’s ground,

A verdict of wilful murder

Against him has been found.

He has caused great consternation,

Great agony and pain,

And he must answer for the deed he done

All on the railway train.

H. DISLEY, Printer, 57, High street, St. Giles, London.

THE EXECUTION AND CONFESSION OF FRANZ MULLER,

For the Murder of Mr. BRIGGS, November 14th, 1864.

At two o’clock on Saturday afternoon Sir George Grey returned an

answer to the memorial presented to him, praying for a respite of the

convict Muller, by the German Legal Protection Society. Previous to the

delivery of his decision he had a long conversation with the Lord Chief

Baron Pollock and Mr. Baron Martin, which terminated in his arriving at

the conclusion that the memorial did not warrant his interfering with

the verdict of the jury.

Immediately upon the receipt of the letter, Mr. Beard, with Alderman

Wilson, proceeded to communicate to Muller the result of the efforts

that had been made on his behalf. They were received by Mr. Jonas,

the governor of Newgate, who conducted them to the condemned cell.

They found the prisoner engaged in writing. He immediately rose, and

extended his hand to Mr. Beard, who asked him how he was. The convict

said, “I am very well.” Mr. Jonas then informed the prisoner of the

efforts that had been made to save his life, and that Mr. Beard had

just received a reply from the Secretary of State, which he read to

him. At the conclusion the convict said, in a low voice, “I did not

expect anything else.” Mr. Beard then said to the prisoner, “Did you

know that any efforts had been made on your behalf?” The prisoner

replied, “Yes, I did think so.” Mr. Beard then said, “Have you any

statement that you wish to make?” The prisoner, “No, nothing.”

“Because,” continued Mr. Beard, “now that all has been done that can be

done for you, and there is no hope in this world, if you have anything

to acknowledge, you had better do so.” In reply to this Muller said, “I

should be a very bad fellow if I had done it. I have no other statement

to make than that which I have already made.” Mr. Beard then asked him

if he had made his peace with God. The prisoner said, “Yes;” and in

every respect appeared resigned to his fate. Mr. Beard then shook hands

with him, and said, “Good-bye Muller; God bless you;” The prisoner

returned the pressure of his hand, and was left to himself.

The prisoner on Sunday attended Divine service in the chapel, both

in the morning and the afternoon, and listened apparently with deep

attention to the discourse delivered by the Rev. Mr. Davis, the

Ordinary. He was visited in the evening by Dr. Walbaum and Dr. Cappell.

PREPARATIONS FOR THE EXECUTION.

Up to Sunday night Muller preserved the same quiet, firm demeanour,

and although he occupied some of his time in writing, he did not lie

down till considerably after his usual time, and slept but little. He

rose at five o’clock on Monday in good spirits, and was soon afterwards

joined by the Rev. Mr. Davis, the chaplain of the gaol, and the Rev.

Mr. Walbaum. He in every respect appeared calm and resigned to meet

his fate. He joined devoutly in prayer with the rev. gentleman, and

otherwise conducted himself in a manner becoming his awful position. A

little before seven o’clock he was visited by Mr. Jonas, the governor

of the gaol, to whom he extended his hand, and feelingly thanked

him for the kind attention he had received since his incarceration.

Calcraft arrived at six, but was not recognised by the mob, and thus

escaped the usual hooting.

Although the fixing of the scaffold was completed by four o’clock,

still the clang of hammers in putting up barriers continued till day

had dawned.

At five o’clock a heavy drenching rain set in, which had the effect

of driving the majority of those who during the night had taken up

positions, from their strongholds, and to hastily beat a retreat to the

now open public-houses and coffee-shops, as well as to other places

offering anything like shelter. At this time there could not have been

more than five hundred people actually upon the scene. But at six

o’clock the rain abated, and from this time the crowd was recruited by

an increasing flow of new comers.

At six o’clock the main body of police, under Mr. Inspector Duddy, was

stationed at the approaches to, and in the Old Bailey, and preserved

throughout the morning in the strictest order.

Soon after seven o’clock, Mr. Alderman and Sheriff Besley, Mr. Alderman

and Sheriff Dakin, and the Under Sheriffs, Messrs. Davidson and De

Jersey, arrived at the Sessions House, where they remained until

summoned to the prison by the governor. About twenty minutes to eight

they were informed that the condemned man would soon leave his cell.

Upon receiving this intimation these officials left the Sessions House.

A few minutes after this, the procession reached the door which opens

into the chapel-yard. Here they awaited the arrival of the culprit.

THE EXECUTION.

While the officials were on their way from the Sessions House to this

spot, Mr. Jonas had gone to the cell of the prisoner, and informed him

that it was time for him to leave. The prisoner, who was deadly pale,

trembled with emotion, but sought to bear the awful announcement with

all the fortitude possible. He rose up, shook hands with the gaolers

who had been principally with him since his incarceration, and with a

firm and rather quick step left his cell, accompanied by Mr. Jonas,

followed by two or three other officials. As soon as they left the

cell the shouts and cries of “They are coming,” “They are coming,”

“Hats off.” At this moment the most intense excitement and confusion

prevailed, in the midst of which terrible din reverberated the echoes

of the solemn knell, which, from its increased rapid tolling, indicated

that the mournful procession had gained the steps of the hideous,

cloth-draped gibbet. A moment afterwards Calcraft, the hangman, made

his appearance on the scaffold, and then withdrew to see that all was

right. He had no sooner disappeared than Muller, accompanied by the

Rev. J. Davis, chaplain, and Dr. Cappell, followed by other officials,

made his appearance. This was a signal for the renewed excitement and

clamour of the swerving multitude, who had largely, and as it were

imperceptibly increased, and whose upturned anxious faces met the gaze

at all points.

The culprit ascended the scaffold with a firm step, and placed himself

under the drop. He cast his eyes once up towards the beam, and his lips

quivered with emotion, but this he evidently sought to check. After the

cap had been drawn over his head and the rope put round his neck, Dr.

Cappell took hold of his hand and again prayed with him. This he did

for some minutes, and concluded by addressing the following words to

the now fast dying man:--“In a few moments you will be before your God.

I ask you, for the last time, are you innocent or guilty?”

Muller: I am innocent.

Dr. Cappell: You are innocent?

Muller: God Almighty knows what I have done.

Dr. Cappell: Does God know that you have done this deed?

Muller was silent.

Dr. Cappell: I ask you now, solemnly, and for the last time, have you

committed this crime?

Muller: YES, I HAVE DONE IT.

Almost at the same instant, and while the words were upon the lips of

the wretched man, the drop fell, and Muller died without a struggle.

Dr. Cappell nearly fainted.

Immediately after the execution the sheriffs despatched a communication

to Sir George Grey, informing him that the culprit had confessed. A

similar communication was made to Sir R. Mayne, at Scotland-yard.

* * * * *

The following despatch was immediately after the execution forwarded to

the Home Secretary:--

“Gaol of Newgate, 14th day of November, 1864.

“To the Right Hon. Sir George Grey, Bart.

“Sir,--By direction of the sheriffs I have the honour to

acquaint you that the prisoner Muller has at the last moment,

just before the drop fell, confessed to the German minister of

religion attending him that he was guilty of the deed for which

he suffered.

“I have the honour, &c.,

“SEPTIMUS DAVIDSON, one of the under-sheriffs.”

London: Printed for the Vendors.

LAMENTATION & EXECUTION OF JAMES LONGHURST,

At Horsemonger Lane Gaol, on Tuesday, April 16th, for the wilful murder

of Jane Sax, a little Girl seven years old, at Shere, in Surrey,

Terrible Scene in the Prison with the Culprit.

[Illustration]

James Longhurst was executed this morning, April 16, on the top

of Horsemonger-lane gaol. Since his condemnation he has expressed

contrition for his crime, and hoped that God would forgive him.

Notwithstanding, the prisoner appearing to be in a state of mind

becoming his awful position, when he was taken down from the condemned

cell to the yard to be pinioned, a frightful scene ensued. The moment

the culprit saw Calcraft, the executioner, approach him with the

straps to pinion his arms, he started back with an aspect of terror

depicted on his countenance, and began to struggle violently with the

turnkeys. The chaplain spoke to him and endeavoured to calm him, and

this for a moment appeared to have the effect, but upon the executioner

requesting that the culprit might be taken outside, as he could not see

to fasten the straps properly, another fearful struggle ensued, and

it required five warders to hold him on the ground while he was being

pinioned, and one or two of the turnkeys were very much hurt by the

kicks they received. The prisoner’s conduct seemed to be actuated by an

uncontrollable horror of the executioner and the apparatus of death.

After he had been secured he walked quietly by the side of the chaplain

until he arrived at the steps leading to the scaffold, and immediately

he caught sight of the gibbet his horror appeared to return. He again

struggled violently as well as he was able, and was forcibly dragged up

to the steps and held under the beam by several turnkeys while the rope

was adjusted round his neck, and as speedily as possible the bolt was

drawn, and after a few struggles the wretched youth ceased to exist.

Good people all I pray draw near,

And my sad history you soon shall hear,

And when the same I do relate,

I trust you will a warning take.

At Horsemonger lane on the scaffold high,

For a cruel murder I was doomed to die.

James Longhurst, it is my name,

I’ve brought myself to grief & shame

Through the dreadful deed that I had done,

At Churchill field, near Guildford town

It was in last June, the twenty-eighth

I did this deed as I now state;

An innocent child I there did slay,

And with a knife took her life away.

Poor Jane Sax, on that fatal day,--

A child scarce seven years of age;

In Churchill field I her did meet,

And shamefully did her illtreat.

Then coward-like I drew my knife,

To rob this helpless child of life:

I stabbed her in the throat--her blood did pour,--

Then left her welt’ring in her gore.

Then I was taken for this cruel deed,

And sent for trial, as you may read;

At Kingston assizes, tried and cast,

Oh, would I could recall the past.

She cried for help, did poor little Jane,

David Ensor to her assistance came;

Whilst I, a guilty wretch did stand,

And licked her blood from off my hand

The Judge said, James Longhurst, you are guilty found,

You will go from here to London town

And there you’ll die a death of shame,

And meet your fate at Horsemonger lane.

While I lay in my prison cell,

My state of mind no tongue can tell;

I could not rest by day or night,

Poor Jane was always in my sight.

My tender parents came to visit me,

My heart was breaking their grief to see,

Tears from their eyes did in torrents fall,

While for mercy to my God did call.

I hope that none will them upbraid,

While I am in my silent grave;

Farewell to all--the bell does toll,

Have mercy, God, on my sinful soul.

H. Disley, Printer, 57, High Street, St. Giles, London.

MILES WEATHERHILL, THE YOUNG WEAVER, And his SWEETHEART, SARAH BELL.

The prisoner, Weatherhill, was Executed at Manchester, on Saturday,

April the 4th, for the Murder of Jane Smith, at Todmorden, a

fellow-servant of Sarah Bell.

[Illustration]

Oh give attention, you pretty maidens,

A tale of love I will here unfold,

And you will say, when the same is mentioned,

’Tis as sad a story as ever yet was told;

Miles Weatherhill was a brisk young weaver,

And at Todmorden did happy dwell,

He fell in love with a pretty maiden,

The parson’s servant named Sarah Bell.

It was at Todmorden where these true lovers,

At the parson’s house, tales of love did tell,

And none on earth could be more constant,

Than Miles the weaver and young Sarah Bell.

Deep in each heart was true love engrafted,

They had sworn for ever to happy be,

No power on earth could those lovers sever,

They met in joy and felicity;

But they was parted, and broken hearted,

Separated was those true lovers far,

Those constant lovers adorned each other,

And love will penetrate through iron bars.

Miles Weatherhill was but three and twenty,

His mind was noble, he good did mean,

And Sarah Bell was fair and virtuous,

Young blooming, aged seventeen;

They would have married, but tales were carried,

Which caused displeasure, as you shall hear,

Miles was refused to meet his lover,

And she left Todmorden, in Lancashire,

She left her true-love quite broken hearted,

And to her mother at York did go,

And when such a distance from each other parted,

Caused them sorrow, grief, pain, and woe;

In a fit of sadness, overcome with madness,

He made a deep and solemn vow,

If separated from his own true lover,

He would be revenged on Parson Plow.

With four loaded pistols, in a fit of frenzy,

Miles to the Vicarage did haste forthwith,

And with a weapon wounded the master,

And shot the maiden, named Jane Smith;

To the lady’s bedchamber, in rage and anger,

Bent on destruction, with intent to kill,

He did illtreat her, with a poker beat her,

And her crimson blood on the floor did spill.

Oh, God, in mercy guide evil passions,

Thou seest all things from heaven above,

Three innocent lives has been sacrificed,

And one serious injured, all through true love,

If they’d not been parted, made broken-hearted,

Those in the grave would be living now,

And Miles would not have died on the gallows,

For slaying the maiden and Parson Plow.

Young men and maidens, you constant lovers,

If true and honourable you make a vow,

Be just and upright and oh, remember,

Todmorden Vicarage, and Parson Plow;

And all good people, oh, pray consider,

Where true love is planted, there let it dwell,

And recollect the Todmorden murder,

Young Miles the weaver, and Sarah Bell.

Miles and the true-love by death is parted,

In health and bloom, he the world did leave,

And his true love, quite broken-hearted,

For Miles the weaver, in pain do grieve;

At the early age of three and twenty,

In the shades below, with the worms do dwell,

On the fatal drop, he cried, broken-hearted,

May we meet in heaven, my sweet Sarah Bell.

H. Disley, Printer, 57, High street, St. Giles, London.--W.C.

TRIAL AND SENTENCE OF CONSTANCE KENT.

On Friday, July 21st, Miss Constance E. Kent was placed at the Bar of

the Salisbury Assize Court, charged with the murder of her brother,

Francis Saville Kent.

The Clerk of the Assize, addressing the prisoner, said: How say you,

are you guilty or not guilty? The prisoner in a voice scarcly audible,

said--Guilty.

A profound silence then ensued in court, which was broken by Mr

Coleridge, the prisoner’s counsel, standing up and saying, I desire

to say three things before your Lordship pronounces sentence. First,

solemnly before Almighty God, she wishes me to say that the guilt

is her own alone, and that her father and others, who have so long

suffered most unjust and cruel suspicions, are wholly and absolutely

innocent; and secondly, that she was not driven to this act by unkind

treatment at home, as she met with nothing there but tender and

forbearing love, and I may add that it gives me a melancholy pleasure

to be the organ of these statements for her, because, on my honour, I

believe them to be true.

The Judge, with much emotion, then said--Constance Kent, it is my

duty to receive the plea which you have deliberately put forward.

I can entertain no doubt that the murder was committed under great

deliberation and cruelty. You appear to have allowed your feelings and

anger to have worked in your breast, until at last they assumed over

you the influence and power of the Evil One. It remains for me to pass

the sentence which the law adjudges. The learned Judge then passed upon

her the usual Sentence of Death. During the passing of the sentence,

prisoner burst into a violent flood of tears, sobbing aloud.

Oh, give attention, you maidens dear,

My dying moments are drawing near,

When I am sentenc’d alas to die,

Upon a gallows gloomy and high.

Oh what s sight it will be to see,

A maiden die on the fatal tree.

I am a maiden in youth and bloom,

I a wretched murderer to die am doom’d,

And in the city of Salisbury,

My days must end on a dismal tree.

My little brother, a darling sweet,

That fatal morning did soundly sleep,

I was perplexed. I invented strife,

Fully determined to take his life.

To the dirty closet I did him take,

The deed I done caus’d my heart to ache,

Into the soil I did him thrust down,

Where asleep in death he was quickly found.

My own dear father they did suspect,

That he would suffer they did expect,

I was apprehended, but I got clear,

Tho’ I was the murderess of my brother dear.

Long, long I pined in deep distress,

At length the murder I did confess,

The vile Road murder, as you may see,

Committed was no one but me.

Farewell my father, my father dear,

I know for me you will shed a tear,

Yes, your wicked daughter in shame must die,

For that cruel murder on a gallows high.

How many maidens will flock to see,

A female die upon Salisbury’s tree.

Constance Emily Kent is my dreadful name,

Who in youth and beauty dies a death of shame.

I must go to my silent grave,

Father, is there no one your child to save,

Oh the awful moments are drawing near,

Father, forgive your daughter dear.

Oh, God in heaven, look down on me,

As I stand on the dreadful tree,

Forgive the crime, I, alas, have done,

Wash me with the blood of thy blessed son.

I must not live, I am bound to go,

I must be hurried to the shadows below,

My guilty heart long did quake with fear,

Why did I kill my little brother dear.

I see the hangman before me stand,

Ready to seize me by the law’s command,

When my life is ended on the fatal tree,

Then will be clear’d up all mystery.

Disley, Printer, High street, St. Giles, London.

LIFE, TRIAL, CHARACTER, CONFESSION, AND EXECUTION OF STEPHEN FORWARD,

For the Horrid Murder of THREE CHILDREN near Holborn, also of his WIFE

AND CHILD at Ramsgate.

Murder of Three Children by Poison, near Holborn.

On Wednesday, August 9th, 1865, the neighbourhood of Red Lion Square,

was thrown into a state of excitement owing to a report that three

brothers had been murdered at the Star coffee-house, Red Lion street.

It appears that on the Saturday, a man called at the above hotel, and

inquired if three children could be accommodated with a bed for a few

nights. Having been informed that there was one room unoccupied, he

said the children were aged respectively six, eight, and ten years, and

that accommodation would be suitable. He called again on the Monday

evening with the three children, and saw them to bed.

Half-past eight, when one of the chambermaids entered the first room

in which the two younger children were in bed, and to her extreme

horror found they were dead. She immediately raised an alarm, when the

proprietor and others entered the room in which the eldest child had

been placed, and there found that he also was in the sleep of death.

Medical assistance and the police were instantly summoned, the surgeon

firstly arriving, and upon his examination of the bodies, pronounced

life to have been extinct for some hours, the limbs being rigid and

cold.

From information gained by the police, it appears that the person who

left the children at the coffee house went by the name of Southey.

Murder of Mother & Daughter at Ramsgate, by the person who committed

the other Murders.

On Thursday morning, August 10th, Ramsgate was thrown into a state of

intense excitement by a report that a man named Stephen Forward had

committed a double murder in a dyer’s house in King street. It appears

that Forward, who was formerly a baker in the town, left Ramsgate

some eight years ago, leaving his wife and a little girl behind him

in a state of almost total destitution. On Wednesday evening Forward

suddenly appeared in Ramsgate, and made his arrival known to his wife.

On Thursday morning, about twenty minutes past eight, Forward went to

Mr Ellis’s house. His wife was there, having some breakfast with Mr

Ellis and his daughter. He was asked if he would take any breakfast,

but he declined. He sat down and commenced talking. Shortly before

nine Ellis went into his workshop, and while there his daughter told

Forward and his wife if they had anything to say in private they

might go up stairs. They both went up stairs, and had not been there

many minutes before the daughter of Forward went up with them. She had

hardly got there when Mr Ellis and his daughter were startled by two

rapid reports of a pistol, and on the latter rushing up stairs she

arrived at the landing just in time to see Forward’s daughter fall down

dead, she having been shot by her father. Miss Ellis then called out

to her father, who came in, and he saw Forward standing at the top of

the stairs. He said, “What have you done, Forward?” and seeing that he

had a pistol in his hand he called on him to give it him, which he did.

Forward at this time had a black moustache and dark whiskers on. Ellis

then saw the feet of Forward’s wife, and on looking over the table he

saw her head, and that blood was oozing therefrom. He told Forward

to sit down, and he then perceived that he had neither moustache nor

whiskers on. He asked Forward where they were, and he replied that

they were under the grate. He looked there, but could not find them,

and Forward then gave them to him. He then called out to send for the

police and a surgeon. Forward added, “Yes; send for a policeman.” He

was then given into custody.

At twelve o’clock at noon Forward was brought before the magistrates,

charged with the murder of his wife and child.

Previous to the calling of any witnesses, the prisoner, addressing the

magistrates, said: I have here a paper to Sir Richard Mayne, which I

hope you will permit me to read to you. I have a reason for it. If you

will grant me a favour, I think you will see that my reason justifies

me in asking it. Immediately I was brought to the station-house I

asked for some paper, a pen, and some ink, that I might draw up this

statement, but it is not finished. I also made a statement to the

inspector in charge. I inquired whether he had heard of the murder

of three children in London. My reason for asking this question was,

that previous to my being charged with this crime I was guilty of the

murder of the three children in London. I hope this may be taken as

a communication to Sir Richard Mayne, and also that it is made quite

voluntarily.

The evidence having been gone through, he was fully committed to take

his trial at the next Assizes for wilful murder, when he was found

guilty of the murders, and was EXECUTED THIS MORNING and died without a

struggle.

COPY OF VERSES.

Of all the crimes we ever heard, of all the crimes we read,

Sure none on earth did ever know, a more sad dreadful deed;

Five murders were committed--he with Satan did connive--

It was in the month of August, eighteen hundred and sixty-five.

The murderer’s name is Forward, he led a wicked life,

Living with a married woman, whose husband’s name was White;

She had four little children, three of which he vile did slay,

In Red Lion street, in Holborn, then he did from London stray.

The cruel murderer Forward, at Ramsgate had a wife,

She had a youthful daughter; but the murderer lived with White,

Who of his cruel usage, had cause oft to complain,

Not long ago she left him, and sailed o’er the briny main.

When he had killed the little boys, from London he went down,

Where dwelt his wife and daughter, in peace, in Ramsgate town.

He shot his wife and daughter dear, it cruel was, and sad,

And wanted to make it appear the villian, he was mad.

Five innocents he did destroy, how dreadful to unfold,

Mrs. White’s three little boys, his wife and child, were told;

The boys he killed in London, which caused great excitement round,

And his wife and lovely daughter he killed in Ramsgate town.

When Mrs White’s dear children he did in London slay,

He with a dreadful weapon to Ramsgate went straightway;

His own wedded wife and daughter, so maliciously he shot,

And thousands flocked from far around to view the dreadful spot.

For those five cruel murders, may the villian punished be,

And die a malefactor upon the fatal tree;

More cruel dreadful murders we very seldom hear,

And wonderful excitement it has caused both far and near.

H. Disley, Printer, 57, High street, St. Giles, London.

The Execution of Five Pirates, for Murder, which took place on Monday,

February 22nd, at the Old Bailey.

This morning, Monday, February 22nd, 1864, will long be remembered by

the inhabitants of the city of London, as one of the most remarkable

in the annals of hanging, by the execution of five foreign sailors,

viz.: John Lyons, Francisco Bianco, Mauriccio Durranna, Marcus Watter,

Miguel Lopez, _alias_ Joseph Chances, _alias_ The Catelan, for the

wilful murder of George Smith upon the high seas. The attendance of

persons to witness the execution was enormous, being greater than was

ever remembered by the oldest inhabitant in the City, and was much of

the same class as usually attend these exhibitions, with the addition

of a fair sprinkling of seafaring men. The prisoners have been very

assiduously attended by the worthy Priests of the Catholic persuasion,

to which creed the prisoners belong, and they had been brought to a

full knowledge of the enormity of the crimes which they had committed;

and to such a state of religious feeling had they been brought, that

they all fully acknowledged the share each one took in the horrible

crime, and recognized the justice of their punishment. The sheriffs,

with their usual attendants, arrived at a very early hour at the

prison, and immediately visited the various criminals in their cells.

The worthy priests who had been attending the criminals since their

condemnation, was in the prison the whole night, and were early in

their attendance on the unhappy criminals. After the usual formalities

had been gone through of demanding the bodies of the prisoners into

their custody, the executioner, with his assistants, commenced

pinioning the prisoners, which operation was quickly performed,

considering the number of prisoners. The arrangements having been

completed, the mournful procession began to move towards the scaffold,

the worthy priests praying fervently with the wretched prisoners, who

appeared to have been fully brought to a thorough state of penitence.

The prisoners ascended the scaffold in an orderly manner, and directly

they appeared on the drop, the immense multitude gave a deep and

loud groan, which seemed to make some of the wretched men tremble.

The executioner having adjusted the fatal ropes, and drawn the caps

over their eyes, left the platform, and the priests administered the

last parting words of scriptural consolation to them. The signal was

then given, the bolts were withdrawn, and the wretched murderers were

launched into eternity.

COPY OF VERSES.

Is there not one spark of pity,

For five poor unhappy men,

Doomed, alas! in London city,

On a tree their lives to end?

The dreadful crime which they committed,

On the raging, stormy sea,

By every one must be admitted,

They each deserved to punished be.

Five poor unhappy sailors

On the drop did trembling stand,

And their lives did pay a forfeit,

For their deeds on board the Flowery Land.

Sometimes at sea there’s cruel usage,

And men to frenzy oft are drove,

They’re always wrong by men in power,

And that there’s many a sailor knows.

But those unhappy seven sailors,

Did commit a dreadful deed,

Killed and slaughter’d, sad to mention,

On board the Flowery Land, we read.

Great excitement through the nation,

This most sad affair has caused,

Sent across the briny ocean,

To be tried by English laws;

Seven tried and there convicted,

And sentenced each to hanged be,

For the dreadful murders they committed,

When sailing on the raging sea.

For two of them they did petition,

Alas, there nothing could them save

Sad indeed was their condition,

To lie side by side in a murderer’s grave;

Far away from friends and kindred,

They unpitied on the drop did stand,

Sad was the deed that they committed,

On board the fatal Flowery Land.

Thousands flocked from every quarter,

Seven unhappy men to see,

Sailors from distant foreign nations,

Suspended on a dreadful tree.

The fatal signal soon was given,

The awful drop at length did fall,

It caused a groan--it caused a shudder,

May God receive their guilty souls.

May this to sailors be a warning,

The dreadful sight the world did see,

In London, that fatal morning,

The seven died on Newgate’s tree.

Was there not a tear of pity,

While trembling they in death did stand,

To die for crimes in London city.

Committed on the Flowery Land.

Their victims they did show no mercy,

No time for to prepare did give,

They kill’d them in a barbarous manner,

And though they were not fit to live,

We pity to them on the gallows,

Englishmen could not deny,

Now, alas, their days are ended,

They died on Newgate’s gallows high.

H. Disley, Printer, 57, High Street, St. Giles.

CONDEMNATION & EXECUTION OF LEIGH,

For the Murder at Brighton.

On Thursday, March 22nd, J. W. Leigh was indicted at the Lewes assizes

for the wilful murder of Mrs. Harton, at Brighton, on the 1st of

February, 1866.

The first witness, Charles Hastings, deposed--On Thursday night,

February 1st, I was in the bar parlour of the Jolly Fisherman tavern

with another person named Manuel, and Mrs. Harton, the landlady. She

was sitting near the fire, and furthest from the door. Prisoner came

into the bar with a revolver in his hand, and as soon as Mrs. Harton

saw him she ran to witness for protection. While coming towards Witness

prisoner fired the pistol at her and shot her, the ball grazing the

forehead of witness. Mrs. Harton fell on the shoulder of witness, and

asked him to save her. Prisoner followed her, and placing the revolver

within two feet of the woman’s back fired again. Mrs. Harton then left

the bar and ran down into the cellar. Witness went for a doctor.

Stephen Loveday, a dyer, deposed he was in the bar, outside the

bar-parlour, and saw the prisoner come. Prisoner fired at Mrs. Harton,

who ran down the cellar steps. Witness followed her, and found her

lying half-way down the stairs, groaning. He got her up stairs into the

back room, where he left her.

Serjeant I. Barnden said--From information I received, I went to the

Jolly Fisherman tavern about 11 o’clock on the night of February 1st. I

saw Mrs. Harton there wounded, and in a fainting state. I went out and

saw the prisoner standing in the street, leaning against a house near

the King’s road end of Market street. Some one told me not to go near

the prisoner, or he would shoot me. I went towards the prisoner and

said, “What’s all this about?” He said, “Stand off, or I’ll shoot you,”

at the same time bringing the pistol from his breast pocket. I said,

“Will you?” At that moment the pistol went off, and I closed with him.

I must have touched his arm at the precise instant, for the ball went

through my overcoat and trousers, so that it just missed me. I threw

him down, and several people assisted me to take him to the Town Hall.

After the examination of several other witnesses, the prisoner’s

counsel addressed the jury for the defence, and the judge having summed

up, the jury returned a verdict of Guilty. The judge passed the usual

sentence of death upon the prisoner, and he was executed this day in

front of Lewes Gaol, before an immense crowd of spectators, who came

for many miles round.

On the first of February,

In Brighton we see,

There did appear a murderer,

By name John William Leigh.

He led a dissipated life,

To wickedness gave way,

That fatal night he left his wife,

And he did her sister slay.

For this cruel murder he must die,

And end his days on the gallows high.

With a six barrelled revolver,

He went on Thursday night,

To the Jolly Fisherman, in Market st.,

To take away the life

Of the landlady, Mrs. Harton,

He was by Satan led--

Where her husband, Mr. Harton,

Had been ten months ill in bed.

He fired the fatal weapon,

Oh, twice he fired the shot,

His victim soon lay bleeding,

Upon that fatal spot;

Her husband, ill, ran trembling,

And there beheld his wife,

By the hand of a wicked murderer,

Deprived of her life.

John William Leigh, the murderer,

In Brighton town did dwell,

A very wicked troublesome man,

And many knew him well;

He, mad with desperation,

If he could but had his way,

The police, and all around him,

The murderer would slay.

In the American service,

A Confederate, he had been,

Though aged only twenty-eight,

Much villany had seen;

There is nothing now can save him,

For that atrocious deed.

Of such an audacious scoundrel

We scarcely ever read.