Chapter XXII: Part III (16)

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.

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.

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.

Leigh left his wife and entered
The Jolly Fisherman;
He looked just like a demon,
With the revolver in his hand;
He killed his own wife’s sister,
Alas! she soon lay dead,
And her poor afflicted husband,
Lay consumptive in his bed.

He had no consideration,
No pity in his breast,
His wicked desperation
Caused horror and distress
Confined in Lewes dungeon,
For a short time he must be,
Then for the Brighton murder,
They will hang the prisoner Leigh.

Leigh a native was of Brighton,
To the family a disgrace,
By every one detested,
Who knew him in the place;
She was his own wife’s sister,
Who received the fatal wound,
Which has caused such consternation,
Many miles round Brighton town.

C. Phillips, Printer, Market Street, Brighton.

BARBAROUS MURDER OF A CHILD BY A SCHOOLMISTRESS.

A child murder has been committed at Park Horner, in the parish of Hampreston, under circumstances of the most shocking barbarity. At the Coroner’s inquest it was given in evidence that the child had been beaten on the head with a heavy flint stone, and its tongue cut completely out at the root. It was found wrapped up in another part of a drawer where the body was discovered. The inquiry lasted four hours and a-half, and resulted, in the first instance, in a verdict, “That the child was born alive and murdered by someone.” The Coroner pointed out that the evidence was conclusive against Emma Pitt, the national school-mistress, who was the mother of the child; and he expressed his surprise that such a verdict should have been returned. The Jury after reconsidering their previous finding, returned a verdict of “Wilful murder against Emma Pitt.”

We have read of sad and dreadful deeds
Of mothers cruel and unkind,
But in the annals of history
Such as this we seldom find;
In the parish of Hampreston,
This deed was done we hear,
Near to the town of Wimborne,
In the county of Dorsetshire.

This Emma Pitt was a schoolmistress,
Her child she killed we see,
Oh mothers, did you ever hear,
Of such barbarity.

With a large flint stone she beat its head
When such cruelty she’d done,
From the tender roof of the infant’s mouth
She cut away it’s tongue;
Sad and wicked, cruel wretch,
Hard was her flinty heart,
The infant’s tongue from the body was
Wrapped in another part.

The murderess placed in a drawer,
And it there, alas! was found,
The news of this dreadful murder,
Soon spread for miles around;
And first upon the inquest,
She expected to get free,
Although she was the author
Of this dreadful tragedy.

A schoolmistress too, how sad to tell,
Well known for miles around,
Who had many children under care,
In and near to Wimborne town.
Oh, what a sad example,
To children she did set,
There was never such a cruel wretch,
As the barbarous Emma Pitt.

She committed is for murder,
Soon her trial will take place,
And if she is found guilty,
How sad will be her case.
If she has a woman’s feelings,
She surely will go wild,
She in such a barbarous manner killed
Her tender infant child.

The hour is approaching,
The moments near at hand,
When before a Judge and Jury,
This monster soon must stand;
And if she is found guilty,
She her deserts will get,
And mother’s, miles round Wimborne,
Will remember Emma Pitt.

H. DISLEY, Printer, 57, High Street, St. Giles.

FAREWELL TO THE WORLD OF RICHARD BISHOP,

_Who now lies under sentence of Death in Maidstone Gaol, For the Murder of Alfred Cartwright._

In Maidstone Gaol, I am lamenting,
I am borne down with grief and pain,
I for my deeds am now repenting,
I shall Sydenham never see again;
I have been tried for wilful murder,
No power on earth can me now save,
I am doomed to die, my time’s approaching,
And I must lie in a silent grave.

Now I, alas! must die for murder,
Oh, how awful is my doom,
Richard Bishop, one and twenty,
In youth and vigour, health and bloom.

Alfred Cartwright was my neighbour,
We both at Forest Hill did dwell,
Alfred, servant was at the Swiss Cottage,
Where he was respected well;
I went with others to annoy him,
It was upon that fatal night,
Ere he returned from his day’s labour.
Unto his home and loving wife.

I never did intend to kill him,
Why should I my neighbour slay,
He never gave me any reason,
To take his youthful life away?
I was given in charge, and in a passion,
I drew the awful, deadly knife,
And plunged it in poor Alfred’s body,
And there deprived him of his life.

The solemn funeral of my victim,
Caused consternation miles around,
Thousands flocked from every quarter,
The funeral dirge did mournful sound;
Poor Alfred, to his grave respected,
Proceeded by a solemn band,
And I must die upon the gallows,
A wicked and degraded man.

Farewell, vain world, I now must leave you,
Farewell, my friends and neighbours all,
Around Forest Hill no more you’ll see me,
The hangman’s voice on me does call;
Saying, Richard Bishop, now be ready,
To die upon the fatal tree,
Oh, aged only one and twenty,
What a dreadful sight to see.

Poor Alfred’s friends, will you forgive me,
His father, mother, tender wife,
I him did kill, his blood did spill,
And I pay a forfeit with my life?
And God, look down from heaven upon me,
Forgive the crime that I have done.
I see grim death standing before me,
Saying, Richard Bishop’s glass is run.

Oh, pray, young men, by me take warning,
Remember me and what I done,
Ponder, yes, oh! and consider,
Let passion you not overcome;
I did the deed in the heighth of passion,
I had no animosity.
Little thought my tender parents,
I should die upon a gallows tree.

When the Judge did pass the awful sentence
Saying, Richard Bishop, you must die,
For the murder of young Alfred Cartwright,
On Maidstone’s tree so awful high;
Oh think, dear friends, what was my feelings,
Sad and wretched and forlorn,
Doomed at the age of one and twenty,
To die a dreadful death of scorn.

H. Disley, Printer, 57, High street, St. Giles, London.

LAMENTATION OF J. MAPP,

_Who now lies under Sentence of Death in Shrewsbury Gaol, for the Murder of Catherine Lewis._

On Monday, March 23, at the Shrewsbury Assizes, John Mapp, a labourer, was placed at the bar, charged with the wilful murder of Catherine Lewis, on the 22nd of December, 1867, at the parish of Longden.

Jane Richards deposed that after leaving chapel she accompanied deceased and John Mapp as far as Wood Farm, where she left them together going down Long lane.

Edward Lewis, the father of the deceased, deposed to Mrs. Hutchins bringing him his daughter’s hat covered with blood. I at once started in search through several fields till I saw a hovel. There were marks at the door as if something had been dragged along, and on entering saw the body of my child in a little bin, covered with straw and loose litter.

Mr. Harris, surgeon: I made a _post mortem_ examination of deceased. I found a shawl tied round her neck, and about eight inches shoved tightly into her mouth. There were five incisions on the right side of the throat, finishing in one deep wound on the left. The windpipe was cut through. I attribute her death to loss of blood and suffocation.

Edward Jones, police-constable, produced a brooch belonging to deceased, which was found on the prisoner when he took him into custody.

John Aston, a waggoner, deposed to finding the hat of the deceased in a holly bush.

Mrs. Davies: I reside at Longden. I knew the deceased. The brooch produced is the one she wore.

The counsel for the prisoner then proceeded to address the Jury for the defence, and the counsel for the prosecution having replied,

The Judge then summed up, and the Jury without retiring from the box returned a verdict of Guilty. The usual Sentence of Death was then pronounced upon the prisoner.

John Mapp, in Shrewsbury, does now bewail,
Doomed to die for murder in a dreary gaol;
Such a dreadful murder, as you may see,
Which we may compare to the Alton tragedy.

In Shrewsbury Gaol, now in grief do lie,
John Mapp, the murderer, condemned to die.

The cruel monster was not afraid,
To kill a youthful and innocent maid.
Little Catherine Lewis on a Sunday night,
Mapp, without a reason, deprived of life.

Returning home from chapel, he embraced her fast,
’Twas the twenty-second of December last;
He cut and mangled her, took her from the road,
And her murdered body in the hovel throwed.

Oh! how could any one so vile engage,
To kill a child but nine years of age;
Her clothes he scattered over ditch and field,
For which he finds now his fate is sealed.

The child was missed--news spread far and wide,
John Mapp was questioned, he the deed denied,
He prevaricated--untruths did state,
And he must meet his untimely fate.

Little Kitty’s brooch that was found on Mapp,
And he took her ribbon from her Sunday hat;
He had a heart harder far than steel,
He was quite composed, working in the field.

Mapp was apprehended and sent to gaol,
And in a dungeon does now bewail;
On the tree a forfeit he must pay, his life,
His murdered victim haunts him day and night.

Now Mapp is cast and condemned to die,
Although the murder he does now deny;
The jury found him guilty, the case was clear,
And his last moments are drawing near.

How sad and dreadful it is to state,
The horrid murders that have been of late;
In every quarter both far and near,
Such atrocious deeds before this no one did hear.

Little Catherine Lewis, as I unfold,
Was but a little more than nine years old,
Innocent and charming, pious and kind,
Sweet disposition, and amiable mind.

What motive could the horrid murderer have,
To send the child to an early grave?
It was not for lucre, he could nothing gain,
To cause such horror, such grief and pain.

When he appears on the fatal tree,
Not a a spark of pity will there be for he;
He must die a murderer, nothing can him save,
Aged thirty-five, lie in a murderer’s grave.

H. Disley, Printer, 57, High Street, St. Giles, London.

LAMENTATION OF H. LINGLEY.

Within a dungeon in Norwich gaol,
One Hubbard Lingley in grief bewails,
His own kind uncle he did kill and slay,
On a Friday morning in the month of May.
For that cruel murder he’s doomed to die
On Norwich fatal sad gallows high.

He is doomed to suffer as I relate
On the very tree where Rush met his fate
In health, in vigour, in youth and bloom,
The murderer Lingley must meet his doom.

In the morning early at four o’clock
He fired a sad and dreadful shot
Which caused his uncle’s fatal death wound
Where he fell bleeding upon the ground.

A kind good uncle as may be seen
To his wicked nephew he had been;
Reared him up tenderly and used him well,
And in his cottage with him to dwell.

But he resolved he his blood would spill
His uncle Benjamin he wished to kill;
On Friday morn, the seventeenth of May,
The nephew did his kind uncle slay.

Early in the morning, at four o’clock,
To attract his uncle he fired a shot
And by that spot received the fatal wound.
The murderer flew and left him on the ground

Some labouring men who were passers by,
Saw the murdered in his blood to lie;
Suspicion did on his nephew fall,
And innocent blood did for vengeance call.

Many excuses did Lingley make,
Not having courage to meet his fate;
He before a jury for the deed was tried,
And condemned to suffer on the gallows high.

Hubbard Lingley thought when his uncle died
His place to him would not be denied;
So he was determined to kill and slay,
His uncle dear the seventeenth day of May.

He is doomed to die, nothing can him save,
By the side of Rush in a murderer’s grave;
His bones will moulder till the Judgment day,
How could he take his uncle’s life away?

At Norwich castle he was tried and cast
And his last moments approaching fast;
The hangman anxious does now await
To terminate Hubbard Lingley’s fate.

Oh! all young men a warning take
Think and consider ere it is too late;
How could he dare lift his murderous hand.
Base, vile, ungrateful, and cruel man.

H. Disley, Printer, 57, High-street, St. Giles.

TRIAL, CHARACTER, CONFESSION, BEHAVIOUR, & EXECUTION OF ALICE HOLT,

In front of Chester Gaol, this day, for the Wicked Murder of her own Mother.

This day the extreme sentence of the law was carried into effect on Alice Holt, at Chester Gaol, for the murder of her mother by poison. The evidence at the trial showed that prisoner, her mother, and a man named Holt, with whom she cohabited, lived together at Stockport. In February last the deceased, Mary Bailey, was taken ill, and the prisoner insured her life for £26, at a premium of 6d. per week. She induced a woman named Betty Wood to personate her mother before the doctor, telling her that the agent said “Any one would do.” The proposal was accepted by the Wesleyan Assurance Society, and from that time the mother became worse. Prisoner called in the parish surgeon and the infirmary visiting officer, both of whom were ignorant of the other’s visits, and complained of their medicine not being given. On the 25th and 26th the prisoner bought some arsenic--a quarter of a pound each time--which she put in a jug with some boiling water, and sprinkled about the room where her mother lay to kill vermin. The night of the 26th deceased had some brandy-and-water, and complained of “grounds” being at the bottom. Prisoner said, “You ought to have drunk grounds and all.” Mary Bailey died in the morning with all the symptoms of arsenical poison, and was buried. The personation came to the ears of the office, and the body was disinterred, when it was found perfectly fresh, but “saturated with arsenic,” of which no less than 160 grains were found in the stomach and adjacent parts.

The unfortunate woman was not tried at the Summer Assizes, in consequence of her being in the family-way. The child has since been adopted by Holt’s uncle, the only person who has visited her since during her imprisonment. She has been sullen, and strongly protested her innocence.

CONFESSION.

On Sunday, the prisoner made the following statement:--On the Monday before mother died, I brought the insurance paper home, insuring my mother’s life for £26, and mine for £28. He then proposed I should get some charcoal and put it under mother’s bed alight, when she was asleep, and she would never wake more. On Wednesday night Holt and I never went to bed. He said it would be a great releasement if she was in her grave, and he would buy some stretchnine (strychnine) if I would give it her. I said, “Thou’lt be found out.” He said, “They cannot find it out by that.” I said, “Thou hast brought me to destruction, and now thou wants to bring me to the gallows.” He then beat me. In the beer of which I spoke, I saw, after my mother had drank it, a quantity of blue arsenic grounds. I said, “Thou hast given my mother arsenic.” He said, “If thou tell aught, I will have thee up for defrauding the insurance,” and said, “Nobody will believe but what thou hast done it thyself.” This was the only arsenic my mother ever had.--Another statement was afterwards made by the prisoner.

THE EXECUTION

Took place this morning. When near the drop her courage failed her, and she was half dragged, half carried to the scaffold. On the platform she fell on her knees, and moaned piteously, “The Lord have mercy upon me,” which she continued to do whilst Calcraft pulled the bolt. The drop fell, and the culprit was launched into eternity before a great many people, particularly women-folks.

COPY OF VERSES.

A dreadful case of murder,
Such as we seldom hear,
Committed was at Stockport,
In the County of Cheshire.
Where a mother, named Mary Bailey,
They did so cruelly slaughter,
By poison administered all in her beer
By her own daughter.

The daughter insured the life of the mother,
For twenty-six pounds at her death,
Then she and the man that she lived with
Determined to take away her breath.
And when Betty Wood represented the mother,
She did’nt act with propriety,
For the poor mother lost her life,
And they all swindled the Society.

Now that the old gal’s life’s insured,
Holt to the daughter did say,
Better in the grave she were immured,
And the money will make us so gay.
Now that you have got me in the family way,
And from me my virtue you’ve wrung,
You’ll never be happy a day,
Till on the gallows I’m hung.

She laid a plan to murder her,
As we now see so clear,
To put a quantity of arsenic
Into her poor mother’s beer.
To see her lay in agony,
Upon that dreadful night,
With a dreadful dose of arsenic,
Oh, it was a dreadful sight.

She lived but just six hours,
Then the poor woman did die,
And this base murdering wretch,
The dreadful deed did deny.
On the man Holt she laid the blame,
Vowed he did her mother slay,
Holt on her did the same,
Saying she took the mother’s life away.

The father of her unborn infant,
Whom she vowed to love most dear,
And when confined in prison,
She was overcome with fear,
She made a rambling statement
’Bout the arsenic in the beer
Laid all the blame on Holt and Betty Wood
Expecting for to get clear.

But there’s no doubt the base wretch
Did her poor mother slay.
For which on Chester’s scaffold,
Her life did forfeit pay,
So all young women a warning take,
By this poor wretch you see,
A hanging for the mother’s sake
On Chester’s fatal tree,

W. Smith, Printer, Chester.

CRUEL AND INHUMAN MURDER _Of a little Boy, by his Father_.

COMMITTAL OF THE PRISONER.

On Monday morning a cruel and inhuman murder was committed by the father on a child aged six years, in Neal’s passage, Seven Dials. The father has been separated from his wife for some time, and the boy had been brought up by its maternal grandmother, a poor old woman. The child being an unusally intelligent and nice-looking boy was a great favourite with the grandmother and an aunt who lived in the same room. It appears the mother had been living with another man as his wife, and the father also had formed an illicit connection with another woman. The poor boy had consequently become a source of trouble to both of them, although the merest trifle was required for its maintenance.