TRIAL, SENTENCE, AND EXECUTIONOFROBERT BLAKESLEY,For the Wilful Murder of JAMES BURDON,in Eastcheap.

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 assembledAround 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.

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 assembledAround the fatal place,To gaze on my approaching,And witness my disgrace.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

For the murder of Isaac Jermy, Esq., the Recorder of Norwich, and his son, I. Jermy Jermy, Esq.,ATSTANFIELD 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 flowThe 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 faceSaid, “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.

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.

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.

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 flowThe monster heeded not Miss Sandford’s woe.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

’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.

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.

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.

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 feelContrition 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 feelContrition for his guilty deeds, and to his wife he wrote,Begging of her to think how soon she was to meet her fate.

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.

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.

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.

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 judgmentTo perpetrate a deed like this?But now the wretch she is committed,To a prison’s gloomy cell,Where midnight dreams to her will whisperAnd 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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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 judgmentTo perpetrate a deed like this?But now the wretch she is committed,To a prison’s gloomy cell,Where midnight dreams to her will whisperAnd her deeds of blood will tell.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 flyAll 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 enterWhere her demon father lay,Fearful lest, as her mother,She might become his prey.So now, kind friends, take warning,—A lesson let this beUnto those drunken fathersWho think of nought but “spree;”And pray may God have mercy,And show it to him soon;And prepare this wicked personTo meet his awful doom.

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.

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.

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.

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 flyAll 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.

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 enterWhere her demon father lay,Fearful lest, as her mother,She might become his prey.

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 beUnto those drunken fathersWho think of nought but “spree;”And pray may God have mercy,And show it to him soon;And prepare this wicked personTo meet his awful doom.

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.

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.”

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 seeA 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 beenSent 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.

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.

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 seeA wretched man upon the tree,My time is come, and I must be soon,A prey to worms in the silent tomb.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 beenSent from Warwick town to my gracious Queen,But alas no mercy is there for me,And I must die on the fatal tree.

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.

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.

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!

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