 This is Part 1, Volume 1 of the New and Complete Newgate Calendar. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The selections on this recording of William Jackson's The New and Complete Newgate Calendar are read and chosen by Roy Schreiber. Introduction The wisest men, both in ancient and modern times, have agreed that nothing leaves so strong an impression on the human mind as a recital of those crimes for which many have forfeited their lives to the injured laws of their country. Such examples are set up as marks of the frailty of human nature and may serve to teach us that let our station be whatever it will we are not beyond the reach of temptation, and unless we keep the fear of God constantly before us, attending to our duty as the Allurement's device will become so strong that we may be led gradually to commit the most odious crimes and end our lives with shame and infamy. The many atrocious offenses, which are daily perpetrated in different parts of the kingdom in defiance of the laws, call for a publication of this kind to put private persons on their guard against the designing sheet and the more open and daring robber. In former times, one notorious act of shocking delinquency was sufficient to furnish matter of wonder to the public for a long time, but of late years vice has made such a bold and daring strides that one act of enormity is swallowed up in another, and ere we cease our surprise at the first it is re-excited by some newer and more atrocious villainy. New laws, new regulations, new modes of punishment have been devised, but almost in vain. Something seems wanting, which may tend rather to prevent the offense than punish the offenders. At present nothing promises so fair to operate as a preventative remedy against felonious acts, as the frequent and careful perusal of the modes by which similar acts of felony have been perpetrated, and the horrid effects that have followed such perpetrations. The dissipation of this nation has multiplied the number of crimes, and occasioned new statutes to be framed for putting a stop to the growing evil, because such striking incidents have happened in the course of the present century, as were not known nor even thought of for many years before. The multitude of places set apart for the entertainment of the gay and the thoughtless has contributed towards the rune of many youth of both sexes. For pleasure is of so bewitching a nature that in order to gratify a sensual passion we are often led to commit the greatest crimes. Hence the rune of many youth who, had it not been for the alluring temptations to vice, might have lived to the inexpressible joy of their relations, and been an honour and an ornament to their country. But it is not youth alone that are blameable. For many who have lived to advanced years are either destitute of virtuous principles, or so little masters of their natural tempers that they are often hurried both into excesses and crimes without reflecting on the fatal consequences. To prevent our fellow subjects from committing crimes, and to promote their interest and honour in the world, this work is offered to the public, on a plan entirely new and more comprehensive than any ever published on the same subject. For a great variety of authors, both printed and in manuscript, have been selected the lives of the most notorious offenders that have suffered from the year 1700 to the present time. In all the works of this nature that we have seen, the materials are so jumbled together, without order or method, that the readers are disgusted rather than entertained or instructed. Instead, therefore, of repeating the dull formal repetitions used on trials, we have thrown the whole into the form of a narrative, and at the end of each life deduced such practical inferences as cannot fail to make a lasting impression on the minds of our readers. Every difficult term is likewise explained without interrupting the narrative. And as great pains have been taken to make this work acceptable to the public, the author doubts not, but he shall receive the warmest approbation. This entire new work is therefore offered not only as an object of curiosity and entertainment, but as a publication of real and substantial use to guard the mind by striking reflections on the conduct of those unhappy wretches who have fallen sacrifice to the injured laws of their country, from the allurements of vice and the paths that lead to destruction. It is extremely natural to wish for the approbation of the public, but however anxious we may be for that, yet we desire it no further than the merits of this performance shall entitle us. Conscious that nothing has been neglected by the authors, they doubt not, but those of discernment and sensibility will give it the preference to all books of the same subject yet ever offered to the public, for whose benefit it has been undertaken, and parents and guardians will find it one of the most useful books to be put into the hands of the rising generation before their tender minds have been led astray from the practice of virtue. It will also become extremely useful for families and be a fund of entertainment as well as instruction for those who have a few leisure arroars to spend in the evening, or such as go on long voyages to see. Those who live in the country and at a distance from large towns will find it very useful as a work of entertainment, and although the greatest number of crimes are generally committed near the metropolis, yet the reedle will see we have given the lives of the most notorious offenders throughout every part of England, Wales and Scotland, with as many in Ireland, as we could procure authentic accounts of, so that this work is calculated for the use and advantage of all our fellow subjects. Introduction signed by W. Jackson. Circumstantial account of the trials, declarations and executions of Michael Van Bergen, Catherine Van Bergen, and Gerard Dromulus of East Smithfield for the murder of Oliver Norris. The wretched subjects of this narrative were natives of Holland, but having settled in England, Michael Van Bergen and his wife kept a public house near East Smithfield, and Dromulus acted as their servant. When Norris, a country gentleman who lodged at an inn near Aldgate, went into the house of Van Bergen about eight o'clock in the evening and continued to drink there till about eleven. Finding himself rather intoxicated, he desired the maid servant to call a coach to carry him home. As she was going to do so, her mistress whispered to her and bid her return in a little time and say that a coach was not to be procured. These directions being observed, Norris, on the maid's return, resolved to go without a coach, and accordingly he took his leave of the family, but he had not gone far before he discovered that he had been robbed of a purse containing a sum of money, whereupon he returned and charged Van Bergen and his wife with having been guilty of the robbery. This they positively denied and threatened to turn him out of the house, but he refused to go, and resolutely went into a room where the cloth had been laid for supper. At this time Dromulus entered the room, and treating Mr. Norris in a very cavalier manner, the latter resented the insult till a perfect quarrel ensued. At this juncture Van Bergen seized a poker with which he fractured Mr. Norris' skull, and in the meantime Dromulus stabbed him in different parts of his body, Mrs. Van Bergen being present during the perpetuation of this horrid act. When Mr. Norris was dead they stripped him of his coat, waistcoat, hat, wig, and etc., and then Van Bergen and Dromulus carried the body and threw it into a ditch which communicated with the Thames. In the meantime Mrs. Van Bergen washed the blood of the deceased from the floor of the room. The clothes which had been stripped from the deceased were put up in a hamper, and committed to the care of Dromulus who took a boat and carried them over to Rotherath, where he employed the waterman to carry the hamper to the lodgings which he had taken, and in which he proposed to remain until he could find a favorable opportunity of embarking for Holland. The next morning at low water the body of a gentleman was found, and several of the neighbors went to take a view of it and endeavored to try if they could trace any blood to the place where the murder might have been committed. But not succeeding in this, some of them, who were up very early in the morning, recollected that they had seen Van Bergen and Dromulus, coming almost from the spot where the body was found, and remarked that the light had been carried backwards and forwards in Van Bergen's house. Upon this the house was searched, but no discovery was made except that a little blood was found behind the door of a room which appeared to have been lately mopped. Inquiry was made after Dromulus, but Van Bergen and his wife would give no other account than that he had left their service, on which they were taken into custody, with the maid-servant, who was the principal evidence against them. At this juncture the waterman who had carried Dromulus to Rotherith, and who had known him very well, appeared, and was likewise taken into custody. On the trial all the circumstances above mentioned appeared so striking to the jury that they did not hesitate to find the prisoners guilty, and accordingly they received sentence of death. The prisoners were tried by a jury of half-Englishmen and half-foreigners, a generous and candid mode of proceeding peculiar to the criminal courts of this country. Dromulus, after calmdenation and a short time before the day of execution, assured the ordinary of Newgate that the murder was committed by himself, and was preceded and followed by these circumstances. That Mr. Norris being very much in liquor, and desirous of going to his inn, Mr. Van Bergen directed him to attend him thither. That soon after they left the house, Norris went into a broken building to ease himself, where, using appropriate language to Dromulus, and attempting to draw his sword, he rested it from his hand and stabbed him with it in several places. That being done, Norris groaned very much, and Dromulus, hearing a watchman coming, and fearing a discovery, drew a knife and cut his throat, and thereby put an end to his life. In answer to this it was said that the story was altogether improbable, for if Mr. Norris had been killed in the manner above mentioned, some blood would have been found on the spot, and there would have been holes in his clothes from the stabbing, neither of which was the case. Still, however, Dromulus persisted in his declaration, with a view to save the life of his mistress, with whom he was thought to have had a criminal connection, and indeed he confessed that he'd been too familiar with this woman. Mr. and Mrs. Van Bergen were attended at the place of execution by some divines of their own country, as well as English clergymen, and desired the prayers of all of them. Mr. Van Bergen, unable to speak intelligibly in English, conversed in Latin, a circumstance from which it may be inferred that he had been educated in a style superior to the rank and life which he had lately held. He said that the murder was not committed in his house, and that he knew no more of it than that Dromulus came to him while he lay in bed, informed him that he had wounded the gentleman and begged him to aid his escape. But that when he knew Mr. Norris was murdered, he offered money to some persons to pursue the murderer. But this circumstance, which might have been favorable to him, was not proved on his trial. Mrs. Van Bergen also solemnly declared that she knew nothing of the murder till after it was perpetrated, which was not in their house. That Dromulus, coming into the chamber and saying he had murdered the gentleman, she went for the hamper to hold the bloody clothes and assisted Dromulus in his escape, a circumstance which would not be deemed criminal in her country. This was, however, an artful plea for unholland accessories before or after the fact are accounted as principles. Dromulus, when at the place of execution, persisted in his former tale, but desired the prayers of the surrounding multitude whom he warned to beware of indulgence in violent passions, to which he then fell an untimely sacrifice. These criminals were executed near Heartshorn Brewhouse East Smithfield, being the nearest convenient spot to the place where the murder was committed, on the 10th of July in the year 1700. The men were hung in chains between bow and mile end, but the woman was buried. Full account of the life, intrigues, and crimes, and etc., of George Caudel, who was executed at Stafford for the murder of Elizabeth Price, his mistress. George Caudel was a native of the town of Bloomsgrove in Worcestershire, at which place he was artical to an apothecary, with whom he served his time and then repaired to London, where he walked to several of the hospitals to give him an insight into the art of surgery. Having obtained tolerable proficiency therein, he retired from London and went to Worcester, where he lived with Mr. Randall, a capital surgeon of that city. And in this situation he was equally admired for the depth of his abilities and the amuleness of his temper. Here he married the daughter of Mr. Randall, who died in labour of her first child. After this melancholy event he went to reside at Litchfield, and continued upwards of two years with Mr. Dean, a surgeon of that place. During his residence here he courted the daughter of that gentleman, to whom he probably would have soon been married, but for the commission of the following crime that cost him his life. A young lady named Elizabeth Price, who had been debauched by an officer in the army, lived near Mr. Caudel's place of residence, and, after her misfortune, supported herself by her skill in needlework. Caudel becoming acquainted with her, a considerable degree of intimacy subsisted between them, and Miss Price, degraded as she was by the unfortunate step she had taken, still thought herself an equal match for one of Mr. Caudel's rank of life. This young lady now informed Caudel that a pregnancy was the consequence of their connection, and repeatedly urged him to marry her, to prevent her being a second time disgraced in the eyes of the public. Mr. Caudel resisted her importunities for a considerable time. At last Miss Price heard of his paying his address to Miss Dean, on which she became more importunate than ever, and threatened that if he refused to consent to wed her, she would put an end to all his projects with that young lady by discovering everything that had passed between them. It was on this unhappy occasion that Caudel formed the horrid resolution of murdering Miss Price, for he could neither bear the thought of forfeiting the esteem of a woman he had courted, nor of marrying her who had granted the last favor, who at least one other man, as well as himself. This dreadful scheme having entered his head, he called on Miss Price on a Saturday evening, and requested that she should walk in the fields with him on the afternoon of the following day, in order to adjust the plan of their intended marriage. Miss Price, thus deluded, now thought the wound of a reputation would be healed, and on the following day she met him on the road leading towards Burton-upon-Trent at a house known by the sign of the nag's head. Having accompanied her supposed lover into the fields, and walked about till towards evening, they then sat down under a hedge, where, having spent some time in conversation, he pulled out a knife and cut her throat, and made his escape, but not before he waited till she was dead. Cordell, however, in the distraction of his mind, left behind him the knife with which he had perpetrated the deed, together with his case of instruments. When he came home it was observed that he appeared exceedingly confused, though the reason of the perturbation of his mind could not even be guessed at. On the following morning Miss Price being found murdered in the field, great numbers of people went to take a view of the body, among whom was the woman of the house where she lodged, who recollected that she had said she was going to walk with Mr. Cordell, on which the instruments were examined, and known to have belonged to him, whereupon he was taken into custody, and committed to the jail at Stafford. And soon afterwards, tried, he was found guilty, condemned, and executed at Stafford, on the 21st of July, 1700. Particulars of the life, atheism, and remarkable execution of the Reverend Thomas Hunter at Edinburgh for the murder of his two young pupils. This atrocious offender was born in the county of Fife, and was the son of a rich farmer, who sent him to the University of St. Andrew for education. When young Hunter acquired a good share of classical learning, and began to prosecute his studies in divinity with no small degree of success, several of the younger clergymen in Scotland act as tutors to wealthy and distinguished families till a proper period arrives for their entering into orders, which they never do till they obtain a benefit. While in this rank of life they bear the name of chaplains, and in this station Hunter lived about two years in the house of Mr. Gordon, a very eminent merchant, and one of the Baileys of Edinburgh, which is a rank equal to that of alderman of London. Mr. Gordon's family consisted of himself, his lady, two sons, and a daughter, a young woman who attended Mrs. Gordon and her daughter, the malefactor in question, some clerks, and menial servants. To the care of Hunter was committed the education of the two sons, and for a considerable time he discharged his duty in a manner highly satisfactory to the parents, who considered him as a youth of superior genius, and great goodness of heart. But it happened that a connection took place between Hunter and the young woman above mentioned, which soon increased to a criminal degree of familiarity. However, the correspondence between them maintained for a considerable time, during which the family was totally ignorant of their affair. These lovers had gone undetected so long that they grew daily less cautious than at the commencement of their amour, and on a particular day when Mr. and Mrs. Gordon were on a visit, Hunter and his girl met in their chamber as usual. But having been so incautious as not to make their door fast, the children went into the room and found them in such a situation as could not admit any doubt of the nature of their intercourse. No suspicion was entertained that the children would mention to their parents what had happened, the eldest boy being not quite ten years of age, so that the guilty lovers had not the least idea that a discovery would ensue. But when the children were at supper with their parents, they disclosed so much as left no room to doubt of what had happened. Hereupon the female servant was directed to quit the house on the following day, but Hunter was continued in the family after making a proper apology for the crime of which he had been guilty, attributing it to the thoughtlessness of youth and promising never to offend in the same way again. Hunter from this period entertained the most inveterate hatred of all the children, on whom he determined in his own mind to wreak the most diabolical vengeance. Nothing less than murder was his intention, and it was a considerable time after he had formed this hard plan before he had an opportunity of carrying it into execution, which he had length in a great degree affected as will be seen hereafter. Whenever it was a fine day, he was accustomed to walk in the fields with his pupils for an hour before dinner, and in these excursions the young lady generally attended her brothers. At the period immediately preceding the commission of the fatal fact, Mr. Gordon and his family were at their country retreat near Edinburgh, and having received an invitation to dine in that city, he and his lady proposed to go thither about the time that Hunter usually took his noontide walk with the children. Mrs. Hunter was very anxious for all the children to accompany them on this visit, but this was strenuously opposed by her husband, who would consent that only the little girl should attend them. By this circumstance Hunter's intention of murdering all three children was frustrated, but he held his resolution of destroying the boys while they were yet in his power. With this view he took them into the fields and sat down as if to repose himself on the grass. This event took place soon after the middle of the month of August, and Hunter was preparing his knife to put a period to the lives of the children. At the very moment they were busyed in catching butterflies and gathering wild flowers. Having sharpened his knife he called the lads to him, and having reprimanded them for acquainting their father and mother of the scene to which they had been witnessed. He said that he would immediately put them to death. Terrified by this threat the children ran from him, but he immediately followed and brought them back. He then placed his knee on the body of the one while he cut the throat of the other with his penknife, then treated the second in the same inhuman manner that he had done the first. These horrid murders were committed within half a mile of the castle of Edinburgh, and as the deeds were perpetrated in the middle of the day and in open fields it would have been very wonderful indeed if the murderer had not been immediately taken into custody. At the time of the murder it happened that a gentleman was walking on Castle Hill of Edinburgh who had a tolerably perfect view of what passed. Alarmed by the incident the gentleman called some people who ran with him to the place where the children were lying dead. But by this time the murderer had advanced towards a river with a view to drown himself. Those who pursued came up with him just as he reached the brink of the river, and his person being immediately known to them a messenger was instantly dispatched to Mr. and Mrs. Gordon who were at that moment going to dinner with their friend to inform them of the horrid deed that had been perpetrated by this wicked man. Language is too weak to describe the effects resulting from the communication of this dreadful news. The astonishment of the afflicted father, the agony of the mother's grief may possibly be conceived though it cannot be painted. Mr. Hunter being now in custody, it is required that we give an account of the proceedings against him and of the punishment that followed his offense. According to an old Scottish law it is decreed that, quote, if a murderer should be taken with the blood of the murdered person on his clothes, he should be prosecuted in the sheriff's court, and executed within three days after the commission of the fact, end quote. It was not common to execute the sentence with rigor, but the offender in question had been guilty of crimes of so aggravated a nature that it was not thought proper to remit anything of the utmost severity of the law. The prisoner was therefore committed to jail and chained down to the floor all night, and on the following day the sheriff issued his precept for the jury to meet, and in consequence of their verdict Hunter was brought to his trial when he pleaded guilty, and added to the offense he had already committed, the horrid crime of declaring that he lamented only not having murdered Mr. Gordon's daughter as well as his sons. The sheriff now passed sentence on the convict, which was to the following purpose that, quote, on the following day he should be executed on a gibbet erected for that purpose on the spot where he had committed the murders, but that, previous to his execution, his right hand should be cut off with a hatchet near the wrist. Then he should be drawn up to the gibbet by a rope, and, when he was dead, hung in chains between Edinburgh and Leith, the knife with which he committed the murders being stuck through his hand, which should be advanced over his head and fixed therewith to the top of the gibbet, end quote. Mr. Hunter was executed in strict conformity to the above sentence on the 22nd of August 1700, but Mr. Gordon soon afterwards petitioned the sheriff that the body might be removed to a more distant spot as its hanging on the side of the highway through which he frequently passed tended to reinsight his grief for the occasion that had first given rise to it. This requisition was immediately complied with, and in a few days the body was removed to the skirts of a small village near Edinburgh called Broughton. It is equally true and horrid to relate that, at the place of execution, Hunter closed his life with the following shocking declaration, quote, there is no God, I do not believe there is any, or if there is, I hold him in defiance, end quote. The end of part one, volume one of the new and complete Newgate calendar. This is volume one, part two of the new and complete Newgate calendar read by Roy Schreiber. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Circumstantial account of the life, trial, piracies, and execution of Captain John Kidd, who is hanged at Execution Dock. The case of Captain Kidd, while in agitation, engaged the attention of the public in a very eminent degree, though the man himself was one of the most contemptible of the human race. The town of Greenock in Scotland gave birth to Captain Kidd, who is bred to the sea, and having quitted his native country, he resided at New York, where he became the owner of a small vessel with which he traded among the pirates, obtained a thorough knowledge of their haunts, and could give a better account of them than any other person whatever. He was neither remarkable for the excels of his courage, nor for the want of it. In a word, his ruling passion appeared to be avarice, and to this was owing his connection with the pirates. When Kidd was in company with these abandoned people, he used to converse and act as they did. Yet at other times he would make singular professions of honesty and intimate how easy a matter it would be to extirpate these people and prevent their making future depredations. His frequent remarks of this kind engaged the notice of several considerable planters, who formed a more favourable idea of him than his true character would warrant, and procured him the patronage with which he was afterwards honoured. Before we enter into further particulars respecting this man, it would be proper to say something of the situation of public affairs previous to, and at the time he began to grow conspicuous. For years past great complaints had been made of the piracies committed in the West Indies, which had been greatly encouraged by some of the inhabitants of North America, on account of the advantage that could be made by the purchase of effects thus fraudulently obtained. This coming to the knowledge of King William III, he, in the year 1695, bestowed the government of New England and New York on the Earl of Bellamont, an Irish nobleman of distinguished character and abilities. As soon as his majesty had conferred this honour on Lord Bellamont, his lordship began to consider of the most effectual method to redress the evils complained of, and he represented to Colonel Levingston, a gentleman who had great property in New York, that some proper step should be taken to obviate the evils so long complained of. Just at this juncture Captain Kidd was arrived from New York in a sloop of his own. Him, therefore, the Colonel mentioned to Lord Bellamont as a bold and daring man, who was very fit to be employed against the pirates, as he was perfectly well acquainted with the places which they resorted at. This plan met with the fullest approbation of his lordship, who, knowing how desirous the King was, that this nest of pirates should be destroyed, mentioned the affair to his majesty, who greatly applauded the design, and recommended it to the notice of the Board of Admiralty. The commissioners likewise approved it, but such were then the hurry and confusion of public affairs that, though the design was approved, no steps were taken towards carrying it into execution. The transactions on this head being imparted to Colonel Levingston, he made an application to Lord Bellamont, and informed him that, as the affair would not will well admit of delay, it was worthy of being undertaken by some private persons of rank and distinction, and carried into execution at their own expense, notwithstanding public encouragement was denied it. Lord Bellamont approved of this project, but it was attended with considerable difficulty. At length, however, the Lord Chancellor Summers, the Duke of Shrewsbury, the Earl of Romney, the Earl of Oxford, and some other persons with Colonel Levingston and Captain Kidd, agreed to raise six thousand pounds for the expense of the voyage, and the Colonel and the Captain were to have a fifth of the profits of the whole undertaking. This plan was so highly approved of by King William, who thought it would produce such great advantages to his subjects, that he promised to contribute to its success, and therefore a reserve was agreed to be made of a tenth part of the effect seized from the pirates for the use of his majesty. But after the contract was concluded, the King could not spare his share of the money, and therefore the whole was advanced by the above-mentioned persons. Matters being thus far adjusted, a commission in the usual form was granted to Captain Kidd to take and seize pirates, and bring them to justice. But there was no special clause or proviso to restrain his conduct, or to regulate the mode of his proceeding. Kidd was known to Lord Bellamont, and another gentleman presented him to Lord Romney. With regard to the other parties concerned, he was wholly unequated with them. And so ill was this affair conducted that he had no private instruction how to act, but received his sailing orders from Lord Bellamont, the purport of which was that he should act agreeable to the letter of his commission. Accordingly, a vessel was purchased and manned, and received the name of the Adventure Galley. And in this Captain Kidd sailed from New York toward the close of the year 1695, and in his passage made a prize of a French ship. From New York he sailed to the Madeira Islands, thence to Buenavisto and St. Iago, and from this last place to Madagascar. He now began to cruise at the entrance of the Red Sea, but not being successful in those latitudes he sailed to Calicut, and there took a ship of one hundred and fifty tons burden which he carried to Madagascar and was disposed of there. Having sold his prize, he again put to sea, and the exploration of five weeks took the Queda merchant a ship of above four hundred tons burden, the master of which was an Englishman named Wright, who had two Dutch mates on board, and a French gunner, but the crew consisted of moors, natives of Africa, and were about ninety in number. He carried the ship to St. Mary's near Madagascar, where he burnt the Adventure Galley, belonging to his owners, and divided the lading of the Queda merchant with his crew taking forty shares to himself. They then went on board the last mentioned ship and sailed for the West Indies. It is uncertain whether the inhabitants of the West Indian Islands knew that Kidd was a pirate, but he was refused refreshments at Anguilla and St. Thomas's, and therefore sailed to Mona between Puerto Rico and Hispaniola, where, through the management of an Englishman named Bolton, he obtained a supply of provisions from Curacao. He now bought a sloop of Bolton, in which he stowed greater part of his ill-gotten effects, and left the Queda merchant with eighteen of the ship's company in Bolton's care. While at St. Mary's, ninety men of Kidd's crew left him, and went on board the Moocah merchant, an East India ship which had just then commenced pirate. Kidd now sailed the sloop, and touched at several places, where he disposed of a great part of his cargo, and then steered for Boston in New England. In the interim, Bolton sold the Queda merchant to the Spaniards, and immediately sailed as a passenger in a ship to Boston, where he arrived a considerable time before Kidd, and gave information of what happened to Lord Bellamont, then the resident governor. Kidd, therefore, on his arrival, was seized by order of his lordship. When all he had to urge in his defense was that he thought that the Queda merchant was a lawful prize, as she was manned with moors, though there was no kind of proof that this vessel had committed any act of piracy. Upon this the Earl of Bellamont immediately dispatched an account to England of the circumstances that had arisen, and requested that a ship might be sent for Kidd, who had committed several other notorious acts of piracy. The ship Rochester was accordingly sent to bring him to England, but this vessel happening to be disabled was obliged to return, a circumstance which greatly increased a public clamour which had for some time subsisted respecting this affair. It is not to be doubted, but that this clamour took its rise from party prejudice, yet it was carried to such a height that the members of parliament for several places were instructed to move the house for an inquiry into the affair, and accordingly it was moved in the House of Commons that, quote, the letters patent granted to the Earl of Bellamont and others, respecting the goods taken from pirates, were dishonourable to the king against the law of nations, contrary to the laws and statutes of this realm, an invasion of property, and destructive to commerce, end quote. Though a negative was put on this motion, yet the enemies of Lord Summers and the Earl of Oxford continued to charge those noblemen with giving countenance to pirates, and it was even insinuated that the Earl of Bellamont was no less culpable than the actual offenders. Another motion was accordingly made in the House of Commons to address His Majesty that, quote, Kid might not be tried till the next session of parliament, and that the Earl of Bellamont might be directed to send home all examinations and other papers relative to this affair, end quote. This motion was carried, and the king complied with the request which was made. As soon as Kid arrived in England, he was sent for and examined at the bar of the House of Commons, with a view to fix part of his guilt on the parties who had been concerned in sending him on the expedition. But nothing arose to discriminate any of those distinguished persons. Kid, who was in some degree intoxicated, made a very contemptible appearance at the bar of the House, on which a member, who had been one of the most earnest to have him examined, violently exclaimed, Damn this fellow! I thought he had been only a naive, but unfortunately he happens to be a fool likewise. Kid was at length tried at the Old Bailey, and was convicted on the clearest evidence. But neither at that time nor afterwards charged any of his employers with being privy to his infamous proceedings. He was hanged at execution dock on the twenty-third day of May 1701, but a circumstance happened at his execution that will be worthy of recital. After he had been tied up to the gallows, the rope broke, and he fell to the ground. But being immediately tied up again, the ordinary, who had before exhorted him, desired to speak with him once more, and on his second application entreated him to make the most careful use of the few farther moments thus providentially allotted him for the final preparation of a soul to meet its important change. These exhortations appeared to have the wish-for effect, and he was left professing his charity to all the world and his hopes of salvation through the merits of his Redeemer. In this manner ended the life of Captain Kid, a man who, if he had entertained a proper regard to the welfare of the public or even to his own advantage, might have become a useful member of society instead of a disgrace to it. The opportunities he had obtained of inquiring, a complete knowledge of the haunts of the pirates, rendered him one of the most proper men in the world to have extirpated this nest of villains, but his own avarice defeated the generous views of some of the greatest and most distinguished men of the age in which he lived. Hence we may learn the destructive nature of avarice which generally counteracts all of its own purposes. Captain Kid might have acquired a fortune, and rendered material service to his country in point of the most essential interest, but he appeared to be dead to all those generous sensations which do honor to humanity and materially injured his country while he was bringing final disgrace on himself. The history of this wretched malifactor will effectually impress on the mind of the reader the truth of the old observation that, quote, honesty is the best policy, unquote. Henceforth let honor's path be trod, nor villains seek in vain to mock the sacred laws of God and give their neighbors pain. Account of the parentage, life, execution, and etc., of Herman Stodman, who suffered at Tyburn for the murder of Peter Walter. Henry Stodman, who came of a good family, was born in Ravel in Leesland about the year 1683. His parents, who were of a religious disposition, gave him a liberal and pious education. He was sent by his father to school at Lubbock in the year 1694, where he remained till middlemas 1698. At this period he went to Hamburg, where he continued some months, and then in company with a young countryman of his named Peter Walter embarked for England. And on their arrival in London they were both bound apprentices to Mr. Stein and Dorian merchants and partners. Both these young gentlemen lived together in great harmony for a considerable time, but in the month of August preceding the fatal tragedy of which we were about to recite the particulars, Mr. Dorian was married to the sister of Peter Walter. Hereupon the latter began to assume heirs of consequence and behaved with so much insolence to Stodman that his pride took the alarm. They had several quarrels, and Walter beat Stodman twice, at one time in the counting-house and at another before the serving girls in the kitchen. Walter likewise traduced Stodman to his masters, who thereupon denied him the liberty and other gratifications that were allowed his fellow apprentice. Hereupon Stodman conceived an implacable hatred against him, and resolved to murder him in some way or other. His first intention was to have poisoned him, and with this view he mixed some white mercury with the white powder which Walter used to keep and a glass in his bedroom as a remedy for the scurvy. But this happening to be done in the midst of winter Walter had declined taking the powder, so that the other thought of destroying him by the more expeditious method of stabbing. This scheme, however, was delayed from time to time, while Walter's pride and arrogance increased to such a degree that the other thought he should at length be tempted to murder him in sight of the family. Hereupon Stodman desired one of the maids to intimate to his masters his inclination to be sent to the West Indies. But no answer being given to his requests, Stodman grew so uneasy, and his enmity against his fellow apprentice increased to such a degree that the Dutch maid, observing the agitation of his mind, advised him to a patient submission to this situation as the most probable method of securing his future peace. Unfortunately he paid no regard to this good advice, but determined on the execution of the fatal plan which afterwards led to his destruction. On the morning of Good Friday Stodman was sent out on business, but instead of transacting it he went to Greenwich with an intention of returning on Saturday to perpetuate the murder. But reflecting that his fellow apprentice was to receive the sacrament on Easter Sunday he abhorred the thought of taking away his life before he had partaken of the Lord's supper. Wherefore he sent a letter to his masters on the Saturday in which he asserted that he had been impressed, and was to be sent to Chatham on Easter Monday and put on board a ship in the Royal Navy. But while he was at Greenwich he was met by a young gentleman who knew him, and who, returning to London, told Messer Stein and Dorian he believed the story of his being impressed was all invention. Hereupon Mr. Stein went to Chatham to inquire into the real state of the case, when he discovered that the young gentleman's suspicions were all too well founded. Stodman went to the church at Greenwich twice on Easter Sunday, and on the approach of evening came to London and slept at the Dolphin Inn in Bishop's Gate Street. On the following day he returned to Greenwich and continued either at that place or at Woolwich and at the neighborhood till Tuesday when he went to London, lodged in Lombard Street, and returned to Greenwich on Wednesday. Coming again to London on the evening of the succeeding day he did not return any more to Greenwich. But going to the house of his master he told him that what he had written was true, for he had been pressed. They gave no credit to this tale, but told him they had inquired into the affair and bid him quit their house. This he did, and took lodging in more fields, where he lay on that and the following night, and on the Saturday he took other lodgings at the Sun in Queen Street, London. Before the preceding Christmas he had procured a key on the model of that belonging to his master's house that he might go in and out at pleasure. Originally he intended to have made no worse use of this key. But at being still in his possession he let himself into the house between eight and nine o'clock on the evening of the Saturday last mentioned. But hearing footsteps of some persons going upstairs he concealed himself behind the door in the passage. As soon as the noise arising from the circumstance was over he went up a pair of stairs to the room adjoining the counting-house, where he used to sleep and having found a tinder-box he lighted a candle and put it into his master's dark Latin horn, which he carried upstairs to an empty room next to that in which Peter Walter used to lay. Here he continued a short time when hearing somebody coming upstairs he put out his candle and fell asleep soon afterwards. Awaking about twelve o'clock he listened for a while and hearing no noise he imagined that the whole family were fast asleep. Hereupon he descended to the room on the first floor where the tinder-box lay, and having lighted his candle he went to the counting-house and took a sum of money and several bills and notes. This being done he took a piece of wood with which he used to beat tobacco, and going upstairs again he hastily entered the room where Peter Walter was asleep, and advancing to his bedside struck him violently on the head, and though his heart in some degree failed him yet he continued his strokes. As the wounded youth groaned much he took a pillow and lay it on his mouth, sat down on the side of the bed, and pressed it hard with his elbows till no appearance of life remained. Perceiving Walter to be quite dead he searched his chest of drawers and pockets, and took as much money as what he had taken from his master's amounted to above eight pounds. He then packed up some linen and woollen clothes, and going down one pair of stairs he threw his bundle into a house that was uninhabited. He then went upstairs again, and having cut his candle lighted both pieces, one of which he placed in a chair close to the bed-curtains, and the other on a chest of drawers with a view to have set the house on fire to conceal the robbery and murder of which he had been guilty. This being done he went through a window into the house where he had thrown his bundle, and in this place he stayed till five in the morning when he took the bundle with him to his lodgings in Queen Street where he shifted his apparel and went to the Swedish church in Trinity Lane. After the worship of the congregation had ended he heard a bill of thanks read which his master's had sent in devout acknowledgement of their narrow escape themselves and their neighbors had experienced from the fire. Struck by this circumstance Strodman burst into tears, but he endeavored as much as possible to conceal his emotions from a gentleman who sat in the same pew with him, and who, on their coming out of the church, informed him that the house of Messier's stein and Dorian narrowly escaped being burnt the preceding night by an accident then unknown, but that the destruction was providentially prevented by the Dutch maid smelling the fire and seeing the smoke so that on her alarming her master the flames were extinguished with a pail of water. Strodman made an appointment to meet the gentleman who gave him this information on the outer walks of the royal exchange in the afternoon to go to the Dutch church in the Savoy, but the gentleman not coming to this time he went alone to Stepney church and after service was ended he walked towards Mile End where he saw the two Dutchmen, these must have been Michael van Bergen and his servant Dromulus, who had been hung in chains. This sight gave him a shocking idea of the crime of which he had been guilty and he reflected that he might soon become a like horrid spectacle to mankind. Hence he proceeded to Blackwall where he saw the captain of a French pirate hanging in chains which gave fresh force to the gloomy feelings of his mind and again taught him to dread a similar fate. After having been thus providentially led to the sight of objects which he would otherwise rather have avoided he returned to his lodgings in great dejection of mind, but far from repenting or even being properly sensible of the crime he had committed for as he himself said his heart did not yet repent for what he had done and if he had failed murdering his fellow apprentice in his bed he should have destroyed him some other way. On his return to his lodgings he ate supper, set his prayers and went to bed. On the following morning he went to the White Horse Inn without Cripplegate to receive cash for a bill of twenty pounds which he had stolen from his master's house. But the person who was to have paid it being gone out he was desired to call again about twelve o'clock. In the interim he went to the house of a banker in Lombard Street, who requested him to carry some money for his, the banker's sister, who was at a boarding school in Greenwich. Stodman said he could not go till the following day when he would execute the commission. But before he left the house of the banker he told him that a young man named Green had been to inquire for him, on which Stodman said that if Mr. Green returned he should be informed that he would come back again at one o'clock. Hence he went again to the White Horse Inn where he found the party who told him that he had no orders to pay the money for the bill. Having received this answer he went to his lodgings where he dined and then went to the bankers in Lombard Street where his master, Stein, with Mr. Green and another gentleman were waiting for him. Mr. Stein asked him if he would go willingly to his house or be carried to their biporters, and he replied that he would go of his own accord. When he came there he was asked some questions respecting the atrocious crimes which he had been guilty of. But, persisting that he was innocent, he was searched and the twenty-pound bill found in his possession. They then inquired where he lodged to which he answered more fields. Whereupon they all went thither together, but the people denied his lodging there at that time. Mr. Stein, finding him unwilling to speak the truth, told him that if he would make a full discovery he would be sent abroad out of the reach of justice. Thereupon he mentioned his real lodgings, on which they went thither in a coach, and finding the bills and other stolen effects Stadman was carried before Sir Humphrey Edwin who committed him to Newgate on his own confession. He was not tried at the first sessions after his commitment, and in the interval that he lay in prison some bad people who were confined there trumped up an idle tale for him to tell when he came to trial, and prevailed on him to plead not guilty, a circumstance which he afterwards sincerely repented of. On his trial, however, there were so many corroborative proofs of his guilt that the jury could not hesitate to convict him, and he received the sentence awarded by law. While he was under sentence of death, his behavior was remarkably contrite and penitent, and when the ordinary of Newgate told him that the warrant of his execution was calm down and that he would suffer in a few days, he said, quote, the lords will be done. I am willing to die, only I beg of God that I may not, as I deserve, die an eternal death, and that though I die here, for my most heinous and enormous crimes, yet I may, for the love of Christ, live eternally with him in heaven. God bless the king and all my honorable judges. They have done me no wrong, but his eye have done great wrong. The Lord be merciful to me, a great sinner else I perish, end quote. At times he seemed to despair because he feared that his repentance was not equal to his guilt. But then again his mind was occasionally warmed with the hope that his penitence was such as would lead to salvation. When at the place of execution he acknowledged his crime, for which he professed the sincerest sorrow and repentance, he begged pardon of God for having endeavored, with presumptuous lies to conceal those crimes which being punished in this world, his eternal punishment in the next might be avoided. He died full of contrition, penitence, and hope, and suffered a tie burn on the 18th of June 1701, and it was remarked that he kept his hands lifted up for a considerable time after the cart was drawn away. This is the end of Volume 1, Part 2 of the New and Complete Newgate Calendar. This is Part 3, Volume 1 of the New and Complete Newgate Calendar, read by Roy Schreiber. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. A ticketer account of the life and amours of Mary Adams, who has executed a tie burn for privately stealing. This young woman, who is the daughter of a journeyman shoemaker, was born at Redding and Berkshire, and when she was old enough to go to service, went to live with a grocer in that town. As Mary was a girl of vivacity and gentile figure, she soon attracted the regard of the grocer's son, and the consequence of their connection became very conspicuous in a short time. As soon as it was evident that she was pregnant, she was dismissed from her master's service, on which she immediately made oath that his son was the father of the child thereafter to be born. A circumstance that compelled the old gentleman to support her till after she was brought to bed. She soon had been delivered, before she went to London, and entered into the service of a Mercer in Cheapside, where, by prudent conduct, she might have retrieved the character she had forfeited in the country. But prudence was not among the number of her virtues. For though she had already suffered from her indiscretion, an intimacy soon subsisted between her master and herself. But as their associations could not conveniently be held at home, they contrived to meet on evenings at other places when the mistress of the house was gone to the theatre or out on a visit. This connection continued till the girl was far advanced in her pregnancy. When the master, apprehensive of disagreeable consequences at home, advised the girl to quarrel with her mistress, in order that she might be dismissed, and then took a lodging for her at Hackney, where she remained till she was delivered. And in the meantime, the connection between her and her master continued as before. Being brought to bed of a child that died a few hours after its birth, the master thought himself happy, supposing he could easily free himself from the encumbrance of the mother, of whom he now began to be heartily tired. When the girl recovered from her lying in, he told her that she must go into service, and it did not suit him to maintain her any longer. But this enraged her to the highest degree, and she threatened to discover the nature of their connection to his wife, unless he would make her a present of twenty guineas. And with this demand he thought it prudent to comply, happy to get rid of her even and such terms. Being now in possession of money, and in no want of clothes in which to make a gentile appearance, she removed from Hackney to which street without Temple Bar, but was scarcely settled in her new lodgings, before she sent a letter to the Mercer's wife, whom she acquainted with the nature of the connection that had subsisted between her late master and herself, but she did not mention her place of abode in this letter. The consequence was the Mercer was obliged to acknowledge the crime of which he had been guilty, and solicit his wife's pardon in terms of the utmost humiliation. This pardon was promised, but whether it was ever ratified remains a doubt. Mrs. Adams had the advantage of an engaging figure, and passing as a young widow in her new lodgings, she was soon married to a young fellow in the neighborhood, but it was not long before he discovered the imposition that had been put upon him, on which he embarked on board a ship in the Royal Navy. By this time Mrs. Adams' money was almost expended, but as her clothes were yet good an attorney of Clements Inn took her into keeping, and after she had lived a short time with him she went to another of the same profession, with whom she cohabited above two years, but on his marriage she was once more abandoned to seek her fortune. Fertile of invention, and too proud to condescend to accept of a common service, she became connected with the notorious bard of Drury Lane, who was very glad of her assistance, and promised herself considerable advantages from the association. In this situation Mrs. Adams displayed her charms to considerable advantage, and was happy as any common prostitute can expect to be. But alas, what is this happiness but a prelude to the extremity of misery and distress? Such indeed it was found by Mrs. Adams, who having been gratified by a gentleman with a considerable sum of money, the bard crawled with her respecting the dividing of it, and a battle ensuing our heroine was turned out of the house after she had got a black eye in the contest. After this she used to parade in the park in the daytime, and walk the streets in the evenings in search of casual lovers. But as she joined the practice of theft to that of incontinence few of her chance acquaintance escaped being robbed. She was often taken into custody for these practices, but continually escaped through defect of evidence. At length an end was put to her depredations, for having enticed a gentleman to a banyo near Covent Garden she picked his pocket of all his money and a bank note to a large amount, and left him while he slept. When the gentleman awaked, he sent immediately noticed to the bank to stop payment, and as Mrs. Adams came soon afterwards to receive the money for the note she was taken into custody and lodged in prison. And being in a short time tried at the Old Bailey she was convicted, received sentence of death, and was executed at Tyburn on the 16th of June 1702. After her conviction she lived in the same gay and dissipated manner that she had done before, and was visited by many of her former acquaintance who supplied her with money to support her extravagance. Agreeable to her own request too, their mistaken bounty contributed to purchase her a suit of mourning in which she was executed. And they buried her in as handsome a manner as if her life had been conducted by the rules of virtue, and she had likewise been a woman of fortune. Interesting particulars respecting John Peter Dramati, who is hanged at Tyburn for the murder of his wife. The unhappy subject of this narrative was the son of Protestant parents, and born at Savardone in the county of Foix in the province of Languedoc in France. He received a religious education, and when he arrived at years of maturity, he left his own country on account of the persecution then prevailing there, and went to Geneva. From thence he traveled into Germany, and served as a horse grenadier under the elector of Brandenburg, who was afterwards King of Prussia. When he had been in this sphere of life about a year, he came over to England, and entered into the service of Lord Haversham, with whom he remained about twelve months. And then enlisted as a soldier in the regiment of Colonel, Della Mognonnier. And having made two campaigns and flanders, the regiment was ordered into Ireland, where it was broke in consequence of which Dramati obtained his liberty. He now became acquainted with a widow, between fifty and sixty years of age, who pretending she had a great fortune and a lie to the royal family of France, he soon married her on account of her supposed wealth and rank, and her understanding of English and Irish, thinking it prudent to have a wife who could speak the languages of the country in which he proposed to spend the remainder of his life. He had not been long married before he found out he had been imposed upon, for his wife had no fortune at all, on which he took a small house and a piece of ground about ten miles from Cork, intending to turn farmer. But being altogether ignorant of husbandry, he found it impossible to subsist by that profession, on which he went to Cork and worked as a skinner, being the trade to which he was brought up. At the expiration of a twelve-month from his coming to that city, he went to London, and offering services again to Lord Haversham, he was accepted, and in this service he remained till the preparation of that crime which brought him to a shameful end. The substance of the narrative that dramatic gave of the cause and consequence of the murder was as follows. His wife, unhappy on account of their separate residence, wished to live with him at Lord Haversham's, which he refused to consent to, saying that his lordship did not know he was married. Hereupon she entreated him to quit his service, which he likewise refused, saying that he could not provide himself so well in any other situation, and that it would be ungenerous to leave so indulgent a master. The wife now began to evince the jealousy of her disposition, and intimated that dramatic had fixed his affection on some other woman, and the following circumstance aggravated the malignant disorder that wrangled in her mind. Dramati, being attacked by a violent fever about the Christmas proceeding, the time that the murder was committed, his noble master gave orders that all possible care should be taken of him at his lordship's expense. At this period Mrs. Dramati paid a visit to her husband, and again urged him to quit his service, which he positively refused. A servant-girl now came into the room, bringing him some water-gruel, and the wife, suspecting that this was her rival in her husband's affections, once more entreated him to leave his place, in answer to which he said he must be out of his senses to abandon a situation in which he was so well provided for and treated with such humanity. Dramati, having recovered of his illness, visited his wife at her lodgings as often as was consistent with the duties of his station. But this was not being often enough as she wished him to come. She grew more uneasy than before. At length Lord Haversham took lodgings at Kensington, and Dramati was so busy in packing up some articles on the occasion that he had no opportunity of equating his wife with their removal. At length she learned this circumstance from another quarter, on which, inflamed to the highest degree of rage, she went to Kensington to reproach her husband with his unkindness to her, though he declared he always maintained her as well as he was able, and as proof of it had given her three guineas but a little time before the murder was committed. Frequent were the disputes between this unhappy man and his wife till, on the 9th of June, Dramati being sent to London and his business lying near Soho, he called on his wife, who lodged in that neighbourhood, and having been with her some time he was about to take his leave, but she laid hold of him and wanted to detain him. But he got from her and went towards Charing Cross to which place she followed him, but at length she seemed to yield to his persuasions that she should go home, as he told her that he was going to his lord in Spring-Green, but instead of going home she went and waited for him at or near Hyde Park Gate, and in the evening he found her there as he was going to Kensington. At the Park Gate she stopped him and insisted that he should go no further unless he took her with him, and after many words had passed between them she said she would go in spite of his teeth or else she would have his life or he should have hers. He now left her and went towards Chelsea, but she followed him till they came near Bloody Bridge, where the quarrel being vehemently renewed, she seized his neck-cloth and would have strangled him, whereupon he beat her most unmercifully with his cane and sword, which later he imagined she broke with her hands as she was remarkable for her strength and, if he had been unarmed, would easily have overpowered him. Having wounded her in so many places as to conclude he had killed her, his passion immediately began to subside, and falling on his knees he devoutly implored the pardon of God for the horrid sin of which he had been guilty, and then went to Kensington, where his fellow servants observing that his clothes were bloody, he said that he had been attacked by two men in Hyde Park, who would have robbed him of his clothes, but that he defended himself and broke the head of one of them. This story was credited for the present, and on the following day Dramati went to London, where he heard a paper cried in the streets respecting the murder that had been committed, and though he dreaded being taken into custody every moment, he did not seek to make his escape, but dispatched his business in London and returned to Kensington. On the following day the servants heard a paper cried respecting a barbarous murder that had been committed that had been committed near Bloody Bridge, on which they told their Lord of it, hinting that they suspected Dramati to have murdered his wife, as they had been known to quarrel before, and he had come home the preceding evening with his sword broke, the hilt of it bruised, his cane shattered, and some blood on his clothes. Upon this Lord havers him with a view to employ him that he might not think he was suspected, bid him get the coach ready, and in the interim sent for a constable who, on searching him, found a woman's cap in his pocket which afterwards proved to have belonged to his wife. When he was examined before a justice of the peace he confessed that he had committed the crime, but in extenuation of it said that his wife was a worthless woman who had entrapped him into marriage by pretending to be of royal blood of France and a woman of fortune. On his trial it appeared he went into Lord Haversham's chamber late on the night on which the murder was committed, after that nobleman was in bed, and it was supposed that he had an intention of robbing his lordship who called out to know what he wanted. But in a solemn declaration Dramati made after his conviction he steadfastly denied any intention of robbing his master, but only went into the room to fetch a silver tumbler which he had forgot that he might have it in readiness to take in some ass's milk in the morning for his lordship. The body of Mrs. Dramati was found in a ditch between Hyde Park in Chelsea and a track of blood was seen to the distance of twenty yards at the end of which a piece of a sword was found sticking in a bank which fitted the other part of the sword in the prisoner's possession. The circumstances attending the murder being proved to the satisfaction of the jury, the culprit was found guilty, condemned, and on the twenty-first of July 1703 was executed at Tyburn, and yielded up his life a sincere penitent, not only with respect to the crime for which he suffered, but for all others of which he had been guilty. Narrative of the life, execution, and wonderful recovery of John Smith, called Half-Hang Smith, with cursory remarks on his extraordinary escape. John Smith was the son of a farmer at Malton, about fifteen miles from the city of York, who bound him apprentice to a packer in London with whom he served out his time, and afterwards worked as a journeyman. He then went to see as a merchantman, after which he enlisted, on board, a man of war, and was at the famous expedition against Vigo, but on the return from that expedition he was liberated. Smith had not been long disengaged from the naval service, when he enlisted as a soldier in the regiment of guards commanded by Lord Cutts. But in this station he soon made bad connections, and engaged with some of his disillute companions as a housebreaker. On December 5th, 1705, he was arraigned on four different indictments, on two of which he was convicted and received sentence of death. While he lay under sentence he seemed very little affected with his situation, being amused with the hopes of a reprieve through the interest of his friends. An order, however, came for his execution on the twenty-fourth day of the same month, in consequence of which he was carried to Tyburn, where he performed his devotions and was turned off in the usual manner. But when he was hung near fifteen minutes the people present cried out a reprieve, a reprieve! Hereupon the malefactor was cut down, and being conveyed to a house in the neighborhood he soon recovered in consequence of bleeding and other proper applications. As soon as he had recovered his senses he was asked what were his feelings at the time of execution, to which he repeatedly replied in substance as follows. That, quote, when he was turned off he for some time was sensible of very great pain occasioned by the weight of his body, and felt his spirits in a strange commotion violently pressing upwards. That, having forced their way to his head, he, as it were, saw a great blaze or glaring light which seemed to go out at his eyes with a flash, and then he lost all sense of pain. That after he was cut down and began to come to himself, the blood and spirits forcing themselves into their former channels, put him by a sort of pricking or shooting to such intolerable pain that he could have wished those hanged who had cut him down, end, quote. Smith, after this narrow escape from the grave, pleaded to his pardon on the twentieth of February. Yet such was his propensity to evil deeds that he returned to his former practices, and being again apprehended was tried at the Old Bailey for house-breaking. But some difficulties arising in the case the jury brought in a special verdict, in consequence of which the affair was left to the opinion of twelve judges who determined in favor of the prisoner. Notwithstanding the second extraordinary escape, he was a third time indicted. But the prosecutor, happening to die before the day of trial, he once more obtained that liberty which his conduct proved to be so unmerited. There is no account what became of this man after this third remarkable incident in his favor, but Christian charity inclines us to hope that he made a proper use of the singular dispensations of providence so ably evinced in his own person. Accounted the conviction, trial, and execution of Deborah Churchill as an accomplice in the murder with Hunt, Deborah Churchill, whose fate gives rise to this narrative, was born about the year 1678 in a village near Norwich. She had several children by her husband, Mr. Churchill, but her temper not being calculated to form him domestic happiness, he repined at his situation and destroyed himself by intoxication. Deborah, after this event came to London, and being too much idle and too proud to think of earning a subsistence by her industry, she ran considerably into debt, and in order to extricate herself from her encumbrances had recourse to a method which was formerly as common as it was unjust. Going to a public house in Holborn she saw a soldier and asked if he would marry her. The man immediately answered in the affirmative on which they went in a coach to the fleet where the nuptial knot was instantly tied. Mrs. Churchill, whose maiden name is unknown, having obtained a certificate of her marriage, enticed her husband to drink till he was quite inebriated, and then gave him the slip, happy in this contrivance to screen herself from an arrest. A little after this she cohabited with a young fellow named Hunt, with whom she lived more than six years. Hunt appears to have been a youth of a rickus disposition. He behaved very ill to this unhappy woman, who, however, loved him to distraction, and at length forfeited her life in consequence of the regard that she had for him. One night, as Mr. Hunt and one of his associates were returning from the theatre in company with Mrs. Churchill, a quarrel arose between the men who immediately drew their swords. While Mrs. Churchill anxious for the safety of Mr. Hunt, interposed and kept his antagonist at a distance, in consequence of which he received a wound of which he died almost immediately. No sooner was the murder committed than Hunt affected his escape, and eluding his pursuers arrived safely in Holland. But Mrs. Churchill was apprehended on the spot, and being taken before a magistrate was committed to Newgate. November 1708. At the sessions held at the Old Bailey, Mrs. Churchill was indicted as an accomplice on the act of the first year of King James I, called the Statute of Stabbing, by which it is enacted that, quote, if any one stabs another, who hath not at that time a weapon drawn, or hath not first stricken, the party who stabbed is deemed guilty of murder if the person stabbed died within six months afterwards, end quote. Mrs. Churchill being convicted pleaded a state of pregnancy in bar for execution, and a jury of matrons being impaneled declared that they were ignorant whether she was with child or not. Hereupon the court, willing to allow all reasonable time, in a case of this nature, respited judgment for six months, at the end of which time she received sentence of death, as there was no appearance of her being pregnant. This woman's behavior was extremely penitent, but she denied her guilt to the last moment of her life, having no conception that she had committed murder because she did not herself stab the deceased. She was hanged at Tyburn on the 17th of December, 1708. Full account of the lives, insurrections, and execution of Daniel Demeray and George Purchase, who were hanged at Tyburn for high treason, when the weak ministry of Queen Anne was turned out of, or, in the modern phrase, had resigned their places. The Tory ministry, who succeeded them, encouraged a young divine named Henry Cechevril to inflame the passions of the public by preaching against the settlement made at the Revolution, and inculcating all those doctrines which were then held as favorable tenants of what was called the High Church Party. Cechevril was a man of abilities, and eminently possessed of those kind of talents which are calculated to inspire such sediments as the preacher wished to impress his auditors with. The public, in general, were well informed that Dr. Cechevril's discourse tended to instigate the people against the House of Hanover, and to insinuate the right of the pretender to the throne of these realms. This caused such a general commotion that it became necessary to bring him to a trial in some way, and, contrary to all former practice, respecting a man of his rank, he was tried before the House of Peers, and was silenced for three years upon conviction. But so excited were the passions of the populace in consequence of his insinuations, that they almost adored him as a prophet, and some of them were led to commit those outrages which gave rise to the following trials. Two dissenting ministers, Messiers Bradbury and Burgess, having made themselves conspicuous by preaching in behalf of the revolutionary settlement and freedom of sentiment in matters of religion, became the immediate objects of resentment of the mob. What arose in consequence hereof would appear from the following abstract of the trials of the criminals before us. Daniel Demeray, on the 19th of April, 1710, was indicted for being concerned with a multitude of men, to the number of five hundred, armed with swords and clubs, to levy war against the Queen. A gentleman disposed that, quote, going through the temple, he saw some thousands of people who had attended Dr. Cheseveral from Westminster Hall, that some of them said they would pull down Dr. Burgess' meeting-house that night, end quote. Others differed as to the time of doing it, but all agreed on the act, and the meeting-house was demolished on the following night. Captain Orill swore that, on the first of March, hearing that, quote, the mob had pulled down Dr. Burgess' meeting-house, he resolved to go among them and to do what service he could to government by making discoveries, end quote. Captain Orill, going to Mr. Bradbury's meeting, found the people plundering it, who obliged him to pull off his hat. After this he went to Lincoln's infield, where he saw a bonfire made of some of the materials of Dr. Burgess' meeting-house, and saw the prisoner who twirled his hat and said, quote, damn it, I will lead you on, God damn me, we will have all the meeting-houses down, High Church and Cheseveral, who's ah, end quote. It was proved, by another evidence, that the prisoner headed part of the mob, some of whom proposed to go to the meeting-house in Wild Street, but that this was objected to by others, who recommended going to Drew Relaine, quote, saying that that meeting-house was worth ten of that in Wild Street, end quote. Joseph Collier swore that he saw the prisoner carry a brass sconce from Dr. Burgess' meeting-house, and throw it into the fire in Lincoln's infield, who's ah,ing and crying, High Church and Cheseveral. There was another evidence to prove the concern that the prisoner had in these illegal acts, and several persons appeared in his behalf, but their testimony contradicted each other, and the jury could not credit their evidence, but brought in a special verdict. George Purchase was indicted for levying war against Queen Ann and etc., in the same manner that Demere had been. On this trial, Captain Orill deposed that after seeing Dr. Burgess' meeting-house demolished, and a fire made in Lincoln's infields with some of the materials thereof, he met a party of the guards, who he directed to go to Drew Relaine, where a bonfire was made of the pews and other utensils, and that there was a great mob, which was dispersed by the guards, that the prisoner was very active pushing at the breasts of the horses with a drawn sword, that this evidence asked what he meant, telling him that in opposing the guard he opposed the queen, and he would have persuaded him to put up his sword and go home. But instead of taking this advice, he replied, quote, damn you, who are you? For high church and so several or no. I am, goddamn them all, meaning the guards, for I am as good a man as any of them all, unquote, that he then called to the mob, quote, come on, come on, boys, I'll lead you on. I'm for high church and so several, and I'll lose my life in the cause, end quote. The captain further deposed that after this the prisoner ran resolutely with his sword in his hand, and made a full pass at the officer who commanded the guards, and if one of the guards had not given a spring and beat his sword down, he would have run the officer through the left flank, that the prisoner now retired a little lower, and the guards had by this time dispersed the mob, having knocked down forty or fifty of them in the action. Richard Russell, one of the guards, deposed that they were ordered by the sergeant to march into Drury Lane and to return their bayonets and their drawn swords, that when they came to Drury Lane there was a bonfire with a large marab about it, that near the fire the horse were all drawn up into one line with their tails against the wall that none of the mob might come behind, that the prisoner then stood in the middle of the lane, who zying, and came up and would have thrust himself between the horses, but the guards beat him off with the flats of their swords. The prisoner produced some witnesses, but as what they said did not contradict the testimony, the evidences against him. Their depositions had no weight. The jury were satisfied with the proofs that had arisen, but having a doubt respecting the points of law, they brought in a special verdict. At the same time and place Francis Willis was tried for assisting in demolishing the meeting-house of Mr. Bradbury in Fetter Lane and burning the materials at a bonfire in Holborn, but was acquitted for want of sufficient evidence against him. The verdicts respecting Demeray and Purchase, being left special, their cases were argued in the Court of King's Bench in Westminster Hall the following term before Lord Chief Justice Parker and the other judges. When, though every artifice in the law was made use of in their behalf, they were adjudged to be guilty, and in consequence of which they received sentence of death and were executed at Tyburn on the fifteenth of June, 1710. This is the end of Volume 1, Part 3 of the New and Complete Newgate Calendar.