 This is Part 6, Volume 1, of the new and complete New Gate Calendar, read by Roy Schreiber. Account of John Hamilton Esquire, who is tried in Scotland for murder and beheaded. This offender was born in the county of Clydesdale, and was related to the duchel family of Hamilton. His parents, to whom he was an only son, sent him to Glasgow to study the law. But the young gentleman's disposition leading him to the profession of arms, his friends exerted their interest to procure him a commission. But the intervention of the crime of which we are about to relate the particulars prevented their generous intention taking effect. Young Hamilton, soon becoming connected with some abandoned young gentleman at Edinburgh, he lost considerable sums at gaming, and going to his parents for more, they supplied him for the present, but said they would not advance him any farther sums while he continued his dissipated course of life. Being possessed of this money Hamilton went to a village near Glasgow to meet his companions at a public house kept by Thomas Arkel. Having drank and gamed for several successive days and nights, Hamilton's companions left him while he was asleep, leaving him to discharge the bill, which exceeded his ability. A quarrel ensued between him and Arkel, and while they contended, Arkel stripped Hamilton's sword from the scabbard. The latter immediately ran away, but finding he had no scabbard to his sword, he instantly went back to the house when Arkel, calling him several scandalous names, he stabbed him so that he was instantly expired. The daughter of Arkel being present attempted to seize Hamilton, in doing which she tore off the skirt of his coat which was left on the floor together with his sword on his effecting a second escape. This daughter of Arkel was almost blind, but her keeping the sword and the skirt of the coat proved the means of bringing Hamilton to justice. The murderer, having gone to Leith, embarked on board a ship and landed in Holland, where he continued two years, but his parents dying in the interval he returned to Scotland when he was taken into custody on account of the murder. On his trial he pleaded that he was intoxicated at the time the fact was committed, to which he was instigated by the extreme ill-usage he had received from Arkel. The jury, not allowing the force of these arguments, found him guilty, and he was sentenced to be beheaded by the maiden to give a description of which instrument may be grateful to our readers. The town of Halifax in Yorkshire, having been anciently famous for the manufacture of woolen cloths, a law was made for the protection of the property of the manufacturers, by which it was ordained that persons convicted of stealing cloth from the tether-grounds should be executed immediately after being convicted before two justices of the peace. Whatever the necessity there might appear for enacting the law in question cannot but lament that any Englishman should suffer without the formality of a trial by jury. The machine by which persons thus convicted were executed was constructed in the following manner, quote, Two strong wooden beams were fixed on a scaffold, and between them in a traversed form ran another beam to the lower side of which was affixed a sharp instrument in the form of a chopping-knife with a large quantity of lead on the upper part. The criminal put his neck between the two side beams, and the cross beam being drawn by a pulley was suffered to fall down, and the head was severed from the body in a moment, end quote. The Earl of Morton, Regent of Scotland, returning from the Court of Elizabeth in the year 1574, saw this machine at Halifax, and had a model taken of it, with a view to the execution of such of the Scottish nobility as should oppose his measures. But it happened that his lordship was the first who suffered by this mode of execution, once it was called the Maiden. After this many persons of rank in Scotland were executed by this machine, but Mr. Hamilton, of whom we are now writing, was the last who yielded his life in this manner, and the instrument of death is now kept in a room adjacent to the council chamber in Edinburgh. After Mr. Hamilton received sentence of death, his friends made great interest to procure a pardon, but their endeavours proving ineffectual, he suffered death by the mode above mentioned on the 30th of June 1716. At the place of execution he owned that he had killed Arkel, but presumed to think he was justified on the principle of self-defense. Mr. Hamilton's case will teach us to reflect on the sad consequences of keeping bad company and an attachment to gaming. But for these vices he might have lived happy in himself and a credit to the worthy family from which he was descended. The youth who will devote those hours to the gaming table which he ought to employ in the honest advancement of his fortune can expect only to be reduced to beggary at the best, but in a thousand instances as well as the present the consequences have been much more fatal. Hence let young gentlemen learn to shun the gaming table as they would pestilence, to proceed in the plain path of honour and integrity and to know that there can be no true happiness in a departure from the line of virtue. Narrative of the case of Mr. Edward Byrd, who is executed for murder. Mr. Byrd was born at Windsor in Barcher and descended of respectable parents, who having first sent him to Westminster school, then removed him to eat in college. When he had finished his studies he was sent to make the tour of France and Italy, and on his return to England was honoured with the commission of a lieutenant in a regiment of horse. Before he had been long in the army he began to associate with abandoned company of both sexes, which finally led to the commission of the crime which cost him his life. On the 10th of January 1719 he was indicted at the Old Bailey for the murder of Samuel Lockston. It appeared on his trial that he had taken a woman of the town to a banio in Silver Street where Lockston was waiter. Early in the morning he ordered a bath to be got ready, but Lockston, being busy, sent another waiter, at whom Byrd, in a fit of passion, made several passes with his sword, which he avoided by holding the door in his hand. But the prisoner ran after him, threw him downstairs and broke some of his ribs. On this the master and mistress of the house and Lockston went into the room and attempted to appease him, but Byrd, enraged that the bath had not been prepared the moment he ordered it, seized his sword which lay by the bedside and, stabbing Lockston, he fell backwards and died immediately, on which the offender was taken into custody and committed to Newgate. He was to have been tried in October, but pleading that he was not ready with his defense, the trial was put off to December, and then till January, on his physician making affidavit that he was too ill to be removed from his chamber. Being convicted on the clearest evidence, he received sentence of death, but great interest being made in his behalf he was reprieved, and it was thought he would have been pardoned on condition of transportation, but for the intervention of the following circumstance. The friends of Lockston, hearing that a reprieve was granted, advised his widow to lodge an appeal at the bar of the court of King's bench, and she went thither with some friends to give security for that purpose. But the relations of Byrd, hearing what was intended, were ready in court with witnesses to suppose that this was the second wife of Lockston, the first still living. This being the fact, the court refused to admit the appeal as the second could not be a lawful wife. This affair occasioned so much clamour that Byrd was ordered for execution on Monday, the twenty-third of February, on the night preceding which he took a dose of poison, but that not operating as he had expected he stabbed himself in several places. Yet, however, he lived till the morning, when he was taken to Tibern in a morning coach attended by his mother and the ordinary of Newgate. As he had paid little attention to the instructions of the ordinary while under confinement, so he seemed equally indifferent to his advice in the last moments of his life. Being indulged to stay an hour in the coach with his mother, he was put into the cart where he asked for a glass of wine. But being told that it could not be had, he begged a pinch of snuff which he took with apparent unconcern, wishing health to those who stood near him. He then rehearsed the apostle's creed, and being tied up was launched into eternity on the above-mentioned twenty-third of February, 1719. He was executed in his twenty-seventh year of life. He declined making any speech, but delivered the following paper to his friends the day before his execution. It will be expected that I should say something at this time, as to the fact I am going to suffer for. I do not pretend to say I did not kill the deceased, but humbly conceive that both the laws of God and man will justify self-defense, which I call God to witness in whose arms of mercy I am now going to throw myself. Unhappy is the gentleman who falls into such hands, for there was not one evidence for the king that was not manifestly perjured as I have faithfully set forth in my printed case, with all the justice of a person expecting nothing less than death was capable of. And it is also as evident that the proper evidences on my side were never called. I wish I could persuade myself that mismanagement did not proceed from the infidelity of my attorney employed in my trial, for it appears but too evident that he never made one regular step toward my interest, and I wish I could avare that he did not arm my enemies against me. After all this, his majesty, in his great wisdom, thought fit to grant me a reprieve and order me for transportation, but the restless malice of my enemies would not fix here. The pretended widow of deceased lodges an appeal against me. How she had a right so to do I'd leave those gentlemen learned in the law to determine. Yet this, with her fallacious petition, found entrance to the royal fountain, and turned that former stream of mercy from me, causing his majesty to recede from his first degree of mercy and order my execution, under which sentence I still, with all humility, submit. Another reflection I am credibly informed is cast upon me in order to make my load the greater, which is that I was frequently visited during my confinement, and ever since my conviction, by lewd and infamous women. I cannot say that I have not been visited by diverse women, but do not know them to be such. Some of them were relations, and others, persons, who had business with me relating to my unhappy circumstances. What will not malice invent? There is one thing more which I omitted in my printed case relating to my adversaries' evidence, disposing that the deceased lockson fell without the door, which I declare solemnly is utterly false. For what was done was in the room. I was not off from my bed when the accident happened, and when he dropped he fell backwards upon the bed. I might take notice of many more false dispersions, but will omit them having I thank my God, forgiven them all. In the next place it will be expected that I say something of my religion. I declare that I die a Protestant, and of the communion of the Church of England, whose doctrines teach me to forgive my enemies, which sincerely I do. Humbly begging, at the same time, that all those who through inadvertency, heat of blood, or any juvenile folly I have offended will do the same by me. As for the manifold reflections cast upon me since my confinement, the pretended widow's violent prosecution, the farriers notoriously falls affidavit, and all the other offenses committed against me, I heartily forgive them. And to conclude, I wish all gentlemen would only weigh the fatal cause of my unhappy exit, and avoid all such houses where the scene of this misfortune was first laid. Let me be an example to them to avoid those rocks I have split upon. That they may, with less difficulty than I have founded, be able to compose their thoughts, which I thank God I have done, through the assistance of his divine spirit and sink into a willing resignation to his divine will. This unfortunate youth seems to have fallen sacrifice to the irregularity and violence of his own passions, to the pride of his heart, and his love of lawless pleasure. Hence, let the youth who read this be taught to walk in the plain paths of sobriety and discretion, neither turning aside to the right hand nor to the left. His taking poison and stabbing himself to defeat the execution of the law is a strong proof of that pride of heart we have mentioned. He could be guilty of a crime deserving of the utmost ignomy, but dreaded to sustain it. Humility, then, is another doctrine to be learnt from the fate of this man. The situation of Bird's mother and her attending him to Tyburn must have been dreadful beyond all expression. Mr. Bird had been well educated and ought to have made a different return to the care of his parents. Women in general, however, should consider that it is by a religious education that the mind of the child is most likely to be guarded from the contamination of vice. The sacred maxim will hold good in most instances, train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart therefrom. Singular case of Catherine Jones, who is tried for bigamy and acquitted. Catherine Jones was indicted at the Old Bailey on the fifth of September, 1719, for marrying Constantine Boone during the life of her former husband, John Rowland. Proof was made that she was married to Rowland in the year 1713 at a house in the mid Sothec. And that six years afterwards, while her husband was abroad, she was again married, in the same house, to Constantine Boone. But Rowland, soon returning to England, caused his wife to be indicted for that crime. The prisoner did not hesitate to acknowledge the double marriage, but insisted that the latter was illegal, as Boone was in homophrodite, and had been shown as such at Sothec and Bartholomew's fairs and at other places. To prove this, a person swore that he knew Boone when a child, and that his or her mother, dressed it in girls' apparel, and caused it to be instructed in needlework, till it had attained the age of twelve years, when it turned man and went to sea. These last words were those of the deposition, and the fact was confirmed by Boone, who appeared in court, acknowledged being homophrodite, and having been publicly shown in that character. Other witnesses deposed that the female sex prevailed over that of the male in the party in question, on which the jury acquitted the prisoner. It is impossible to describe how much this affair was subject to public conversation at and long after the time that it happened, and it would be idle to make any serious remarks on it. We can only express our astonishment that a homophrodite should think of such a glaring absurdity as taking a wife. Account of William Spigot and Thomas Phillips, who were hanged for robbing on the highway. At the sessions held at the Old Bailey in the month of January, 1720, William Spigot and Thomas Phillips were indicted for committing several robberies on the highway, but they refused to plead unless the effects taken from them when they were apprehended were returned. But this being directly contrary to an act of fourth and fifth year of King William and Queen Mary entitled, quote, an act for encouraging the apprehending of Hyruman, unquote, the court informed them that their demand could not be complied with. Still, however, they refused to plead, and no argument could convince them of the absurdity of such an obstinate procedure, on which the court ordered that the judgment ordained by law in such cases should be read, which is, to the following purpose, quote, that the prisoner shall be sent to the prison from whence he came, and be put into a mean room, stopped from the light, and shall there be laid on the bare ground without any litter, straw, or other covering, and without any garment about him except something to hide his privy members. He shall lie upon his back, his head shall be covered, and his feet shall be bare. One of his arms shall be drawn with a cord to one side of the room, and the other arm to the other side, and his leg shall be served in a like manner. Then there shall be laid upon his body as much iron or stone as he can bear and more. And the first day after he shall have three morsels of barley bread without any drink, and the second day he shall be allowed to drink as much as he can at three times of the water that is next to the prison door except running water without any bread, and this shall be his diet till he dies. And he, against whom his judgment shall be given, forfeit all his goods to the king. By an act passed in 1772 it is determined that persons refusing to plead shall be deemed guilty, as if convicted by a jury, an alteration that does honor to modern times. The reading of his sentence producing no effect. They were ordered back to Newgate, there to be pressed to death. But when they came into the press room Phillips begged to be taken back to plead a favor that was granted, though it might have been denied to him. But Spigot was put under the press, where he continued half an hour with three hundred and fifty pounds weight on his body, but on the addition of fifty pounds more he likewise begged to plead. In consequence hereof they were brought back and again indicted. When the evidence being clear and positive against them they were convicted, received sentence of death, and were executed to Tyburn on the 8th of February, 1723. William Spigot was about twenty-seven years of age when he suffered, was a native of Hereford, but coming to London he apprenticed himself to a cabinet-maker. He was a married man and had three children living at the time of his fatal exit. He and Phillips were hanged for robbing Charles Sibald on Finchley Common, and were convicted principally on the evidence of Joseph Lindsay, a clergyman of abandoned character who had been of their party. One borrows a lunatic who had escaped from Bedlam was likewise concerned with them, but afterwards publicly spoke of the affair which occasioned their being taken into custody, and when it was known that borrows was disordered in his mind he was sent back to Bedlam. Thomas Phillips, aged thirty-three years, was a native of Bristol, totally uneducated, and being sent to sea when very young he served under Lord Torrington when he attacked and took the Spanish fleet in the Mediterranean Sea near the harbor of Cadiz. Phillips, returning to England, became acquainted with Spigot and Lindsay, in company with whom he committed a great number of robberies on the highway. Phillips, once boasted, he and Spigot robbed above a hundred passengers one night, whom they obliged to come out of different wagons and, having bound them, placed them by each other on the side of the road. But this story is too absurd to be believed. While under sentence of death Phillips behaved in the most hardened and abandoned manner, he paid no regard to anything that the ministers said to him and swore and sung songs while the other prisoners were engaged in acts of devotion, and afterwards toward the close of his life. When his companions became more serious he grew still more wicked, and yet when at the place of execution he said he did not fare to die, for he was in no doubt of going to heaven. Narrative of the singular case of John Meff, who is hanged for returning for transportation. This offender had been taken into custody for committing robbery near London. But as it happened at a time within the limits of an act of grace passed in the reign of King George I, it was not thought necessary to indict him, and he would have been discharged without further ceremony, but it appeared that he had been transported for another crime and returned before the expiration of his time, wherefore he was indicted for this offence and on an act then lately made for the effectual transportation of felons, and his person being identified, he was found guilty, received sentence of death, and was executed at Tyburn on the 11th of September, 1721. The following is an account which he wrote between his commemoration and the day of his execution. I was born in London of French parents who had fled hither for protection when the French Protestants were driven out of France by Louis XIV. I was put apprentice to a weaver. My father, having continued about twelve years in England, went with the rest of the family to Holland. I served my time faithfully and with the approbation of my master. Soon after I came to work for myself, I married, but my business not being sufficient to maintain myself, my wife, and children, I was willing to try what I could at thieving. I followed this practice till I was apprehended, tried, and condemned for house-breaking, but, as I was going to the place of execution, the hangman was arrested, and I was brought back to Newgate. It was thought that this was my contrivance to put a stop to public justice, but I was so far from being any ways concerned in it that I knew nothing of it till it was done. This might have been a happy turn for me if I had made a right use of it. For my sentence of death was changed for that of transportation, and, indeed, I took up a solemn resolution to lead an honest and regular course of life and to resist all the persuasions of my comrades to the contrary. But this resolution continued but a short time after the fear of death was vanished. I believe, however, that if I had been safe-landed in America, my rune might have been prevented. But the ship, which carried me and other convicts, was taken by pirates. They would have persuaded me and some of the others to sign a paper in order to become pirates. But we, refusing, they put me and eight more ashore on a desert island uninhabited, where we must have perished with hunger. If by good fortune an Indian canoe had not arrived there. We waited till the Indians were gone up the island, and then, getting into the vessel, we sailed from one small island to another till we reached the coast of America. Not choosing to settle in any of the plantations there, but preferring the life of a sailor, I shipped myself on board a vessel that carried merchandise from Virginia and South Carolina to Barbados, Jamaica, and other of His Majesty's islands. And thus I lived a considerable time. But at last, being over-desirous to see how my wife and children fared in England, I was resolved to return at all adventures. Upon my arrival here, I quickly fell into my former wicked practices, and it was not long before I was committed to Newgate on suspicion of robbing a person near London. But, by the assistance of a certain bricklayer, I broke out of prison and went to Hatfield, where I lay concealed for some time. But at last was discovered and taken again by the same bricklayer who had procured my escape. Some evil genius attended me. I was certainly infatuated, or I had never continued in a place where I was so likely to be discovered. My father is now our gardener in Amsterdam. Tiz, in addition to my misfortune, that I cannot see him and my mother before I die. But I hope, when he hears of my unhappy end, he will keep my children by my first wife from starving. My present wife is avilled by her industry to bring up her own offspring. For she has been an honest, careful woman during the nine months I have been married to her, and has often pressed me to go over to Ireland and lead a regular and sober life. It had been well for me if I had taken her advice. I have had enough of this restless and tumultuous world and hope I am now going to a better. I am very easy and resigned to the will of Providence, not doubting I have made my peace with heaven. I thank God that I have not been molested by my fellow prisoners, with the least cursing or swearing in the condemned hold, but having had an opportunity of employing every moment of my time in preparing for a future state. The case of this malefactor is very extraordinary, and perhaps may never be equal by that of any other. The narrow escape he had experienced from the gallows ought to have taught him more wisdom than to have returned from transportation before the expiration of his time. But one would think there is a fatality attending the conduct of some men who seem resolutely bent on their own destruction. One truth, however, is certain. It is easy by a steady adherence to the rules of virtue to shun that ignominious fate, which is the consequence of the breach of the laws of God and our country. The singular case of Nathaniel Hawes, who was hanged for a robbery. The subject of this narrative was a native of Norfolk in which county he was born in the year 1701. Hawes' father was a grazer in ample circumstances, but dying while the son was an infant, a relation in Hartfordshire took care of his education. At a proper age he was a predest to an impulsterer in London, becoming connected with people of bad character and thus acquiring an early habit of vice. He robbed his master when he had served only two years of his time, for which he was tried at the Old Bailey, and being convicted of stealing to the amount of thirty-nine shillings, he was sentenced to seven years transportation. But the sentence thus awarded against Hawes was not carried into execution owing to the following circumstance. A man named Philips had encouraged the unhappy youth in his depredations by purchasing, at a very low weight, such goods as he stole from his master. But when Hawes was taken into custody he gave information of this affair, in consequence of which a search warrant was procured and many effects belonging to Hawes' master were found in Philips' possession. Hereupon application was made to the king and a free pardon was granted to Hawes, whereby he was rendered a competent evidence against Philips, who was tried for his steving stolen goods and transported for fourteen years. We are sorry to relate the sequel of this tale. Hawes, during his confinement in Newgate, had made such bad connections as greatly contributed to the contamination of his morals, and soon after his release he connected himself with a set of fellows who acted under the direction of Jonathan Wilde, and having made a particular acquaintance with one, John James, they joined in the commission of a number of robberies. After an uncommon share of success for some days they quarreled on the division of the booty, and in consequence of which each acted on his own account. Some little time after they had thus separated, Hawes, being apprehensive that James would impeach him, applied to Jonathan Wilde and informed against his old acquaintance, on which James was taken into custody, tried, convicted, and executed. By an act of fourth and fifth William and Mary, for the more effectual conviction of highwaymen, the evidence of accomplices is allowed, but the evidence cannot claim his liberty unless two or more of his accomplices are convicted, but may be imprisoned during the pleasure of the court. So, notwithstanding this conviction, the court sentenced Hawes to be imprisoned in new prison, and that jail was preferred to Newgate because the prisoners in the latter had threatened to murder Hawes for being in evidence against James. Soon after this commitment, Hawes and another fellow made their escape, and entering into partnership committed a variety of robberies, particularly in the road between Hackney and Shortage. This connection, like the former, lasted but a short time, a dispute on dividing their ill-gotten gains occasioned to separation. Soon after this dissolution of the partnership, Hawes went alone to Finchley Common, where, meeting a gentleman riding to town, he presented a pistol to his breast and commanded him instantly to dismount, that he might search him for his money. The gentleman offered him four shillings on which Hawes swore the most horrid oaths and threatened instant death if he did not immediately submit. The gentleman quitted his horse, and in that same moment seized the pistol which he snatched from the hand of the robber, and presenting it to him told him to expect death if he did not surrender himself. Hawes, who is now as terrified as he had been insolent, made no opposition, and the driver of a cart coming up just at that juncture, he was easily made prisoner, conveyed to London, and committed to Newgate. When the session came on, and he was brought to the bar, he refused to plead to the indictment, alleging the following reason for so doing, visit, that he would die as he had lived like a gentleman. Quote, the people, he said, who apprehended me seized a suit of fine clothes which I intend to have gone to the gallows in, and unless they are returned I will not plead, for no one shall say that I was hanged in a dirty shirt and a ragged coat. Unquote. On this he was told what would be the consequences of his contempt of legal authority, but this making no impression on him, sentence was pronounced that he should be pressed to death, whereupon he was taken from the court, and being laid on his back sustained a load of two hundred and fifty pounds weight for about seven minutes. But, unable any longer to bear the pain, he entreated that he might be conducted back to the court, which being complied with he pleaded not guilty, but the evidence against him being complete he was convicted and sentenced to die. After conviction his behavior was very improper for one in his situation. He told the other capital convicts that he would die like a hero and behaved in the same thoughtless way till the arrival of the warrant for his execution, after which his conduct was not altogether scandalous. He owned to the ordinary of Newgate that he was induced to refuse to plead to his indictment, that the other prisoners might deem him a man of honor, and not for the idle vanity of being hanged in fine clothes. He acknowledged many robberies which he had committed, but charged Jonathan Wilde as being the principal author of his rune by purchasing the stolen goods. He likewise owned that he had been base enough to inform against persons who were innocent, particularly a gentleman's servant who was then in custody, but he did not discover any signs of contrition for this or any other of his offenses. He was executed at Tibern on the 22nd of December, 1721. The end of Part 6, Volume 1 of the New and Complete Newgate Calendar. This is Part 7, Volume 1 of the New and Complete Newgate Calendar, read by Roy Schreiber. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Particulars respecting a Rundle Cook Esquire and John Woodburn, who were hanged for cutting and maiming Mr. Crisp, these people suffered on what is called the Coventry Act, to understand which it will be necessary to recite a few particulars. The Coventry Act took its rise from the following circumstance, Sir John Coventry, in the reign of Charles II, having opposed the measures of the court in the House of Commons in revenge hereof, some armed villains attacked him one night in Covent Garden, slit his nose and cut off his lips. Shocked by so barbarous a deed, the members of both houses of Parliament passed an act in a few days by which it was ordered that, quote, unlawful cutting out or disabling the tongue of malice a forethought, or by lying in weight, putting out an eye, slitting the nose or lip, or cutting off or disabling any limb or member of any person with intent to maim or disfigure shall be felony without benefit of clergy. End, quote. By this law it was likewise enacted that, quote, accessories shall be deemed principles. End, quote. The parties whose crimes we are about to relate are the first who are executed on this act. Mr. Cook was born near Barry St. Edmonds in the county of Suffolk. His father was a man of fortune, and when he had given him an university education he sent him to the temple to study the law, after which he was called to the bar and acted as a counselor. After some time he married a young lady, the sister of Mr. Crisp, who lived in the neighborhood of his native place. Mr. Crisp, being a gentleman of large property, but a bad state of health, made his will in favor of Cook, subject only to a jointure for his sister's use, which was likewise to become the property of the counselor in case the lady died before her husband. It was not long after Mr. Crisp had made his will before he recovered his health, in some degree, but he continued an infirm man, though he lived a number of years. This partial recovery gave great uneasiness to Cook, who, wishing to possess the estate, was anxious for the death of his brother-in-law, though as he had ardent enough to conceal his sentiments, they appeared to live on tolerable terms. However, he at length grew so impatient that he could not come into possession by death of Mr. Crisp that he resolved to remove him by murder, and for that purpose engaged John Woodburn, a laboring man who had six children to assist him in the execution of this diabolical plan. For this piece of service he promised to give Woodburn a hundred pounds. The man was unwilling to be concerned in this extroval business, but reflections on his poverty and the largeness of his family tempted him to comply. On this it was agreed that the murder should be perpetrated on Christmas evening, and as Mr. Crisp was to dine with Mr. Cook on that day, and the churchyard lay between one house and the other, Woodburn was to wait concealed behind one of the tombstones till Cook gave him the signal for the attack, which was to be a loud whistle. Crisp came to his appointment and dined and drank tea with his brother-in-law, but declining to stay for supper he left the house about nine o'clock and was almost immediately followed into the churchyard by Cook, giving the agreed signal to Woodburn the latter quitted his place of retreat, knocked down the unhappy man, and cut and maimed him in a terrible manner, in which he was abetted by the counselor. Imagining that they had dispatched him, Mr. Cook rewarded Woodburn with a few shillings, and instantly went home, but he had not been arrived more than a quarter of an hour before Crisp knocked at the door, and entered covered with wounds and almost dead through loss of blood. He was unable to speak, but by his looks seemed to accuse Cook with the intent of murder, and was then put to bed and his wounds dressed by a surgeon. At the end of about a week he was so much mended as to be removed to his own house. He had no doubt but Cook was one of the persons who had assaulted him, but had resolved not to speak of the affair till future circumstances made it necessary for him to inform a court of justice of what had happened. The intended assassination, having greatly engaged the attention of the neighbors, Woodburn was apprehended on suspicion when making a discovery of the whole truth Cook was also taken into custody. They were brought to their trials at the next to sizes when both of them were convicted. When they were called up to receive sentence of death, Cook desired to be heard, and the court complying with his request he urged that, quote, judgment could not pass on the verdict because the active parliament simply mentions an intention to maim or deface, whereas he was firmly resolved to have committed murder, end quote. He quoted several law cases in favor of the arguments he had advanced, and hoped that judgment might be respited till the opinion of the twelve judges could be taken on the cause. The counsel for the crown opposed the arguments of Mr. Cook, insisted that the crime came within the meaning of the law, and hoped that judgment would pass against the prisoners. Lord Chief Justice King, who presided on this occasion, declared that he could not admit the force of Mr. Cook's plea consistent with his own oath as a judge, quote, for, he said, it would establish a principle in the law inconsistent with the first dictates of natural reason. As the greatest villain might, when convicted of a smaller offense, plead that the judgment must be arrested because he intended to commit a greater. In the present instance, said he, judgment cannot be arrested, as the intention is naturally implied when the crime is actually committed. His lordship said that Crisp was assassinated in the manner laid in the indictment. It is therefore to be taken for granted that the intention was to name and deface, wherefore the court will proceed to give judgment, and accordingly sentence of death was passed on the prisoners. After condemnation, Cook employed his time principally in endeavours to procure a pardon, and when he found his expectations failed him, he grew reserved, and would not admit even the visits of his friends. On the contrary, Woodburn was all penitence and humiliation, sincerely lamenting the crime he had been guilty of, and the miserable situation in which he left his poor children. A short time before the day of execution, Cook wrote to the sheriff, requesting that he might be hanged in the night to prevent his being exposed to the country people who were expected from all the adjacent towns and villages. And in consequence, hereof, he was hanged at four o'clock in the morning, and Woodburn was executed the afternoon of the same day. The latter behaved with every sign of penitence, but Cook's conduct was very unfeeling, and he absolutely refused to confess his crime. These malice factors were executed at Barry St. Edmonds on the 5th of April, 1722. Narrative of the remarkable actions of John Hawkins and George Simpson, who were executed for robbing the Bristol Mail and hung in chains. As the crime for which these malice factors suffered is very pernicious in its own nature, and their other transactions made a great noise in the world at the time they took place, we proposed to give a particular account of them. John Hawkins was the son of a poor farmer at Staines, who, not being able to afford to educate him properly, he went into service of a gentleman, which he soon quitted, and lived as a waiter at the red lion at Brentford. But leaving this place, he again engaged as a gentleman's servant. After living in different families, he became butler to Sir Dennis Drury, and was distinguished as a servant of very creditable appearance. Indeed, his person was uncommonly graceful, and he was remarkably vain of it. He used to frequent gaming tables two or three nights in the week, a practice which led to that rune which finally befell him. About this time Sir Dennis had been robbed of a considerable quantity of plate, and as Hawkins' mode of life was very expensive, it was suspected that he was the thief, for which reason he was discharged without the advantage of a good character. Being thus destitute of the means of subsistence, he had recourse to the highway, and his first expedition was to Hounslow Heath, where he took eleven pounds from the passengers in a coach. But such was his attachment to gaming that he repaired directly to London where he lost it all. He continued to rob alone for some time, losing at the gaming houses what he obtained at so much risk, and he then engaged to rob with other highwaymen. But the same fate still attended him. He lost by gaming what he got by thieving, and was frequently so reduced as to dine at an eating-house and then sneak off without paying his reckoning. Several of Hawkins' old companions having met their desserts at the gallows. He became acquainted with one Wilson, a youth of good education who had been artichalled to a solicitor in chancery, but had neglected his business through an attachment to the gaming tables. Those associates having committed several robberies in conjunction were tried for one of them, but acquitted for want of evidence, though Wilson, in an account published after Hawkins' condemnation, confesses they were guilty. Immediately after this Wilson went down to his mother, who lived at Whitby in Yorkshire, and continued with her for about a year, and then coming to London, lived with a gentleman of the law, but having lost his money in gaming, renewed his acquaintance with Hawkins, who was now concerned with a new gang of villains. But one of these being apprehended impeached the rest, which soon dispersed the gang, but not till some of them had made their exit at Tibern, on which Hawkins was obliged to conceal himself for a considerable time, but at length he ventured to rob a gentleman on Finchley Common, and shot one of the servants so that he died on the spot. His next attack was on the Earl of Burlington and Lord Bruce in Richmond Lane, from whom he took about twenty pounds, two gold watches, and a sapphire ring. For this ring a reward of a hundred pounds was offered to Jonathan Wilde, but Hawkins sailed to Holland with it, and there sold it for forty pounds. Hawkins returning to England joined his companions of whom Wilson was one, and robbed Sir David Dalrymple of three pounds, a snuff-box, and a pocket-book, for which last Sir David offered sixty-pound reward to Wilde, but the robbers having no connection with that excruble villain, who did not even know their persons, they sent the book by a porter to Sir David without expense. Hawkins and his associates next stopped Mr. Hyde of Hackney in his coach, and robbed him of ten pounds and his watch, but missed three hundred pounds, which the gentleman then had in his possession. After this they stopped the Earl of West Moorland's coach in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and robbed him of a sum of money, though there were three footmen behind the carriage. The footmen called the watch, but the robbers firing a pistol over their heads the guardians of the night decamped. Hawkins had now resolved to carry the booty obtained in several late robberies to Holland, but Jonathan Wilde, having heard of the connection, caused some of the gang to be apprehended, on which the rest went into the country to hide themselves. On this occasion Hawkins and Wilson went to Oxford, and, paying a visit to the Bodleian Library, the former wantonly defaced some pictures in the gallery, and a hundred pounds reward was offered to discover the offender, and a poor tailor being taken up on suspicion narrowly escaped being whipped merely because he was of wicked principles. Wilson and Hawkins returning to London, and the former coming of age at that time, succeeded to a little estate his father had left him, which he sold for three hundred and fifty pounds, a small part of which he lent to his companions to buy horses, and soon dissipated the rest at the gaming-table. The associates now stopped two gentlemen in a chariot on Hampstead Road, who both fired at once, by which three slugs were lodged in Hawkins' shoulder, and the High Women got to London with some difficulty. On Hawkins' recovery they attempted to stop a gentleman's coach in Hyde Park, but the coachman, driving heastily, Wilson fired, and wounding himself in the hand, found it difficult to scale the park wall to affect his escape. This circumstance occasioned some serious thoughts in his mind, in consequence of which he set out for his mother's house in Yorkshire, where he was kindly received and fully determined never to return to his former practices. While he was engaged in his mother's business and planning schemes for domestic happiness, he was sent for to a public house where he found his old acquaintance Hawkins in company with George Simpson, of whom we shall have occasion to relate more in the course of this narrative. Wilson was shocked at seeing them and asked what could induce them to make such a journey. Hereupon Hawkins swore violently, said Wilson was impeached and would be taken into custody in a few days. This induced him to go to London with them, but on his arrival he found that the story of the impeachment was false. When in London they formed connections with other thieves, and committed several robberies for which some of the gang were executed. They frequented a public house at London Wall, the master of which kept a livery stable, so that they rode out at all hours and robbed the stages as they were coming into town. They took not only money, but portmanteaus and etc., and divided the booty with Carter, the master of the livery stable. In this practice they continued a considerable time until they were apprehended for robbing the mail, which we shall have occasion to mention in the sequel. George Simpson was a native of Putney in Surrey. His father was a wine merchant, but being reduced in circumstances removed to Lincolnshire. Young Simpson kept a public house at Lincoln and acted as a sheriff's officer, but quitting the country he came to London and was butler to Lord Castle Main, after which he lived in several other credible places. He now became acquainted with Hawkins, in company with whom he stopped the carriage of Richard West Esquire, behind Buckyham House, from whom they took a gold watch and other valuable articles. Soon after this he robbed the Portsmouth coach in company with Wilson when one of the company fired at them. Thus they continued their depredations on the public till one of their associates, named Child, was executed at Ailesbury and hung in chains for robbing the mail. This incensed them to such a degree that they determined to revenge the supposed insult by committing a similar crime. They mentioned their design in the presence of Carter, the stablekeeper, who advised them to stop the mail from Harwich. But this they declined, because the changing of the wind must render the time of its arrival uncertain. At length it was determined that they would rob the Bristol Mail, and they set out on an expedition for that purpose. It appeared on the trail that the boy who carried the mail was overtaken at Slough by a countryman who travelled with him to Langley Broome, where a person rode up to Langley Broome and turned back again. After passing through Colenbrooke they saw the same man again with two others who followed them at a small distance, and then pulling their wigs over their foreheads and holding handkerchiefs in their mouths. Came up with them and commanded the post-boy and the countryman to come down a lane where they ordered them to quit their horses, and then Hawkins, Simpson and Wilson tied them back to back and fastened them to a tree in a wet ditch so that they were obliged to stand in the water. This being done they took such papers as they liked at the bath and Bristol bags and hid the rest in a hedge. They now crossed the Thames and riding a little way into Surrey put up their horses at an inn in Bermondsey Street. It was now about six in the morning when they parted and went different ways to a public house in the minarees where they proposed to divide their ill-gotten treasure. The landlord being acquainted with the persons and knowing the profession of his guests showed them a private room and supplied them with pan and ink. Having equally divided the banknotes they threw the letters in the fire and then went to their lodgings at Green Arbor Court in the Old Bailey. A few days after this transaction they were taken into custody in the following manner. Information having been given at the post office that suspicious people frequented the house of Carter, the stablekeeper at London Wall, some persons were sent thither to make the necessary discoveries. Wilson happening to be there at the time suspected their business on which he abruptly retired slipped through some by-allies and got into the Moorgate Coffee House which he had occasionally used two years before on account of its being frequented by reputable company and therefore less liable to be searched for suspicious people. He had not been long in the house before a Quaker mentioned the search that was making in the neighborhood for the men who robbed the mail. This shocked him so that he instantly paid his reckoning and going out the back door went into Bedlam where the melancholy sight of the objects around him induced him to draw a comparison between their situation and his own. And he concluded that he was far more unhappy through weight of his guilt than those poor wretches whom it had pleased God to deprive of the use of their intellects. Having reflected that it would not be safe for him to stay longer in London, he resolved to go to Newcastle by the sea, and he was confirmed in this resolution on reflecting that a person who wished his safety had informed him that he and his companions were the parties suspected of having robbed the mail. This friend likewise advised him to go to the post office, surrender, and turn evidence, hinting that if he did not he was probable Simpson would, as he had asked some questions which seemed to intimate such a design. Wilson neglected this advice, but held his resolution of going to Newcastle, and with that intention quitted Bedlam. But by Morgay Coffee House he met the man he had seen at Carter's. They turned and followed him, yet unperceived by them he entered the Coffee House while they went under the arch of the gate, and if he had returned by the door he entered he would have again escaped them, but going out of the four door of the house they took him into custody and conducted him to the post office. On his first examination he refused to make any confession. On the following day he seemed equally determined to conceal the truth till two circumstances induced him to reveal it. In the first place the postmaster general promised that he should be admitted and evidence if he would discover his accomplices. And one of the clerics, calling him aside, showed him a letter without any name to it, of which the following is a copy. Quote, Sir, I am one of those persons who robbed the males which I am sorry for, and to make amends I will secure my two companions as soon as may be. He whose hand this shall appear to be will, I hope, be entitled to reward and his pardon. As Wilson knew this letter to be of Simpson's handwriting he thought himself justified in making a full discovery which he accordingly did, in consequence of which his associates were apprehended at their lodgings in the Old Bailey two days afterwards. At first they made an appearance of resistance and threatened to shoot the peace officers, but the ladders saying they were provided with arms the offenders yielded, and were committed to Newgate. On the trial Hawkins endeavored to prove that he was in London at the time the male was robbed, and when fuller of Bedfordbury swore he lodged at his house that night. To ascertain this Fuller produced a receipt for thirty shillings which he said Hawkins then paid him for horse-hire. The judge, desiring to look at that receipt, observed that the body of it was written in an ink of a different color from that of the name at the bottom, on which he ordered the note to be handed to the jury and remarked that Fuller's testimony deserved no kind of credit. After examining some other witnesses the judge proceeded to sum up the evidence in which he was interrupted by a singular occurrence which will be best understood by giving it in the words of the shorthand writer. My ink as it happened was very bad, being thick at the bottom and thin and water-ish at the top, and so that accordingly as I dipped my pen the writing appeared very pale or very black. Now, just as the court was remarking on the difference in ink in Fuller's receipt, a gentleman who stood by me, perceiving something of the same kind in my writing, desired to look upon my notes for a minute. As I was not aware of any ill consequence I let him take the book out of my hand, when presently showing it to his friend. See here, said he, what difference there is in the colour of the ink! His friend took it and showed it to another. Uneasy at this I spoke to them to return my book. They begged my pardon and said I should have it in a minute. But this answer was no sooner given than a curiosity suddenly entered one of the jurymen, who sat just by, and he too begged a sight of the book, which, notwithstanding my importunity, was immediately handed to him. He viewed it and gave it to the next, and so it passed from one to another till the judge, perceiving them very busy, called to them. Gentlemen, what are you doing? What is that book? They told him it was the writer's book, and they were observing how the same ink appeared pale in one place and black in another. You ought not, gentlemen, says he, take notice of anything but what is produced in evidence, and then, turning to me, demanded what I meant by showing that to the jury. I answered that I could not fix upon the persons for the gentlemen near me were all strangers to me, and I was far from imagining that I should have any occasion for taking under notice of them. His lordship then re-assumed his charge to the jury, which being ended they withdrew to consider of their verdict. After staying out about an hour, the jury returned into court without agreeing on a verdict, saying they could not be convinced that Fuller's receipt was not genuine merely on account of the different colors of the ink. In answer, here, too, the court intimated how many witnesses had sworn that Hawkins was absent from London, to contradict all of whom there was only the evidence of Fuller, which was at least rendered doubtful by the ink appearing of two colors, and it was submitted whether Fuller's single testimony ought to be held of equal validity with that of all the opposing parties. Here upon the jury went out of court, and on their return gave a verdict of guilty against both the prisoners. After sentence of death they behaved as became persons in their unfortunate circumstances. Simpson in particular appeared to be highly affected with the awfulness of his situation. At the place of execution Hawkins addressed the surrounding multitude, acknowledging that his sins had brought him to that shameful end, professing to die in charity with all mankind and begging the prayers of those who were witnesses of his melancholy exit. He died with great difficulty, but Simpson was out of his pain almost without a struggle. Account of the trial of Margaret Fisher for privately stealing with the singular evidence given against her. In September 1722 Margaret Fisher was indicted at the Old Bailey for privately stealing thirteen guineas from the person of Daniel McDonald. As our readers have acclaimed upon us for matters of entertainment as well as instruction, we are ready to gratify them as we always shall be when it can be done without grossly violating the laws of decency. And we insert the following for the sake of the whimsical singularity of the prosecutor's evidence which was delivered in the following terms. And, Leek, your lair-chip, I had just taken my wages thirteen guineas in good, and was gone along King Strait in Wasminster when I met with this foe queen at the bar, and she spurred me where I was gone. I told her, hey, she said, Jen, I would go with her till Joni Davis's hoose. She would give me a dram, sir, for in truth she took me for a poor, gawky, boss-headed chill, and Leek, your lair-chip, she took my hood on my hand, and lad me, I get I can a real wheel. And when we came to Joni Davis's hoose, she cod for Mickelbeer and Brain D, and guard me as Boong as a swoop, and Leek, your honour. I stayed there with her a pretty while, and then, sir, I pit my hand into my bricks to feel for money to pay the rackning. But the deal of Bobby could I find for it was a tint. And when I speared about it, they glowered and turred me, again I want to attack myself awan. They wad gah, me gah. With a deal to me, they dang me sous-ser, and turned me out at the back door into the strut, and I rumbled a boot, and could not find the hoose again. And the watchman met with me and carried me into the rune house, and there I told him who I had been robbered. The niece Mernon I guide on foot would Joni Davis's hoose, but she was rinn away, and the prasner too. But at neat, about seven o'clock, I met with this amputeen batch at the bar, and took her up. I kin real wheel yinu, that she must ha my good for na sal also was with me but Joni Davis wa brought, wa we cod for. Let her de knee it on she can. Somebody but I kena wa it was offered me in my hand to make the matter up, but I wo not attack it. In her defense the prisoner alleged, that meeting with a coachman and the prosecutor, the former asked her to drink on which they went to the house of Mrs. Davis, but that she sat on the opposite side of the room that the prosecutor did, and had not robbed him, and that nothing was found upon her when she was searched. But the jury not believing her allegations, and as she had no persons to appear in behalf of her character, she was found guilty, and received sentence of death. However, she pleaded that she was with child, and a jury of matrons finding this to be the fact, she had the good fortune to be respited and afterwards pardoned. The third lady, which was a woman, was a young man who was prime minister of the country, and she was the native of London, and bound apprentice to a tailor with whom he served about two years, and then running away, got into company of a set of blaggard boys who procured a miserable subsistence by picking of pockets, and then they proceeded to the practice of cutting off the pockets of women. In order to do this and they generally got out of reach of detection before the party robbed could recover her legs. These kinds of robberies were very common formerly, but of late years they had been very seldom practiced. Many of Oki's associates belonging to Jonathan Wilde's gang, that infernal villain, had caused several of them to be hanged when he could make no farther advantage of them. Having thus lost his old acquaintance, he became connected with a woman of town, who taught him the following singular method of robbery. They used to walk through the streets, the woman going a little before Oki. When she observed a lady walking near where a coach was turning, she used to catch her arms, crying, Take care, madam, you will be run over! And in the interim Oki was certain to cut off her pocket. But this way of life did not last long, for this abandoned woman soon after died in consequence of some bruises she received from a fellow she had ill-treated. And on her death Oki followed the practice of snatching pockets without a partner, and became one of the most dexterous in his profession. Not long after this he became acquainted with several housebreakers who persuaded him to follow their course of life as more profitable than stealing of pockets. In the first attempt they were successful, but the second, in which two others were concerned with him, was the breaking open a shop in the borough, from whence they stole the quantity of calamaticos, for which offense Oki was apprehended, on which he impeached his accomplices, one of whom was hanged, and the other transported on his evidence. Deterred from thoughts of housebreaking by this adventure, Oki returned for a while to his old employment, and then became acquainted with a man called Will the Sailor. When their plan of robbery was this, Will, who wore a sword, used to affront persons in the streets, and provoked them till they stripped to fight with him, and then Oki used to decamp with their clothes. However these associates in iniquity soon crawled and parted, and Oki, who by this time was an accomplished thief, entered into Jonathan Wiles' gang. John Levy was the son of a French gentleman resided sometime in England during the reign of King Charles II, and taught the French language to three natural sons of that prince. But he retired to Holland, and there died soon after the advancement of King William to the throne. Young Levy was educated at the expense of the French Protestants in London, and was then bound apprentice to a captain in the Royal Navy. He served as a sailor for some years, and was present at the defeat of the Spanish fleet in the Mediterranean in Queen Anne's reign, and afterwards sailed under Admiral Norris in his fruitless expedition against the Russian fleet in the Baltic. When the Admiral came back to England, Levy's friends recommended him to the service of a merchant in Thames Street in the capacity of underclerk for which he was not ill-qualified. But being too unsettled a temper to apply himself to business, he declined this opportunity of providing for himself, and soon spent the little money he was possessed of. Going one evening to a public house in Holborn, he met with some thieves of Jonathan Wiles' gang, who soon persuaded him to join them in their lawless depredations, which at length brought him to destruction. Matthew Flood was the son of parents of good character and born at Shadwell. He was apprentice to a lighterman with whom he lived a considerable time, but being a verse to a life of labor, his master and he parted by joint consent, and soon afterwards he became acquainted with Oki, Levy, and their disillute companions. The robberies committed by this gang are too numerous for recital. They were for some time the terror of travelers near London. We shall mention only one robbery exclusive of that for which they suffered. They stopped a coach between Camberwell and London, in which were five men and a woman. The men said they would deliver their money, but begged they would not search as the woman was with child. Among the gang was Blue Skin, who, holding a hat, received the money the passengers put into it, which appeared to be a considerable sum, but on examination it was found to be chiefly haypence. The gang suspected that Blue Skin had defrauded them, as it was not the first time he had cheated his fellow thieves. But they were greatly mortified that they had neglected to search the coach, when they afterwards learned that there were three hundred pounds in it. Sometime after this Oki, Levy, Flood, and Blue Skin stopped Colonel Cope and Mr. Young in a carriage on their return from Hampstead and robbed them of their watches, rings, and money. Information of this robbery was sent to Jonathan Wilde, who caused the parties to be apprehended, and Blue Skin being admitted in evidence, they were tried, convicted, sentenced, and ordered for execution. After conviction their behavior was exceedingly proper for persons in their calamitous situation. They did not flatter themselves with vain hopes of a pardon, but exerted themselves by every act of devotion to make a proper preparation for their approaching end. At the last scene of their lives they addressed the spectators, advising them to take warning by their fatal end. Oki said that what gave him more concern than all his other offenses was the burning of a will which he found with some money and rings in a pocket which he had cut from a lady's side, a circumstance which had proved highly detrimental to the owner. These offenders suffered a tie-burn on the 8th of February, 1723. Singular case of Alexander Day, who was convicted of defrauding several tradesmen. In modern times we have had several instances of villains who have proceeded on a similar plan with Day, but as few of them have cut so great a figure, nor any of them met with a fate exactly similar, we shall be the more particular in our account of this artful villain. Day was a professed sharper, who pretended to be a man of fortune. He assumed the title of Marmaduke Davenport S. Squire, and taking a large house in Queens Square, asserted that he possessed a capital estate in the north of England. He had a footman who seems to have been an accomplice with him. This man he sent to a livery stable to inquire the price of a pair of horses which he himself afterwards agreed to purchase, and then desired the stablekeeper to recommend a coachman. A man rather lusty as he had a suit of livery clothes of a large size by him. The man was accordingly recommended, but when the livery was tried on, Day observed that as they did not fit him he would send into the country for his own coachman. But this objection was obviated by the footman, who sang that the clothes would fit with a small alteration. The Squire consented to hire the man. When the stablekeeper saw the coachman, he had recommended, he inquired to what places he had driven his new master, and being informed to the Duke of Montague's and other persons of rank, he seemed satisfied, though he had began to form ideas unfavorable to his new customer. Mr. Day, having kept this coach in horses something more than a week, gave orders to be driven to a coffee-house in Red Lion Square, where he drank half a pint of wine at the bar, and asked if some gentlemen were come whom he expected to dinner. Being answered in the negative, he went out the back door without paying for his wine and said he would return in a few minutes. The coachman waited a long time, but his master not coming back, he drove to the stablekeepers, who seemed glad to have recovered his property out of such dangerous hands. It seems that Day made no small use of this coach while it was in his possession. He drove to the shop of a lace merchant named Gravestock, and asked for some Spanish point. But the dealer, having none of that kind by him, the Squire ordered fifty-five pounds worth of gold lace to be sent to his house in Queen Square. When Gravestock's servant carried the lace, Day desired him to tell his master to call, as he was in want of lace for some rich liveries, but he must speak with his tailor before he could ascertain the quantity he wanted. Mr. Gravestock attended his new customer, who gave him so large an order for lace that if he had executed it he must have been a very considerable loser, and the Squire's liveries would have been gayer than those of any nobleman in London. However, on the following day he carried some lace of the sort he had left before, nor did he forget to take his bill with him. But the person who should have paid it was decamped. The next trick practiced by our adventurer was as follows. He went to the house of Mr. Markham, a goldsmith, and ordered a gold equippage worth fifty pounds. Markham carried home the equippage, and had the honour to drink tea with the supposed Mr. Davenport, who ordered other curious articles, and among the rest a chain of gold for his squirrel. Mr. Markham, observing that the squirrel wore a silver chain which he had sold a lady not long before, began to suspect his new customer, and waiting on the lady inquired if she knew Marmaduke Davenport Esquire. She answered in the negative, on which Markham mentioned the circumstance that had arisen and described the person of the defrauder. The lady now recollected him, and said his name was Alexander Day, and that he had cheated her of property to a considerable amount. In consequence of this information, Markham arrested the sharper and recovered his property. On another occasion Day went in his carriage to the shop of a linen draper named Scrimshaw, agreed for linen to the amount of forty-eight pounds, and ordered a large quantity to be sent to his house on the following day when he would pay for the whole. The first parcel was delivered, but the purchaser was decamped when the linen draper went with the second. After this he went to the shop of a tea-dealer named Kendrick, and ordered tea to the amount of twenty-six pounds. The tea was sent in, and the proprietor called for payment, when Day gave him orders for a farther quantity which he pretended to have forgot before, and told him to call the next morning when he should be paid for it by the steward. The honest tea-dealer called the next day, but neither the squire nor the steward were to be found. His next adventure was contrived to defraud Mr. Hinchcliffe, a silk-mercer. Day going to his shop in his absence left word for him to call at his house to receive a large order. The merchant went and saw a carriage at the door, and being told that the squire had company, he waited a short time during which the servants took care to inform him that Mr. Davenport was the son of a baronet of Yorkshire, and possessed a large fortune in that county. When he saw the supposed Mr. Davenport, he was told that he wanted some valuable silks, and wished that a quantity might be sent for him to select, such as he approved. Mr. Hinchcliffe said that the choice would be much better made by fixing on the patterns at his shop. Hereupon Day took the Mercer in his coach, and on their way he talked of his father, Sir Marmaduke, and of other people of rank, and said he was on the point of marriage with the daughter of Councilor Ward, and as he should be under necessity of furnishing a house in London he should want Mercery goods to a large amount. When they came to the Mercer's shop, Day selected as many damasks and etc. for bed furniture and hangings as were worth a thousand pounds. It looks as if Hinchcliffe now had some suspicion, for he told him that ladies are best judges of such articles, and asked if he had not a lady of acquaintance whom he could consult. He readily answered that he had, and mentioned a Lady Davenport, as his relation, saying, Send the silks to my house, and I will take her opinion of them. Mr. Hinchcliffe said he would send them, and permitted him to take with him two pieces of brocade worth about thirty pounds. But desirous to know more of his customer before he trusted him with the whole property, he went to Councilor Ward, and found that his daughter was already married to a gentleman of the name of Davenport. Hereupon the Mercer went to the house of the supposed Esquire, but he was gone off with what property he had obtained. It was likewise discovered that our adventurer, having casually met at a coffee-house, the Mr. Davenport, who had married the daughter of Councilor Ward, had prevailed on him to call him cousin on pretense that they must be related, because, as he alleged, their coats of arms were the same. After a course of fraud, Day was taken into custody in the month of May 1723, on suspicion of having robbed the mail, but it proved that he was not the man. However, there were six indictments brought against him for the defrauds. In his defence he pleaded that his intention was to have paid for the goods he purchased on credit, and he asserted that he possessed an estate in the County of Durham which he had mortgaged for twelve hundred pounds. But no credit could be given to his allegations, nor, even if he had possessed such an estate, would it have appeared that he acted on honest principle. After a fair trial he was convicted, and sentenced to suffer two years imprisonment in Newgate, to stand twice in the pillory, to pay a fine of two hundred pounds, and to give security for his good behaviour for two years after the term of his imprisonment should he expire. Case of William Hawksworth, who was executed for murder. This malefactor was a native of Yorkshire, and was born of reputable parents, who gave him such an education as was proper to qualify him for a considerable trade. But being of a disposition too unsettled to think of business, he enlisted for a soldier in hope of being promoted in the army. After he had served some time and found himself disappointed in his expectation of preferment, he made interest to obtain his discharge, and then entered into the service of a gentleman with whom he behaved in a proper manner for a considerable time. But not being content with his situation, he repaired to London and again enlisted as a soldier in the foot guards. In this situation he remained four years, during two of which he was servant to the colonel, who entertained a very good opinion of him, till an incident which unexpectedly arose occasioned the crime for which he suffered. Before we relate the particulars, it will be proper to remark that at the period of which we are writing, party disputes ran very high, and soldiers frequently were the subject of the contempt and derision of the populace. While Hawksworth was marching with other soldiers to relieve the guard in St. James's Park, a man named Ransom, who had a woman in his company, jostled him and cried, What a stir is there about King George's soldiers! Hawksworth, imagining the woman had incited him to this behaviour, quitted his rank and gave her a blow on the face. Irritated hereby, Ransom called him a puppy, and demanded the reason of his behaviour to the woman. The term of reproach enraged Hawksworth to such a degree that he knocked the other down with his musket, and then the soldiers marched on to relieve the guard. In the meantime a crowd of people gathered round Ransom, and finding he was much wounded put him in a chair and sent him to a surgeon, who examined him and found his skull fractured to such a degree that there was no hopes of his recovery, and he died in a few hours. Hereupon a person who had been witness to what passed in the park went to the Savoy, and having learnt the name of the offender, caused Hawksworth to be taken into custody, and he was committed to Newgate. Being brought to trial at the following sessions, the colonel whom he had served gave him an excellent character, but the facts were so clearly proved that the jury could not do otherwise than convict him, and judgment of death was passed accordingly. For some time after sentence he flattered himself with the hope of a reprieve, but when the warrant for his execution arrived he seemed to give up all hopes for life, and seriously prepared himself to meet his fate. He solemnly averred that Ransom struck him first, and said he did not recollect the circumstance of leaving his rank to strike the blow that occasioned the death of the other. He declared that he had no malice against the deceased, and therefore thought himself acquitted in his own mind of the crime of murder. However, he behaved in a very contrite manner and received the sacrament with signs of sincerest devotion. A few minutes before he was executed he made a speech to the surrounding multitude, advising them to keep a strict guard over their passions. He lamented the situation of the common soldiers who were considered as cowards if they did not resent an injury, and if they did are liable to endure legal punishment for consequences that may arise from such resentment. However, he advised his brethren of the army to submit with patience to the indignities that might be offered and trust to the goodness of God to recompense their sufferings. He was executed at Tyburn on the 17th of June 1723 at age 27 years. Particulars respecting Thomas Athoe Sr. and Thomas Athoe Jr., who were hanged for murder. The crime for which these men were tried was committed in Pembrokeshire, but they were removed by writ of Habeas Corpus to Hereford, where on the 19th of March 1723 they were indicted for the murder of George Merchant by beating and kicking him on the head, face, breast, and etc., on the 23rd of November 1722, and thereby giving him several mortal wounds and bruises of which he died the same day. Athoe the Elder was a native of Kauru in Pembrokeshire, where he rented above a hundred pounds per annum, and had lived in such a respectable way that in the year 1720 he was chosen mayor of Tenby, and his son a bailiff of the same corporation, though they did not live in this place, but in Manurbere two miles distant from it. George Merchant, who was murdered, and his brother Thomas, were nephews by the mother's side to the Elder Athoe, their father having married his sister. On the 23rd of November 1722 a fair was held at Tenby, where the prisoners went to sell cattle, and there met the deceased and his brother Thomas Merchant, and a quarrel arose between the younger Athoe and George Merchant on an old grudge respecting their right to part of an estate, when a battle ensued in which the deceased had the advantage and beat young Athoe. The Elder Athoe, taking the advice of an attorney on what had passed, he would have persuaded him to bring an action, to which he replied, No, no, we won't take the law, but we'll pay them in their own coin. Late in the evening after the fair was ended the deceased and his brother left the town, but the Athos going to the inn inquired of the Osler which way they were gone. He gave them the best information in his power on which they immediately mounted and followed them. The brothers stopped on the road at a place called Holloway's Water to let their horses drink. In the meantime they heard the footsteps of other horses behind them, and turning about saw two men riding at a small distance. It was too dark for them to know the parties, but they presently heard the voice of old Athoe. Knowing that he had sworn revenge and dreading the consequence that would probably ensue, they endeavored to conceal themselves behind a bridge, but they were discovered by the splashing of their horses feet made in the water. The Athos, riding up with large sticks, the younger said to George Merchant, I owe thee a pass, and now thou shalt have it, and immediately knocked him off his horse. In the interim old Athoe attacked Thomas Merchant, and beat him likewise from his horse, calling out at the same time, KILL THE DOGS! KILL THE DOGS! The brothers begged hard for their lives, but they pleaded to those who had no idea of pity. The elder Athoe seized Thomas Merchant in the tenderest part, and squeezed him in so violent a manner that human nature could not long have sustained the pain. While the younger Athoe treated George Merchant in a similar way, and carried his revenge to such a length that it is not possible to relate the horrid deed with decency, and when he had completed his excreable purpose, he called out to his father, saying, Now we've done George Merchant's business. A great effusion of blood was the consequence of his barbarity, but it seems that his savage revenge was not yet glutted for, seizing the ceased by the nose with his teeth he bid it off, and then strangled him by tying a handkerchief tight round his neck. This being done the murderers quitted the spot, but some persons coming by took the merchants to the adjacent house and sent for a surgeon who dressed the wounds of Thomas, but found that George was dead, and the surgeon declared that the blows he received were sufficient to have killed six or seven men, for he had two bruises on his breast, three large ones on his head, and twenty-two on his back. The elder Athoe was taken into custody on the following day, but the son had fled to Ireland. However, those who had been concerned in favouring his escape were glad to use their endeavours to bring him back again. On trial the principal evidence against them was the surviving brother, who was even then so weak as to be indulged to sit while he gave his evidence, but the jury, though satisfied of the commission of the murder, entertained a doubt whether the prisoners could be legally tried in any county but that in which the crime was committed, on which they brought in a special verdict, whereupon the case was referred to the determination of the twelve judges, and the prisoners being brought up to London were committed to King's Bench Prison, where they remained until the 22nd of June 1723, and were then taken to the Court of King's Bench in Westminster Hall. When a motion being made by counsel in arrest of judgment, the court directed that an act of the thirty-third of Henry VIII should be read, in which is a clause ordaining that, all murders and robberies committed in, on, or about the borders of Wales, shall be triable in any county in England where the criminal shall be taken, and that the Court of King's Bench shall have power to remove by writ of habeas corpus any prisoner confined in Wales to the next county in England to be tried. In consequence hereof the court proceeded to give judgment and the prisoners were remanded to King's Bench Prison. Between this and the time of their execution they were visited by Mr. Dyche, the chaplain of the prison, and by several other divines. They continued to flatter themselves with hopes of life till the warrant came down for their execution, and endeavored to extenuate their crime by a variety of frivolous pretenses respecting disputes between them and the deceased. On the twenty-eighth of June they received the sacrament with great devotion, and did the same again on the morning of their execution. Their behaviour at the place of death may not be improperly given nearly in the words of the minister who attended them. On Friday the fifth of July, 1723, about eleven o'clock in the morning, they were conveyed in a cart to the place of execution. When they came to the fatal tree they behaved themselves in a very decent manner, embracing each other with the utmost tenderness and affection, and indeed the sons hiding his face, the dude with tears in his father's bosom, was, notwithstanding the barber's action they had committed, a very moving spectacle. They begged of all good people to take warning by their ignominious death, and were turned off crying, Lord have mercy on us, Christ have mercy on us. The bodies were brought from the place of execution in two herces to the falcon inn in Southwick, in order to be buried in St. George's churchyard." They were executed at a place called St. Thomas's Watering, a little beyond Kent Street in Surrey, the father being fifty-eight years old, and the son within one day of twenty-four at the time of their deaths. The end of part eight, volume one of the new and complete Newgate calendar.