the person I sent for the ’bacco, only gave me three-halfpence, instead of threepence. I had given her a sixpence out of the eighteen-pence. That is all, I think. I do not wish to add anything more to this statement. I have made it voluntarily, and of my own free will.”
After hearing the statement read over, the prisoner said, “That is all, I think. It would be as near half-past three, as near as I can tell, when this happened. There was no one with me. I have done it all myself, and I was very sorry, too, after I had done it.”
He took exactly four shillings by the transaction. Some years ago, a fellow was executed at Brussels for committing a murder in the Wood of Soigny; he had realised by the business exactly three half-pence, and the handle of an old knife—the blade was gone. George Cass was found guilty, and left for execution.
On the same day we have the report of the trial of one Thomas Sowerby, for the murder of Simon Manassa at Penrith. This is the case which has been spoken of as the Penrith murder. It turned out that there was no ill will between the men; nor had his little stock of money been removed from the pockets of the dead man. The discovery was brought about curiously enough. On the 10th of April last, very early in the morning, George Pattinson was going to his work, and was going over a field, when he picked up a stick covered with hoar-frost. The hoar-frost melted, and, on examining his hand, George Pattinson found that it was bloody. This roused his suspicions; he looked round him, and saw the body of a man lying in the corner of the next field. The prisoner was within fifty yards of the place at the time Pattinson made this discovery. When hailed a second time, Thomas Sowerby turned back, joined Pattinson, and looked at the body. He said he had seen it before, and promised to give information. Suspicion afterwards fell on him, and when his clothes were examined, blood was found upon his leggings, upon the cuff of his kytle, and upon a button of his coat. He subsequently admitted that he had killed Simon Manassa; but that the death had been the result of an affray betwixt them, in which Manassa had been the assailant. When attacked Sowerby had thrown his opponent a cross-buttock in old Cumberland fashion, and without intending his death, had afterwards beaten him with a stick. It was held that his story might be true. He was convicted of manslaughter, and sentenced to eighteen months of imprisonment, with hard labour.
Again, on the same day, we have a report of the trial of Francis Price, at Warwick, for the murder of Sarah Platt, his sweetheart. He seems to have been a very respectable young man. He was the son of a “minister of the Gospel”—probably of a Dissenting minister. He had been a prize-walker in his youth, and was actually a shoemaker by trade. There was some dispute between the lovers as to a woman with whom the deceased had associated, and whose acquaintance Price had wished her to give up. After a fruitless effort at reconciliation, upon the 18th of April last he sent for her to the house of an old woman named Agnes Hone, and when Hone had turned her back for a moment, Price cut Sarah Platt’s throat in the passage with a shoemaker’s knife. Almost immediately afterwards he said: “Is she dead? It is Mrs. , and Mrs. , and them women, that are the cause of it. I shall not tell you a lie about it. I loved her as I loved my life. I know my fate. My days are numbered!” His right hand was stained with the blood of Sarah Platt—even whilst he was speaking.
The crowning horror, however, of this week has been the Walworth murder. William Godfrey Youngman stands charged with the wilful murder of his mother, his two young brothers, and his sweetheart, Mary Wells Streeter. As the prisoner has not yet taken his trial, we abstain from all comment, which might have the effect of prejudicing his case. His defence is, that his mother had slaughtered the three other victims, and that, to save his own life, he had taken hers. Youngman had effected an insurance of 100l. upon the life of Mary Streeter, payable to him after her death.
WITH THIS—OR ON THIS.
The Spartan matrons have been fairly outdone by our fair countrywomen, if all tales are true which pass current at Paris just now. It was all very well for a classical virago to send out her sons to death or victory, but in order to make the heroism perfect, she might have gone herself. A high-spirited lady might tap her son’s shield, and say to him in a significant way,—“Agasippus, my dear boy, with this, or on this—you understand your poor old mother:” but it would have been far more edifying had his parent added, “and I will go with you!” There has been a good deal of talk lately about our national defences. Despite of Sir Frederick Smith, backed as that gallant officer has been by the professional experience of Mr. Edwin James, we are about to fortify Portsdown Hill, and look after the defences of our arsenals. What with regular troops, and militia-men, and volunteers, we are doing our best just now to take care of Lord Overstone’s till. We trust that in a short time we shall be beyond the necessity of following his advice, and offering the Zouaves a ransom if they will be good enough to march out of London. All these clumsy precautions of armies, fleets, fortresses, volunteers, &c., &c., are quite unnecessary—at least so we are told upon excellent French authority. The fact is, we are safe. Our countrywomen have volunteered en masse, shouldered their rifles, and stand ready to answer any overtures from the perfidious Gauls with a Minié bullet, or the point of a bayonet. “Brunettes, form square to repel cavalry.” “Blondes, advance in loose order.” “Orders from General Charlotte to Colonel Louisa to silence that battery.” The Zouaves and Chasseurs d’Afrique will soon learn what they have to expect from the stern coquetry of the British female.
There is published every week in Paris an illustrated newspaper, called “Le Monde Illustré.” In a recent number, the editor has favoured his readers with a full page cut which represents three of our fair countrywomen in Knickerbockers, and Mandarin hats, standing at ease and leaning upon their rifles. These three ladies are described as samples of “Les Riflewomen (ou les bataillons