BD046149

AN ACCOUNT
OF THE
DREADFUL APPARITION
That appeared last night to Henry in this street, of Mary , the shopkeeper’s
daughter round the corner, in a shroud, all covered in white.

The castle clock struck one—the night was dark, drear, and tempestuous. — Henry set in an antique chamber of it, over a wood fire, which, in the stupor of contemplation, he had suffered to decrease into a few lifelees embers; on the table by him lay the portrait of Mary—the features of which were not very perfectly disclosed by a taper, that just glimmered in the socket. He took up the portrait, bowever, and gazing intensely upon it, till the taper, suddenly burning brighter, discovered to him a phenomenon ho was not less terrified than surprised at.—The eyes of the portrait moved; — - the features from an angelic smile, changed to a look of solemn sadness; a tear stole down each cheek, and the bosom palpitated as with sighing.
Again the clock struck one—it had struck the same hour but ten minutes before.—Henry heard the castle gate grate on its hinges—it slammed too—the clock struck one again—and a deadly groan echoed through the castle. Henry was not subject to superstituous fears —neither was he a coward ;—yet a hero of romance might have been justified in a case like this,
should he have betrayed fear. — Henry’s heart sunk within him—his knees smote together, and upon the chamber door being opened, and his name uttered in a hollow voice, he dropped the portrait to the door; and sat, as if rivitted to the chair, without daring to lift up his eyes. At length, however, as silence again prevailed, he ventured for a moment to raise his eyes, when—my blood freezes as I relate it—before him stood the figure of Mary in a shroud—her beamless eyes fixed upon him with a vacant stare; and her bored bosom exposing a moat deadly gash. “Henry, Henry, Henry!” she repeated in a hollow tone—” Henry! I am come for thee! thou host often said that death with one was preferable to life without me; come then, and enjoy with me all the ecotacies of love these ghastly features, added to the contemplation of a charnel-house, can inspire ;“ then, grasping his hand with her icy fingers, he swooned; and instantly found himself — stretched on the hearth of his master’s kitchen; a romance in his hand, and the house dog by his side, whose cold nose touching his hand, had awaked him.

STRANGE
WARNING TO A
REPROBATE PUBLICAN.
IN Bethnal-Green, and near the school house, there is a public-house known by the name of the Gibraltar, which was long kept hy one John Harris, a native of Birmingham, and silver plater by trade. This man for many years, encouraged by his great success in business, led a very irregular life, insomuch that he lost his trade in the public-house, and getting into a disorderly way entirely, the parish officers and justice refused to renew his license, and for a whole year be was fain to keep his house close. During this interval, having dismissed his servants, and his wife having left him for some words which had happened, as he sat by the parlour fire, it being the winter time, he heard the bar bell ring, which made him wonder much, knowing there was nobody in the house but himself. At first he paid but little attention, but upon hearing it distinctly a second time, he got up and went to the back door, suspecting some one had entered that way and was putting a trick upon him; but finding all safe, he returned to the fireside, wondering much at the oddness of the thing, when all of a sudden the bell fell a ringing again, though not in so quick a tone as before, but somewhat more regularly, as if the hand that pulled it held it for a while.
Disturbed at this extraordinary call, he got up, determined to discover the cause, and taking the poker in his hand, being the first thing he could lay hold on, he passed through the bar into the back room, where, to his great astonishment and terror, for he allowed that he was severely frightened, he beheld the figure of a good-looking female personage, dressed in brown, much like a Quaker, seated in a chair, between the two back windows, and leaning upon a long stick, which seemed to support her.
At first Mr Harris was too much affected to speak, for though very valiant and noisy in company, there was something about the figure before him which declared her not to be of this world: besides, his own conscience npbraided him with more evil than his memory could just then recollect. However, he summoned power enough to put the old foolish question, “what art thou ?“ and with that fell on his knees in a devout manner to pray. “What I am is not now my business to relate, but what you may hereafter become if you do not amend your life and manners; so get up man, and remember the warning voice of one from the dead. You have but a few years to live, make the most of your time, and train up your daughter Phwbe in a good way, and keep her from such and such company, or she will die young, violently, and by the force of justice. Consider her life is just now in your hands, a little time will place it out of your power to reverse the evil that awaits her.—Remember this, and live accordingly.” — With this she seemed to strike the ground with her stick and immediately disappeared, leaving Mr Harris much astonished at what he had both heard and seen, and only lamenting that he had no witness to the truth of this accident.
Be it as it will, it produced a wonderful alteration in him for the best; and though his former companions laughed at him for becoming a methodist, he ever after adhered to the paths of prudence and sobriety, and remained a very orderly and sober man, and from his invariable relation of this matter we have no doubt of its truth.
The prediction with respect to his daughter Phoebe was too fatally accomplished a few years since, she being burnt for treason as it is called, that is, for counterfeiting the current coin called a shilling.


APPARITION OF A GHOST
TO i M:ILL&K,
TO DISCOVER
HIDDEN MURDEL
4BOUT the year of our Lord, 18—, noar unto Chester-in-tho-Street, thero lived
one Walker, a yeoman of good estate, and a widower who had a young woman to his kinswoman that kept his house, who was by the neighbours suspeoted to be with child and was towards the dark of the evening one night sent away with one Mark Sharp, who was a collier, or one that digged coals under ground, and one that had been born in Blackburn-Hundred, in Lancashire: and so she was not heard of a long time, and little or no noise was made about it. In the winter time after, one James Graham, or Grime, (for so in that country they called him) being a miller, and living about two miles from the place where Walker lived, was one night alone very late in the mill grinding corn and at about twelve or one o’clock at night he came down stairs, having been putting corn in the hopper, the mill doors being fast shut, there stood a woman upon the midst of the floor with her hair about her head hanging down all bloody, with five large wound,1 on her head. He being much aifrighted and amazed, began to bless himself, and at last asked her who she was, and what she wanted? To which she said, “I am the spirit of such a woman, who lived with Walker; and being got with child by him, he promised to send me to a private place, where I should be well looked to, until I was bronght to bed, and well again, and then I should come again and keephis house.”“And accordingly,” said the apparition, “I was one night late sent away with one Mark Sharp, who, upon a moor (naming a place the miller knew) slew me with a pick (such as men dig coals withal) and gave me these five wounds, and after threw my body into a coal pit hard by, and hid the pick under a
bank: and his shoes and stockings being bloody he endeavoured to wash them, but seeing the blood would not wash out, he hid them there.” And the apparition further told the miller that he must be the man to reveal it, or else she must still appear and haunt him. The miller returned home very sad and heavy, but spoke not one word of what he had seen, but eschewed as much at he could to stay in the mill within night without company, thinking thereby to escape the seeing again of that frightful apparition.
But notwithstanding, one night when it began to be dark, the apparition met him again, and seemed very fierce and cruel, and threatened him, that if he did not reveal the murder, she would continually pursue and haunt him. Yet for all this, he still concealed it until St. Thomas’ Eve, before Christmas, when, being after sunset, walking in his garden, she appeared again, and then so threatened and aifrighted him, that he faithfully promised to reveal it next morning.
In the morning he went to a magistrate, and made the whole matter known, with all the circumstances; and diligent search being made the body was found in a coal pit, with five wounds in the head, and the pick and shoes, and stockings yet bloody, in every circumstances as the apparition had related unto the miller: whereupon Walker and Mark Sharpe were both apprehended, but would confess nothing. At the assizes following they were arraigned, found guilty, condemned, and executed, but we could never hear that they confessed the fact. There were some who reported that the apparition did appear to the Judge, or foreman of the jury (who was alive at Chester- in-the-Street, about ten years ago), as we have been credibly informed.

Last night the following curious circumstance took place in a house in this neighbourhood, which occasioned a great deal of merriment. Six young women, whose names are as follows :—Jane Trust- soot, Ann Dingle, Mary Prause, Priscilla Richards, Harriett Pridhame, and Mary Twining, having previously agreed together, went to the residence of a notorious fortune teller about nine o’clock, to dive into the history of their future destiny, or if possible, to gain information respecting their intended husbands or future sweethearts. On entering his apartment, the timid girls became rather abashed, but after some words had passed between them, this famous cutter of cards began his curious ceremony.
First consulting his oracle, which consists of an sld book written in unintelligible characters, he took an old pack of cards which he shuffled several times, and placed them in a form of a circle, and again
consulted his oracle, he then related unto them their destiny. The enquiring girls wished to know if he could not tell the names of their sweethearts; he answered in the affirmative, and said, if they would give him 2s. 6d. each, he would bring them into the room ; the girls said they had not so much, and he told them to raise what they sould, which amounted in all to 3s. 6d. They were then placed in a ring, and the old man began muttering some words and shuffling his cards, when three loud knocks were
heard at the door. The sounds appeared to proceed from the staircase. Shortly after the knocking had ceased, the door slowly opened, and the figure of a tall man with an unnatural cast of countenance entered the room and took a seat opposite the aifrighted maids. The appearance had a white ghastly head, and was dressed in the style of a cavalier of the time of Charles II; but what was most remarkable, the body was a mere shadow, it was a thing of vapour, for the back of the chair was plainly discernible through
it. It raised its hand three times in a menacing attitude, three times at the young women, which so alarmed them, that they all commenced screaming and wildly ran from the room—the house was aroused— the police was called in—but no trace of the apparition was visible, unless a curious odour which perfumed the apartment might be considered so.
Dieley, Printer, 57, High Street, St. Gun,.
27
FAI,TICUIAS
Of a Singular and Curious Circumstance
Which took place at the House of a well known
With the strange appearance that was witnessed,

IPX’S
TEbLIH
nrsK3I’X’S —
A True and Remarkable Account of a most Extraordinary Occurrence that took place
IN THIS NEIGHBOURHOOD.
FORTUNE
Aiwn

A most remarkable and curious circumstance that took place last night at a well-known house in this town, kept by a person of tho name of Sarah Smith, a well-known fortune teller.
A party of six young females agreed to go to tho house of the shove-mentioned woman and have their fortunes told. On their arrival at the house not one of them could be found courageous enoogh to lead the way io ; at length one (Emma Logo) more hold than the rest lifted up the latch and wolked in, of course followed by her companions. On enteriug, the first thing that met their gaze was the old bag, seated on a three-legged stool by the fire, with six black eats lying en the hearth by her aide.
The young damsels blushingly told their desire to know the names of their future husbanda, alas nomereuo other questions, to which the old hag readily complied.
After lietening with great attention to the falaehosds and impossibilities told by this wicked old woman, they said they were desirous of seeing and knowing the men who were to be their partners in the great battle of life, asking her if it was possible, to which she replied, nothing was impossible to her.
Emma Legs was the first to know her future hnoband, whose naThe third was Jane — (snr readers must pardon us for the omission of her surname, as were it to be known it woold be the ruin of her and her family). Harry — waa the husband of Eliza Smith; and last, bat not least, was Emma All, but to whom the fortuneteller would not ttll her future husband’s name, the only clue that she gave her was, that he was a very dark man and always laughing and never out of temper (?)
The poor deluded young females were on the peint of leaving, when all of a sudden a most terrific and unearthly noise was heard at the doer ; at the same tims there was seen a gigantic figure with head, legs, and a tail of the most enornsous size; it had eyes like fiamee of living fire, and from its month proceeded forth dense volumes of smoke, completely filling the house ; tho smell of sulphur was so great that for hours after the visitation it was found impsseible to dispel the eutfaeating fumes which remained; the terror of the party may ho better imagined than described, and who with the old hag as their leader set op some most dreadful shrieks, completely rousing the whole neighbourhood. Some of the neighbours rushed to the house from whence the shrieks praaeeded, and found tho furniture in the greatest diearder, the cards spread all over the room, and the six black eats were altogether on the top of tho house.
The foregoing is a statement made by one of the young women, aad is published as a warning to ALL young females not to believe in such silly and superstitious nonsense, nor encourage those wicked old bags who prey upon the thoughtless and ignorant. It is all the devil’s work; and it frequently happens that servant girls are induced to rob their masters and mistresses throogh the agency of these peeta of society. Beware girls, beware ! sparn all who attempt to lead you astray; do not be deceived, but look on fortune-telling as a delusion and a snare.me was Henry —. Mary Palmer was the second, whose intended husband’s name was George 

Strange and Wonderful Account of the
REV. JOHN MILLER,
MINISTER,
op ra
CITY OF BATH,
WHO REMAINED IN
A TRANCE
For Four Days and Nights,
Also the Mysterious Szqhts he witnessed, and the Prophecies he related that are to ta/ce place.
CQPIEQ FROM THE “RISTGL MERCURY.”
In laying the following interesting and mysterious ease before our readers, we vouch for its authenticity, and considering the good result, that are likely to follow from the examination of the circumstances, we at once proceed with the details.
NARRATIVE.
The Rev. John Miller has been engaged in the ministry since the year 1841. He is a man most remarkable for his piety, of a mild and gentle disposition, and very kind to the poor. In the pulpit he was eloquent; his language forcible and persuasive. He is indeed a good man, a powerful prescher, and of unsullied reputation. Since the beginning of the present year he has been in a bad state of health, and during the past month he grew worse, and on the 14th, whilst his beloved wife and children were standing round his bed, he fell into a kind of a doze, and gradually became cold and rigid. Dr. Truscott was immediately sent for, who on his arrival pronounced him dead. His sorrowing family were removed from the room, and the usual preparations made for laying out the body. Mrs. Miller, having expressed a wish to have his portrait painted after he was placed in the coffin, a young lady artist was Boon in attendance for that purpose, and was busily engaged at her unpleasant task until the third day, and while looking intently on the pallid features of the deceased, previous to giving a finishing stroke to the picture, she pen eived a movement of the eye lashes, and in a moment the reverend gentleman opened his eyes and said to the young lady, “Who are you I” The fair young artist, instead of fainting, took instant measures to complete the restoration of her snbject. A. medical gentleman was again called, and in less than an hour the supposed deceased became so far recovered as to be able to sit up in bed and converse with his now rejoicing family and friends.
On the following day he sent for the Rev. I. Ransom, his colleague in the ministry, Mr Henry Lewis, a member of his congregation, and before these gentlemen he made the following disclosure, relating to what he had
seen during the time he was in a trance. The account was taken from Mr Polkiughorne. The following is verbatim from the original copy.
° When I first fell into that state I was fully aware that I was supposed to be dead, and could hear soy wife and children crying, and the remarks made by Dr. Truecott. I attempted to speak, but could not move a single muscle. The fear of being buried alive terrified me and filled me with such agonies of mind that I gradually became unconscious of all earthly things. How long I continued in this state I know not, but I felt like one awakening from sleep when I was borne away by an unseen power to the place of the damned. To attempt to describe what I saw is utterly impossible: no tongue can convey any idea of sueh a place. At that moment an hideous fiend was about to grasp me in his arms, when an angel appeared at my side and whispered with a kind and heavenly voice, ‘Be not afraid, he has no power on the righteous; this is not your place, let us go!’ I thought I was then conveyed on angels’ wings to the abode of the blessed, and to enjoy such a sight again would be worth an eternity of years in this world. I was surrounded suddenly with a glorious light, the exceeding brightness thereof was such a sight I had Oscar before seen, and saw such things it is impossible to represent, and heard such ravishing melodious harmony as I can never utter, and I saw innumerable bright attendants, who welcomed me into the blissful seat of happiness, having in all their countenance, an air of perfect joy, and of the highest satisfaction.
The ineffable Deity exalted on the high throne of his glory, receiving the adoration of myriads of angels acid saints, who were singing eternal Hallelujahs and praise to him. (Well may he be called the Glory of God, for by his glorious presence Heaven is made what it is). Amongst the saints I discovered good old Wesley, Whit- field, and many others, some of whom belonged to this Town. After I had witnessed these things my heavenly guide told me that I must remain an inhabitant of this world for several years to come, as the work I had to do was not yet accomplished, and proclaim throughout the land that unless the people repent of their sins and abominations, evil shall come upon them both in the town and haruleto, for there shall be wars, rumours of wars, pestilence and famine, many great men shall fall by the sword, acid whole armies shall be cut off in a short time, but peace shall be established in the nations that fear the Lord, and the fruits of the earth shall be multiplied exceedingly, praise and thanksgiving shall be heard in every house on the Sabbath; but until the source of evil is removed—go, warn the people, that they perish not.’ With these words he left me, and I found myself in darkness, and gradually regained my senses. When I awoke and saw Miss Hall gazing on me,—and you know the
Those who listened to these statements corroborated the same by adding their names to the document as follows
JOHN RANSOM, Minister.
HENRY LEWIS, Draper.
ROBERT POLIGNENOR, Tutor.
J. TRUSCOTT, M.D.
Re-printed 5y H. Saab, 177, Union Street, Boreugh, London.
29

THE FEMALE SLEEP-WALKER1
An Affair which happened in this Neighbourhood.
A young gentleman, going to the house of a nery worthy genttems ,, to whom he had the honour to ho related-—it happened that the gentlemans hooso at that time was qoite foil, by r0050s of a kittawomaa’a soedding that had been lately keyt there—ho therefore told the yvang gentleman titot he was srry glad ta see him, and that he was very welcome to him; “ hot,” said he, “J hasm not what S shell do for a lodgittg for yoa, for my coositt’s marriage has not loft me a room fsee bat one, and thot in hannted yoo ehail have a good bed and elI other nnoommodsttons,”
Si;” replied the vnnng geottemon, “ yea will very moth ohligo me in lotting me lie there, far I have often coveted to be in a plate that in haunted.”
The gentleman, very glad thot his kisoman won so well pleased with his accommodation, ordered the chamber so be got ready asid a good fire to be wade to air it. When bed tiwe come, the yotiog gentleman was eosdseted op to bin chamber, which, besides a good fire, woo fsrniohnd with all suitable oce’mwndotiats; and having secommended hi,osetf to she Oteine protection, he vetirel to bed, where hosittg laid some time awake, and tndtttg no diottiebovee, he felt aoleey sot of which ho woo a,vabesed shout three o’clock in the morning, by the opening of the chamber door, end the coming in of somebody in the nypeneenee of a young woman, having
night dress on her head, and only tier smock on t hat he hod no portent view of tee, for kb ca,tdle was html sot; ottd though there won a fire in the rsnm, yet it gave not ltght enough to ave her dintinctly. Bat this unknown visitant goittg to the chimney, look the poker end stirred up the fire, and by the flaming light thereof ho could discern the apyvoennee of a yoang grotlewomna wore sttstinrtly ; bat whether it anon flesh and btood, or en niey phantom, he knew not. This lovely nyysvttisn, ttneittg stood nome time bvfore the fire, as if to worm hersvlt, st lost wsthed two or three times shoot the room, and then tame to the bedside, mhers having stood a little white, ohe turned down the hod clothes and got into bed, palling the bed clothes upon her, end toy very qniet. The young gettlo,ituo we, a little startled at thin onhnomn hedfelloo, and on her approach laid vn bho fovthor side of the bed, not knowing whether he hod best vise ov not. At last, by lying novy still, he peetoined hi, bedfellow to beesthe, by which, goesning her to ho flesh and blood, he drew nearer to her, ottd taking ltrr by the hood, ftsu,td it warm, end that it wss no airy phantom, btil ashetontiol fleek sod blood and fittdittg she had o ring on her finger, ho took it off osperceined. The gestlememoti being still asleep, he let her lie without dietorbieg her nr doing anything else thou only laying his
hand upon her so discover of what ten she woo, wttich he hod jost titno to do, witcu she threw “if the bed clotitea, ned getting ep, walked three or fitnr times rostid the room, en ebe had dine befare, nod then, standing awhile before the door, opened it, meat oot, and shut it ofter her. The yoattg geottemon pvrcieving by this in what masner the room moo boasted, reee ep snd loeho,l tt,o doer on the inside, and then laid down again, end olvpt till carting, at which timn the meeter nf the hosne tame to know how he dii, e,id whtther he hod seen anythittg or tot. He told him there won an spparititn op1teoved to bi,n, hut ho begged os a fav,ine that he wo,sld not nege him ta soy nntkieg fttrther antil the family were eltegether. The gesutemas complied ssith his roqovet, telling him, so long as he was welt he woo eatisted,
The desire the whole family tied to know the leone of this affair, msde them drone with more expedition thou nsnsl, sa that there mos a general omenthip of the gentlemen otid ladies befove eleven e’clnck, not one of them being milling to appear in her dishabille. When they mere all together in the greet halt, the young gentleman told thv,n ttiot tin bad v,te fnnosr to dvsieo of the ladies before hr menid soy anything, and that was, whether eny of tttem lied lost a ring. The young gentlewoman, from mhsse finger it wos token, having mtnned at eli the morning, and not knowing bow she lost it, was glad to hear of it sgoin, and readily owned abe mented e ring, bat whether Inst or mtolsid, she knew not. The young gentleman coked her if that woo it, giviag it into her hand which she acknowledging to he hers, snd thanking kin,, be turned to his kins,esn, the meeter of the honor:— “Now, sir,” sold Jas, “Iron 555ttro you,” tehing the ysnnw lady
by the bond “ thin is the lovely spirit by whirk yeer thember ii hottvtod,” and therenpsn repeated what has been related.
Words monet enprrm the confenton of the yotiog lady at this velotiest, mhs declared myself perfectly ignorant of all that he said; bst hel,cvrd it might be so bocanco of the ring, which she perfectly well remembered she hod on when she went to bed, end knem not h?w slur hod lost it. This rrlstioo gave the company a greot deal diverstan ; and eftor alt the father dvclervd, thet s,nce bin doaghter had olreudy gone to bed to his kinsman, it should be his fault if he dttt not go ts bed to his danghuer, he heimig milling to bestow her tipsy him, and give her e good puritan. Thie genoreas effnr mm sa odsoniageono Is the young gentleman, that he ronid by no means refone it; end los bedfoltom, beaning what her father had mid, was rosily prevailed apes to accept him foe her hasbaad.
LONDON —H. Sock, Printer end Pubtiekee, tiP, Unite Street, Bevtngk.—S.E,

A DIALOGUE
BETWEEN
DEATH AND A SINNEIL
DEATH.
May we come, by heavens decree,
Fr I am here to Simmons thee;
Arid whether thoa’rt prepared or no,
So sascealatiug Ihoa moot go.
SINNER.
Then ghastly Death, bat thou look’ot pale,
Thou ope’ot a door to heaven or hell;
Bot ,soulst thou not with me forbear,
Oh! spare me for another year.
DEATH.
Arid years and months are gone,
And thou mast stand before the throne,
To give account of all thy ways,
Aad how thou spent thy youthful days.
SINNOR.
O Death! have mercy on my ago,
And spare me yet upon the stage
I’m bat a flower in my bloom,
And wilt thou cut me down so soon!
DEATH.
Of age or youth I’ve never spared; Arid if thou’lt look in yo,s church yard, Thou’lt see them there, in hundreds lay, ‘Whom I have mode my lawful prey.
SINNER.
O Death; behold my parents dear
Stand round my bed with many a tear,
And loath they are to port with me,
A fruitless and a barren tree.
DEATH.
The tears of friends or parents dear,
Can neither break nor blunt my spear:
My name is Death, my sting is sin,
I’ll closn thine eye and siretch thy limb,
SINNER.
Oh that my time were to begin!
I’d hote the road that leads to sin,
And to my God would earnest pray,
And wrestle till the break of day.
DEATH.
Thy Saviour thou bust grieved sore,
But time with thee shall he no more;
For when thy Lord did thee invite,
The ways of sin was thy delight.
sINNER,
Oh spore Toe, Death, a little space,
That I may run tho Chelation race l
Methinks I hear the Saviour say,
Oh spare him yet another day;
DEATH.
The Lord eo long bath spared thee,
A fraitlesa and a barren tree;
But Heaven’s command I must obey,
And nut thee down thio very day.
SINNER.
In vain, in vain, do I persist,
If Heaven commands I Can’t resist’
B,it spare one night for Jesus’ sake,
For, oh, my heart is like to break;
DEATH.
Poor sinner! I know thy heart in broke
Yet I must surely give the stroke,
For sin bath opened many a grave,
Since man to em became a slave,
sINNER.
0 Death! no mercy wilt thou show,
But unto Jesus will I go,
Who rose triumphant from the grave,
A guilty wretch like me to save.
DEATH.
Though nm consign thee to the gaave,
Jeooo hath died thy sins to save;
His blood did flow iu streoms divine,
To cleanse that guilty soul of thine.
SINNER.
Oh, when that blood eutracto the sting,
I’ll tuoe my harp and Sweetly sing
To Him who rose Too when I fell,
And saved my soni from death and hell.
The cross I see all stained with blood,
I view the ouffering Son of God;
His preciosa blood was shed for me,
He paid the debt, and I am free
Now, Death, thy sting I will defy!
For, Is, I see my Saviour nigh
Draw near, 0 Death, and strike the blow,
And lot me to my Saviour go.
Glory to God! I now do see,
That death becomea a friend to me,
To take me from a world of woe;
Thea let me to roy Sas’toar go
Now 0 my friends, whom I hold dear,
I hope you will to God draw near,
And do not shed a tear for me;
Where Josus is, thero I stroll be.
My dying words do not forget,
But turn before it be too late,
And seek the Lord until you fed,
For Jesus would leove none behind.
So, earthly friends, we now moat part:
Give me your band, and Christ your heart.
Adieu, my friends, a long farewell
For now thy lone of God I feeL
H. Such, Prister and Pablieher, 177, Union
Street, Bars—SE.
31
COMPOSED BY A SUNDAY SCHOOL TEACHER,

OH! what a deal we hear and read, About Railways and Railway speed!
Of lines which are, or may be made,
And ceiling hsres is quite a trade.
The Railway mania does extend,
From John O’Groats to the Lavd’s End;
Where’er you ride, where’er you walk,
The Railway is the general talk.
Allow me, as an old divine,
To paint you to another live,
Which does from earth to heaven extend,
Where real pleasures never end.
Infinite wisdom sketched the plan
To save apostate, ruined moo
And Jesus Christ, Jehovah’s son,
Tho mighty work Himself has done.
Of truth Divine the rails are made,
And an the Rock of Ages laid;
The raila are fixed in choirs of love,
Firm as the throne of God above.
At Caleary’s cress it does commence,
And runs through all the world from thence
Then crosses Jordan’s swelling flood,
Before the royal throne of God.
Ova grand first-clans is used for all,
For Jew and Gentile, great and alkali;
There’s room for all the world inside,
And kings with beggars there do ride.
In days of old, far ever pant,
Men quarrelled about first and last;
And each contended load and long,
My church ia right, and yours is wrong.
We’re next the engine, some would say,
Our carriage here does lead the way;
But oft we see the train reversed— The first is last, the last is first.
Let no one of his carriage bosat
Nor in his outward duties trust;
Those who shall see the Saviours face,
Mast be renewed by asking grace.
About a hnndred years or so,
Wesley and others said they’d go
A carriage mercy did provide,
That Wesley and his friends might ride,
‘Tin nine and thirty years, they say, Whoever liven to see vent May, Another coach was added then, Unto this all important train.
Linked to eaah other, on we pass,
Supported by the Saviour, grace;
Whoa to the better lund we come,
We’ll mix together round the throne.
THE RAILWAY TO HEAVEN
This Line runs from Calvary through this vain world and the Valley of the Shadow
of Death, until it lands in the Kingdom of Heaven.
LONDON:-Ifi. Snch ater and Publisher, 177, Union Slyest Bora. SZ
Jesus is the first engineer,
Undoes the gospel engsso steer
The preachers of the sacred Word,
Co.workers with their dying Lord,
We’ve gunrds who ride, while others stand
Close by the wuy with flog in hand,— The flag of white, of red, sod green,
At different places may be seen.
When we behold the flag that’s white,
Ic cheers the heart, for all is right
B,,t when tim green we do tselr,,ld,
Caution, ii says, sod be net bold.
Red tells us there in donger near, lie not high.minted, rather feas Place all your trust in God slone, And in the blood which does atuue.
Then let not poor nur rich despair,
He still delights to answer prayer
Remember be will nt despise,
Your humble wailings—mourufal cries.
Afflictions are the tunnels drear, ‘through which we go while troeelling here; But these will all be shortly past, And heaven appear in view at last.
To cheer the dark and gloomy night,
We’ve lamps which give a brilliant light,
And while we urge our courne along,
The cross of Christ is all our song.
We’ve seversl laws nbnut thin road,
Wrote by the finger of one God
Ye trespassers must all beware,
For He the guilty will not spare.
No one from his place must alight,
Until he hens’s the words, all right
And when this glorious sigsal’e given,
You’ll hear a whisper, ‘This is Heaven;’
The stations are the means of grace,
The house of God, the holy place;
No matter where that place may be,
A field, a burn, or hollow tree.
You say you will nut ride with me,
Well, be it so, we still agree;
The church of England is before
The Quakers, yea, and several mere.
Baptiste, snd Independents too,
The Methodists, both old and new;
I can, I wilt, I do rrjsice,
That you have each a happy choice.
CHORUs.
“My son,” sups God, “give sue thy heart, Make haate, or else the train will start.”

ZKLEUà fl 1BIEL1,
P11011 DISSIPATION TO P0 VEBTJ4
AND
FROM POVERTY TO DESPERATION.
This Line begins in the Brewery, and runs through all Public-houses, lJram-shops, and
Jerry-shops, in a zigzag direction, until it lands in the Kingdom of Hell.
But let us not ride on these Railroads of sin, ‘i3I Nor drink either Brandy, Ale. Porter, or Gin;
M\ And then we shall ride into Heaven with joy, IJtJ Where no drunken quacks can our vitals destroy
“-‘ With poisonous drugs, told to us in jugs,
In either their Bars, their Parloars, or Snugs.
The number of vaults which we have in Town,
Have rsbbed the psor lass of her bonnet and gswn, Qfl Her topknots and feathers have gone to the Pep, ‘j And many have last bath credit and shop; \36f Beth young men and maids of very good trades,
Have drunk all they earned, and gene down to the shades.
This Rallrsad it runs thra’ Parlssers and Snugs, We’ve plenty of signs, beth Horses and Bulls,
And hers ysn can sit rsund glasses and jugs, J91 Of Lions and Dragons, to serve drnnksn Trnlla;
And hsvs what you please, such as Ale, Gin, or Rum, J’f5 We’ve signs tss of Angels, of Warriors and Kings— To please an nld friend, or an sid drunken chum; Ut.) Yes, plenty uf signs of gsed and bad things.
And this is the way to drink all the day, lint what’s their design? Why Gin, Rum, and Wins,
And then stagger hsms when you’ve swallowed your pay. Sold here to intaxieats puppies and swine.
( We’ve White and Black Balls and two Sans in one street,
One Swan and two Lisns which sever taste meat,
9 (‘) &nd here yen see women with bottles and jugs,
Io’L Roll into these taverns and dram-drinking snugs,
As brazen as brass to get an sdd glass.
In some of thess shape where a fuel cannot puss.
We’ve Railroads to Heaven, and Railroads to Hell, No wander that Pap-ticket women and wags,
Where goad man can ride, and where Devils ran dwell; fj/Js Are dressed up in nothing but pateln’s and rags.
We’ve Taverns for drunkards and Churches for Saints, Jf Their dresses and shawls far strssg liqnar they’ll swsp,
And quacks sf all sorts to hsai our complaints; 00 Yen, Tagrag and Bobtail must go to the pop;
So now we can ride ts Hell in our pride, And when this is done, away they will run,
On Railroads sf sin with blue Devils inside. Ts either a Lion, a Bull, or a San.
Such pser sorry women whs pledge their old rags,
tJSJ Are known by their petticoats hanging in Jags;
(1 Ysu’ll see them at night with their heads wrapt in shawls jj Not far from the Dram-shop, or sign of Three Balls,
j With benncta and hats, old dresses and brats,
Made up into bandies us ysn have seen Pat’s.
IF you are determined and wishful ts go,
With blind dsbanehsss to the regions of was,
Then go to the Tap without any delay,
And drink both ysor rsassn and money away,
But never mind care, for if you despair,
It is the first train that will carry you there.
You’ve nothing tu do bat to guzzle and swill,
is lsng as the Landlord is willing to fill,
For this is the Line and the Railroad to Hell,
Where Drunkards and Devils for ever must dwell;
Sn drink all ysa san, it is the chief plan,
That e’er was invented by Dsvll for man.
Such Taverns as these are Railroads to Hell,
Their barrels are engines which maks men rebel;
Their jugs and their glasses which famish their Trains,
Will empty their pookets and mnddlo their brains.
And thus drunkards rids to Hell in their pride,
With nathing bat steam from the barrels inside.
Old Swilltub the dsotsr and guard of the Trains,
Ho filches your pookots and faddles your hrains;
But when he’s got sll from the pssr silly man,
Ho then sends him hems to ds as he can,
With all his old shams, his hedgers and bums,
Whs sue him for money he swes in great sums.


HOW TO COOK A WIFE.
While MEN spare no pains in obtaining the BEST MATERIALS for this superlative DISH, they are often totally regardless after the first MOUTRFTJL, of the necessary precautions to render it permanently SWEET, and if through neglect it turn sour they invariably slander the Dish, while the fault is in themselves. To MAKE the wife a sweet companion, but to keep her so, this may he accomplished in the following manner:
—Obtain an adequate supply of the pure water of affection, and gently immerse her therein: should the water during this process become ruffled, a little of the original balm of courtship will soon restore it to its usual smoothness. The fire should be composed of true love, with a few sighs to increase the flame, which should not be too warm, nor yet suffered to abate entirely, as that would spoil the dish. Coolness is often the ruin of this dish, erroneously asserted by some cooks to be necessary, which cooks add also sprigs of indifference, but this is a very dangerous practice, as a good wife is exquisitely delicate and susceptible. A few evergreens, such as industry, sobriety, and fondness, are necessary, and a moderate quantity of the spirit of coaxing and oil of kisses may be added, giving the whole a most delectable flavour. Garnish with flowers of endearment and kindness, and you will then fully appreciate the delights of a dish, compared with which all others sink into insignicance; namely

TIlE
OWDHAM CIIAP’S
VISIT
TO
TB’ QUEEN.’
It happen’d t’other Monday morn, while oeated at my loom, sirs,
Pickin’ th’ ends Ire, cant e’th yorn, eaur Nan pop’d into th’ room sirs,
Boo shooted rant, aw tell thee, Dick, ow think thour’t aetin ohabby,
So off to Lunnon cut thy stick, and leek at th’ reyai babby.
Every thing wur fun an’ glee, they laugh’d at o ow tow’d em,
An’ ax’d if th’ folk wur e like me, ut happen’d t’ come fro’ Owdhain.
Then eff aw goes an’ never stepo, till into th’ palace handy,
Th’ child wnr socking lellypeps, plums, and sugareandy; An’ little Vie i’th nook aw spied, a monkcy on her lap, men,
An’ Albert oittin’ by her side, a mixin’ gis an’ pap men. Everything wur, &e.
When Albert seed me, up he jumps, au’ rest to me did waddle;
An’ little Vicky sprung her pumps wi’ shakin’ n’ my daddle;
They ax’d to have a glass o’ wine, for pleasure up it waxes;
0 yes, says aw, six eight or nine, it o’ comes cant o’th taxes,
Everything wur, Lie.
They took the Prince ef Wales up soon, an’ gan it me ts daudle;
Then Albert foteh’d a silver spoon, an’ ax’d me ts taste at t’ candle,
Eesd, says aw, that’s good awd buck, it’s taste awe ne’er forget men,
An’ if my oivd mether’d gan sich suck, ‘ced aw’d been snekin yet men.
Everything wnr, Lie.
They ax’d me hess awliked their eon, an’ prais’d bath th’ nose an eyes cut,
Aw tswd ‘em though ‘t were only fun, ‘t wur big enough for th’ size en’t,
Says aw your Queenahip makes a stir (boo shapes none ilke a denee men
But if casr Nan lived as well as her hoo’d breed ‘em two at wence men,)
Everything wur, Lie.
They said they’d send their eon to school as soon as he could walk men,
And then for fear he’d ho a fee, they’d lam him th’ Owdham talk men,
Says aw there’s summut else as weil, there’s nout loik draieio tb whole pit,
For fear he’ll ha’ fort’ keep bleach, aw’d lam him work i’th coal pit.
Everything wur, Lie.
Then up n’th elopes we hod a walk’ to give eur joints relief sire,
And then we eat us denn to talk, ‘beaut politics and beef sire,
Aw towd ‘em thY corn laws wur but froth, an’ th’ taxes must o drop men,
That when eanr Nan wnr makin breath, same fat might get to th’ top men,
Everything war, Lie.
So neau my tale is at an end but newt but truth aw tells sire,
If ever we want the times to mend we’ll ha’ for t’ do ‘t eaur sells sire,
So nean ye seen aw’vo tewd my eprece, and sure as aw am wick men,
If my ewd wife and Albert dees aw’ll try for ‘t wed wi Vie men.
Everything wnr, Lie.
J. Haaxsese, Priaier, 121, Chareb Sireet, Prssiea.

Q. What is your name?
A. A Pauper.
Q. Who gave you that name?
A. The Board of Guardians, to whom I applied in the time of distress, when first I became a child of want, a member of the workhouse, and an inheritor of all the insults that poverty is heir to.
Q. What did the Board of Guardians do for you.
A. They did promise two things. First, that I should be treated like a convicted felon, being deprived of liberty, and on prison fare. Lastly, that I should be an object of oppression all the days of my life.
Q. Rehearse the Articles of thy belief.
A. I believe in the cruelty of Lord H—y B—m, the author of the present Poor Law, and I also believe that these laws have caused the death of tens of thousands by starvation and neglect.
Q. How many Commandments have you and such as you are to keep?
A. Ten.
Q. Which be they?
A. The same which the Poor Law Commissioners make in Somerset House, saying, We are thy lords and masters, who have caused thee to be confined as in bastiles, and separated thee and the wife of thy bosom, and the children of thy love. 1st, Thou shalt obey no laws but ours. 2nd, Thou shalt not make to thyself any substitute for skilley, nor the likeness of tea, or any other kind of food, or drink, except as is allowed in the workhouse; for we are very jealous men, punishing with severity any transgres
sion against our laws. Should’st thou disobey in this, we shall teach you a lesson that shall last thee all the days of thy life. 3rd, Thou shalt labour hard, and for nothing, and none of thy earnings shall be thy own. 4th, Remember the Sabbath day : six days shalt thou labour hard, and have but little to eat; but the seventh day is the Sabbath, wherein we cannot make you work, and so we give you liberty for an hour or two, to save the parish the expense of your Sunday dinner. 5th. Thou shalt honour the Poor Laws, the Commissioners, and the Beadles; thou shalt take no offence at what they say or do, or else thy days shall be made more miserable in the workhouse wherein thou livest. 6th, Thou shalt commit murder by neglecting thy starving children, for we will give thee no assistance to get them food. 7th, Thou shalt learn to neglect the dear ties of nature, for we will separate thee from the wife of thy bosom, and the children of thy love. 8th, Thou shalt rob thyself of the society and enjoyment of her whom thou hast sworn to protect while life shall last. 9th, Thou shalt be a false witness whenever a Pauper dies, and should the coroner or jury ask you how you live, why tell them you live like lords, and are as happy as princes. 10th, Thou shalt covet all thy neighbour is possessed of thou shalt covet his friends, his clothes, and all the comforts which thou once had; yet shalt thou long in vain; for remember, oh, pauper! that the motto of every workhouse is—” He who enters here leaves all comforts behind.”
LINES ON THE DEATH
Oh Englishmen, come drop a tear or two, while i relate a thrilling tale of woe, Of one whose age demanded all the care That love which aged pilgrims ougbl to share. Thie poor old man, whose limbs refused to beer The weight of more than eighty yeara of race, Was brought before a beak, worse than a Turk, And sent to gaol because he could not work, weep, Sons of Britain, mourn your sires’ disgrace! weep, English mothers! hug your rising race, And pray to Him, who gave your children breath,
TUE POOR U!
OF AN OLD PAUPER.
They may not live to die this old mane death,
In a dark dungeon he was close confined,
No frieud to comfort, or to soothe his mind;
No child to cheer his loathsome dyisg bed,
But soon he rooted with the silent dead,
Oh, ye who roll in chariots proud and gay,
Ye legal murderers! there will be a day,
when you shall leave all your riches behind,
A dwelling with the ever lust to find,
And your great Master, Ho whose name is good
Will hold you guilty of your brother’s bleod.

EXECUTION of Sir WALTER RALEIGH,
at JVestmiester, on the 29th of October, Anno lG, Jacobi Regis, lots.
Upon Wednesday, the 28th of October, wine dent. 1618, the Lieutenant of the Tower, according to a warrant to him directed, brought Sir Walter Raleigh from the Tower to the King’s Bench Bar at Westminster, where the record of his arraignment at Winchester was opened, and it was demanded why execution shoud not be done upon him according to law.
Ho began, in way of answer, to justify his proceedings in the late voyage.
But the Lord Chief Justice told him, That he was therein deceived, and that the opinion of the Court was to the contrary.
Master Attorney Gcncrtd, requiring in the King’s behalf, that execution might be done on the prisoner, according to the aforesaid judgment : the Sheriffs of Middlesex were commanded for that purpose to take him into their custody, who presently carried him to the Gatehouse.
From whence, the next morning, between the Sheriffs of Middlesex, Sir Walter Raleigh was brought to the old Palace Yard in Westminstor, whore a large scaffold was erected for the execution.
Whereupon, when he came, with a ehoarful countenance, he saluted the Lords, Knights, and gentlemen there present.
After which, a proclamation was made for silence, and he addressed himself to speak in tins manner.
I desire to be borne withal, for this is the third day of my fever, and if I shall show any weakness, I besoech you to attrihuto it to my malady, for this is tho hour in which it is wont to come.
Then pausing a while, he sat, and directed himself towards a window, whore the Lord of Arundol, Northampton, and Doncastor, with some other Lords and Knights, sate, and spake as followoth:
I thank God, of his infinite goodness, that he bath brought me to die in the light, and not in darkness; (But by reason that the place whore the Lords, &e., sat, was some distance from the scaffold, that ho perceived they could not well hear him, ho said) I will strain my voice, for I would willingly have your honours hoar mc.
But my Lord of Arundol said, nay, we
will rather come down to the scaffold, which ho and some others did.
Whore being come, he saluted thom severally, and thou began again to speak as followoth, viz.
As I said, I thank God heartily, that he bath brought mo into the light to die, and that ho hath not suffor’d me to die in the dark prison of misery and cruel sickness; and I thank God that my fever hath not taken me at this timno, as I prayod to God it might not.
Thou a proelamatiou hoing mado, that all men should depart tho scaffold, ho prepared lnmself for death: giving away lus hat, his cap, with somo mnonoy, to snoh as ho knew that stood noar him.
And thou putting off lns doublet and gown, ho dosirod the Hoadsmoan to show him tho Ax; which not being suddenly granted unto him, ho said, I pritlmoo lot mao see it, dost thou think that I am afraid 0f it? so it being givou unto him, ho felt along upon tho edge of it, and smiling, spake unto Mr. Sheriff, sayiug, tlns is a sharp modiciuo, but it is a physician that will euro all diseases.
Thou going to amid fro upon the scaffold one very side, ho intreatod tho oompany to pray to God to give him strength.
Thou having onded his speech, the Exooutionor kneeled down and asked hum forgivonoss, which laying his hand upon his shouldor lie gavo him.
Thou being asked which way ho would lay himself on the block, he made answor, and said, so the heart lie straight, it is no matter which way the head lioth; so laying his head on the block, his face being towards the east, the Hoadsmau throwing down his own cloak, because he would not spoil the prisoner’s gown, he giving the Headsman a a sign when ho should strike, by lifting up his hands, the Executioner struck off his head at two blows, his body never shrinking nor moving ; his head was showed on each side of the scaffold, and thou put into a rod leather bag, and his wrought velvet gown thrown over it, which was afterwards conveyed away in a mourning coach of his lady’s.

EXECUTION of Sir WALTER RALEIGH,
at JVestmiester, on the 29th of October, Anno lG, Jacobi Regis, lots.
Upon Wednesday, the 28th of October, wine dent. 1618, the Lieutenant of the Tower, according to a warrant to him directed, brought Sir Walter Raleigh from the Tower to the King’s Bench Bar at Westminster, where the record of his arraignment at Winchester was opened, and it was demanded why execution shoud not be done upon him according to law.
Ho began, in way of answer, to justify his proceedings in the late voyage.
But the Lord Chief Justice told him, That he was therein deceived, and that the opinion of the Court was to the contrary.
Master Attorney Gcncrtd, requiring in the King’s behalf, that execution might be done on the prisoner, according to the aforesaid judgment : the Sheriffs of Middlesex were commanded for that purpose to take him into their custody, who presently carried him to the Gatehouse.
From whence, the next morning, between the Sheriffs of Middlesex, Sir Walter Raleigh was brought to the old Palace Yard in Westminstor, whore a large scaffold was erected for the execution.
Whereupon, when he came, with a ehoarful countenance, he saluted the Lords, Knights, and gentlemen there present.
After which, a proclamation was made for silence, and he addressed himself to speak in tins manner.
I desire to be borne withal, for this is the third day of my fever, and if I shall show any weakness, I besoech you to attrihuto it to my malady, for this is tho hour in which it is wont to come.
Then pausing a while, he sat, and directed himself towards a window, whore the Lord of Arundol, Northampton, and Doncastor, with some other Lords and Knights, sate, and spake as followoth:
I thank God, of his infinite goodness, that he bath brought me to die in the light, and not in darkness; (But by reason that the place whore the Lords, &e., sat, was some distance from the scaffold, that ho perceived they could not well hear him, ho said) I will strain my voice, for I would willingly have your honours hoar mc.
But my Lord of Arundol said, nay, we
will rather come down to the scaffold, which ho and some others did.
Whore being come, he saluted thom severally, and thou began again to speak as followoth, viz.
As I said, I thank God heartily, that he bath brought mo into the light to die, and that ho hath not suffor’d me to die in the dark prison of misery and cruel sickness; and I thank God that my fever hath not taken me at this timno, as I prayod to God it might not.
Thou a proelamatiou hoing mado, that all men should depart tho scaffold, ho prepared lnmself for death: giving away lus hat, his cap, with somo mnonoy, to snoh as ho knew that stood noar him.
And thou putting off lns doublet and gown, ho dosirod the Hoadsmoan to show him tho Ax; which not being suddenly granted unto him, ho said, I pritlmoo lot mao see it, dost thou think that I am afraid 0f it? so it being givou unto him, ho felt along upon tho edge of it, and smiling, spake unto Mr. Sheriff, sayiug, tlns is a sharp modiciuo, but it is a physician that will euro all diseases.
Thou going to amid fro upon the scaffold one very side, ho intreatod tho oompany to pray to God to give him strength.
Thou having onded his speech, the Exooutionor kneeled down and asked hum forgivonoss, which laying his hand upon his shouldor lie gavo him.
Thou being asked which way ho would lay himself on the block, he made answor, and said, so the heart lie straight, it is no matter which way the head lioth; so laying his head on the block, his face being towards the east, the Hoadsmau throwing down his own cloak, because he would not spoil the prisoner’s gown, he giving the Headsman a a sign when ho should strike, by lifting up his hands, the Executioner struck off his head at two blows, his body never shrinking nor moving ; his head was showed on each side of the scaffold, and thou put into a rod leather bag, and his wrought velvet gown thrown over it, which was afterwards conveyed away in a mourning coach of his lady’s.

THE TRIAL,
On Tuesday, March 10th, 1152, at the Assizca at Cbelcnsfcrd, a bill of indictment was foond by the Grand Jory for petit treason, agaiost John Swan, for tbe cruel and wicked murder of his late master, Mr Joseph Jeffryes, of Walchamsiow, in the coonty of Eooex, asd against Elizabeth Jeffryes, spiootcr, niece of the deceased, for being, aiding, helping, abetting, assisting, comforting, and maintaining him, the said John Swan, to commit the said murder—GUILTY DEATH.
THE CONFESSION’
On Thursday, the day after her conviction, Miss Jeffryes made a confession, That what Mathews had swore was true, except that part of his hcing in ths hoooe at the time the pistol went off: And that she had had this murder in her thoughts for two years past, but never had a proper opportunity of getting it executed before, till she engaged Swan, and together with Swan, she offered Mathews money to execute it, who agreed to do it; that upon the night the murder was committed, it was agreed between Swan and her, that they should both go up to their chambers, as if they were going to bed, and as soon as the maid had locked her door, aod was supposed to be in bed, Miss Jeifryos came out of ber owo room and went to Swao’s, and said, “Holloh! are you awake 1” he acowcred, “ Yes,” and he woo not nndreooed; then she went into her uncle’s room to see if he was asleep, and took a silver tankard, a silver cup, and some silver spoons, from off a chest of drawers ic the deceased’s room; then she and Swan wont down stairs, and Swan took out a new sack from under the stairo, awl she and Swan pot the plate, and some pewter and braso which they took off the shelves in the kitchen, jute the sack, till she said, I can do no more. Swan and she then drank each a large dram of brandy; then she wont upstairs into her own chamber, whore it was agreed she should undress herself; and lie till a signal was given by a knock at her door or wainscot, that her uncle was murder’d, then she woo to open her window, and cry out, “ Diaper! fire and thieves,” to alarm the neighbourhood. She farther says, she accidentally fell aeleep as soon almost as in bed; but on a sudden was waked by some noise in a fright, when she laid and lioten’d, and heard a violent breathing or gaspiog, as if somebody was under a difficulty in drawing their breath; then she concluded her uncle was murder’d; and then npen’d her window, and made the agreed alarm; directly alter which eho came down stairs, and Swan let her out of the street door in her shift, when she ron to Mrs Diaper’s door, in the same
court-yard ; Swan then ohut the street-door, aud as soon as he heard the neighbours were coming, and thought a nufficieut alarm was made, he opened the street-door again in his shirt, and run out as if he was just come nut of bed in a fright. She further says, that previous to the excutiog this diabolical design, they had taken care to cut the wire of the bell on tke outside, which went from the master’s to the maid’e room, to prevent his calling the maid.
Swan says that he did not do the murder, but that Mathews, who came in at the garden gate, which Swan left open fur that purpose, actually did, with sue of the deceaoed’s pistols, which was banging up in the kitchen; and Swan cut a bullet, which he took out of a drow in the kitchen to make it fit the pistol. And lie is implocoble against Miss Jeffrycs far having made any eonfeoaiau of this melancholy aod wicked affair.
On Saturday, March 14th, they received sentence of death; and while the judge was making a moviog aud pathetic speech before the eentence, Mice Jeffryee fainted away several timee, aod at last recovered herself, pray’d for as long a time as posaible to prepare herself fur a future state.
THE EXECUTION.
On the 28th, Swan and Jeffryes were executed on Eppiug-Forest, near the six milestone in the pariah of Waithametow. Swan was drawo cc a sledge, and Miss ,l’effryeo in a cart, in the midat af the greatest coocaurae of people of all ranks and conditions, in coaches, &c., on horseback and a-fact, that ever had been seen in the memory ef man. At the place of execution Swan was putiuto the same cart with Mica Jeffryea, She acknowledged to a gentleman, one of the jury, there present,
That her sentence was just” Eat, being asked whether Mathews waa in the house at the time the murder was committed, she said, “ She believed he was uot.” She also added that she died in charity with all the world. Swan alec confessed to the same gentleman, “That he committed the murder.” And that he believed Mathews was not in the house at the time of the committing the murder, but that he had been there just befare. It was observed that these criminals did not en much as speak, touch, or look at one another, during the whale time they were in the cart. Miss Jeffryes fainted when the halter wae tied up; and again when placed on a chair (she being short) for the better ccnvenieucy of drawing away the cart. Miss Jeffrye’s body was carried away in a hearse to be interred. Swan’s body was immediately afier cut down, and hung in chains on the same gibbet.
TIlE TRIAL. CONFESSION, AND EXECUTION
OF
JOHN SWAN AND ELIZABETH JEFERVES,
‘1JTho were found guilty at Uhelmsford Assizes for the murder of
Jth. Joseph Je,ffryes, at W’althamstow, in Essex, on the
3rd of July, 1752.


OLD BAILEY INTELLIGENCE.—Exceutjon of Six Tliifortunate Malefaêtors, and the Barbarions Execution and Burning of Phwbe Harris, for Coiniiig Silver, on the 21st of June, 1786.
The Barbarious Execution and Burning
of Phcebe Harris.
Soon after the above execution, Phmbe Tiarrio, convicted the oeooion before loot of coining oilver, was brought out at the debtor’s door, from whence she walked to a otako fixed in the ground, about half way between the oeaffold and Newgate otreet. She woo immediately tied by the neck to an iron bolt fixed near the top of the stake, and after praying very fervently for a few minutes, the steps on which oho otood wero drawn away, and ohs immediately become ouopended. The executioner, with some oooiotants, put a chain round
her body, which wan fastened by otrong nails to the stake. Two eart-loodo of fliggote were then piled ronnd her, and after she hod hung about half on hour, the fire was kindled. The flames presently bnrniog the halter, the convict fell a few inches, and woo then suspended by the iron chain passed ever her chest and affixed to the stakes. Some scattered reinaico of the body were perceptible in the fire at half-past ten o’clock. Ttie fire had not quite burnt out cnn at twelve. ‘f ho unhappy woman wao so exceedingly offeeted on Mondoy night, that it was generally supposed (and iodeed wished) that ohs could not have survived.
Phmbo Harris woo a well made little woman, something more than thirty yearo of age, of a polo complexion, and not of dioogreeablo features. When she came out of prioon she appeared languid and terrifird, and trembled greatly as ohio odvaneed to the stoke, where the apparatus for the punishment she woo about to experience seemed to strike her niind with horror and consternation, to the exclusion of oil power of recolleetedneso in preparation for the approaching awful moment. A great concourse of peenle attended on the melancholy occasion.
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The following male eonvicto, viz., Edward Griffitho, George Woodward, William Watts, Daniel Keefe, Jonathan Harwood, and William Smith, were executed pursuant to their sentence, on the scaffold usually erected opposite Newgate. They were brought out at half-past seven in the morning, and the platform dropped about eight o’clock. Woodward woe so exceedingly weak, that ho was obliged to oit down till the exenutionoer had tied up the rest, and was than supported by two men.