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CONFESSION OF THE WHITTLESEA…
CONFESSION OF THE WHITTLESEA MURDERER. The following letter from the governor of the county gaol at Cambridge has been received by Mr. George Moore Smith, the solicitor for the prose- cution :— Cambridgeshire County Prison, Chesterton, Dec. 23. Dear Sir —It will be a satisfaction for you to know that John Green has confessed to the murder of Elizabeth Brown. Mr. Wilders will perhaps have given you the particulars. In case he has not, I may state that Green confirms, with one exception, all that was stated at his trial; the exception is that, on the morning of the 12th of March, when he was seen running home, he was without cap, the cap produced at the trial being the same he had on at the dancing-room of the George and Star. It appears, according to his statement, that he had connection with the deceased Brown before he went into the inalumg; but I ought to say first that Green had stolen a bucketful of gin from the store-room of the George and Star, and that Smedley was cognisant of it, and reopened the malting door and returned with Green to partake of the gin. When they left the malting the second time the door was left open, but the big gates were locked. Well, Green and Brown went into the malting about the time they were seen by M Donald. They (Green and Brown) had some gin, and sat about an hour and he wanted to have connection a second time with Brown. She resisted; he pulled her off the settle; she kicked and knocked about, and got hold of his hair. He hit her on the body with his fists, and she fell on the floor. He then kicked her on the body more than once. She did not scream out. He felt very bad, and did not know what to do, as he felt he had killed her. He stooped down and got hold of her and shook her, and found she was really dead. He then drank heartily of some gin. There were some sacks lying about, which he put round her, and' set fire to by putting a shovel- ful of hot cinders on the sacks. He sat down on a block against the furnace, and watched the burning about an hour. He then drank some more gin, and stirred up the burning sacks. He then sat down, and unexpectedly went off to sleep. When he awoke he was half stifled with smoke, and groped about until he found the door in the cake-place leading into the vard, and got out over the wall and went running home. The above is the substance of Greens statement, made in the presence of the under-sheriff, Mr. -George Day; the prisoner's attorney, Mr. Wilders, and myself. A copy of the said statement has been sent to the Home Secretary of State, and a copy to Baron Martin.-I am, sir, yours truly, B. GIBSON, Governor.—G. M. Smith, Esq., &c.
WRECK OF THE WILHELMSBURG.
WRECK OF THE WILHELMSBURG. Three Hundred Persons Drowned. One of the few survivors from this terrible wreck describes the occurrence as follows :—" You will have heard that the Hamburg ship Wilhelmsburg, Captain Gross, belonging to the house of Godeffroy and Son, was lost on the coast of Holland, and that few lives were saved. Among those few I am one, and there are also 15 of the crew saved, and about 25 of the pas- sengers. About 300 men were drowned or died in the terrible night from Thursday to Friday; and among these were the captain and the aged doctor. No clothing was saved, as all was washed away and strewn on an unknown coast. Of the Wilhelmsburg, one of the largest vessels sailing from Hamburg, no- thing remains but a portion of the after-part, which, in consequence of the strength of the deck, still re- mains a little above water. I will briefly tell you our adventures from the time we sailed. We left the city for sea, having on board from 315 to 320 passengers, and had a fair wind. We had not been long at sea when we encountered a westerly wind, which increased from day to day until it became a storm which we could make no head against, and were driven back to the coast. In the night from Thursday to Friday the iltorm raged so violently that the sails which were stowed were blown away, and those which were set were more or less split. None of the sailors dared venture up the masts, and we feared that they would go every minute. The vessel was driven about in a terrible manner by the winds and the waves, and at last she could no longer be steered. About one o'clock the captain gave orders to sound with the lead. We did so, and to our horror found only 17 feet of water. We saw that we were lost, and in a few minutes the ship struck forward, and, with a terrible shock, she afterwards struck aft. The rudder then gave way. We immediately proceeded to cut away the masts, but they broke off like sticks, and their wreck beat great holes in the deck, through which the water poured and filled the 'tween decks. Another fearful crash was heard, and the ship broke in two amidships. All who were in the fore part of the vessel and 'tween decks were drowned, as the one sank with all who were there and the other was fall of water. Thus, 250 lives were sacrificed to the waves in the space of a few minutes. It was a fearful sight. Yet we could do no- thing. In such a moment one has enough to do to think of himself, and has also enough to do to save portion of the vessel also sank in a few minutes, but was not entirely covered with the water. The lower portion held together, but was em- bedded in the sandy bottom. Now, however, one sea after another rushed over the deck, tore away the bulwarks, and carried off all who could not hold on firmly. We all jumped into the largest boat, which was firmly jammed in between the wrecks of the masts and water vessels. Behind and before me lay dead V 11 and wounded, and among these was the captain. Thus cowering together in the boat, exposed to every sea which swept the vessel, sometimes lying on the IdeEti, at other times packed between corpses, I awaited the dawn of day. It was quite seven o'clock when we saw a northern bark in the distance, with her masts cut away, but otherwise holding together, drive upon the strand. Her crew launched their long boat, and fortunately succeeded in landing. We fol- lowed this example, although our boat leaked. Men now came forth from behind the masts and water vessels, and from every corner of the deck, almost all blue with hunger and frost, but anxious to get to land. There were about 10 more than the boat would carry; but, as these were passengers, some of the crew were compelled to remain behind, and among -these I was one. The boat left us with the promise that we should soon be. fetched from the wreck. The boat, however, soon, struck fast, and those who were in her were compelled to wade to dry land. The tide now ebbed, and, as the boat lay high and dry, we were competed to try and save ourselves, as we could expect no help from the shore. We, therefore, patched up a small boat, the stern part of which had been broken away by the waves and this frail bark we launched in the darkness into the sea. The waves fortunately dro-e us to the shore, and then we got out and waded towards our comrades. The next nighty like the last, we were forced to spend without a shelter; but, at.all events, we were not exposed to the waves. On the evening of the next day some men arrived, and we were conveyed to the nearest village in wagons. We then learnt that the land was the island of Tersohelling, and here we remained till we could be sent to Harlingen. Of the 300 passengers only 24 men and one woman are saved, and, with the remnant of the crew,, are reduced to a state of utter destitution. They are now at Hamburg, where they have been treated kindly,; but one or two have left for England, with the intention of finding their way to Australia in another vessel."
SUSPECTED SUICIDE IN 'THE…
SUSPECTED SUICIDE IN THE REI GE-YLI"S CANAL. On Wednesday morning Mr. Raffles Walthew, der puty coroner, resumed an inquiry at the Black Horse Tavern, Kingsland-road, touching the death of Mr, Thomas Costelloe, aged 48. It appeared from the evidence that deceased had held a good situation at a warehouse in Friday-street, Cheapside, for the last 22 years. He left the establishment to go to his dinner at ^■d-day last Friday week. He was not seen alive after. On -Lanrsday morning his body was found in the Eegent's-canal, neat the There was only one penny in his POO-k-et Mrs. Costelloe, 9, Cross-street, Hackney-road, said that on the Friday morning her husband left.home in his us K^6' ahd she never saw him alive after. He had never reatened to commit suicide, and he was very sober and peat, y There was, however, latterly a slight falling off ia his heait There was nothing to make him unhappy. A nephew oi de eased said that he had of cen spoken of pains in his head. was little doubt that he had committed suicide. He was m^ood aircumstances. Dr. Major Green- wood said that called to see the body of the deceased on Thursday. It had certainly not been in the water from the previous Friday. it could not have been immersed much more than twenty-lour wour3. He could not say whether death arose from drowning, >.mt there were no marks of violence visible on the oody. The coroner said it was most extraordinary that a respectable in g0od circumstances, should suddenly disappear, ana no trace be found of him for such an interval as between J riday and Wednesday, the day of his supposed suicide. Henry Juke Costelloe said that his father was very cheerful prior to his disappearance. Witness never heard him say that he would commit suicide," and there was no reason why he should have drowned himself. Mr. 'Waller, coroner's officer, said that he had made inquiries, and found that deceased was in high esteem at his employers' warehouse,'in Friday-street, Cheapside He;could not be traced anywhere during the interval between the Friday and the time he came into the canal. There were some words found written on the Queen's-road-bridge, which at first J^era believed to have reference d the deceased. They were .Mr j.——, willbe found m the canal." On minute inspec- <■??' however;, the name appeared to be not "Costelloe," but Cooper." The coroner, said that the case was most mys- terious and unsatisfactory. The family appeared to consider that the deceased had committed suicide, but there was really no evidence of the fact. The jury returned a verdict—" That deceased was found dead in the Eegent's-canal, but how he came into the canal there was no evidence to show."
SHOCKING TREATMENT OF A IDAUGHTER.
SHOCKING TREATMENT OF A DAUGHTER. A case has just been brought to light at Parkgate, near Rotherham, showing the most shocking and in- human treatment of a daughter by her father and step- mother. The matter is creating a considerable stir, and is freely canvassed in the locality, but it would be premature to mention names. For several years it has been well known in and around the neighbourhood of Parkgate, Rotherham, that a young woman was shut up in the house of her parents, but for what reason and under what circumstances no one knew. Persons who have occasionally heard her cries and feared she was subjected to cruel treatment, have spoken of it to the police and others, but nothing was done to ascertain the real condition of the girl. Last Saturday night, however, she seized a favourable opportunity and escaped to the house of a neighbour. Her appearanee excited feelings of horror, and the tale she told of the sufferings she had undergone could scarcely be credited. She returned to her" home," and information was given to the police. On the following morning, S6rg6 £ int Homo wGirt to fcb.6 f&tliGr s liou.S6 8*110. insisted upon seeing his daughter. After some little hesita- tion she was called, and an object presented itself that could scarcely be recognised as a human being. Wrapped around her were a few rags in a most filthy condition; her eyes were black and nearly closed; her lips were swollen to an enor- mous size and on one of her ears was a large wound, from which blood was flowing. Her features were shrunken and distorted, and altogether her appearance was of the most sickening description. The officer tried every means to induce her to speak, but he was unable to elicit a word from her. He then asked to be shown the room from which she was called, and a small place like a recess on the stairs land- ing was pointed out to him. There was just room in it for what was used as a bedstead, but which was in reality a heap of filth, and the place was in a most disgusting state. Per- sons who live near state that it is at least fourteen years since the poor creature disappeared, and they speak of her as being then about fourteen years of age, and a lively, intelligent girl. Although she is now therefore about twenty-eight years of age, she is not so tall as an ordinary girl of twelve-having rather diminished in stature than grown during her long and dreary incarceration. As soon as the facts of the case became known to Superintendent Gillett, steps were taken with the view of bringing the matter before the proper authorities. At the meeting of the board of guardians on Monday the case was brought before them by Mr. Oxley, of Parkgate, and an investigation was ordered to be made. The most extraordinary feature in the case is that the father is in comfortable circumstances, and well able to support his daughter properly.
POACHING AFFRAY NEAR MACCLESFIELD.
POACHING AFFRAY NEAR MACCLES- FIELD. About four o'clock on Monday morning a desperate encounter took place on the Siddington estate, four or five miles from Macclesfield, between twelve or four- teen gamekeepers and nearly twice their number of poachers. The following facts appeared in evidence:— On the previous night the keepers of Mr. J. B. Glegg, Withington-hall, having received information of a body of poachers having been seen in the neighbourhood, mustered in force and started off in pursuit. They traced the poach- ing gang to the estate of Mr. A. H. Devonport, Capesthorne- hall, where they fell in with the keepers on that estate, together with those of the adjoining landowner, Mr. John Dixon, Astle-hall. The keepers amalgamated their strength, and being suitably armed, continued their search. At about four o'clock they came upon two formidable gangs, setting nets in a field in the occupation of Mr. Jabez Wright, Sid- dington. It was pitch dark, and the keepers, unaware of the strength of their opponents, pounced upon them, but the two gangs closed and compelled the watchers to stand aloof., The latter summoned their antagonists to surrender, but the poachers responded with a volley of large stones. A regular melee then ensued. In the darkness of the night and the confusion the keepers were chary in striking through fear of hitting their fellow-watchers; but the poachers were less cautious, and set upon each other, exchanging many hard blows before discovering their mistake. Though superior in number and weapons, they made a general retreat, leaving four of their number wounded on the ground. These the keepers took into custody. A hare, a rabbit, and a quantity of netting and sticks were found upon them. The keepers escaped marvellously, many of the blows intended for them falling on the heads of the unlucky poachers. The four captured men, Joseph Wilson, Joseph Clayton, Thomas Fitton, and Robert Moss, when brought before the magis- trates, made no defence; but, Moss and Wilson complained of the brutal ill-usage they received at the hands of the keepers, 18 or 19 of whom (they averred), armed with spears several feet long, and double-barrelled guns, cut and slashed right and left. Wilson showed some ugly wounds on his head and face, and Moss had the back of his hand severely cut, he said, with a spear. The justices sentenced the prisoners to three month s hard labour each, and expressed an opinion that if the borough police officers did their duty under the powers which the: recent Poaching Act gave to them, the game preserves in the neighbourhood would be less infested with midnight marauders.
* MOTHER STARVING HER INFANT.
MOTHER STARVING HER INFANT. A thin, dissolute-looking woman, with her face bruised, named Charlotte Power, was charged at the Marylebone, Police-court, before Mr. Mansfield, with being drunk and incapable of taking care of herself and child. Mr. Tabbs, the assistant relieving overseer of the parish of St. Marylebone, attended to prosecute on behalf of the board of guardians, and said:— This woman was brought up charged with being drunk and incapable of taking care of herself and child. After she had been locked up the child was found to be in such a low, starving state as to compel its being taken to the workhouse, where it was at once seen to by the medical gentlemen. The following-oertificate was then handed by the witness to his I worship:— St. Mar.ylobone Infirmary, Dec. 26, 1S;>>. This is to certify that the infant, Charlotte Power, was admitted into the Marylebone Workhouse on December 25, 1863, suffering, in my opinion, from want of proper care and attention. • "WILLIAM FRANdis FuLLEE, M.B.C.S., House Surgeon." At the direction of Mr. Douglas, the master of the work- house, a nurse produced, from some flannel, the child for the magistrate to look at. His Worship shrugged up his shoulders, and, averting his looks from it, exclaimed, Ah! shocking, shocking This feeling of horror was shared in by all who saw the poor little infant, which is only between two and three months old. It has scarcely a particle of flesh upon its bones, and its eyes seemed to glare and start from their 'sockets. Mr. Tubbs said the husband was then in attendance. Mr. Mansfield: I cannot hear him. The child has been most cruelly used, and it is the wife's duty to attend to it. She must be remanded for seven days. ?s; Prisoner, who had neither bonnet nor shawl on, and whose hair was hanging loosely about her, said, Oh, don't send me to prison I had no breast milk for it." Mr. Mansfield then called the husband, who seemed a respectable person, and asked him if he would undertake to produce his wife next week if his own bail were taken for her., Husband: No, sir, I will not. She shall never darken my doors again. The prisoner was then removed, but shortly afterwards was brought -up again on a warrant, taken out against her by Mr. Tubbs, under what is called Sloane's Act, charging her wit4 neglecting her child, thereby endangering its life. Hiram Barnes, 249 S, said: About seven o'clock on Friday night I was on duty in Salisbury-street, Portman-market, where I saw the prisoner drunk, and quite incapable of taking care of herself. I locked her up, when I was told she had a child at No. 3, Richmond-place, starving and neglected. The prisoner was too drunk to say anything. I went to the room, which wq £ in a filthy state, and in the corner, lying upon a heap of something—whether a bed or rags I could not tell-was the infant produced. It was crying most piteously. Prisoner: It always does. Barnes: The neighbours told 'me it could not have had anything to eat that day. It was in a very low and dirty state. The prisoner was too drunk to understand anything about the state of the child.. The prisoner was remanded for a week, in order to see if the infant would recover, and also to have medical evidence, when, in all probability, his worship said he- would send her for tria-I.
HIGHWAY ROBBERY—AN AWKWARD…
HIGHWAY ROBBERY—AN AWKWARD DOCUMENT. Elizabeth and William Clarke, decently dressed persons, who declined to give any account of them- selves, or to statd where they resided, were charged at Bow-street, before Mr. Corrie, with stealing a silver watch from an elderly foreign gentleman named Auguste Lamazine, a merchant, of the City. The following, from the statement of prosecutor, who spoke English only imperfectly, appear to be the facts of the case:— He was walking along Holborn about midnight on the 27th December, when the female prisoner accosted him. She appeared intoxicated, and witness begged her to leave him j but she took him by the arm and conducted him into a har- row turning (a mews). Her -movements excited his suspi- cion, and he consequently felt in the breast-pocket of his coat for a watch, which he had. placed there. It was a sample watch, which. he used in his trade as a chronometer maker, and it had been wrapped up in a letter written in French. He found that it had disappeared from his pocket; upon which ,he seized the woman by the arm, and accused her of robbing him. He retained his hold of her, when a man (the other prisoner) rushed between them. He never- theless pursueathe WOIllan up the passage into the street, passing a. policeman on, his way; but not wishing to be in- volved in a prosecution if he could avoid it, and thinking the wamMi-might return the watch to him, he did not say any- « thing to the constable, but overtook the girl, and again seized her by the arm. He said a great deal, which possibly she could not understand; and she replied in language which was wholly incomprehensible to him, but she perfectly un- derstood his meaning. They were engaged in altercation, when the constable came up and asked what was the matter, and the male prisoner and a mob of other persons all assem- bled, demanding him to liberate the woman. He then told the constable what had taken place as well as he could. George Bright, 31 F, deposed that he saw the female pri- soner drawing prosecutor by the arm into the mews, and saw the male prisoner follow them. Consequently he went to see what they were about, and met prosecutor coming out, saying something which he (witness) could not under- stand. Subsequently he found them apparently struggling together, and then prosecutor gave the woman into custody. The male prisoner tried to prevent his taking her to the station, and he had great difficulty in doing so, but ulti- mately he apprehended him also. He had not been able to find any trace of the watch, but he found in the girl's pocket the letter in which prosecutor's watch had been wrapped up. Prosecutor identified this awkward document," and Mr. Corrie, declining Mr. Lewis's appeal to dispose of the case, committed both prisoners for trial.
DEATH OF WILLIAM MAKEPEACE…
DEATH OF WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. The author of "Vanity Fair" is no more. The ill- ness which has terminated thus fatally was only of three days' duration; it came to an end sud- denly on Thursday morning. William Makepeace Thackeray (writes the Daily News) was born at Calcutta in 1811, where his father held a post in the civil service of the East India Company. The future author was sent to England in his seventh year, when, the ship having touched at St. Helena, he saw Napoleon. He has himself described the incident. "My black servant took me a walk over paths and hills till we passed a garden, where we saw a man walking. 'That is Bonaparte,' said the black; 'he eats three sheep every day, and all the children he can lay his hands on. Thackeray was placed at the school of the Charterhouse, and from thence he proceeded to Cambridge, but left the University without taking a degree. On coming of age he found himself in possession of a fortune of X20,000, but not wishing to lead an idle life he chose the profession of an artist, in the pursuit of which he visited Italy and Germany. For a time he resided at Wiemar when Goethe was at the summit of his fame, and in a letter to Mr. G. H. Lewes he has consigned his reminiscences of the greatest of German poets and critics. The in- fluence of his artistic studies may no doubt be traced in his writings, some of which are illustrated by sketches from his pencil. About six or seven-and-twenty years of age, when his inherited fortune had been much reduced by losses, Mr. Thackeray addicted himself in earnest to literature. His fame, the reward of steady industry, was of slow growth. His earliest writlhgs are now confounded and forgotten with the miscellaneous outpourings of the anonymous press of that day. The first contributions he made to literature under a distinctive name were the tales, criticisms, and descriptive sketches which appeared in Frazer's Magazine under the pseu- donymes of Michael Angelo Titmarsh, and George Fitz Boodle, Esq. The keen observation, delicate irony, and refined style of these magazine papers, attracted the notice of readers like the late John Sterling, who predicted the author's future fame, but left the mass of devourers of monthly litera- ture unconscious of extraordinary merit. The first of his works which appeared in a separate form were "The Paris Sketch Book" (1840), and The Second Funeral of Napoleon," and The Chronicles of a Dream," in metre, published to- gether (1841). But neither these, nor "The Irish Sketch Book" (1843), made a permanent impres- sion on the public, which, so faithful to old friends, was in this case slow to discover un- aided merit. Some of Mr. Thackeray's best smaller pieces, as The Hoggarty Diamond and Barry Lyndon," appeared in Fraser." From an early date he was connected with Punch, at first as the "Fat Contributor," and soon after as the author of the inimitable Jeames's Diary and The Snob Papers." In 1846 he advanced to a higher form of composition than he had before essayed. His first, and, perhaps, greatest novel, Vanity Fair," began to appear in that year, and being continued in monthly parts, grew in public favour, until, on its completion in-1848, its author was-universally recognised as one of our greatest living writers of fiction. Nowhere is Thackeray's peculiar power more concentrated than in this novel, and the heroine-the cool, clever, un- principled Becky Sharp—will long remain the type of feminine intellect without virtue. Passing over some small occasional and Christmas books, Notes of a Journey from Cornhill to Grand I. Cairo" (1846), "Mrs. Perkins's Ball" (1847),<c Dr. Birch and his Young Friends (1849), we come to "Pendennis," the portraiture of a man of un- pleasant character, notwithstanding his sense of conventional honour, whom Mr. Thackeray in- vited the world,, "knowing how mean the best of us is," to receive with charity, with all his faults conventional honour, whom Mr. Thackeray in- vited the world,, "knowing how mean the best of us is," to receive with charity, with all his faults and shortcomings, who does not claim to be a hero, but only a man and a brother." It was in Pendennis that critics first discovered the tendency, which has since been frequently charged on Mr. Thackeray, and traced in nearly all his writings, to dwell by preference on the dark and un- lovely side of human character, and hold up the petty and ignoble side of all things while over- looking the goodness that exists in the world. The charge first took a serious form in a criticism of" The Kickleburvs on the Rhine," Mr. Thacke- ray's Christmas book in 1859, and provoked an exceedingly caustic reply, prefixed to a second edition of the volume which was immediately called for. In 1851 Thackeray delivered at Willis's Rooms a course of six lectures on the English Humourists," which delighted the most brilliant audiences which have honoured a literary man in these days, and have since been numbered with his published works. In 1852 The History of Henry Esmond, Esq., was given to the world. As an achievement of literary art this has usually been considered the greatest of the author's perform- ances, but if the test of literature is the interest it excites, Esmond" has been surpassed by many of the author's works which exhibit less technical skill. The. nobler tone of this work may be con- sidered either as a refutation of the censures founded on the features of Pendennis," or as an improvement suggested by the taste of the public, expressed through the medium of adverse criticism. The Newcomes," published in 1855, revealed a deeper pathos than any of Mr. Thackeray's previous novels, and showed that the author could when he pleased give us pictures of moral beauty and love- liness. The success of the lectures on the English Humourists," and the tendency of the historical studies evident in Esmond," led Mr. Thackeray to prepare a series of lectures on The Four Georges," which he first delivered in the United States. The subject was not favourable to the display of the author's more genial qualities; very little that is good could be said of the Georges. Yet where in English literature shall we find anything more solemn and affecting than his picture of the affliction of the old king, the last of that name? In 1857, Thackeray solicited the suffrages of the constituency of the city of Oxford. He had an odd way of canvassing, declaring that his opponent, Mr. Cardwell, was the better man. The citizens, perhaps, thought that he would be better engaged in writing works for posterity than wearing out his life in committee-rooms and late sittings in the House of Commons, discussing railway and gas bills, or fixing the rate of duty on corks squared for rounding. At all events they did not bind him to their service, and in the same year he was writing and publishing his Virginians," the last of his principal novels. In 1860 he became editor of the Cornhill Magazine "Lovel the Widower and The Adventures of Philip ap* peared in its pages, but are not to be compared with the series of fictions by which they were precede d.-Observer
THE NEW IRISH PEER.
THE NEW IRISH PEER. Sir William Meredyth Somerville, Baronet, formerly chief secretary for Ireland, is now Baron Athlumney, of Somerville and Dollardstown, county Meath, in the peerage of Ireland-the letters patent so creating him having passed the Great Seal. His lordship is representative for Canterbury, in England, and his creation will not vacate his seat, under the fourth article of the Act of Union, which reserves to the new Irish peer, being an English member of Parliament, the right of continuing to serve" in the Commons; but he loses his privilege of peerage, is not capable of being elected an Irish peer, or of voting at such election, and may be sued and tried as a commoner, while he serves in the Lower House. The honours of the peerage could not have been conferred on a more worthy or more honourable gentleman. He is also possessed of a large estate. The title Athlumney, which he has taken, was chosen a hundred years ago by his ancestor, Sir Quayle Somervill, the first baronet, when he was offered a peerage, but for some cause or other the creation did not take place. Sir William's creation of "Baron Athlumney" is, therefore, like resuming an old title. Athlumney Castle was formerly a seat of the old Catholic family of Dowdall, which disappeared in the Jacobite revolution; and Dol- lardstown refers to Lord Athlumney's maternal ancestors, the Meredyths of Dollardstown. His lord- ship by his first marriage had an only child, a daughter, who was married a few years ago to the heir to a peerage, and his son-in-law behoved, as firmly as man could believe anything, that his children would, in course of time, be the inheritors of their grandfather's large estates; but there is a tide in the affairs of men," and in this case it rolled away, on a crested wave, the hopes of the son-in-law. One morning, under the head of "Marriage in High Life," came the startling intelligence that Sir William, who is a fine hale old gentleman, had m -vi-ied again, and to a young and charming bride. I\vo or three daughters have been born to him since, and, if hope will tell a "flattering tale," the next offspring may be a. son and heir, and in course of time the young Baron Ath- lumney." V.
FIRE AND LOSS OF SIX LIVES.
FIRE AND LOSS OF SIX LIVES. Shortly before Christmas Day dawned upon the sleeping town of Birmingham a fire broke out, which resulted in the loss of six lives. The first house in Little Hill-street, abutting on the Horse Fair, is the Hill-street Tavern, kept by Mr. George Gameson. On Thursday night, when the customers had left, the fol- lowing were the occupants of the house:—George Gameson, landlord; Mrs. Gameson, his wife; Mrs. Bradley, an old lady, who came that evening to spend her Christmas holiday; a general servant (name not ascertained); a nurse child, named Spratt, aged about twelve; and Mr. Gameson's six children, varying in age from two years to seventeen. Between four and five o'clock in the morning some persons in the street discovered that Mr. Gameson's house was on fire, and the flames were ascending from the upper windows of the house. The fire had evidently originated in the lower part of the house, in one of the back rooms. A few persons ran to the spot, and the alarm was at once given to the fire and police offices. The engines soon arrived and got into play, but the fire had made great headway before they commenced work. The house has a ground floor and two storeys, the first floor front being occupied by a club-room. Pending the arrival of the fire-escape some men had scaled the walls, and gained the leads over the bar windows. The landlord had by some means got out of the house, and was frantically calling on the people to aid in rescuing his wife and children. When the fire-escape came it was reared against the upper windows of the house, and some men who had penetrated into the upper storeys commenced to get out the bodies. Old Mrs. Bradley was found under the bed in her room, with two of the children. They were all horribly burned and charred, and had been dead for some time. Two other children were also dead, besides the nurse girl. Out of six children only two were saved. They are very badly injured, and it is considered very doubtful whether either of them will recover. Mr. and Mrs. Gameson and the elder servant escaped unhurt. The bodies present a most horrible spectacle, wrapped in bedclothes and other coverings hastily snatched up by the rescuers. It appears as if the old lady had not been in bed, for she was partially dressed. The following is a list of the victims Mrs. Bradley; Amy Spratt, aged 12 (nurse) .Matilda Gameaon, 17 s Emily Gameson, 6; Betsy Gameson, 5; William Game- son, aged about 2 years. A man who was present on the spot when the fire broke out, and who remained till all was over, states that the first alarm of fire was given by two young men who used to frequent the house, and who happened to be passing up the street at about half-past four o'clock. The landlord, who was sleeping in the back bedroom on the first floor, got out by the window. He had nothing on but his shirt, and seemed to be half mad as he ran about the street, calling for some one to help to save his wife and children. A crowd soon collected, and a young man brought a ladder, by which Mrs. Gameson was enabled to get out of the window. Nothing could be done for the other inmates, who were all sleeping in the attics, as the fire had taken the stairs, and thus out off all access to the upper part of the house. The servant girl jumped out of the window, and before doing so was heard to say, Jump for your life, Tilley," to Matilda, the eldest girl; but the latter was afraid to do so. When the fire-engines arrived the house was one mass of flame from floor to roof. There was a fair supply of water, and a stream was soon thrown on the burning building both from back and front, but it was nearly an hour, and in the intense excitement of the moment appeared to be many hours, before any one could go into the building. Many people volunteered to do so sooner, and the landlord had to be held back by main force from rushing to what would have been a certain death in a hopeless attempt to save -his children; but those in authority on the spot refused to allow it. When the firemen could go into the building, the attic rooms presented a horrible sight. The bodies were much burnt and charred, but, from their appear. ance, there is reason to believe that the unfortunate people had died frbm suffocation before the flames reached them. The- first body brought down was that of the old lady visitor, and then there was the baby, the girl Amy, the little boy, Betsy, and Matilda. There is nothing left of the furniture of the back parlour, which is directly opposite the staircase, from which it is only divided by a narrow passage. When the people went to bed a good fire was left in this room, and a large kettle full of water was placed on the hob, so that there might be warm water ready when they came down in the morning. It is evident that the fire must have begun in this room, and at once been conveyed the whole height of the house by the stairs, which acted as a chimney to it.
THE COURT-MARTIAL UPON LIEUT.-COLONEL…
THE COURT-MARTIAL UPON LIEUT.- COLONEL CRAWLEY. The finding of the court-martial, held under the Presidency of General Sir G. Wetherall, K.C.B., for the trial of the charges against Lieut.-Colonel Crawley, was on Wednesday submitted to the Queen, and received the Royal approval. The de- cision is in the following terms :— The Court, having duly considered the evidence in behalf of the prosecution, the evidence the prisoner has adduced, and what he has stated in his defence, and the prosecutor's reply, is of opinion with regard to the first charge, that he, the prisoner, Lieutenant- Colonel Thomas R. Crawley, of the 6th Dragoons, is 'Not guilty.' With regard to the seeond charge the Court is of opinion that he, the prisoner, Lieutenant-Colonel Thomas R. Crawley, is Not guilty.' The Court does, therefore, fully and honourably acquit him, Lieutenant-Colonel Thomas R. Crawley, of both the charges preferred against him." To the finding of the Court were appended some unfavourable comments upon the manner in which particular witnesses for the prosecution had given their evidence at Aldershot. These expressions of censure, however, are not given to the public at present, as they will doubtless be embodied in the remarks of his Royal Highness the Commander-in- Chief upon the case generally. It is not con- sidered likely, says the Times, that any further Courts-martial will grow out of that which has just terminated; but it will probably be left to a Medical Board to determine under what circum- stances the erasures and misplaced entries found their way into the hospital books of the 6th Dra- goons. Obviously there must be a sweeping alteration in the list of officers of that regiment. Such of the senior officers as are retained in the service will, doubtless, be moved into other regi- ments, and their places filled by exchange. Ex- tensive importations will also be made into the junior ranks. For such a course abundance of precedents may be found; for instance, the case of the 10th Hussars and of the 85th Foot, which when reconstructed took for its motto Av.cio spI<3ndore resurgo." ■* .f
UNDER THE MISTLETOE.
UNDER THE MISTLETOE. A STORY OF TWO CHRISTMAS DAYS AND TWO KISSES. The following is an extract from the Christmas number of the Illustrated London News. The tale is illustrated by a very pretty engraving of an old gentle- man receiving the sly kiss of a little girl under the mistletoe:— Been in love! I think I was talking of that, was I not ? Yes, been in love Well, we just did love when I was a young fellow, and I recollect my wife, Tny Alice, that left my side but now it seems, and yet it's twenty years ago; and I recollect her, as I loved her, when she was very young, and as I love her now. Sh was a merry one, was Alice; we used to walk, and laugh, and talk together like two friends. I think that she could do anything but drink and smoke, or tell an untruth, or do a wrong action. Her face was a sweet oval face her hair a very dark brown, nearly black and her eyes a deep blue, full of merriment at one moment, ay, at all moments, except when she heard a sad story or was touched with pain for any one else, and then they grew deeper and deeper as they filled with tears. Not for herself. She never cried herself that I know of, for she never had a day's illness. But she was terribly cut up when her poor brother died, and that you see was how I knew her. Her brother was my right hand man in my company. Many's the time that he stood shoulder to shoulder with me, good at drill, good at a song—good at any- thing. He used to live near the coast; and, indeed, he joined us, and I was one of his tent-fellows, and his chum. Well, he knew people that I knew, and we were soon friends and he took me home to show me Alice. He was always talking about her, and she about him and, when he was there, scarce a look did she give me. Her brother Joe—his name was Joe, and mine, too—could do everything, and was the be-all and end-all of the world, I used to think and so one day I tried to run with Joe, and Joe beat me, and Alice laughed; and then I shot against Joe, and he beat me too, and she laughed the more; and I wrestled with him and threw him, and she didn't laugh then, but ran to see whether he was hurt, and said it wasn't fair for Joe to tackle a big fellow like me, although he was nigh an inch taller. In short, I oould not please her anyhow! Well, it was one day when we heard that the flat- bottomed boats of old Boney were not coming over, and that the Army of Boulogne had melted bit by bit away, like a snowdrift, that we made a night of it. Ay, it was a night, too! and, being hot and in the summer, we must needs keep up the fun till the sun came up over the sea coast,, looking red and angry at our folly. Well, Joe and I—the two Joes, as they called us—ran down to the beach and washed our hot faces, and plunged in the fresh salt waves, and were in a few moments as fresh and as merry as larks. And, after dressing, Joe must needs take a walk with me— who was nothing loth, you must know—along the edge of the cliff. The seas for centuries have been washing that chalk-bound'coast, and at intervals there stand up pillars of chalk, with the sea around them, and with little green patches of land, a few yards square, on the top ofithem. The people call such a place "No Man' Land," and no man can own it, truly. Well, Joe Cam to one of these, a few feet-say twelve-from the cliff, and, turning to me, he said Joe Junior," said he—I think I see his bright face now-" I challenge you to leap up on that 'No Man's Land,' I do! Joe," said I, hurriedly, don't be a fool! It may be it would give way at top, and if it did nothow could you jump back without a run? You'd be stuck a-top there, like a mad'sentinel or a pillar saint. I'm not going to jump it." But I am said he. And before I couldjhinder him, if, indeed, I had tried, he took a run and junfped. It was so sudden that I could only stand aghast when I saw him there. He stood, indeed, but for a moment, and then he took a step back, and would have jumped back, when I heard a rumbling sonnd, and half the top of the No Man's Land parted, and the chalk and earth, and Joe too, fell down wifeh at crasli upon the rookrr coast below. I ran round the little creek to the other side of the small bay, and, throwing myself down on the turf, stretched my neck over, looked out, and cried oirt "Joe! Are you hurt, Joe ? "Joe! Are you hurt, Joe ? A faint voice came up, and I could see the 'poor fellow struggling under a huge piece of chalk which seemed to hold him down in agony. He smiled in- a. ghastly way, with his whitened face, and said, "Boh, Joe, run The tide's coming in Well, I did run; and we got ropes from the tents, and a few strong fellows held these as I swung over the cliff, just reaching poor Joe as the cold sea water was lap, lap, lapping up to his mouth, taking away his breath and then running back, crawling over him. and leaving bubbles of salt foam, as if in sport. I got him out, but he could not stand. Some bones were broken, and he was sadly bruised so that I was forced to tie him to a rope, and they hauled him up, and afterwards pulled me up, and we took him home. Well, well! to make a long story short, poor Joe died, with my praises on his lips, and poor Alice bowed her head like a broken lily. It was a long time before she got over it, and summer had grown into winter, and winter to summer, to autumn, and to winter again. The threatened invasion was all over; our swords were getting rusty, our uniforms dusty, and when the holidays came I left the firm in which I had just become a partner, and went to spend a fortnight at my old friend's in Kent. Alice was there, well and cheerful now, and re- conciled to her loss, hough we often talked of poor Joe and as the days wore on we grew closer together, and she called me by my name, and seemed to have transferred her brother's love to me. She never told me so nor let others see it till one merry Christmas night, when she rejected all her cousins and her other friends, and would only dance with me. We had the mistletoe, too. At last, one madcap fellow proposed that the ladies should kiss the gentle- men all round when and how they could; and Alice and I, who had subsided into solemn talk, and were speaking of poor Joe, were surrounded, and it was 1 insisted that Alice should play too; and she, in a solemn, quiet way, smiling sadly and yet sweetly too, took me beneath the Christmas bough and kissed me on my lips. Ay, it's many years ago, but I feel it now. My heart beat so fast that I hardly dared return it; but I put my arm around her and took her gently to the bay window of the old hall, saying, as I pressed her hand, "Alice, dear Alice, did. you mean that kiss ?" Well, I need not tell you what she answered, '.tis fifty years ago-fifty years ago and I am suvronnded by Alice's dear grandchildren; and there is one, a little thing with light and golden hair that will deepen into brown, who plays around my knees and tells Trne her little stories, her sorrows, and her joys so quiek, so sudden, so hurried in their comnig and their going that they are like my own, and, as we talk, we gtow quite friends and companions, like my Alice was to me. Bless vou, she understands it all! She is a woman in her pretty ways; her poutings, pettings, and quar- relings. She manages her household of one wax doll and two wooden ones, and tells me, for the wax doll is the lady and the wooden ones are the servants in mob- caps aud stuff gowns, when they are impudent and do no work, and when they gossip with a wooden police- man, who belongs to her brother, little Joe. So we are fast friends, little Alice and I; and to- night, Christmas night, I noticed that she would not dance nor play with the pink and shiny-faced little boys who were so unnaturally tidy and clean in their new knickerbockers with red stockings; but she came and sat by me, and talked softly in the firelight as Alice did, and made me think of fifty years ago.. And only think how old times come back, and new times like the old; only just think that when her mother told her she should choose a sweetheart, she got a little bit of mistletoe, and climbing slily -on my •'knee, holding me in talk as if to hide her purpose—though I guessed it soon, I'll tell you—she put her little doll- like arms around my neck, and holding the mistletoe above my head, she kissed me again and again, and said I was her sweetheart! So this child-sweetheart brought the old times back —the old times that are still so distant and so "near: and with sweet kisses 'neath the rustling leaves made me think of my dead Alice in the grave. The first kiss and the last, the last and first; and of all days in the world on Christmas Day.