Between this and the time of their execution they were visited by Mr. Dyche, the chaplain of the prison, and by several other divines. They continued to flatter themselves with the hope of life till the warrant came down for their execution, and endeavoured to extenuate the crime by a variety of frivolous pretences, respecting disputes between them and the deceased.

On the 28th of June they received the sacrament with great devotion, and did the same again on the morning of their execution. Their behaviour at the place of death is thus recorded by the minis. ter who attended them: On Friday, the 5th of July, 1723, about eleven o'clock in the morning, they were conveyed in a cart to the place of execution. When they came to the fatal tree, they behaved themselves in a very decent manner, embracing each other with the utmost tenderness and affection; and, in deed, the son's hiding his face, bedewed with tears, in his father's bosom, was, notwithstanding the barbarous action they had committed, a very moving spectacle. They begged of all good people to take warning by their ignominious death; and were turned off, crying, "Lord, have mercy upon us! Christ, have mercy upon us!" The bodies

were brought from the place of execution in two hearses to the Falcon inn, in Southwark, in order to be buried in St. George's churchyard.'

They suffered at a place called St. Thomas's Watering, a little below Kent Street, in Surrey, the father being fifty-eight years old, and the son within one day of twenty-four, at the time of their deaths.

We shall seldom hear of a murder so barbarous, so deliberate, so unprovoked, as this in question. Little, surely, necd be said to deter any of our readers from the slightest idea of being guilty of a crime of so atrocious a nature; nor need we add any thing to our former remark on so heinous an offence as that of imbruing our hands in the blood of our fellow-creatures. Be it sufficient to remark that there is a just God who judgeth the earth, and that all our most secret actions are open to his sight. From his view our most careful precautions cannot screen, nor can the darkness of night cover us. Let us then learn so to conduct ourselves as not to blush to stand in the presence of our God. Happy the man who, fortified by religious considerations, can arrive at this degree of Christian perfection!

man.

To do honour to his post, he scorns to use that violence, where there is no show of resistance, which, as a footpad, he exercised often through mere wantonness. His fame, if industrious, however, sooner reaches the knowledge of the myrmidons of justice than if he had grovelled as a foot-robber; and his career is happily thus sooner at an end.

Duce was a native of Wolverhampton, and by trade a bucklemaker, which he followed some time in London; but, being imprisoned in Newgate for debt, he there made connexions which greatly tended to the corruption of his manners.

He was no sooner at large than he commenced footpad, and, in company with another man, robbed a gentleman, in Chelsea Fields, of four guineas: after this he connected himself with John Dyer and James Butler, in concert with whom he committed a variety of robberies. Their plan was to go out together, but one only to attack the party intended to be robbed; giving a signal for his accomplices to come up if any resistance should be made. After committing a variety of robberies in the neighbourhood of London, they joined in a scheme, with four other villains, to rob Lady Chudleigh, between Hyde Park Corner and Kensington; but her ladyship's footman shot one of the gang, named Rice, through the head, which prevented the intended depredation.

Their robberies had now been so numerous that the neighbourhood of London became unsafe for them; wherefore they went on the Portsmouth road, where they committed a variety of robberies, and even proceeded to the perpetration of murder, with a view to prevent detection.

Meeting Mr. Bunch, a farmer,

near a wood on the road side, they robbed him of his money, and then, dragging him into the wood, they stripped him, and Duce firing at him with a pistol, the ball lodged in his mouth.

They now imagined the man was dead, and were about to depart, when Mr. Bunch turning, Butler loaded another pistol, in order to dispatch him; on which he begged that they would yet spare his life: but, finding that they entertained no sentiments of compassion, he exerted all his strength, and, springing on his legs, ran off, and, alarming the inhabitants of an adjacent village, immediate pursuit was made after the villains, all of whom were apprehended except Duce, who escaped, and got to London.

Darker, Wade, and Meads, three of the gang, were hanged at Winchester; but Butler was sent to take his trial at the Old Bailey, for robberies committed in the county of Middlesex.

James Butler was the son of reputable parents, of the parish of St. Ann, Soho, and apprenticed to a silversmith; but, being of an ungovernable disposition, his parents were obliged to send him to sea. After making several voyages, as an apprentice to the captain, he ran from the ship at Boston, in New England, and went to New York, where he entered on board another ship, from which he likewise ran away, and embarked in a third vessel, bound to Martinico. This he also quitted, on a dispute with the captain, and then sailed to Jamaica, where he was impressed into the royal navy, and served under the celebrated Admiral Vernon.

On his return to England he married a girl of Wapping, and, having soon spent the little money he brought home with him, he engaged with the gang we have men

tioned, with whom he was likewise concerned in several other robbe ries.

These appear to have been very desperate villains. On the road to Gravesend they stopped four gentlemen, who refusing to be robbed, Meads, one of those hanged at Winchester, shot a servant, who attended them, in the breast, so that he died in a few days. Disappointed of their booty in this attempt, their passions were so irritated, that, meeting a gentleman on horseback, they fired, and wounded him in the head and breast, and the next day he expired.

They committed other robberies, attended with circumstances of cruelty, but it will be now proper to mention those for which they suffered. Butler having been acquitted at the Old Bailey of the crime for which he was transmitted from Winchester, he, Duce, and Dyer, immediately renewed their depredations on the road.

Meeting Mr. Holmes near Buckingham House, they robbed him of his money, hat, and handkerchief, which laid the foundation of one of the indictments against them.

On the following evening they stopped a hackney-coachman near Hampstead, and robbed him of nine shillings, after the coachman had told them that the words 'stand and deliver' were sufficient to hang a man. Jonathan Wild, being informed of these robberies, caused the offenders to be apprehended at a house kept by Duce's sister.

Dyer being admitted an evidence, Duce and Butler were brought to their trial, when the latter pleaded guilty to both the indictments; and the former, after spending some time in denying the robberies and arraigning the conduct of Jonathan Wild, was found guilty, and both of them received sentence of death.

After conviction their behaviour was more resigned and devout than could have been expected from men whose repeated crimes might be supposed to have hardened their hearts; but death appeared to them in all its horrors.

Butler was a Roman Catholic, and Duce a Protestant. The latter was urged by the Ordinary to discover the names of some of his old accomplices; but this he refused to do, because they had left their practices, and lived honest lives.

A few minutes before they were launched into eternity Butler declared that the circumstances of cruelty with which their crimes had been attended gave him more pain than the thoughts of death; and Duce acknowledged the enormity of his offences, and begged the forgiveness of all whom he had injured.

They were hanged at Tyburn on the 14th of August, 1723.

A few short reflections naturally occur on the fate of these men. Butler, having been disobedient when a boy, was sent to sea in order to reclaim him. This is a common practice; but we cannot see how it is calculated to answer the designed end: what doctrines of morality or religion can a boy be expected to learn amidst the curses and execrations of sailors? But we believe one great reason why young offenders are sent to sea is, that they may be out of the way of disgracing their parents and relations by their presence.

The cruelties these malefectors perpetrated will hand down their names with infamy to posterity; and ought to impress on the minds of young people the horrid crime of robbery, which may naturally lead to the greater crime of murder. By truth in all our words, and justice and mercy in our actions, we shall

most effectually secure our happiness in this world; and, by the aid of religion and the mercy of God,

may become successful candidates for eternal bliss in that which is to come.

WAS a native of Ireland, born near Dublin; but his parents, removing to Cork, put him appren. tice to a cooper in that city. He had not been long in this station before his master desired to get rid of him, on account of his untoward disposition. Thus discharged, he lived the life of a vagabond for two years; and his father, apprehending that he would come to a fatal end, brought him to England, in the eighteenth year of his age.

Still, however, he continued his dissipated course of life, till, having got considerably in debt, he enlisted for a soldier, to avoid being lodged in prison. As this happened in the year 1715, he was sent into Scotland to oppose the rebels; but, robbing a farmer in that country, he was punished, by receiving five hundred lashes, in consequence of the sentence of a court-martial.

The rebellion ended, Angier came to London, and obtained his discharge. Here he became acquainted with William Duce (see DUCE), whose sister he married at an alehouse in the verge of the Fleet.

After this he enlisted a second time, and, the regiment being or dered to Vigo, he took his wife with him. The greater part of the Spaniards having abandoned the place, Angier obtained a considerable sum by plunder. On his return to England he became acquainted with Butler's associates, and was concerned with them in several of their lawless depredations, but refused to have any share in acts of barbarity.

Angier now kept a house of ill fame, which was resorted to by the other thieves; and one night, after they had been out on one of their exploits, Meads told the following horrid tale: We have been out; and the best fun of all was an engagement with a smock-faced shoemaker, whom we met on the Kentish Road. We asked him how far he was going; and he said he was just married, and going home to see his. relations. After a little more discourse, we persuaded him to turn rather out of the road to look for a bird's nest, which, as soon as he had done, we bound and gagged him, after which we robbed him, and were going away; but I being in a merry humour, and wanting to have a little diversion, turned about with my pistol, and shot him through the head!'

Bad as Angier was in other respects, he was shocked at this story, told his companions there was no courage in cruelty, and from that time refused to drink with any of them.

After this he kept a house of ill fame near Charing Cross, letting lodgings to thieves, aud receiving stolen goods. While in this way of life he went to see an execution at Tyburn, and did not return till four o'clock the next morning; but, during his absence, an affair happened, which was attended with troublesome consequences. A Dutchwoman, meeting with a gentleman in the streets, conducted him to Angier's house, where he drank so freely that he fell asleep,

and the woman, robbing him of his watch and money, made her escape. The gentleman waking when Angier returned, charged him with the robbery, in consequence of which he was committed to prison, but was afterwards discharged, the grand jury not finding the bill against him. Soon after his wife was indicted for robbing a gentleman of his watch and a guinea, but was fortunate enough to be acquitted for want of evidence.

The following accident happened about the same time:-A woman, named Turner, had drunk so much at Angier's house, that he conducted her up to bed; but, while he was in the room with her, his wife entered in a rage, and, demanding of her how she could presume to keep company with her husband, attacked and beat the woman. William Duce, being in the house, went up to interfere; but the disturbance was by this time so great, that it was necessary to send for a constable.

The officer no sooner arrived than Mrs. Turner charged Angier and his wife with robbing her, on which they were taken into custody and committed; but when they were brought to trial they were acquitted, as there was no proof of any robbery, to the satisfaction of the jury.

Dyer, who was evidence against Duce and Butler, lived at this time with Angier as a waiter; and the master and the man used occasionally to commit footpad robberies together; for which they were several times apprehended, and tried at the Old Bailey, but acquitted, as the prosecutors could not swear to their persons.

Angier's character now grew so notorious, that no person of any reputation would be seen in the

house; and the expenses attending his repeated prosecutions were so great, that he was compelled to decline business.

After this he kept a gin-shop in Short's Gardens, Drury Lane; and this house was frequented by com. pany of the same kind as those he had formerly entertained, particularly Parson Lindsey. Lindsey, having prevailed on a gentleman to go to this house, made him drunk, and then robbed him of several valuable articles; but, procuring himself to be admitted an evidence, charged Angier and his wife with the robbery. They had again the good fortune to escape, the character of Lindsey being at this time so infamous, that the Court and jury paid no regard to any thing he said.

Soon after, however, Mrs. Angier was transported for picking a gentleman's pocket: and her husband was convicted on two capital indictments; the one for robbing Mr. Lewin, the city marshal, near Hornsey, of ten guineas and some silver; and the other for robbing a waggoner near Knightsbridge. On both these trials, Dyer, who was concerned in the robberies, was admitted an evidence against Angier.

After conviction he was visited by numbers of persons, whose pockets had been picked of valuable articles, in the hope of getting some intelligence of the property they had lost; but he said he was never guilty of such mean practices as picking of pockets, and all his associates were above it, except one Hugh Kelly, who was transported for robbing a woman of a shroud, which she was carrying home to cover her deccased husband.'

He was executed at Tyburn on the 9th of September, 1723, and, just before he was turned off, ad