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not be certain that it was not his own handwriting, otherwise than by recollecting that he had never given such a draft. Wildgoose was unacquainted with Bellamy's name; but, by the description of his person, Jonathan soon found who had committed the forgery, on which he ordered his myrmidons to be careful to apprehend the offender. Bel. lamy was soon found in a lodging in Whitefriars, and Jonathan's men sent word to their master that they had him in custody, and begged he - would give orders how they should dispose of him. In the interim, Bellamy, who expected no mercy. from the old thief-taker, scized the advantage of the casual absence of his attendants from the room, fixed a rope to the bar of the window, and let himself into the street, though the room was three stories high.

He now entertained thoughts of accommodating the affair with Wild, imagining he should be treated with the utmost severity if he should be re-apprehended: but, before he had proceeded in this negotiation, Wild's men seized him at a gin-shop in Chancery Lane, and sent to their master for instructions how to act. To this message Jonathan returned an answer, that they might give him his liberty, on the condition that he should come to the office, and adjust the business with himself.

Hereupon Bellamy was discharged: but, knowing how dangerous it would be to affront Wild, he went the following morning to a public house in the Old Bailey, where he sent for Jonathan to breakfast with him; and the latter sending for Wildgoose, Bellamy gave him a note for the money received, and no farther steps were taken in the affair.

As soon as this business was adjusted Bellamy renewed his former

plan of making depredations on the public, and committed an immense number of robberies. He and one of his gang having broken the sash of a silversmith's shop in Russell Court, Drury Lane, a person who lay under the counter fired a blun derbuss at them, which obliged them to decamp without their booty. This attempt failing, they went to the house of another silversmith, which they broke open; and, finding the servant-maid sitting up for her master, they terrified her into silence, and carried off effects to a large amount.

Not long after this robbery they broke open the shop of a grocer near Shoreditch, in the expectation of finding cash to a great amount; but the proprietor having previously secured it, they got only about ten pounds of tea, and the loose money in the till.

Their next attempt was at the house of a hosier in Widegate Alley, from whose shop they carried off some goods of value, which they sold to the Jews on the following day.

From the shop of a silversmith, in Bride Lane, they carried off plate to the amount of fifty pounds; and from the house of a haberdasher in Bishopsgate Street a load of various articles, the whole of which they disposed of to the Jews.

On another occasion they broke open a tea-shop near Gray's Inn Lane: having removed the shutters, by cutting away part of them with chisels, they were going to lift up the sash, when a person from within, hearing them, cried out thieves!' on which they ran off without their booty.

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Having broken into a tea-warehouse near Aldgate, they had packed up valuable parcels of goods, when the maid-servant came down stairs undressed, and without a candle.

Having gone into the yard, she returned, without knowing that they were in the house; but, when she came into the shop, Bellamy seized her, and obliged her to lie on the floor while they went off with their booty: and the same night they broke open the shop of a mercer in Bishopsgate Street, whence they carried off goods to a large amount. Their next robbery was at the house of a grocer in Thames Street. The watchman passing by as they were packing up their booty, Bellamy seized him, and obliged him to put out his candle, to prevent any alarm being given. Having kept him till they were ready to go off with their plunder, they took him to the side of the Thames, and threatened to drown him if he would not throw in his lanthorn and staff. It need not be said that the poor man was obliged to comply with their injunctions.

Soon after this they stole a large sum of money, and a quantity of goods, from the house of a grocer, which they broke open in Aldersgate Street. A neighbour saw this robbery from his window, but was too much frightened to take any measures for the detection of the villains.

Their next exploit was at an old clothes' shop, kept by a woman in Shadwell, whence they carried off every valuable article: and after this they robbed the shop of a hosier in Coleman Street, and took away goods to the amount of seventy pounds, which the thieves divided into shares, and sold them to their old acquaintances, the Jews.

They were disappointed in their next attempt, which was to break open the house of a linen-draper in Westminster; for, some people coming up before they had completed their operations, they were obliged to decamp with precipitation.

On the evening after this transaction, observing the door of a shop shut in St. Clement's Churchyard, they made it fast with a cord on the outside, and, throwing up the sash, stole a very large number of silk handkerchiefs, while a woman in the shop made many fruitless attempts to open the door: and they stole a variety of plate, wearing apparel, and other effects, the same night, from two houses in Holborn.

Soon after this they stole goods to the amount of twenty pounds from a house which they broke open in Red Lion Street; and, breaking another the same night in Fullwood's Rents, obtained about an equal booty.

While they were thus rendering themselves the very pests of society, they became intimate with an old woman who had opened an office near Leicester Fields for the reception of stolen goods, something on the plan of that of Jonathan Wild. To this woman Bellamy and his companions used to sell much of their ill-gotten effects: but she having, on one occasion, given a smaller price than they expected, Bellamy determined on a plan of revenge; in pursuance of which he went to her office with a small quantity of stolen plate; and, while she was gone with it to a silversmith, he broke open her drawers, and carried off her cash to a large amount.

His next adventures were, the breaking open a house in Petticoat Lane, and another in Grocers' Alley, in the Poultry, at both of which places he made large prizes; and soon afterwards he stopped a man near Houndsditch, and robbed him of his money.

At length he robbed a shop in Monmouth Street; but by this time he had rendered himself so conspicuous for his daring villainies, that a reward of 100%. was offered for

the apprehending him; in consequence of which he was taken near the Seven Dials on the following day, and committed to Newgate.

For this last fact he was tried, convicted, and received sentence. From this time till the arrival of the warrant for his execution he affected a cheerfulness of behaviour, and said that he would be hanged in his shroud; but the certainty that he should suffer, and the sight of his

coffin, excited more serious ideas in his mind; and he received the sacrament a few days before his death with evident marks of repentance for the many crimes of which he had been guilty. He was executed at Tyburn, on the 27th of March, 1728; and, just before he was turned off, made a speech to the surrounding multitude, in which he confessed his numerous offences, and acknow. ledged the justice of his sentence.

JAMES CLUFF,

MURDERER; EXECUTED ON AN APPEAL, AFTER BEING ACQUITTED.

THIS unhappy young man was born in Clare Market, and lived as waiter at several public houses, in all of which he maintained an extraordinary character for diligence, civility, and integrity.

Mr. Payne, master of the Green Lattice in Holborn, having hired Cluff, he, during his residence there, fell in love with Mary Green, his fellow-servant; but she, being courted by another man, constantly rejected his addresses, which frequently agitated his mind in the most violent degree.

Green's other lover, coming to see her, sat in the same box with her, and was received in an affectionate manner. This did not seem to be much regarded by Cluff, who was then engaged in attending the customers; but, when the lover was gone, Mr. Payne, perceiving that something had discomposed Cluff's mind, asked him the reason of it, but could not prevail on him to tell the cause.

While Mr. Payne and his wife were at dinner in the parlour, and the girl eating her dinner in one of the boxes, Mrs. Payne heard a noise, as if two persons were struggling; and, going into the tap-room, Cluff On said,Come hither, madam.' this she advanced, and saw the pri

soner holding the deceased by the shoulders, who was sitting on the floor, and speechless, while the blood streamed from her in large quantities.

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Mrs. Payne called out, "What have you been doing, James? He said, Nothing.' He was asked if he had seen her hurt herself. said 'No; but that he had seen her bring up a knife from the cellar, where she had been to draw some beer for her dinner.' Mr. Payne now entered the tap-room, and then went into the cellar, to discover if there was any blood there but, finding none, he accused Cluff, on suspicion, of having committed the murder; and instantly sent for a surgeon.

When the surgeon arrived, he found that a knife had been impelled into the upper part of the thigh, and had entered the body of the girl in such a manner that she could not survive the stroke more than a minute.

A bloody knife was found in the room, and Cluff was committed to Newgate for the murder. On his trial, the surgeon deposed that the knife fitted the wound that had been made, and that he believed the woman had not killed herself; but the jury acquitted the prisoner, from

what they deemed insufficiency of e: idence.

The discharge of the accused party would now have followed of course; but William Green, the brother and heir of the deceased, immediately lodged an appeal; in consequence of which Cuff was brought to trial at the next sessions but one, when his case was argued with the utmost ingenuity by the counsel for and against him; but this second jury found him guilty, and he was sentenced to die.

After conviction his behaviour was the most devout and resigned that could be imagined: he exercised himself in every act of devotion, but solemnly declared his perfect innocence with respect to the murder.

He was visited by his friends, who earnestly entreated him to make a sincere confession, especially as, in his case, it was not in the power of the king himself to grant a pardon. In answer hereto, he freely confessed all his other crimes; but, saying he would not rush into eternity with a lie in his mouth, again steadily denied the perpetration of the crime of which he had been convicted.

The clergyman who attended him urged him to the confession of his guilt, and even refused to administer the sacrament to him, on the morning of his execution, on any other terms than those of acknow. ledging his crime: but nothing could shake his resolution; he still steadily persisted in his innocence.

On his way to the place of execution, he desired to stop at the door of his late master; which being granted, he called for a pint of wine, and, having drank a glass of it, addressed Mr. Payne in the following

terms:

'Sir, you are not insensible that I am going to suffer an ignominious death for a crime of which I de

clare I am not guilty. As I am to appear before my Judge in a few moments, to answer for all my past sins, I hope you and my good mistress will pray for my poor soul. God bless you, and all your family.

At the place of execution he behaved in the most composed, devout, and resigned manner; and seemed to possess his mind in the consciousness of innocence. There was a great concourse of spectators to witness his fatal end; to whom he spoke in the following manner : "Good people, I am going to die for a fact I never committed; I wish all mankind well; and, as I have prayed for my prosecutors, I hope my sins will be forgiven through the merits of my ever-blessed Redeemer. I beg you to pray for my departing soul; and, as to the fact I now die for, I wish I was as free from all other sins.'

He was hanged at Tyburn on the 25th of July, 1729, exhibiting no signs of fear to his last moment.

The case of this man is very extraordinary. The evidence against him was at best but circumstantial, and this not supported with such strong corroborative proofs as have occasioned conviction in many other instances. No person was witness to his commission of the murder, nor was there any absolute proof that he did commit it; and from the steady perseverance with which he denied it, under the most awful circumstances, and at the very concluding scene of his life, charity would tempt one to believe that he was innocent.

Ought not this case to afford a lesson of caution to juries how they convict on circumstantial evidence? Is it not better that the guilty should escape than the innocent be punished? All the decrees of mortals are liable to error; but the time will come when all mists shall be

cleared from our sight, and we shall witness to the wisdom of those laws of Providence which are now inscrutable to mortal eyes. Then shall we see that what appeared in explicable to us was divinely right; and learn to admire that wisdom

which, at present, so much exceeds our finite comprehension.

In the mean time we ought to adore that goodness we cannot comprehend, and rest satisfied with those dispensations which are eternally and immutably just.

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Everett and Bird stopping a Stage-Coach on Hounslow Heath.

JOHN EVERETT, EXECUTED FOR HIGHWAY ROBBERY,

WAS a native of Hitchin, in Hertfordshire, and had been well educated, his father possessing 3001. per annum. He was apprenticed to a salesman; but, running away from his master, he entered into the army, and served in Flanders, where he behaved so well that he was promoted to the rank of sergeant. On the return of his regiment to England he purchased his discharge, and, repairing to London, bought the place of an officer in Whitechapel Court, in which he continued

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about seven years; but, having given liberty to some persons whom he had arrested, one Charlesworth, a solicitor of that Court, caused him to be discharged, and then sued him for the amount of the debts of the parties whom his inconsiderate good nature had liberated. To evade imprisonment, Everett enlisted in Lord Albemarle's company of footguards; and, soon after his again engaging in the army, he fell into company with Richard Bird, with whom he had been formerly acquainted.

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