board a ship bound for Tripoli, where he arrived in safety. At this place he drew a bill on an English merchant of Leghorn, by which he obtained twenty pounds, and then embarked for the island of Malta; he sailed from thence to Saragossa, in the island of Sicily, whence going to Messina, he was known by a gentleman who had lived at Ancona, and who, remembering his engagement in the service of Captain Hartley, had him apprehended on suspicion of the murder. He remained in prison at Messina nine months: on which he wrote a petition to the King of Naples, setting forth that he had been a ser vant to his father, and praying the royal orders for his release. In consequence of this petition the governor of Messina was commanded to set him at liberty; on which he travelled to Rome, and thence to Civita Vecchia, where he hoped to get employment on board the Pope's gallies in consequence of having turned Roman Catholic. While he was at Civita Vecchia he became known to Captain Blomet, who invited him, with other company, on board his ship: when the company was gone, the captain showed him a letter, in which he was described as one of the murderers of Captain Hartley. Richardson denied the charge; but the captain calling down some hands, he was put in irons, and sent to Leghorn, whence he was transmitted to Lisbon: here he remained three months, and being then put on board the packet-boat, and brought to Falmouth, he was conveyed to London. Richardson was lodged first in the Marshalsea, but afterwards removed to Newgate; and, being tried at the Old Bailey, received sentence of death, along with Coyle, for the murder of Captain Hartley. Richard Coyle was a native of Devonshire, and born near Exeter. His parents having given him such an education as was proper to qualify him for a maritime life, he was apprenticed to the master of a trading vessel, and served his time with reputation to himself and satisfaction to his employer. When his time was expired, he made several voyages in ships of war, and likewise served on board various merchantmen; he had also been master of a ship for seventeen years, generally sailing from, and returning to, the port of London. In these commands he maintained a good character; but, meeting with misfortunes, he was reduced to serve as mate in different ships; and at length sailed with Captain Hartley, bound to the Levant, when he became acquainted with Richardson, as already related. After conviction Coyle acknowledged the equity of the sentence against him; and, in some letters to his friends, confessed his penitence for the crime of which he had been guilty, and his readiness to yield his life as an atonement for his offences. With respect to Richardson, he seemed regardless of the dreadful fate that awaited him; and, having lived a life of vice and dissipation, appeared altogether indifferent to the manner in which that life should end. The above-mentioned malefactors were hanged at Execution Dock on the 25th of January, 1738. With regard to Coyle, we do not hear that he had been guilty of any notorious crime but that for which he died; but the life of Richardson was such a continued scene of irregularity, deception, and fraud, as is almost unequalled. His treachery to the many unhappy women of whom he pretended to be enamoured was, alone, deserving of the fate which finally fell to his lot. GEORGE MANLEY, EXECUTED FOR MURDER. We have no particulars either of the life of this criminal, or the circumstances attending the horrid crime for which he was executed. We have indeed found a note, briefly naming the case of George Manley, but evidently inserted for the purpose of introducing a singular speech made by him to the spectators at the place of execution, which evinces strong natural abili. ties, and a knowledge of mankind seldom found in criminals of his description. As we have never met with a dying speech so satirical and severe upon the general turpitude of mankind, we readily present it to our readers. Be it said that this man was hardened, fearless, or mad; we exclaim with Shakspeare, ❝If this be madness, there is method in it.' George Manley, having arrived at the place of execution, (at Wicklow, in Ireland, August, 1738,) behaved in a strange and undaunted manner, addressing the spectators thus: My friends,-You assemble to see-what?-A man take a leap into the abyss of death. Look, and you shall see me go with as much courage as Curtius, when he leaped into the gulf to save his country from destruction. What then will you say of me?-You say that no man without virtue can be courageous. You see I am cou rageous. You'll say I have killed a man.-Marlborough killed his thousands, and Alexander his millions: Marlborough and Alexander, and many others who have done the like, are famous in history for great men. But I killed one solitary man. Ay, that's the case-one solitary man. I'm a little murderer, and must be hanged. Marlborough and Alexander plundered countries; they were great men. I ran in debt with the ale-wife; I must be hanged. a 'Now, my friends, I have drawn parallel between two of the greatest men that ever lived and myself; but these were men of former days. Now I'll speak a word of some of the present days. How many men were lost in Italy and upon the Rhine, during the last war, for settling a king in Poland ? Both sides could not be in the right; they are great men: but I killed a solitary man, I'm a little fellow. The King of Spain takes our ships, plunders our merchants, kills and tortures our men; but what of all that? What he does is good; he's a great man, he is clothed in purple; his instruments of murder are bright and shining, mine was but a rusty gun; and so much for comparison. 'Now I would fain know what authority there is in Scripture for a rich man to murder, to plunder, to torture, and ravage whole countries; and what law it is that condemns a poor man to death for killing a solitary man, or stealing a solitary sheep to feed his family? But bring the matter closer to our own country. What is the difference between running in a poor man's debt, and by the power of gold, or any other privilege, preventing him from obtaining his right; and clapping a pistol to a man's breast, and taking from him his purse? Yet the one shall thereby obtain a coach, and honours, and titles, &c. The other-what? -A cart and a rope. From what I have said, my brethren, you may perhaps imagine I am hardened: but, believe me, I am fully convinced of my follies, and acknowledge that the just judg ment of God has overtaken me; I have no hopes but from the merits of my Redeemer, who I hope will have mercy on me, as he knows that murder was far from my heart, and that what I did was through rage and passion, being provoked there. to by the deceased. 'Take warning, my dear comwhat rades! Think, O think, I would now give that I had lived another life!' WILLIAM NEWINGTON, EXECUTED FOR FORGERY. THIS unhappy young man was a native of Chichester in Sussex, and was the son of reputable parents, who, having given him a good edu cation, placed him with Mr. Cave, an attorney of that town, with whom he served his clerkship; and then, coming to London, lived as a hackney writer with Mr. Studley, in Nicholas Lane, Lombard Street, for about two years and a half. But Newington being of a volatile disposition, and much disposed to the keeping of company and irregular hours, Mr. Studley discharged him from his service; on which he went to live with Mr. Leaver, a scrivener, in Friday Street, with whom he continued between two and three years, and served him with a degree of fidelity that met with the highest approba tion. This service he quitted about a year before he was convicted of the offence which cost him his life; and in the interval lived in a gay man. ner, without having any visible means of support, and paid his addresses to a young lady of very handsome fortune, to whom he would soon have been married if he had not been embarrassed by the commission of the crime which gives rise to this narrative. It is presumed that, being distressed for money to support his expensive way of life, and to carry on his amour, he was tempted to commit forgery, which, by an Act of Parliament then recently passed, had become a capital offence. He went to Child's coffee-house in St. Paul's Churchyard, where he drew a draft on the house of Child and Company, bankers, in Fleet Street, in the following words: 'Sir Francis Child and Comp. Pray pay Sir Rowland Hill, Bart. or order, the sum of one hundred and twenty pounds, and place it to the account of Your humble servant, 'To Sir Fra. Child and The draft he dispatched by a porter, but was so agitated by his fears while he wrote it, that he forgot to put any date to it; otherwise, as Mr. Thomas Hill kept cash with the bankers, and as the forgery was admirably executed, the draft would have been paid; but, at the instant that the porter was about to put his indorsement on it, one of the clerks said he might go about his business, for they did not believe that the draft was a good one. The porter returned to the coffeehouse without the draft, which the bankers' clerks had refused to deliver him: but on his return he found that the gentleman was gone. At the expiration of two hours the bankers' clerks came to Child's coffee-house, and inquired for the person who had made the draft; but he was not to be found; for in the absence of the porter he had inquired for the Faculty Office in Doctors' Commons, saying he had some business at that place, and would return in half an hour. About two or three hours afterwards the porter's son told him that a gentleman wanted him at the Horn and Feathers, in Carter Lane, where he went, and told Newington that the bankers had refused to pay the note: Very well,' said he; stay here till I go and put on my shoes, and I will go with you and rectify the mistake.’ When the porter had waited nearly three hours, and his employer did not return, he began to suspect that the draft was forged; and, some hours afterwards, calling in at the Fountain alehouse, in Cheapside, he saw Newington, on which he went and fetched a constable, who took him into custody and lodged him in the Compter. Being tried at the next sessions at the Old Bailey, he was capitally convicted, notwithstanding nine gentlemen appeared to give him an excellent character; but character has little weight where evidence is positive and the crime capital. When called down to receive sentence of death he delivered the following address : May it please your Lordship, This my most melancholy case was occasioned alone by the inconsiderate rashness of my inexperienced years. The intent of fraud is, without doubt, most strongly and most positively found against me: but I assure your Lordship I was not in want; nor did I ever think of such a thing in the whole course of my life till within a few minutes of the execution of this rash deed. 'I hope your Lordship has some regard for the gentlemen who have so generously appeared in my be half; and as this is the first act, though of so deep a die, my youth and past conduct may, I hope, in some measure move your Lordship's pity, compassion, and generous assistance.' After conviction Newington flattered himself that he should escape the utmost ignominy of the law through the intercession of his friends; and when the warrant for execution, in which his name was included, was brought to Newgate, he appeared to be greatly shocked; but, recollecting and composing himself, he said, God's will be done!' Immediately, however, bursting into tears, he lamented the misery which his mother would naturally endure when she should be acquainted with the wretched fate of her unfortu nate son. The dreadful tidings being conveyed to this unhappy woman, she left Chichester with an aching heart; and it was a week after her arrival in London before she could acquire a sufficient degree of spirits to visit the miserable cause of her grief. At length she repaired to the gloomy mansion; but, when she saw her son fettered with chains, it was with the utmost difficulty that she could be kept from fainting. She hung round his neck, while he dropped on his knees, and implored her blessing and forgiveness; and so truly mournful was the spectacle, that even the gaolers, accustomed as they are to scenes of horror, shed tears at the sight. Newington underwent the sentence of the law at Tyburn, on the 26th of August, 1738. It does not appear, from any account transmitted to us, that Newington ever violated the laws of his country in any instance but that for which he suffered: but when we consider the nature of the offence itself, its dangerous operation upon the mercantile world, and the extremity of distress in which he involved his mother, we can hardly say that he suffered too much. No man has a right, for the sup. port of his own extravagance, to make free with the property of another. Honest industry will sup port those who are in youth and health, and choose to exert their endeavours: and, with regard to the aged and infirm, our laws have provided a parish supply; which, if not as ample as could be wished, is sufficient for the support of nature: so that no person can be justified in the commission of an act of dishonesty. DAVID ROBERTS, EXECUTED FOR HIGH TREASON. DAVID ROBERTS was a native of Chepstow, in Monmouthshire, and apprenticed to a joiner; but, quitting his master's service, he worked some time as a journeyman at Devizes, in Wiltshire, where he married a wife with a fortune of three hundred pounds. His wife dying in childbed, he remained at Devizes a considerable time, during which he dissipated all her fortune, except about forty pounds, with which he came to London, and took lodgings with a widow who kept a public house. Roberts soon became so intimate with the widow, that she told him it was necessary he should marry her. He did not hesitate to embrace the proposal, imagining that the marriage would procure him a decent establishment in life; but, being frequently arrested for debts contracted by his wife previously to the marriage, he determined to abandon her; with which view he sold the household furniture to a broker, and left his wife to provide for herself. He now engaged in partnership with his brother, who was a car. penter in Southwark, and, having saved a considerable sum of money during the connexion, he embarked in business for himself, and obtained a large share of credit from the timber-merchants; but, when his debts became due, he took lodgings within the rules of the King's Bench, of which place he became a prisoner in order to evade the payment of them. Even while in this situation he undertook a piece of work by which he made three hundred pounds profit, and might have been a greater gainer, but that he quarrelled with his employer. At this period one Sarah Bristow, who had been transsported for a felony, returned after the expiration of a year, and, becoming acquainted with Roberts, lived with him as his wife for a considerable time. He now took this woman to Bristol, where he rented an inn, and furnished it by the help of those people who would trust him; but one of his London creditors, getting notice of the place of his retreat, arrested him; and Roberts, standing trial, cast him on account of some informality in taking out the writ. Roberts, however, thought it imprudent to remain in his present station; and therefore, shipping his effects for London, he and Mrs. Bristow came to town, and lodged within the rules of the King's Bench, of which Roberts became again a prisoner. Notwithstanding his situation, he took an inn that was at that time to |