Sheffield and Rotherham Independent from Sheffield, South Yorkshire, England on August 16, 1828 · 4
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Sheffield and Rotherham Independent from Sheffield, South Yorkshire, England · 4

Sheffield, South Yorkshire, England
Issue Date:
Saturday, August 16, 1828
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THE SHEFFIELD INO EPENDENT. POETRY. LONDON LYRICS. -Table Talk. From the New Monthly Magazine. To we w a culinary fine , Whom lowfbew, and what to cliew, Where shun, and where take rations, I iag. At lend, ye diaers-oot, And, if my numbrr please you , hoot "Hear, heat '." iu acclamations. That are who treat yon, oee a year, To the same stupid set: good cheer Su-ii hardship cannot softrn. To liaten to the selfsame dunce, t the same leaden table, once Per Annum' once too often. Rather than that, mix on my plate With mm Hike the meat I hate Colmaa with pig and treacle ; Luttrell with rei'soa-pasty join, Lord NormanbT with orange wine. And rabbit-pie with Jekyll. Add to Georce La robe a amble snips, Conjoin with Captain Morris tripe, By parsley-roots made dearer : Mix Mackintosh with mack'rel, with Clve-heal and bacon Sydney Smith, And mutton-broth with Spencer. f bun sitting next the wight whose -drone Boers, tot to voce, yon alone With flat colloquial pressure : Deb&rr'd from general talk, yon droop Beneath hi buzz, from orient Soup To occidental Cheshire. He who can only talk with one, Should stay at home and talk with none At all events, to stranger, Like village epitaphs ol yore, He ought to cry, " Long time I bore," To warn them of their dangers. There are whose kind inquiries scan Your total kindred, man by man, sVan, brother, cousin, joining. They ask about your wife, who's dead, And eulogize our uncle Ned, Who died lift week for coining. When join'd to such a son of prate, iis queries 1 anticipate. Ana thus my lee-way fetch up !8jr, all my relatives, I vow, Are perfectly in health and now I'd thank yon for tbe ketchup '." Others there are who but retail Their breakfast journal, now grown stale, In print ere day was dawning : Wien folks like these sit next to me, They send me dianerles to tea ; One cannot cbew while yawning. Seat not good talkers one next one, As Jcquirr4sards the Clarendon; Thus shrouded you undo 'en : Rather confront them, face to face, Like Holies Street and Harewood Place, And let the town run through 'em. Poets are dangerous to sit nigh ; You waft their prai-es to the sky, And when you think you're stirring Their gratitude, they bite yon. That's Tbe reason I object to cats ; Tbey scratch amid their purring.) For those who ask you if you " malt," Wbo " beg your pardon" for the salt, And ape our upper grandees, By wondering folk- can toncb port wine; That, reader, '.- your affair, not mine ; I never mess with dandies. Relations mix not kindly ; shun IiiTitinp brothers ; sire and son It not a wise selection: Too intimate, tbey either jar In converse, or the evening tnai By mutual circa inspection. Lawyers are apt to think the view That interests them most interact yon , Hence they appear at table Or supereJoquent, or dumb, Fluent as nightingales, or innm As horses in a stable. When men amuse their fellow guets Witb Crank aud Jones, or Justice Best's . Harangue in Dobbsand Ryal ; The host, b-nealh whose roof they sit. Hast be a puny judge of wit, Who grants them a new trial. Shnn twhnieals in each extreme : Exclusive talk, hate'er the theme, The proper boumtary passe : Koblts as much onVnrt, whose clack ' For ever running on A 1 mack's.. As brokers on trjoListes. I knew a, man, from glass to delf. Who talk'd of nothing but himself, 'Till check 'd by a vertigo: The party who beheld him "Uoor'd," Bent o'er tbe liberated board. And cried, " Hie jacet ego." Some aim to tell a thing that hit Where last tbey dined j what there was wif Here meets rebuffs and rrosse. Joko are like trees; their place of birth Bet suits them , stack in foreign earth, They perish in the prom. Tl ink, reader, of the few who groaa For any ailments save their own : The world, from peer to peasant. Is heedless of your cough or gout ; Then pn'thee, when yea asirt &in rurl, Go arm d with some tiring pleasant. Kay, even the very soil that nursed The plant, will sou. '-times kill what net It nurtured in full gloiy. Like causes will not always mora To similar effects": to prove The fact I'll telle story. Close to that spot where Stuart tnrur His back upon tbe dubs ami spurn The earth, a marble fixture, We dined, well mutch'd, for pleasure ssvtf, Wits, poets, peers, a jovial set In miscellaneous mixture-, Ksich card tum'd np a trump, the glee, To catch went round, from eight to three. Decor ntn M-orn'd to own ns ; We joked, we banter d, langh 'J, and roat'd. Till high above the welkin soar'd The helpmate of Tithonus. Care kept aloof, each social soul A brother hail'd, Joy fill'd the bowl, And humour crowu'd the medley. Till Royal Charles, roned by tbe fan, Look'd toward Whitehall, ami thought bta ana Wa rioting with Sedley. 'Gad, John, this is a glorious joke-" (Thus to our host bis Hiejinesi spoke) " The Vicar with his Nappy Wonld give au eye for this night's freak guppose we meet again next week" John bow'd, and was " too happy." The day arrived 'twas seven we rrwt; Wits, porta, peers, Hie self-same set, Bach hail'd a joyous brother . But in the blithe and rfetwnnaire, iayihg, alas ! is one affair, And doing is another. Vat ore nnkiud, we turn'd to Art ; Heavens '. how we labonr'd to be am&rtc Zug sang a song in German j We might as well have pla'i) at chess; Ail dropp'd, as dead-born from the press As last year's Spital sermon. Ah! Merriment! when men entrap Thy bells, aud women steai thy cap, Tbey think tbey have trepann'd thee. Delusive thought'! aloof and daub, Thni wilt not si a binding coine. Though Royalty command thee. The rich, who sigh for thee; the great. Who court -thy smiles wlUi gilded plate, ftut clasp thy cloudy follies ; I've known thee turn, in Portinan-square, From Burgundy and Hock, to share A pint of Port at Dolly's. Races at Ascot, tours in Wales, White-bait at Greenwich ofti lines fail, Tq wake tiiee from thy slumbers. How . en prone art thou to fly , Ungrateful cmnph ! thou 'rt fighting shy Of these narcotic numbers. PRESSURE OF SEA-WATER. Some interesting experiments were made in May lust, by an American gentleman of the name of Green, on Lis passage to England, to ascertain the pressure of the sea at different depths. It has been long known to mariners ; and some decisive experiments were made during the several voyages of Captain Parry, proving that the pressure of the sea on a bottle sent down by a dead-line, is in proportion to its depth ; but the experiments of Mr. Green extended to ix different bottles -suspended at different depths on a deep sea-line. At 80 fathoms deep, a thin bottle, empty and well sealed over the cork, came up to the surface half full of water, without the cork heing apparently at all disturbed. Another bottle, at one hundred fathoms, previously filled with fresh water, and sealed over, was found to be filled with half sea water, or brackish. A very strong bottle, well sealed and empty, was brought up in the same state. A fourth, not so strong as the preceding, was crushed in pieces by the pressure of the water. Another bottle, with a glass ground stopper, air tight, came up partially filled with sea-water. While the sixth was a strong glass globe hermetically 6ealed, and empty, which was sunk to the depth of 230 fathoms, but which being strong enough to resist the strong external pressure of the water, came up empty. These experiments gave a negative to the statements w have seen, that water u capable of penetrating through the pore of glass, while they sufficiently row the enormous pressure of the tea at great depths. fVtehly Renew. TRIAL OF WILLIAM CORDER. NORFOLK CIRCUIT. Bury St. Edmund's, Aug. 7. The anxiety to witness the trial of this prisoner was manifested by the assembling of hundreds of well-dressed persons, of both sexes, round the front and back entrance to the Shire Hall, at the early hour of five o'clock in the morning; and notwithstanding the rain continuing to fall incessantly, they remained (except those who were carried away in a 6tate of exhaustion from the pressure of the dense crowd) till nine o'clock, when the Lord Chief Baron (Alexander) arrived near the Hall. At an early hour great numbers assembled round tbe goal, to take a view of the prisoner as he passed into the Court. He left the goal at a quarter before nine o'clock, previous to which he attired himself in a new suit of black, with much care, and combed his hair over his forehead, which he had previously worn turned up in front. After he had dressed himself, he said to an officer who was present, 44 I understand there are a great number of witnesses to be called against me?" The officer replied, " Yes, about twenty-four." Corder 6aid, "What are the names of the Judges?" On being informed, he said "I believe they are very old men, and are very humane Judges." He was told they were exceedingly humane ; Corder replied, 44 Well, whatever may be my fate, I 6hall meet it with fortitude." He was rcmo ved in a chaise cart from the Gaol to the Hall, and he hung down his head all the way ; but he seemed little affected by the shouts and hootings of the thousands who were congregated. On his being taken into the felons' room in the lower part of the Hall, he said to Mr. Orridge, the Governor of the Gaol, 44 What a great number of persons I scarcely ever 6aw such a crowd." Corder 's wife's brother waa in troduced to him ; and the former being in tears, Corder told him "not to give way to grief on his account, as it might turn out better than he might expect." At a quarter past ten o'clock, Corder was brought into the Court, and placed in the front of the dock. Mr. Edgell, the Clerk of the Arraigns, proceeded to read over the names of the Jurors. A number of them were challenged by Mr. B Roderick, on the part of the prisoner ; and after a great deal of delay, a Jury was empannelled and sworn. Mr. Edgell, the Clerk of the Arraigns, read the indictment. The crime was committed on the 18th of May, 1827. Amongst the numerous counts, one charged the shooting the deceased on the left side of the face with a pistol with having stabbed her on the. left side between the fith and sixth ribs with a sword with having strangled her with a handkerchief and withhaving smothered and suffocated her by burying her beneath the barn floor. When the Learned Gentleman had concluded, he said to Corder, are you Guilty of the murder of Maria Martin, or Not Guilty?" "Corder: "Not Guiltv, my Lord." He was also called to plead to the presentment of the coroner s inquest. He again said, in a firm tone of voice, " Not Guilty, mv Lord." A model of the Red Barn was produced and placed on the table. The prisoner eyed it with much attention, and changed colour. He soon, however, recovered his composure. Mr. Andrews (with whom was Mr. Kelly) opened the case for the prosecution at half-past ten. He stated the prisoner to be the son of respectable parents at Polstead. His father was a fanner there, and after his death, his mother, with the assistance of her sons, (the prisoner one of them,) carried on the farm. Maria Martin, with whose murder the prisoner stood charged, was in a humble walk of life. The prisoner and deceased, previous to May, 1827, became intimate. On the 18th of May, the prisoner came to the deceased and said, " Now, Maria, you have been disappointed a great many times ; you shall go with me." She objected because people would know her. It was agreed that clothes should be taken in a bag, and also in the bag was put a basket containing a reticule. Corder left the house by one door, and the girl by another. From that period none of the girl's friends had any tidings of her, except such as the prisoner himself had given. Various pretexts were made use of by the prisoner, to the fi iends of the deceased, to accojint for her absence from them, and for their not hearing from lier. In answer to a question about her having more children, he said, "No, she will have no more. She has had her number." He was asked whether 6he was far off? He answered, " No, she is not far from home : she is where L can go to her at any time ; but no one else can see her." After the harvest was got in, Corder left Polstead. On his way with the person who drove him, he said, " He had not seen Maria Martin since May." Before he went, he shook hands with the father, saying, " I shall marry your daughter soon, and have bought a suit of clothes for the purpose." Subsequently, in October, the father received a letter from the prisoner, stating that the deceased and he were married, and expressing surprise that not answer had been received by her to a letter she had written about the marriage. The parents at length became suspicious about the fate of their daughter. The father became anxious to search the barn. He went and searched, and in the upper part of the barn the body was found. The father, the mother, the sister, and the surgeon, would describe the body, the dress, and their identity. In company with a local officer, Lee, the police officer, apprehended the prisoner at Ealing, who, on his apprehension denied having known Maria Martin : he thrice denied having known her. Lee searched the house, and found a black velvet reticule, to which Mrs. Martin, the mother, would speak. Pistols were also found in the house by Lee, and a sword, which had been compared with the hole in the stays, and the hole in the left side of the body. It had been sharpened for the prisoner before he left Polstead, and een in his possession there. These were the main facts that would be deposed to : there were others upon which he (the Learned Counsel) did not feel it necessary to dwell. He next alluded to the various idle and unfounded reports which had prevailed ; and, after cautioning the Jury to dismiss all prejudice from their minds, at eleven o'clock, concluded an able and temperate address, calling upon the Jury to discharge their duty according to their oaths. During this address, the prisoner stood unmoved. The following and a number of other witnesses were then called : Anne Martin is the wife of Thomas Martin of Polstead. Her husband had a daughter named Maria. Knew the prisoner, at Polstead, 17 years, who was acquainted with Maria intimately. He became so about twelve months before May, 1827. He came to our cottage frequently. In 1826, Maria was with child ; she was not delivered of it at her father's house, but at Sudbury. Cannot say when she left ; she returned to her father's about seven weeks before the 18th of May. The infant died about a fortnight af-terwardr. Corder continued to come after. He was at the cottage two or three times on the Monday. Maria and he fixed Thursday to goto Ipswich. They did not go. Corder gave as the reason the illness ol his brother James, whose death was hourly expected. He said " Mrs. Martin, don't you make yourself uneasy, for I'm going to Ipswich to-day to gcj a license to be married to-morrow morning." Witness said, William, what will vou do if 6he can't he married ?" Corder assured her Maria should be his I lawful wife before he came home. Witness repeated i 44 What will you do if you cant?" He said, "I'll: get her a place somewhere till such a time as we can ! be married." Maria came down after this, and asked witness to go into the yard to see if there was any . body about to see hergo away. She was then in man's clothes. Nothing was said about the clothes. They went away. Maria had a man's hat on, and in her ' hair a large comb, and two side combs. She had j ear rings. She had had these a good while. Wit- ! ness had seen them frequently. They went away ! about half-past twelve. They went out at different i doors. He went out at the door next the road, j They call it the front door but it is not the front of the house. Maria went out at what is called the back i door which is in fact the front. They went ; she by j the field and the fen, and met him in tbe road. Witness saw them meet. They both got over the gate, ; and went across the field together. The gate is from j the road into the field. The name of the field is Hare-hill Field. They walked both together. There is a path in the field. There is a barn near the j field it is the Red Barn. Corder had with him a a gun when he went away. He said in replv to witness's question. "Is this gun charged, William?"! Yes," and she added, " Then I'll move it away on account of the child." Saw him next on the Monday morning, at her honse about nine o'clock. Witness said, " William, what have you done with Maria?" He said, "I have left her at Ipswich. I have got her a comfortable pWe ; she is going down with Miss Rowland by the water side." Witness said 44 William, what wiH she do for clothes ?" He said, 44 Miss Rowland hat got plenty, and would not let me send for any." He added, "I have got a license, but it must go to London to be signed, and I can't marry until a month or six werks." Witness's son is named George, who told her something which she afterwards mentioned to Corder. It was on the 18th of May, George told her this. Witness men-tioned it to Corder the next week after Maria was gone. She said 44 William, you did not go from the barn so Boon as you told me you should." He said, "Yes, I'm sure I did, for I left within half an hour or three quarters of the time that I left here." She said "No, William, that you did not, for my George saw you go down the Thistly-lane with a pick-axe on your shoulder." The Thistly-lane is near the Red Barn. On inquiring after Maria on his return, he always answered, 44 Purely well." He said, 44 1 shall take her home at Michaelmas, and put her into the farm." Never received any letter from Maria after this. Used to ask Corder why Maria had not written? He said " She has got a bad hand." He often said this. Has not seen the dead body. She was ill at the time. Has seen all the articles of dress found. Maria had a wen upon her neck. One of her teeth had been drawn, and one had decayed out. Witness saw two pistols in Corder's possession after Maria came home with the infant child from Sudbury. Thomas Martin, the father of the deceased, corroborated the evidence of tbe preceding witness. Phoebe Stow lived at Polstead. Knew William Corder. Her house was about 30 rods from the Red Barn. Remembered Corder calling about one o'clock one day in May last year, when she lent him a spade, and he only said a few words, saying he was in such a hurry, he could not then stay and talk to her. The spade was afterwards returned ; but she could not say by whom. On a subsequent occasion Corder again called. She asked him where was Maria Martin's child. He said it was dead, and that ehe would have no more childten. Witness said, 44 Whv not, she is a young woman yet?" He replied, " Never mind, Maria Martin will never have more children." Two letters, after being identified by Martin as Corder's hand writing, and as those which he received, were then read. "The first was dated, "London, Bull Inn, Leadenhall-street, Thursday, October 18," and mentioned his marrirge to Maria who, he said, was then at Newport, Isle of Wight, which he had described in a letter to him. The second was dated, 44 London, Monday 23d, 1827," atating that he had made inquiry without success at the General Post Office, as to Maria's letter, and contained this passage : " You wish for us to come to Polstead, which we should be very liappy to do, but you are not aware of the danger. You may depend, if ever we fall into Mr. P 's hands, the consequence would prove fatal ; therefore, should he write to you, or should he come to Polstead, you must tell him you have not the least knowledge of us, but you think we are gone into some foreign part." James Lea, I am a police officer of Lambeth-street. On the 22d of last April, I went to Grove-house, Ealing, about 10 o'clock in the morning. As I entered Corder came into the hall out of the parlour. I told him I was an officer from London, was come to apprehend him, and he must consider himself my prisoner. He replied, " Very well." Told him the charge was respecting Maria 'Martin. I said, she had been missing for a length of time, and strong suspicions were attached to him. He said, he did not know such a person. I must have made a mistake ; he was not the person I wanted. I said, 44 No ; I have not made a mistake your name is Corder ; and I am certain he was the pereon." I then searched his person, and took from his pocket a bunch of keys. I then took him to the Red Lion Inn, at Brentford. I said, the body of the youn woman had been found in his Red Barn. He made no remark then. We proceeded some distance, and he asked me, "When was the young woman found ?" I told him "On Saturday morning last." He made no further reply. I then left him at the Red Lion, and returned to his house. M'hen I entered, Mrs. Corder shewed me up stairs, into a dressing-room, I opened two writing-desks, with two of the keys he bad given me. 1 had some conversation with the prisoner respecting some pistols I had found in the house. As we were coming to Bury Goal, he said he would make me a present of them. (The pistols in a black velvet bag, were produced.) Examination resumed On tbe 30th of April, I found a sword there, which I had previously taken from the nail on which it hung when I was formerlv at the house. Robert Offbrd. I am a cutler, residing at Had-leigh, in this county. Last year tlie prisoner called at my house ; in the latter part of March or beginning of April 1827. He brought a small sword, and said, "Mr Offbrd, I have brought a small sword, which I wish to have ground as sharp as a carving knife, for the use of a carving knife. He wished to have it done, and he would call for it that night. Cross-examined. I will not swear that this was not before Christmas, 1826. I don't keep a job book, and speak only from recollection, I was working by candle-light j and so I do at Christmas-time. Henry Harcourt, gumnaker, at Sudbury, knew the prisoner. In Feb., 1827, he came and brought me a pair of pistols to be repaired. I don't know if these (those which Lea produced) be they. They were percussion pistols, and so are these. Cross-examined. The prisoner and a young woman took them away. Did not -know her. They called for them on the 5th of March. The Lord Chief Baron said, the hour had now arrived at which it would be expedient to adjourn the Court. TUmi nriBAnar vIia tA l.nn U A 1 .. f .1. - ..v .,w..v . , nuw iiauuuiuiuiccUlY KUV Ul Ulr day maintained an air of indifference in his awful si tuation, there beihg generally a smile playing upon his features, although his SVP Karl a ArH)n occasionally convulsed with a sudden movement, be- "ymg w" warncier not to ne mistaken, toe emotion under -.t-hi.-h ln hrrmnrorl ritirinir tl Halicor,- of particular passages in the evidence ; seemed to uavr- ki a cuuMueraure pari ot ins commence towards the close of the dav. SECOND DAY'. FRIDA If. At a quarter before nine o'Clock, Corder was put to the bar. He was dressed the same as on Thursday. He was not so entirely at his ease as he appeared to be early on the preceding day ; his head was not so erect, and he repeatedly heaved deep sighs. During the re-examination of Mr. Lawton, the surgeon, this morning, who produced the skull of the deceased, which was handed from the Connsel to the Jury, and exhibited so as to be observed in its fractured condition to the whole Court, the prisoner, who had just taken off his spectacles, replaced them, and beheld attentively this painful spectacle he inclined his body forward so as to command a full view of the skull ; but as if the effort to sustain this attitude, and evince this expression, had become too great for his nerve6, he suddenly flung his back against the pillar, hastily drew off his spectacles, and evidently laboured under the strongest emotion. At nine o'Clock precisely, tire Lord Chief Baron took his seat, when the examination of witnesses commenced. Several of the witnefses being recalled on minor points of the evidence, the case for the pjrueecution closed. DEFENCE. The prisoner, beinij called on for his defence, advanced to the front of the bar, took out some papers, and read nearly as follows, with a very tremulous voice : " I am informed that, by the law of England, the Counsel for the prisoner is not allowed to address the Jury, though the Counsel for the Crown is allowed that privilege. While I deplore, as much as any human being can, the fatal event which has caused this inquiry, let me entreat you to dismiss from your minds the publications of tlte public press, from the time of its first promulgation to tins hour ; let me-entreat yon let me dissuade you, if I can, from being influenced by the horrid and disgusting details which have for months issued from the public press a powerful engine for fixing the opinions of large classes 01 the community, but which is too often, I fear, though unintentionally, the cause of affixing slander upon innocence. I have been described as a monster, who, while meditating on becoming the husband of the girl to whom I was evincing an affectionate attachment, was actually premeditating and plotting the perpetration of the' horrid crime. With Such misrepresentations, it was natural, perhaps, to expect that an unfavourable impression should have been created against me, and the more so when the accusation went beyond the present case, and was connected with other crimes wttfl calculated to excite prejudice against me. It is natural you should come to this trial with feelings of prejudice ; but as you expect peace and serenity of mind at home, I implore you to Danish from your minds.all the horrible accusations which have been promulgated, and give your verdict on the evidence alone. It has been well observed, that truth is sometimes stronger than fiction. Never was thi6 assertion bettervexemplified than in this instance. In a few short months I have been deprived of all my brothers, and my father, recently before that period. I have heard the evidence, and am free to say, that, unexplained, it may cause great suspicion ; but you will allow me to explain it. Proceeding, my Lord and Gentlemen, to the real facts of this case, I admit there is evidence to excite suspicion, but these facts are capable of explanation ; and convinced as I am of entire innocence, I have to entreat you to listen to my true and simple detail of the real facts of the death of this unfortunate woman. I was myself so stupi-fied and overwhelmed with the strange and disastrous circumstance, and on that account so unhappily driven to the necessity of immediate decision, that I acted with fear instead of judgment, and I did that which any innocent man might have done under such circumstances. I concealed the appalling occurrence, and was, as is the misfortune of such errors, subsequently driven to sustain the first falsehoods by others, and to persevere in a system of delusion which furnished the facts concealed for a long time. At first 1 gave a false account of the death of the unfortunate Maria. I am now resolved to disclose the truth, regardless of the consequences. To conceal her pregnancy from my mother, I took lodgings at Sudbury ; she was delivered of a male child, which died in a fortnight in the arms of Mrs. Martin, although the newspapers have so perverted that fact ; and it was agreed between Mrs. Martin, Maria, and ine, that the child should be buried in the fields. There was a pair of small pistols in the bed-room ; Maria knew they were there ; I had often shown them to her ; Maria took them away from me. I had some reason to suspect she had some correspondence with a gentleman, by whom she had a child, in London. Though her conduct was not free from blemish. I at length yielded to her entreaties, and agreed to marry her; and it was arranged wc should go to Ipswich and procure a license, and marry. Whether I said there was a warrant out against her I know not. It has been proved we had many-words, and that she was crying when she left the house. Gentlemen, this was the origin of the fatal occurrence. I gently rebuked her : we reached the barn ; while changing her dress, she flew into a passion, and upbraided me with not having so much regard for her as the gentleman before alluded to ; feeling myself in this manner so much insulted and irritated, when I was about to perform every kindness and reparation, I said, 4 Maria, if you go on in this way before marriage, what have I to expect after ? I shall therefore stop when I can ; I will return straight home, and you can do what you like, and act just as you think proper.' I said I would not marry her ; in consequence of this, I retired from her, when I immediately heard the report of a gun or pistol, and running back I found the unhappy girl weltering on the ground. Recovering from my stupor, I thought to have left the spot ; but I endeavoured to raise her from the ground, but found her entirely lifeless. To my horror I discovered the pistol was one of own she had privately taken from my bed-room. There she lay, killed by one of my own pistols, and I the only' being at' hand ! My faculties were suspended. I knew not what to do. The instant the mischief happened, I thought to have made it public ; but this would have added to the suspicion, and I then resolved to conceal her death. I then buried her in the bctt way I ceuld. ' I tried to conceal the fact as well as I could, giving sometimes one reason for her absence, sometimes another. It may be said, why not prove this by witnesses ? Alas ! how can I ? How can I offer any-direct proof how she possessed herself of my pistols, for I found the other in her reticule. That she obtained them cannot be doubted. All I can sav to the stabs is, that I never saw one ; and I believe the only reasons for the surgeons talking of them is, that a sword was found in my possession. I can only account for them by supposing that the spade penetrated her body, when they searched for the body in the barn. This I know, that neither from me nor from herself did she get any stab of this description. I always treated her with kindness, and had intended to marry her. What motive, then, can be suggested for my taking her life ? I could have easily gotten over the promise of marriage. Is it possible I could have intended her destruction iu this manner ? We went, in the middle of the day, to a place sur rounded by cottages. Would this have been the case, had I intended to have murdered her ? Should I have myself furnished the strongest evidence that has been adduced against me ? I might, were I a guilty man, have suppressed the time and place of her death, but my plain, unconcealed actions, because they were guiltless, supplied both. Had I intended to perpetrate so dreadful a crime, would I have kept about me some of the articles which were known to be Maria's r Had I sought her life, could I have acted in such a manner ? Had I, I would have chosen another time and place. Look at my conduct since. Did I run away? No! I lived months and months with my mother. I left Polstead in consequence of my family afflictions. I went to the Isle of Wight. It is said that the passport was obtained to enable me to leave England at any time. No, it was to enable me to visit some friends of my wife's in Paris. Shoi-ld I have kept her property, had I any thing to fear from their detection ? In December last I advertised in the Times newspaper the sale of my house, and gave my name and address at full length. Did this look like concealment ? You will consider any man innocent till his guilt is fully proved. It now rests with you to restore me to society, or to an ignominious death. To the former I feel I am entitled against the latter T appeal to your justice and humanity. I have nothing more to add, but that I leave my life in your hands, aware that you will give me the humane benefit of the law in case of doubt, and that your Lordship will take a compassionate view of the melancholy situation in which my misfortunes have placed me." The above is the substance of the prisoner's address. It was delivered, in many parts, in a feeble tone of voice, and under considerable emotion. Several witnesses were then examined in favour of the prisoner's character and good temper. At twenty minutes to twelve the Lord Chief Baron summed up the case, and charged tbe Jury. VERDICT and SENTENCE. At twenty-five minutes to two, the Jury retired. At ten minutes past two, they came hack into Court, and their Foreman returned'a verdict of Guilty against the prisoner. The prisoner was then asked in tle usual form, whether he had to say any thing why he should not die according to law. On his saving nothing The I jOrd Chiep Baron addressed him in the following terms : 41 William Corder, it is now my painful duty to announce to you the near approach of the close of your mortal career. You have been accused of murder, which is almost the highest of-ence that can he found in the whole catalogue of crime. You denied your guilt, and put yourself on your deliverance to the country. After a long, patient, and an impartial trial, the country has decided against you, and most justly. You stand convicted of an aggravated breach of ' the great prohibition of the Almighty Creator of mankind. 4 Thou shall do no murder.' Tbe law of this country, in concurrence with the law of all civilized countries, enforces this prohibition of God by exacting from the criminal who has violated it, the forfeiture of his own life. And as this offence indicates the highest degree of cruelty to its unfortunate victim, and as it is dangerous to the peace, the order, and the security of society, justice assumes upon it her severest aspect, and allows no emotion of pity to shield the criminal from the punishment awarded to it both by the law of God and by the laws of man. I advise you not to flatter yourself with any hopes of mercy upon earth. You sent this unfortunate woman to her account without giving her any time for preparation. She had no time to turn her eyes to the Throne of Grace for mercy and forgiveness ; she had no time given her to repent of ber many transgressions in the world : she had no time to throw herself on her knees and implore for pardon at the Eternal Throne. The same measure is not meted to vou : a small interval is al lowed you for preparation : use it well ; for the scene ol this world closes upon you ; but another and I hope, a better world is opening for you. Remember die lessons of religion which you received in the early years of your childhood : consider the effects that may be produced by a sincere repentance listen to the advice of the ministers of your religion, who will, I trust, console and advise you how best to meet the sharp ordeal which you must presently undergo. Nothing remains for me now to do, but to pass upon you the awful sentence of the law ; that sentence is, that you be taken back to the prison from whence you came, and that yon be taken from thence on Monday next, to the place of Execution, and there be hanged by the neck till you are dead, and that your body be afterwards dissected and anatomized, and the Lord God Almighty have merrv on your soul !" The Lord Chief Baron, who wa evidentlv much affected, then retired from the Court. When somo allusion was made t the) impropriety of allowing him to retain h w penknife, be Said there was no danger to be apprehended in that resjpect, for he had no desire to add one tm- to another. This waa the only tendency toward anytbtag like confession which the prisoner disclosed on Friday evening. His wife remained in the town daring hie trial, and so confident were his friends of acquittal, that it is said means were engaged for his conveyance borne. Sunday morning, Half -past 11 9' Clock. I have just returned from hearing the condemned sermon, which was delivered in the chapel attached to the gaol, by the chaplain, the Rev. W. Stocking. By the kindness of the Governor, Mr. Orridge, I was admitted into the gaol at half-past eight o'Clock. Shortly after nine the chapel was opened. Besides the inmates of the gaol, there we about 20 person present. After the chaplain had taken his station in the pulpit, Corder waa led into the barred cell reserved for culprits under sentence 0 death by Mr. muge ana one 01 nis attendants. Me wept bitter ly as he came along the passage ; but buried his face in his handkerchief as if anxious to withdraw him self from the gaze of the curious. His step wae any thing nut hrm ; and he had evidently lost beyond the power of recal a great part of that self-command which he exhibited at the commencement of the trial. As soon as he was locked in the pew appointed for him, he heaved a deep siirh. sat himself down on one of the benches, and leant against the side of ine pew : tie then rai6ea 1ns loot on the oench before him. rented his elhoar nn his Wnow. snrl hi fa which he covered with a white handkerchief, oA his hanu, and remained In that position during the greater t;art of the sprviep. The whole of the service was admirably adapted to me criminal s ureaumi situation, and lie appeared to feci it accutelv. At the close of die sermon. Corder was led out by Mr. Orridge Ln almost a fainting condition. As soon as he reached his celt, he stssjner- ed to his bed, on which he flung himself, sobbing convulsively for many minutes. In passing the pew in which I was seated, he dropped his handkerchief from his face, and nothing could be more altered than the cast of his countenance since I saar him on Fridav last. His cheeks had eollansed. hia vm srrn j! swollen greatly, and his whole appearance was most j' guBsuy, tie iooKeu ine picture ot nespair. At haif-past two o'clock, as I have just heard. I .Mrs. Corder had her parting interview with him. It I lasted for an hour and a half. On seeing her, he i . cast himself into her arms and burst into tears. J Their interview is desribed to me as one mat Would j. melt the sternest heart ; but I have not yet had time I 10 learn me particulars. j CONDUCT AND EXECUTION OF CORDER. I Moxdav. At an early hour this morning persons of all classes came flocking to town in every direc- tion ; so much so that Bury presented the same appearance as on the day of a fair, or a day 6f public I rejoicing. The visitors on the occasion were not I pedestrians only, for carts, gigs, and chaises, came I pouring in from all quarters ; there were also scores j of vans, or covered waggon, similar to those used in 1 Greenwhich fair, e.ich carrying from six to a dozen passengers. These vrrns contained, for greater part, ' respectably dressed females, all ages, from IS to 60. I At hall-past nine o'clock the prisoner was brought into the Chapel to attend divine service, rfc waa j dressed in the clothes he wore when on his trial, and appeared much more calm and resigned tkn rn the previous day. He bung his arms down and bent ma neao on coming irom lus cell but on entering 1 the Chapel he folded his arms, and walkerl lrH-1 the pew allotted to him. He again placed Ms eWsw .Mi ma txiiei-, anu supported his head wrtn his right hand. The Chaplain read several appropriate pray-I ers. The prisoner sighed several times, as allusions were made to his own unhappy situation. When a prayer was read in which a person about to suffer for I murder supplicated mercy from tbe Lord, although I he granted not mercy to' his sister when she prayed I to him lor it, the prisoner appeared much-agitated ; I he raised his left hand convulsively, and pressed it ; upon ui& n.nee nis nps appeared to move, and his ..trau. .ruim lesMfu paruy against me pew, fell so low that we could not see his face, although placed directly in front of him. When the service was over the prisoner rose; but, although he appeared calm, his limbs could scarcely support him, and one of the assistants assisted aim to his cell. The prisoner was again visited bv tbe Clergyman - . . , r- 7 , o. the gaol, to whom he made the abtemert signed by that Gentleman and the I'nder-Sherifl: ssWrT . by that Gentleman and the L'nder-Sheriff, which we guc 111 anuuif r piace. At ten minutes before twelve o'Clock, the prisoner was brought from his cell and pinioned by Foxton. the hangman, who was brought from London lor the purpose. He appeared resigned, but waa so weak as to be unable to stand without support : when his cravat was ivmm-l himiiuii LmJ. j ly, and appeared to be labouring under great mental ngiMi j . urn nia nsu ana arms were made last, he was led round towards the scaffold, and as he passed the different yards in which the prisoners are confined, he shook hands with them, and speaking to two of them by name, he said, " Good bye, God bless you. ' ' They appeared considerably affected at the wretched appeaiance which he made, and 44 God bless you !" 11 May God receive your soul !" wete frequently uttered as he passed along. Tbe Chaplain walked before the prisoner, reading the usual Burial Service, and the Governor and Officers walked immediately after him. The prisoner was supported up the steps which led to the scaffold ; he looked somewhat wildly around, and a constable was obliged to support him while the hangman was adjusting the fatal cord. There was abarrier to keep off' the crowd, amounting to upwards of JtXK) persons, who had at this Mar stationed themselves in the adjoining fields, on the hedges, the tops of houses, and at every point from which a view of the execution could be nest obtained. The prisoner, a few moments before the drop fell, groaned heavily, and would have fallen, had net a second constable caught hold of him. Every tiling having been made ready, the signal was given, the fatal drop fell, and the unfortunate Satsi was launched into eternity. He did not struggle; but he raised his hands once or twice, as if in prayer ; the hangman pulled his legs, and he was in a rrrr' ment motionless. In about nine minutes, how-over, his shoulders appeared to rise with a convulsive movement; but life, it seemed, had left aim without any great pain. Just before he was turned off, lie said in a teeolc tone, 44 1 am justly sentenced, and may God forgive me." Mr. Orridge then informed the crowd that the prisoner acknowledged the justice of his isntssius, and died in peace with all men. Thus did this unhappy- man terminate, by an ignominious death, a life which, r 'u and healthy appearance, might have bean prolonged k aumiiauucu pentm in cuiatort and a The bod r havimr hum? th uaiiaJ t down, and taken in a cart to the Shire Hall, whet it was exposed to the public view. At two o'clock the body was exposed on the table iu the centre of the Shire' Hall. The crucial operation had been performed, and the ak in ss the hmaat and stomach turned back on each side. The body measured, as it lay, five feet five inches in length, and presented a very muscular appearance. A gentleman was expected who was to take a cast of the head. The face and throat were somewhat swollen and discoloured, the right eye was open, and the left partially so ; the mouth was also open sufficiently to shew the teeth. The bodv will be taken to the Hospital to-morrow to be dissected, the Under Shar-rift' having issued his warrant to Mr. Orridge to give it up. A galvanic battery is, it is said, to be brought from Cambridge, for the purpose of operating upon it. REASONS URGED TO THE PRISONER FOR CONFESSION. Confession to the world has always been held necessary atonement where the party' has committed offences affecting the society at large. 44 He that eo-vereth his sins shall not prosper, but whoeo confess-eth shall have mercy." Surely confession to God cannot be here meant, as no man can hope to hide his sins from God. 44 Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another" James v 16 Archbishop Tillotson says, 44 In case our rins have been public and scandalous, both reason and the practice of the Christian Church do require that when men have publicly offended they should rive public satisfaction and open testimony of their repentance.'1 The text in Jamen kamirBM,,.!. 1 he Christian Doctrine of the necessity of restitution te strong ; and if vou will not confess, bow can you make restitution to the wprrtatian your vie- . u,t cc-urru ner -or havtrtg herself. If you died without denying that iota tion, bow do yon obey the command do ri" another whieh we would have another do to us ?" tv unctrine of confession, which is objectionable Popish point of view, is the private eorifessioQ v ' Priest of private vices, but the duty of asaki0e "" 1 knowtedgment of public crimes can have ootiins do with such objections. Even supposing n J3 ful uhetber a man is bound, after offending uj?'" to confess his errors to the world, there can doubt that he will not do any thing wrong bv f easing. One course is, therefore, certain ; rhe skV uncertain. Can a man hesitate to seize the forw! JOHN ORR1DGB I begged be would read it attentively, and ih, would sorne te him soon ; I went to his room Su. before ten, and remained in earnest conversation him till half-past eleven. I told him that, the thirty years 1 have held my situation, I had 2 satisfaction in assuring him that no man ho been executed during that tone had aver dares1 take the Sacrament in sullen silence about hia rni1 or without confession that I well knew from hi ten that I had seen, and from other eimrmrtanrZ thai tit list nt rfswniw ti hmA iHnnii dictates of his own mind, at least for a long tin ter his commitment; and that I was sure that .1 would net and dare not take the Sacrament, and remti silent, or deny being the guilty cause of the dh Z poor Maria Martin. He then exclaimed, " Oh, 1 wish I had made a confidant of vou before ; I oftJ wished to have done it ; but y ou know. Sir, iia? no use employing a legal adviser and then not folio his advice." I told him that up to the time of). conviction it was proper, but that bem 0Vfr earthly considerations must cease ; he then eujajaj guilty man !" 1 then went ionm and mk and began to ask him the particulars of th offence, which I told him the public had supposed him Lu be truiltv nl U. , t "j wn, 5(ir uk 1 can 1 only mention to you the particulars of how Maru I . - "j hcmsmi wiui una uip puouc must tie satisfied ; I cannot say more. " 1 then wrote the following coatessfoa nearly in hi own words. 1 rsj it to him attentive I v. and he aWned it with is,. hand. I left him about half past one o'clock, d my men tell me he lay very still, and appeared to lis-. i UUU U1C IllfIJt.. On Saturday be told a respectable individual I had asked to sit and read to him, that he was ty of the forgery upon Messrs. Alexanders' Bank, and that be had been assured the money was paid there are some parts of the foregoing statemeat si ... he also mentioned to the same individual. He alio expressed much horror at the thoughts of being ms-sected and anatomized. He also stated, after lie signed the confession, that he felt great respect for the girl, but that he had no intention to marn k( st that time. (Signed) JOHN ORRIDGE. CORDER S CONFESSION OF THE MURDER. 44 Bury Gaol, August 10, 1828. 44 Sunday Evening, Half-past 11. "I acknowledge being guilty of the death of p, Maria Martin, by shooting her with a pistol. particulars are as follows: When we left her ther's house, we began quarrelling about tbe ijurial at the child, she apprehending that the place wherein it was deposited would be found out. The imr. rel continued for about three-quarters of an hour upon this and other subjects. A scuffle ensued, ssj during the scuffle ; and at the time J think that tbe had a hold of me, 1 took the pistol from tbe pocket of my velveteen jacket and fired. She H, and died in an instant. I never saw even a nruupj. I was overwhelmed with agitation and dismay-at body feti dear the front doors on the floor nf Ae barn. A vast quantity ol blood issued from fe wound, and ran on to the door and through the crevices. Having determined to bury the body n 'J barn, (about two hours after she waa AmA 1 and borrowed the spade of Mrs. Stowe ; but before I went there, I dragged the body from the barn ,nt the chsafmouse, and locked up the barn. 1 mure. d again- to the barn, and began to dig she bole ; bat the spade being a bad one, and the eefth firm hard, I was obliged to go home for a jKfcaxe sad 1 ucaurr syne, wiia wnicn 1 aug toe Mpe sod at buried the sesdv. I think I drtsw ed thw bt r bevy By ft baadkerciuef that was tied round ber neck. It dark wnan 1 brushed covering up the body. I west the next day, and washed the blood from off the ban door. I declare to Almighty God, I had no sharp instrument about me, and that no other wound m the one made bv the tuatol waa mAUxi k- . nave peen guilty at great idleness, and at bases IN dissolute life, hut I hope throuTT f P mroug.i toe mercy s i to he forgiven. - W. CORDER. Witness to the signing by she said William Cottier. JOHN ORRIDGE. Sunday Evening, Half-past Twelve o Clock. Condemned Cell, Eleven o'Clock, Monday Morning, Auu- 11, 1828. The anove confession was read over carefully to the prisoner in our presence, who stated moat solemnly it was true, and that he had nothing to add to or retract from it. W. STOCKING Chaplain. T. R HOLMES, UnW Sheriff. In answer to a question from the Under ShenA be said 44 that be thought the ball bad entered tiM right eye." He said this in corroboration of tut previous statement, that be bad no sharp instruroesi with him in the barn at the time he committed Bf murder. The Under Sheriff stated that Dr. Pro-beet was with him st the time when the prisoner mads this last confession. He is quite convinced the ball entered the right tyt. The prisoner was unable to stand. His last 99tm were, 14 1 deserve my fete ; I have offended my tlod ; may be have mercy on my soul ! CORDER'S LETTER TO HIS WTFE. Mr Lira's lorn Comsuxiok. I am now a 40-ing to the fetal scaffold, and I have a lively hope ol obtaining mercy and pardon for my numerous offence. May heaven bless and protect you through this transitory rale of misery ; and which, when meet again may it be in the regions of everlasting bliss. Adieu ! tny love, for ever adieu ! In lest than two boors I hope to be in heaven ; my I prayer is, that God will endue you with patience,, and resignation to his will. Rest assured that his wineprovidence works all things together for tpod. The awful sentence which has been pasted upon me, and which I am now summoned to answer, I confess Is very just, and I die in peace with ail mankind, tm Kr j-rsrpftil far th r ceived rum Orridge, and the religious canto mmu iiwb use ivcv. snr. siocuing, wno bast premiss to take my last words to you." (No 3 Ignatius.; The above was written ltf - . , m leaf at the end of a volume of " Blair 's -knnnrsti which appears to have been a gift of Mrs. Carder u uusHsanu, tram we touowmg words wntsen " another leaf at th luomnm,, ,J w l. . s Urr , if Corder to ber miarjand Vraiwm Corder a birth-asf 1 I Present. June H. lft9R " Confer attained his Men year on that day. CORDER S ADVERTISEMENT ran a WIFt The following is, we understand, a copy of e Advertisement by which Corder obtained his wife :-' A private Gentleman, aged 34, entirely impendent, whose disposition is not to be eaeeeded, haw latstlv feat chief of his family by the hand of Providence which has occasioned ssnostgst the remainder circum-stauoea the moat disagreeable to relate. To any female of rsepectability, who would study for domestic comfort, and who is willing to coolide her It happiness to one in every way qualified to render dw DMrriage state desirable, as the Advertiser is affluence ; many happy marriages have taken p4 throurh means similar to this now resorted to. i hoped none will answer through impertinent curt" ty, but should this meet the eye of any agree4 Lady who feels desirous of meeting with a jo19" tender, kind, and sympathising companion, she1" find this advertisement worthy of notice. Hot1 and secresv mav be denendeo nn. Am some security against idle application, it ia reoueaied ' letters may be addressed (post-paid) A. Z-, osre Mr. Foster, stationer, 88, IadenhalUtreet, real name and address, which will meet with respectful attention." SHEFFIELD AT 7WC ITlssaM-nru. sWn M'BLl isef T H. A. BACON, .UL-THKET. 4QK Orders, Adnertisasmenit, and Cessmusmc M ? ser, ftgkieh is regularly jUed J" j" sperHim at VVblx s Cofee-hasue, Fleet-street, mi ike Chapter Coffee-house, St. Paul's a-" wrrW sm 1 v w V.-.'" -v . - wninn rss tsumairm. am jmrrv. and Co.. Wi -- . ml. r S.W 38, Fleef-seW.

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