tuck-stick, (the sword of which dropped out,) fired, and wounded him a little above the left eye: he fell into a small pond. One of the villains took the watch out of his pocket, and a purse from the lady; another took her cloak. Mr. Fryer, being removed to a public house, died in two hours after. Several were taken up on suspicion, and strictly examined, in the presence of Miss Fryer, but dismissed for want of evidence. On the 27th of May the Worship Street officers apprehended Clench, Mackley, and one Smith, a chip-hat maker; but no criminality appearing in the latter, he was discharged, and the other two fully committed. The prisoners were most impartially tried by Mr. Justice Grose. They had four counsel, Messrs. Const, Knapp, Alley, and Gurney: so that no ingenuity was wanting to plead their case effectually to the jury. Indeed there was no positive evidence, except Miss Fryer's, who swore to the identity of the two prisoners' persons; so that the learned judge, in his address to the jury, said, Gentlemen, I will just state to you, in this case, one observation, and I would wish you to carry that observation in your minds throughout; you will find that this case will very much depend upon the evidence of the lady, who has been examined. It generally happens that the persons robbed are, at the time of the robbery, exceedingly agitated, and, unless they are acquainted with the party robbing before-hand, it is sometimes extremely difficult afterwards to swear to the person. We all know that an act of this sort is attended with great terrors, particularly if the person happens to be a female: one does not at all wonder at it, and for that reason, where there is only one per son in company, who can speak to the fact, surely we must bear the evidence with great attention, and great distrust, not as to the honesty and fairness of the witness, but as to that sort of uncertainty which the human mind is frequently under in cases of fear, which may not make such an impression on the mind; for which reason I always look for, and I am very happy when I find, some corroborating circumstances to show that the person robbed is not mistaken as to the person of the party robbing; and if part of the property can be traced, or if any other person swears to the persons of the prisoners; or if any body can be found that can swear that the persons charged with the robbery were at or about the spot at the time; all these circumstances of corroboration very much deserve, nay, indeed, require, the attention of a jury.' The jury, having retired for half an hour, returned with a verdict, Guilty. These two men were according.y executed before Newgate, June the 5th, 1797, and their bodies were publicly exposed in a stable in Little Bridge Street, near Apothecaries' Hall, Surgeons' Hall being let to the lieutenancy of the county, for the accommodation of the militia. A little before their caps were drawn over their eyes, by some improper management the platform suddenly went down with the two clergymen, the executioner, and bis man. The Catholic priest who attended Clench, being very lusty, suffered most, but fortunately not materially. When they died, most people were of opinion that their fate was just; but, a short time after, the confessions of three separate criminals, who could have had no interest in taking the crime upon themselves, threw a different light upon the transaction, and called to mind the strong assertions which Clench and Mackley had made of their innocence; for Clench, upon retiring from the bar, returned thanks to the Court for the fairness of his trial, bat observed (though in a rough way), that, though they were condemned to die, and be teazed afterwards (alluding to their dissection), they were no more guilty of murder than their prosecutrix. From the fate of these unhappy young men) for they neither had seen more than twenty-two years) GEORGE WALDRON, ALIAS BARRINGTON, GEORGE BARRINGTON, whose crimes and whose talents have excited the astonishment of his contemporaries, was born about the year 1755, at Maynooth, a village in the county of Kildare, Ireland. His father's name was Henry Waldron (that of Barrington being only * One Burton Wood, and another, while under senten e of death, wrote a letter to Carpenter Smith, Esq. magistrate of Surrey, declaring that they were, with another, not then in custody, the murderers; soon after, the third man, whose name was Timms, suffered, for another offence, at Reading, and made the same confession. VOL. III. 83 assumed); he was a working silversmith, and his mother followed the occupation of a mantua-maker, and occasionally joined with it the profession of a midwife. Owing to a law-suit in which they were engaged with a relative, for the recovery of a legacy to which they conceived themselves entitled, their circumstances were by no means affluent. Though unable to procure their son the advantages of a superior education, they had him instructed at an early age in reading and writing; and afterwards, through the bounty of a medical gentleman in the neighbourhood, he was taught the principles of arithinetic, and the elements of geography and English grammar. When he had entered his sixteenth year he had the good fortune to attract the notice of a dignitary of the church of Ireland, through whose interest our hero was placed at a free grammar-school in the Irish capital, where his patron proposed he should fit himself for the university; and, to make an appearance equal to that of the youths with whom he was to associate, his generous protector supplied him with money, and every other necessary that could render his situation at the school not only comfortable, but also respectable. These advantages he enjoyed but a short time, for the impetuosity of his passions hurried him into an action by which he lost his patron's favour for ever. When he had been about half a year at the grammarschool, he was involved in a quarrel with a lad much older and stronger than himself. Some blows passed, in which George suffered consider ably; but, in order to be revenged, he stabbed his antagonist with a pen-knife, and, had he not been prevented, would probably have inurdered him. For this atrocious offence the discipline of the house was inflicted with proper severity, which irritated the youth to such a degree, that he formed the resolution of abandoning not only the school, but likewise his family and friends. His plan of escape was no sooner formed than it was carried into execution; but previous to his departure he found means to steal ten or twelve guineas from the master, and a gold_repeating-watch from his sister. With this booty he safely effected his escape from the school-house, in the middle of a still night in the month of May, 1771; and, pursuing the great north road from Dublin all that night and the next day, he arrived late in the evening at Drogheda, without interruption. This journey he performed almost without halting, without rest and without food, not thinking himself secure till be reached Drogheda. There he entered an obscure inn, where he fell in with a company of strolling players. This led to an acquaintance, which, though formed with precipitation, was, nevertheless, kept up from choice and affection for several years. Price, the manager of this strolling compány, having lived some time in London, in the capacity of clerk to a pettifogging attorney, was intimately acquainted with the town, and all the arts of fraud, deception, or violence, which are practised in it by the most unprincipled classes to procure money. For indulging these vicious propensities he subjected himself to the lash of justice, and was at this time an involuntary exile in Ireland, till the expiration of the term for which he was to be transported. This man soon became. the confidant and counsellor of the young fugitive. By his advice he renounced his paternal name, assumed that of Barrington, entered into the company, and in the course of four days was initiated into his new profession, performing the part of Jaffier in Venice Preserved,' as usual with some applause to a crowded audience, in a barn in the suburbs of Drogheda, without the assistance of a prompter. Though the reception he experienced was highly flattering, yet Price, as well as himself, thought it would not be proper for him to appear in public so ncar the scene of his late depredations. It was therefore resolved that the whole company should without delay move northward, and, if possible, proceed to the distance of sixty or eighty miles from Dublin before they halted for any length of time. To defray the expenses of travelling, money was absolutely necessary, and recourse was had to Barrington's assistance, being the first that offered. He complied with a good grace, giving Price the gold repeater, which was disposed of for the general benefit of the strollers. This act of capricious liberality rendered him extremely popular among his new associates. Having now procured the necessary funds, they set out for Londonderry, where it was soon discovered that Barrington had made a conquest of the lady who acted the tender Belvidera to his Jaffier. Her name was Egerton; she was the daughter of an opulent tradesman of Coventry, from whom she had eloped at the age of sixteen with a lieutenant of marines. With him she fled to Dublin, where in less than three months he infamously abandoned her to all the horrors of penury. Reduced to this extremity, she readily embraced a proposal made her by Price to join this company, as a resource against actual want. Young and beautiful, it is not surprising that Miss Eger tou should excite a corresponding The supply of money obtained from Barrington being exhausted by travelling expenses and other incidents, the company, on their arrival in Londonderry, found themselves reduced to circumstances of extreme indigence. In this dilemma Price insinuated to our adventurer that a young man of his address and appearance might easily introduce himself into the public places to which the merchants and dealers of that commercial city generally resorted, and that he might without difficulty find opportunities of picking their pockets, and escaping unnoticed. The idea pleased Barrington; and the fair offering a favorable juncture, the design was carried into execution by him and Price the very next day, with great success; their acquisitions amounting at the close of the evening to about forty guineas in cash, and above one hundred and fifty pounds in bank-notes. Though the cir cumstance, from its rarity in that part of the country, excited considerable alarm, yet neither Barrington nor his accomplice were suspected. They resolved, however, to leave Derry, and accordingly, after playing a few nights as usual with more applause than profit, they removed to Ballyshannon, where Barrington may be considered as having commenced the business of a professed pickpocket in the summer of the year 1771, and in the sixteenth year of his age. At Ballyshannon Barrington spent the autumn and winter of 1771 with the company to which he belonged, playing two days in the week, and picking pockets whenever opportunity offered. This business, though attended with some danger and certain infamy, he found more lucrative than that of the theatre, where his fame and his proficiency by no means kept pace with the expectations raised by his first appear ance. He accordingly commenced what is called a gentleman pick pocket, by affecting the airs and import ance of a man of fashion; but was so much alarmed at the detection and conviction of his preceptor, Price (who was sentenced to transportation for seven years), that he hastened to Dublin, where he practised his pilfering art during dark evenings. At one of the races in the county of Carlow he was detected picking the pocket of a nobleman; but, upon restoring the property his lordship declined any prosecution, and Barrington accordingly left Ireland, and for the first time appeared in England in 1773. On his first visit to Ranelagh with a party, he quitted his friends, and picked the pockets of the Duke of Leinster and Sir William Draper of a considerable sum; and also took from a lady a watch, with all which he got off undiscovered, and rejoined his friends. In 1775 he visited the most celebrated watering-places, particularly Brighton; and, being supposed a gentleman of fortune and family, was noticed by persons of the first distinction. On his return to London he formed a connexion with one Lowe, and became a more daring pickpocket. He went to court on the queen's birth-day, as a clergyman, and not only picked several pockets, but found means to deprive a nobleman of his diamond order, and retired from the palace without suspicion. This booty is said to have been disposed of to a Dutch Jew. In the course of the winter of 1775 the celebrated Russian Prince Orloff visited England. The various circumstances of his history, the high favour he enjoyed at the court of his sovereign, and the vatuable presents he had received from her, were frequently mentioned in the public prints. Among the rest, a gold snuff-box, set with brilliants, and valued at the enormous sum of thirty thousand pounds, particularly attracted the attention of Barrington. It was not long before he formed a plan for obtaining possession of it. A favorable opportunity one night presenting itself at Covent Garden Theatre: he contrived to get near the prince, and found means to convey the precious trinket out of his excellency's waistcoat pocket into his own. This operation, however, was not performed with such dexterity as to escape detection. The prince felt the attack so impudently made upon him, and immediately seized the depredator by the collar. During the confusion that ensued, Barring ton slipped the box into the hand of the owner, who was doubtless well pleased at having recovered it so easily. The delinquent was, nevettheless, secured, and committed to Tothillfields' Bridewell, previous to his examination at Bow Street for the offence. On this occasion he represented himself as belonging to an affluent and respectable family in Ireland, adding that he had been educated for the medical profession, and had come to Loudon to improve himself in it. This plausible repre sentation he accompanied with so many tears, and seemed to rest so much on his being an unfortunate gentleman rather than a guilty cul |