One Sarah Potts it was her name, who first did him betray, And from his wife and children, caused him to go astray, At rest from her he ne’er could be, by day nor yet by night, Until her false deluding tongue, had proved his ruin quite. It was on the 12th day of the month, unto her house he went A drinking, for to spend the day, it was his chief intent; She says, come leave your house and home, your family also, And to some other country, along with you I’ll go. About the hour of twelve at noon, he homeward did repair, And found his poor deluded wife, waiting his love to share-- One angry word she never spoke, though he unkind had been But with the meekness of a lamb, she rose to let him in. Soon as the house he entered, he straightway locked the door, Soon seized upon an iron bar, and threw her on the floor; With which he beat her on the head, as she lay on the ground, Her brains most awful for to view, lay scattered all around. Oh then he seized those lovly twins, whilst sleeping on the bed, Now with your mother you shall die, the wretched father said-- He seized them by their little legs, and dashed them on the floor, And soon their tender lives were gone, alas! to be no more. The eldest child seeing what was done, upon his knees did rise, And loud for mercy he did call, whilst tears were in his eyes-- Oh, Dadda dear, oh, Dadda dear, and asked me for a kiss, Why are you going to murder me, what have I done amiss? Again for mercy he did plead whilst pearly tears did fall, The cruel father’s hardened heart, was deaf unto his call-- Again took up the iron bar, and beat him on the head, And soon the blood of the dear boy, was spilt upon the bed. It was early the next morning, before the break of day, He by Policemen taken was, and to prison sent straightway, Where till the Assizes he must lie, his trial for to stand, When blood for blood will be required, by the laws of God and man. [Smith, Printer, High Street, London. A REMARKABLE PUNISHMENT OF MURDER. [Illustration] The following melancholy account was given by a very worthy man, Mr. Thomas Marshall, a Church warden well-known and respected by all. Some years ago, a young gentleman and lady came out of Scotland, as is supposed, upon a matrimonial affair. As they were travelling through the country, they were robbed and murdered, at a place called the Winnetts, near Castleton. Their bones were found about two years ago, by some miners who were sinking an Engine-pit at the place. One James Ashton, of Castleton, who died about a fortnight ago, and who was one of the murderers, was most miserably afflicted and tormented in his conscience. He had been dying, it was thought, for ten weeks; but could not die till he had confessed the whole affair. But when he had done this, he died immediately.