“Tawell was himself a liberal contributor to charities, and the opinion of his character was so favourable, that the act for which he suffered created great astonishment in Sydney. A considerable part of his money had been realised by buying up all the whalebone that trading vessels, at an early period, imported into Sydney. This he sent to a London house, where it was manufactured into combs, handles for brushes, and various other articles of domestic use. He was the first person in the colony who converted whalebone into an article of profitable export. When he left the colony, he had a considerable property from rents and other sources which became much reduced by the general distress that prevailed in New South Wales in 1843.” Hence the anxiety expressed by him for his Sydney letters, referred to in the course of his trial. Still, however, a man of good means, occupying a respected position in his town, and noted, through a long and industrious life, for his benevolence and straightforward conduct in his relations with his neighbours, he might well say when first charged with the murder of his mistress, “My station in society places me beyond suspicion.” Such had been the remarkable career, and such was the ostensible character of the man to whom the most cold-blooded of murders was clearly brought home in the following trial.” At the trial before Mr. Baron Parke, at Aylesbury, on the 12th, 13th, and 14th of March, 1845, Sergeant Byles and Mr. Prendergast appeared for the prosecution, and Mr. Fitzroy Kelly, Q.C., Mr. Gunning, and Mr. O’Malley, assisted by Messrs. Herapath, of Bristol, Professor Graham and Dr. Letheby, of London, the eminent chemists, for the defence. In consequence of the excitement in the county caused by the event, numerous objections were taken to jurymen by the prisoner’s counsel. At length, however, a jury was formed, and after a brief recapitulation of the leading facts of the proposed evidence by Sergeant Byles, Mary Ashley, a next door neighbour of the deceased, was called, who had seen Tawell go to Sarah Hart’s between 4 and 5 in the afternoon of the 1st of January, and between 6 and 7 the same evening, “hearing a sort of stifled scream,” had gone to her door with a candle and seen him leaving the cottage. The cottages stood in a row, with small gardens in front, with rails and gates, and contained four rooms, two on the ground floor, and the same number above.