The Chronicles of Crime or The New Newgate Calendar. v. 2/2: being a series of memoirs and anecdotes of notorious characters who have outraged the laws of Great Britain from the earliest period to 1841Pelham, Camden
History
The Chronicles of Crime or The New Newgate Calendar. v. 2/2: being a series of memoirs and anecdotes of notorious characters who have outraged the laws of Great Britain from the earliest period to 1841
Pelham, Camden
Crime -- Great Britain; Criminals -- Great Britain; Newgate (Prison : London, England)
while the body lay in his sight, when his reply was, "Nobody knows that
the body lay in the barn and in sight, whilst I dug the hole;" but then,
suddenly checking himself, he exclaimed, "O God! nobody will dig my
grave." In the course of the afternoon, he had a second and last
interview with his wife, and the scene was truly heart-rending. He
expressed the most anxious fears with regard to the manner in which she
would be in future treated by the world; and implored her, should she
ever marry again, to be cautious how she accepted a proposition reaching
her through the equivocal medium of a public advertisement. The parting
scene was most dreadful, and the wretched woman was carried away from
the cell in a state of stupor. After Mrs. Corder had retired, Mr.
Orridge, the worthy governor of the jail, made the strongest efforts to
induce the unhappy prisoner to confess, pointing out to him how greatly
he would add to his crime, should he quit the world still denying his
guilt. Corder then exclaimed, "O, sir, I wish I had made a confidant of
you before, I often wished to have done it, but you know, sir, it was of
no use to employ a legal adviser and then not follow his advice." Mr.
Orridge said that there was no doubt that was very proper, up to the
time at which he was convicted, but that now all earthly considerations
must cease. The wretched prisoner then exclaimed, "I am a guilty man,"
and immediately afterwards made the following confession:--
"Bury Jail, August 10, 1828--Condemned Cell,
"Sunday Evening, Half-past Eleven.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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