The Express.
London, England, 1855-01-15 00:00:00

evidence, or an infoimation, without sending for the party
slimed ?
Mr. Perry—Oh, dear no.
Alderman Wilson—ln the ciao of en spoliation for a
mandamus, or for a rule for • criminal inform-Won, the
judge reosives the evidence and grants a rule nul, or re-
fuses the application.
Mr. Parry—l guarded myself against complaining of that.
On the contrary, allow me to say what I think would have
been your duty under the circumstances, the matter having
been brought to your attention by Mr. Aldridge. I made
no charge. Ido nut say you were not perfectly Justified in
hearing the statement; hut I do nay that I think that the
information should have been private in the first instance,
and only made public after the mat complete investigation.
As regards • moti mi for a mandamus or a rule, it is a very
different thing, because Mr. Aldridge made so charge what
ever.

Alderman Wilson—Mr. Aldridge made an application.
Mr. Parry—No charge—he made a statement.
Alderman Wilson—When • party applies fora Inn=Ons
or a warrant, the magistrate cannot tell in the first instance
what evidence is to be given. Every day • dozen persons
make applications for summonses or warrants.
Mr. Parry—Mr. Aldridge made no application. He
began his statement by saying, " I beg to guard myself
against making any charge."
Alderman Wilson—He mode so long a statement that at
the present moment I cannot remember ir, but knowing
that rep-rtars were present, and that Mr. Wardroper could
not be prejudiced, l'thought it my duty to request his attend-
ance that he mightfinow what wu said.
Mr. Aldridge—l have here the °liaise' report in the
newspaper. 1 made no charge against Mr. Wardroper.
Mr. Parry—As you have mentioned, as an analogy, the
appliertion fur • rule for a criminal information, that is
always made upon toe oath of the person. There was no
oath here, but • mere statement on the part of Mr.

Alderman Wilson—We do Lot grant a summons on oath.
It Mr. Aldridge applied for a summons it was my duty to
hear him.

Mr. Parry—Where the duty of a magistrate begins and
ends is a topte of some nicety. If I were in the position of a
magistrate here, and a person came before me and in refer-
ence to any matter asked my advice, I should give it
him but unto" ha mule a specific complaint against some-
body I should not allow him to go into an ex parte state-
ment; and, beyond all question, if a gentleman in ?dr.
Alrdridge's position had come to me as a magistrate, and
sail" 1 have no charge to bring against anybody," I should
Pave replied, as a magistrate, 't I cannot listen to you : ii
you wish publicity to be given to anything you must take
upon yourself the responsibility of doing it, whether by
means of a newspaper or through any other channel."
Aldermen Wilson—l consider that I sit here as a magis-
trate to administer the law, and to administer it equitably.
Mr. Parry—According to law.
Alderman Wilson—For a quarter of a century I have en-
deavoured to administer the law equitably as well as le.
gaily. I was sitting here as the representative of the Lord
Mayor of London, who has the interests of his fellow-
Magmas most deeply at heart. lie is acetssible to everybody
who can give him information for the bent tit of his fellow-
citizens, and by Cis hearing matters of this description he
has ultin rendered most essential service to the community
at large. I think the Lard Mayor would be very culpabie
indeed if be shut his ears to a statement of this kind. You
snake no allusion to the lOW or live letters which were read ,
here under initials not Mr. Wardroper's, each applicant to
inquire at a different place, the salary attached to one
situation to be 1501. per annum, with a deposit 01 400/ , the
salary attached to another to be 2501., with a deposit
of lad/. The security to be given was Urea a
ship which Mr. Wardrupr r sail was His own, and which he
had not eves chartered. lie said he had goods on board the
ship, when in reality he had no golds on board the ship.
Was that a bone tide transaction ?
Mr. Farry—Most bona fide on the part of Mr. Wards
roper.
Alderman Wilson—So far from any injury being done to
Mr. Wardroper it it is a bona fide transactioe, end if Mr.
Wardroper is really the party you represent Lim to he,
having written letters to the newspapers, and the whole of
the prose having given an account of the prceeediogs Li this
court, be will now have ten times the quantity of loads to
send to the Crimea. False statements have teen made La
.the public throughout the transaction. First of all, with
regard to the ship—he had not got the chip chartered. Ile
bald he did not know that the bargain was completed.
Mr. Parry—lt was so completed that Mr. Galt holds hint
to his bargain.
Alderman Wit/en—lle did not know it at the time he

was here.
Sir It. W. Carden—l was present on the first OCCA ion
that Mr. Aldridge made his appearance here, and both as
as a magistrate sad a one of the public lam greialy in. !
deride.' to Mr. Aldridge for the inquiry he has ins'ituted.i
What the result of that may be I cannot say, but still I
think it has opened the eyes of the public, and induced
them is inquire before placing their goods in the hoods of
Mr. Wardeoper. I will dr fy any person to read ono adver•
casement after another without seeing that this transaction
was one of a very suspicions character. (To Mr. Parrs
You have alluded a good deal to the money realised by Mr.
NYardroper be the s .le of s. me property. Ckli you t .t:
what row Mr. Wurdroper's agent, Mr. Mardi, has to
Pis credit wider thus de ?
Mr. Parry-Irioo/.
Sir R. W. Carden—Do you say that?
Mr. Parry—Ot my own knowledie I -*milt say it.
Mr. Marsh—l sold the property for 1,/.101.
S.r W. Cardea—Whot are the tharg-s upon it ?
Mr. Marsh—There is a mortgage of 1,00/.
Sir It. W. Card, a—There arc two mortiagrs, are there
not ?
Mr. Marsh—There is one of I,CBOI. and another of 1141/.
Sir It. W. Cardin—ln point of tact you do nut consider
that you bold 1,5001. to the credit of Wardroper.
Mr. Marsh—No.
Mr. Parry—Would you not hand ever to him the 1,5001. ?
Mr. Marsh—No; the mortgagee takes his share first.
Sir It. W. Carden—All that awoken! a little suspicion.
A great deal has been said abut Mr. Aldridge. lie is a
very highly respectable man, and has come here with an
impression that he was doing a great public goad, and I
believe 1:e has accomplished his i,urpese.
Mr. Perry—l can neither alter your impressions nor con-
trol them. I have discharged my laty; you have Limed
my statement, and 1 sincerely Lope that the matter rni:y he
allowed to rest,
Sir It. W. Carden—Mr. Parry's statement is as fair and
candid a statement as any advocate ever made. 1 have no
doubt he believes all that he state] ; but it will be found,
upon inquiry, that Mr. Wardroper is not in a position to
embark su an undertaking of this nature. Mr. Wardroper
is of a most respectable family no doubt, but there may he
other parties behind the scenes who are pulling the strings
against him.
Mr. Parry—l know nothing abut the wisdom or emu
mercial skill of this scheme, which was enter, d into fy Mr.
Wardroper in good faith, expecting that it would answer.
I would rather not give my opinion upon the 'shame; I
dare say it would not have answered.
Mr. Aldridge—The learned counsel has endeavoured to
show that pouibly rivalry in trade had induced me to bring
the matter forward. lam not a shipbroker. lam what
1 em represented in the " London Directory " to be, and
hive resided in my present house 13 years.
Mr. Parry—You cannot have higher testimony than S.r
Robert Carden bee borne to your character.
Sir R. W. Carden—We are both very much obliged to
Mr. Aldridge for coming forward and taking the troub'e
that he has done.
The parties then left the court.

THE FOLE T. PLACE M UR D BR.

--•-

From inquiries instituted on Saturday it appesrs
that Lu,gi 13ararelli, as:well as Mrs. Lambert, as etc is called,
are both bkely to recover from the injuries they base re-
ceived, a decided improvement having taken place in their
condiiion.
Barantlii, as has already bsen stated, is a native of Ancona,
114 on Thursday he was so much better as to be enabled
to sit up in bed and write a letter to his mother, who is
living there. In this letter it is stated he detailed his hor-
rible position, and the crime he has committed. fie re-
quested that it might Ise posted without delay. Considering
the frightful injuries he received, added to the eerie= posi-
tion in which he is placed, he appears to be recovering with
singular rapidity. As he gets fetter he, however, seems
to be more restless about the ultimate consequencei of bit
crime, which he frequently refers to, and as frequeatly
expresses a hops that he shall die. This circumstance
has induced the authorities to direct him to be closely
watched by a police constable, both night and day, an
apprehension being entertained that whenever he has
regained sufficient strength, and the opportunity
offers, he will make some attempts upon his life.
On Thuisday, while some of the medical gentlemen
I attached to the hospital stiff were standing rioind his bed
one remarked how much better he looked than, he Lad done
on the previous day—oa which Baranelli bitterly remarked,
"yes, you an making me wen so as to hang me," or words
to that effects
On Thursday morning a respectably-attired man made
an application to be admit d to the hospital to see the mur-
derer. The earnestness of his solicit induced inquiries as
to who he was, and what was his object in wis'Org corn—
pliaace with his request. It tome d out that this person
was Mr. Williamson, the husband of the woman with whom
Baranelli has asserted to has been on such intimate terms, I
and who has been, however innocent, the unfortunate
MISe of the catastrophe. The application was refused.
Mr. Williamson stated that hie object in seeing the mur-
derer was to ascertain from him what had become of his
child, about a year and a half old, which he believes t 3 be
kept away somewhere at the instigation of Biranelli.
A letter which B Ili wrote on the night preceding the
murder, addressed to hire. Williamson, has already bean
published, and from which the fact is clearly established
that he premeditated the tertible act. Another letter,
written on the same evening, but without any superscrip-
tion, in the mamba's handwriting, also in Italian, confirms
the determination of Bstetielli to commit the crime.
The description given of Bareaelli at the house ,t 33, New-
man 'tree, where he took a lodging after he was turned
cut of Lambert's house, was that of au apparently, quiet,
Inoffensive man, although it was remarked that he appeared
exceedingly melancholy and depressed in his manners. He
was known to be up, from • light in Lis room, the whole
the Saturday night prior to the commission of the murder. of

MISS MITFORD.
Mary Russell Mitfeed died early on the morning
lof the 10th inst. Her decline has been so pro-
tracted that there can be no surprise or shcek mingled
with the sorrow with which the English public will
hear of her death. She was old,—havieg been born
in Dec., 1786 ;—and since her fall from her pony
chaise, in the autumn of 1852, her life has been
understood to be very precarious. The interest
which has been taken in her state might appear to
be disproportionate to her abilities and her achieve-
ments: but, if it is so, there must be a reason for it ;
and the reason is that she was so genial and so
cheerful as to command the affection of multitudes

who would have given no heed to a much higher
order of genius invested with less of moral charm.
There is nothing so popular as cheerfulness ; and when
the cheerfulness is of the unfailing sort which
arises from amiability and interior content, it
deserves such love as attended Mary Rua-
sell Mitford to her grave. Her clnlity was
very corsiderable. Her powers of description
were unique. She had a charming humour, and her
style was delightful. Yet were her stories read with
a relish which exceeded even so broad a title as this

—with a relish which the judgnirut could hardly
account for or justify ; and this pleasant compelled
enjoyment was no doubt ascribable to the glow of
good spirits and kindliness which lighted up nud
warmed everything that her mind produced. She
may be considered as the representative of the hotu.e-

hold cheertuineea of the halfo of literature.

Her tendencies showed themselves early. She took
up the pen almost In childhood, and was an aeoned
poet, in print, before she was four-and•twenty. How-
ever hard was her filial daty when she was herself
grow log old, she had all her own way in her early
years ; and her way Feems to have been to write an
immense quantity of verse as the pleasantest thing
she could find to do. Shb Tres born at Alres.

lord, in Hampshire. Her lather was a physician—
one of the Northumberlat d family of Milford& Her
mother was the child of the old age of a Hampshire
clergyman, who had seen Pope, and been
intiwato with Fielding. Hi. r father was, as it is
understood, disliked and disapproved, if not despised,
by every body but his devoted daughter, whom
infatuation it was to think him something very great
and good; whereas, there seems to be really nothing
to remember him by but his singular and unaccount-
able extravagance in money matters, and the selfish-
. .

nese with which he went on to the lest obtaining, by
hook and by crook, wetly indulgences, which nobody
else in his line of life, however independent of ciedt-
tore, thought of wishing tor. 1)r. Mit ford ran through
half a dozen fortunes, shifted about to half-a,dozen

grad residenews, and pagsed the last quarter of a
century of his life in a cottage where,bumble as seemed
his mode of liv;ilg, he could not keep out of debt,
or the shame of perpetual begging from the fiieuda
whom hie daughter had won. His only child was
carried about, before she was old etough fur school,
from Ali esford to Reading ; from Reading to Lyme;
and thence to London, where, when she w asten.

years old, her father was making up his mind to
retrench, and Co something at last; a resolution
which went the way of all the f, rn.er ones.
It was at that time that the well-known

incident happened which Miss Mitford re-
lated with so much spirit half-a-century after-
wards. The little girl chose for a birthday
present a .utters- ticket of a particular number, to
which eh° etude in spite of much persuasion to
change it, mid which turned up a prize of 20,0001.
This money soon disappeared, like some 40,000/.
a Welt had vaeisl'ed before. Her father put her to
school in London; and there sho spent five years,
while he was amusing himself with building a very
large house, lour miles from Reading, to which sho
returned at the age of fifteen, to write poetry and
' dream of becoming an authoress. After 1810 she put
forth a volume almost every year. This was all done for
pleasure, but she was meanwhile giving up to her
selfish father one legacy utter another left to herself
by the opulent ramifies on both sides, alter tier mo-
ther's handsome fortune was exhausted; and hence
at length arose the ueeessity of her writing for the
sake of the money she could earn. In their poverty
they went to lodge for a bummer at a cottage
in the village of Three-mile Cross, near Head-
ing, and there they held on for the rest
of Dr. Mitford's long life. The poetess looked round
• her, and described in prose what she saw, sending
the papers which, collided, farm the celebrated
e Our Village," to Campbell for the New Monthly
Magazine. Campbell made the mistake of rejecting
them—an error in which he wits followed by a great
number and variety of other editors. It was in the
Lady's Magazine, of all plates, that articles destined
to make a literary reputation of no mean order first
appeared. They were published in a edit used form
'in 1823, and from that time forward ,Miss Mitford
was sure of the guineas whenever she chose to draw
II for them in the form of pleasant storks under her
well-kaown and welcome signature. Few of her
many readers, however, knew at what cost these
pleasant stories were produced. They seem to flow
easily enough, and their sportive style suggests
anything but the toil and anxiety amidst which
they were spun out. It is observable that
each story is as complete and rounded
as a sonnet, and provided with a plot which would
serve for a novel if expanded. Each has a catas-
trophe, generully a surprise, elaborately wrought out
in concealment. It was fur stories of this kind that
Miss Mitford exchanged the earlier and easier sketches
from the nature around her which we find in
"Our Village:" and the exchange increased im-
mensely the call upon her energies. But the money
must be had, and the Annuals paid handsomely. and
thus, therefore, the devoted daughter employed her
talents,spoiling her father,and wearing hermit out,but
delighting an enormous number of readers. After frit-
tering away the whole day, incessantly on foot, or
otherwise fatiguing herself at his beck and call, and
receiving his friends, and reading him to sleep in the
afternoons till she had no voice left, the hour came
when she might put him to bed. But her own day's
wo:k still remained to be done. It was not a
sort of work which could be done by powers,
jaded like here, without some stimulus or relief ; and
hence the necessity of doses of laudanum to carry her
through her task. When the necessity ceased by the
death of her father, her practice of taking laudanum
ceased : but of course her health had become radi-
cally impaired, and her nervous system was rendered
unfit to meet any such shock as that which over-
threw it at last. Miss Mitford so toiling by candle-
light, while the hard master who had made her his
servant all day was asleep in the next room, is as
painiul an instance of the struggles of human life
as the melancholy of a buffoon, or the heart-break—
that "secret known to all"—of a boasting Emperor
of All the Ruseias.
Dr. Mittord died in 1842, leaving his affairs in such
a state that relief for his daughter had to be obtained
by a subeeription among her friends and edinirere,
which was soon followed by a pension from the
crown. The daughter inherited or contracted come
of her father's extremely easy feelings about money
and its sources and uses: but the teuiptatioa to that
sort of laxity was removed or influitely lessened
when she was left alone with a very sufficient provi-
sion. She removed to a cottage at Swailuw heal, near
Beading, in 1851; and there, with her pony chair*,
her kind neighbours, her distant admirers, and the
amusement of bringing out a succession of volumes,
the materials of which were under her hand, she
found resources enough to make her days cheerful,
' even after the accident which rendered her a suffering
prisoner for the last two yeats of her life. See
remained to the last the moot eympatliising and
indulgent friend of the young, and the most
gab
ri
more striking or more genial than when she was
dgdh-c
oht
nu: mdai
not
iduornbe
sae. i .
so.ifit
iaolc oiwt3me.
rrota.frd
me shi
mind
dlt
pu
al
ells.
isdes o.
heart
aehreto fwwa
sa
al Isn cies!
stilts
citilly dying by inches, and alluding with a smile to
the deep and still bed which she should scion occupy
among the imoshioe and flickering shadows of the
village churchyard. Finally, the long exhaustion
ended in death.
Though Lot gifted with lofty genius oecommand-
lug powers of any sort, Mips .Milford Ites, been
sufficiently % conspicuous in the, essay history of erb
time to claim an expression of.respeet and regrdeln
her leas ing us. Der talents end • her eharaser's*e
essentially womanly; and ishe was fortuisetee in
living in an age when wow& ability in dOe-
maiTisio
partment of letters obtains Me ' tsad obtftts* as
sieeerely and readily as 4sfe ly cb ' 1' m-
mends reverence andaffittfeti • 'leery pp ail
Kern. ' -5.4.1

I I