The Sun.
London, England, 1830-06-02 00:00:00

U\ION_HALL•

Yesterday Benjamin Thomas Toombs was brought
up for final examination on a charge of intermar-
rying with Mary Ann Rudge, his former wife Le-
titia being still alive. The prisoner and his second
wife were given into custody on Monday last at the
porch of Newington church by the brother of the
latter just after• the ceremony of their marriage had
been solemnized, and it was found necessary to com-
mit Mary Ann Rudge for re-examination, as well as
the prisoner, in consequence of her refusal to ap-
i,ear as a witness against him on the present occa•
sion. The case was postponed in the first instance
for the purpose of obtaining the evidence necessary
to prove the first marriage, and a witness having
arrived from Birmingham his depositions were taken.
William Alsop was a scale-beam-maker, and lived
at Birmingham : he recollected having been present
at the marriage between the prisoner and Letitia,
which took place the l6th of August, 1814..
The brothers of the first and second wives, who
attended the examination, intimated their determi-
nation to follow up the prosecution against the ac-
cused, declaring that no expence should be spared
on the occasion.

Mary Ann Rudge stated that she was married to
the prisoner on Monday last, at Newington church.
The certificate of this marriage was also produced.
The Magistrate (Mr. SwAnEv) regretted that it
was found necessary, on the first examination, to
send the second wife to gaol, in consequence of the
unwillingness she evinced to appear on this occasion.
The Magistrate then told her that her evidence was
indispensably necessary on the trial of the prisoner;
and asked her whether she would now consent to
voluntarily come forward and save the unpleasant
necessity of committing her to prison.
Second Wife—l have now been imprisoned for a
whole week, and should prefer to be sent for a
whole year, rather than lay myself under an obliga-
tion to my family to be bail for my appearance.
Mr. SWABEY—Your brother has acted in every
way creditable to himself upon the occasion. He
was aware that you married a man who had already
a wife living, and he very properly gave you both
into custody at the church-door, and saved you from
the ruin that awaited you.
Her brother here stated, that rather than see his
sister go to gaol, he should be willing almost to
make any sacrifice; and if she made a solemn pro-
mise to him that she would not keep out of the way,
he would hare no objection► to be bail for her ap-
pearance on the trial.

The sister however refused to make any promise of
th?.t nature, upon which the Magistrate said, that
however unpleasant the duty was, he had no other
alternative than to commit her to Kingston gaol, to
await the trial, at which she would appear under
very disgraceful circumstances—that of an unwil.
ling witness on the trial of a man charged with a
most serious offence.

Mr. SWABEY then asked the young woman's
brother whether, under these eircu instances, he
would give security to the amount of 1001. for the
appearance of his sister ? The brother replied, that
from the obstinacy evinced by the girl, and the un-
willingness she displayed, he was confident that
she would not appear, and under such circum-
stances he declined becoming security for her ap-
pearance.

The prisoner was then asked whether he wished
to state any thing ? He said that as the marriage
was not consummated, inasmuch as he and Mary
Ann Rudge were taken into custody on their leav-
ing the church, he imagined that the offence was
not completed, and that therefore he had a right to
his discharge,

The Magistrate told him that it was enough to
establish the fact of the marriage being so!emnized,
to convict him ; and he was accordingly committed
for trial. Mary Ann Rudge was also committed to
Kingston gaol, to insure her attendance o❑ the trial,
to give evidence against the prisoner,

JOHN BARNES, who was acquitted yester-
day et the Old Bailey, of stealing 61 silver plates and
other articles, the Property of the Marquis of BATH, was
afterwards found guilty, on a scnrid indictment, (4. steal-
ing :three Pozen of drinking glasses; the property of the
same Nobleman.

EARTHQUAKE AT PORT-AU-PRINCE.-
PORT•AU-PRINCE, APRIL 14 :-" Weeaperionced a tre-
mendous shock of an carthqunke here the night before last.
The walls of al the brick houses in town were cracked.
The commotion lasted about thirty seconds, The house
in which I lived was of wood, which kept such a crAing
that I was afraid it would fall every moment. I ran Cu,
on the piazza, and Was in the act of jumping front it, a
distance of forty feet, when every thing became quiet Again.
Every house was deserted, and in a few rninut:Ne the street
was full of people, running in 411 ditections. The lowing
;if the cattle, the howling of the dogs, and the cries and
screams of the women and children, were truly alarming.
This is the third eatthquake sine:, my arrival, the other
twotown, andbeing very
saw
sllargeight stones
.Afterall
ian pillars "a'ersr, I went round
the of brick work
thrown front the houses, and the walls ruined."

As the capture of Wallace was as event wholly
unexpected by-the English, the news of it, whiA
spread with the rapidity of lightning, produced,
in every part of the kingdom, a deep and univer-
sal sensation. Labour of every kind was aban-
doned, and people of all ranks flocked to those
points of the road where it was expected the
illustrious captive would pas. At Carlisle the
escort halted for a night ; and the tower in which
he was secured long afterwards retained his name.
As the cortege approached London the crowds
became more numerous ; cn 1, on entering the
capital, his conductors found their progress re-
tarded by the multitudes that were collected ;
while every elevatiofi or projection, however pe-
rilous, from which he could be seen, was occu-
pied with, or clung to, by anxious spectators,
eager to behold a man who had filled England
with terror, and the fame of whose achievements
had resounded through every country in Europe.
After much exertion the cavalcade at leneth
reached the house of William Delect, a citizen
in Fenchurch-street, where their prisoner was
lodged for the night. From the circumstance
of his having been taken- to a private house,
rather than to a place of greater securi:y, it has
been imagined by some that Edward intended to
make a last effort to gain Wallace over to his
interest. This conjecture, however, is not suf-
ficiently supported by subsequent proceedings
to entitle it to any degree of credit ; and we are
;note inclined to believe, that the difficulty which
the party encountered in making there way
through the dense multitudes who had blocked
up the streets and lanes leading to the Tower,
may, with greater probability, be imipsed as the
cause for taking him to the house of Delect.

The thirst for revenge existed too keenly in
the ruthless mind of Edward, to admit of much
delay in the sacrifice of his victim. Though
a consideration for the opinion of the more en-
lightened of his subjects, and the manner in
which his conduct might be viewed at foreign
courts, obliged him to have recourse at least to
the formality of a trial—the indecent harts with
which it was brought on made the mockery of
judicial procedure but too apparent. The day
after his arrival he was conduced on horseback,
from the house which his brief residence had
made the scene of universal attraction, to take
his trial in Westminster Hall. His progress
from Fenchurch-street, according to Stowe, ap-
pears to have been a sort of procession, Lord
John de Segrave, the fugitive of Rodin, acting
as Grand Marshal of England, and armed cap.'
rode on one side, while Geoffrey de
Hartlepool, Recorder of London, equipped in
a similar manner, rode on the other. The
Mayor, Sheriffs, and Aldermen followed, at-
tended by a number of official characzera on
horseback and on foot, arranged accoiding to
their respective grades.
On reaching the spot where the solemn farce
was to be performed, he was placed on the south
bench of the great hall ; and, in consequence of
an absurd report which had been circulated in
England, of his having said that he deserved to
wear a crown in that place, a crown of laurel
was put upon his head. The noble appearance
of the man, joined to his calm and unruffled de-
meanour, entirely disarmed this silly attempt at
ridicule of its intended effect.

Sir Peter Malory, the King's Justice, then
rose, and read the indictment, wherein the pri-
soner was charged with treason against the King of
England, burning of towns, and slaying of the
subjects of his Majesty. To the first of these
counts Wallace answered, that as he had never
been the subject of the King of England ha
owed him no allegiance, and consequently could
be no traitor. As to the other offences, ha
frankly admitted, that in the discharge of his
duty to his country, he had done all that was
stated. On this admission, the following atro-
cious sentence was pronounced :
For treason, he was to be first dragged to tha
lAheacweaso ft
oexbeectuhto. For
then
nnh u
llg murderace rtainair rob
time
ebyto
.),
the
neck ; and, because he had burned abbeys and
religious houses, he was to be taken down alive
from the gibbet, his entrails torn out, and burnt
before him, his body to be quartered, and the
parts afterwards to be disposed of as the clemency
of his Majesty might suggest.
When the necessary preparations were w'.,de
for carrying this sentence into execution, the late
champion of Scottish independePee was brought
forth from the place where he had been kept in
confinement, heavily ironed, and chained to a
bench of oak. He was then placed on a hurdle,
and, surrounded by a strong guard of soldiers,
ignominiously dragged to the Elms, in Smith-
field. That self-possession and undaunted de-
meanour which he evinced during the trial, ap-
peared equally conspicuous on the scaffold.
Looking round with undisturbed composure on
the assembled multitude, he addressed himself
to a person near him, and asked for a priest to
whom he might make confession. This request,
on being made known to Edward, he is said to
have sternly refused ; and the rancorous old man
forbad any clergyman to retard the execu-
tion for such a purpose. On hearing this un-
dignified command of his sovereign, Winchelsea,
Archbishop of Canterbuary, the same individual
who so faithfully discharged his duty at Carla-
verock, stepped boldly forward, and, after ear-
nestly remonstrating with Edward, declared his
determination to officiate himself. When the
ceremony usual on such occasions was finished,
Wallace rose from his knees, and the
Arch-
bishop having taken leave of him, instantly de-
parted for Westminster, thus declining to witness
the sequel of an act so revolting to humanity,
and which he no doubt considered as fixing a
deep stain on the character of his country.
The spectacle which was now exhibited to
the gaze of the inhabitants of the metropolis of
England, was such us perhaps has lower been
presented to the populace of any land, The last
freeman of an ancient people, not less renowned
for their bravery thap, for their love of independ-
ence, stood a calm and unshrinking victim,
ready to be immolated at tha shrine of despot-
ism. That powerful arm which had long con-
tended for liberty was now to be unstrung be-
neath the knife of the executioner anti that
heart, replete with every ennobling virtue, which
never quailed in the sternest hour of danger, was
doomed to quiter ir, the purifying flames of
martyrdom.

During the pause which preceded the tinhal.
lowed operations, Wallace turned to Lord CHll-
ford, and requested that a Psalter,* w hich had
been taken from his person, might be returned.
His desire being complied with, he asked a
priest to hold it open before him. This book had
been his constant companion from his early
years, and was perhaps the gift of his mother or
his uncle, the parson of Dunipace.
After hanging for a certain time, the suff2rer
This appears to have been the only article of property
that Walhiqe died possessed of.