The Sun.
London, England, 1863-01-28 00:00:00

The Great Railway Bridge at Hungerford.

Apparently in a few years more London will
show as many railways on its surf sec as it now has
liues of main sowers. They have long surrounded
it, they aro now penetrating it, undermining it, o
stalking with iron strides across its crowded
streets; so that in the lapse of another ten
years or so it will come to pass that omnibuses
and cabs will be superseded like the post-chaise
and stage-coach of old, and in London at least
only used as feeders to the small hut important
lines of railway which will reduce the limits of
this overgrown province of houses to as manage-
able dimensions in point of time as those of a
country town. Our distances are now too great,
our time too precious, for mere horse power to be
of much avail. Straight short lines of rails, and
a pace of 25 miles an hour, are actual no-
cessaries in the transaction o! London's daily busi-
ness, and as only railways can supply these wants,
railways are springing up to meet them on every
side. Two new railway bridges are already being
rapidly built across the Thames—one for the Char-
ing-cross Extension into Hungerford, one for the
Chatham and Dover in Farringdon-street ; and a
third is about to be commenced by Mr. Havakshaw
between Southwark and London-bridges, to take a
line into Cannon-street near the Mansion-house, be-
tween which place and Charing-cross the train will
run backwards and forwards, like shuttles in a
loom, all day long. These bridges are more
or less remarkable for the skill shown in their
construction in designing them to be at once
the lightest, cheapest, and strongest struc-
tures of their kind, and in none are these
important qualities more prominent than in
Air. Hawkshaw's bridge at Hungerford. Most
of our London readers have noticed the curious way
in which the massive iron work of this great erec-
tion has gradually enclosed the light and beautiful
proportions of Mr. Brunel's suspension bridge, and,
while enclosing it, seems also to have eaten its
way, plank by plank and iron by iron, till only the
brickwork towers and idle chains new remain to
show where the best proportioned bridge of this
kind in England once stood. In a month or so
more the chains themselves will be removed, and
the towers shorn down to mere stumps, when the
huge strength and massiveness of the new bridge
will be fully seen. Little more than this remains
to be done to complete this greatest of our railway
viaducts over the river Thames. This bridge has
so many purposes_ to answer, has so many diffi-
culties to overcome, and has so many contrivances
to eke out and opposite objects to fulfil, that it is
probably the most difficult work of the kind that
ever has been or will again be attempted across the
Thames. It is a railway bridge double the size in
width of any in the kingdom, a foot bridge twice as
large as old Hungerford; nearly one-third of the
bridge is a main station ; and, to crown all, though
the structure is of iron, the brick piers of the old
bridge had to be utilized in order to save cost. It
is, in short, a bridge of compromises and contriv-
ances, all met and all arranged with so much skill
that it discharges each duty as if built for that
alone, is very cheap, enormously strong, and withal
not nearly so ugly as railway bridges over rivers
generally are.
It is rather difficult in these engineering descrip-
tions to give the general reader a clear account of
such important works without using technical ex-
pressions, but in this case a mere outline of the
work itself and the nature of the duties it has to
perform will speak sufficiently for themselves. The
total length of the bridge from end to end is 1,360 ft:
its width between the main girders is 50ft., and
outside this there are two 7ft. footways for passen-
gers, making the total width 64ft. with a clear
headway above high water-mark of 25ft.
From the Surrey side to the brick pier of the old
structure on the Middlesex shore the bridge is carried
on a series of hollow cast-iron cylinders or columns,
with a span of 154 ft. between each opening. But from
the Middlesex abutment, in order to make room at
once for a station with many sidings and starting
platforms, it widens out rapidly in a fan or trumpet
shape, and here the columns and general method of
construction have, as we shall see, to be entirely
changed. To begin, however, at the beginning, the
columns on which the bridge rests on its passage
across the river to the Middlesex abutment have a
diameter, at the base, of 14ft., while below the bed
of the river beneath which they go at depths varying
from no less than 30ft. to 38ft., and in all cases till
they have been sunk some feet into the London
clay. As these columns rise to near the surface of
the bed of the river they are diminished in thickness
by a sloping cast-iron joint, like a truncated cone,
which at its termination reduces the diameter of the
column to 10ft.—a size which it continues from low
water mark to the summit. These columns were
erected in the usual modern, simple way—that is,
placed on end at the precise spots they were in-
tended to occupy, and weighted till they were forced
beneath the bed of the river, when the water was
pumped out, and the mud and gravel removed down
to the level of the clay. Here they were again still
further forced down, the clay in turn removed, and
its place supplied with courses of solid masonry up
to the top of the 14ft. width. From this point
they were filled in with solid brickwork of the
hardest bricks that could be manufactured. Some
of the columns thus built have been steadily loaded
with railway iron to a weight of 750 tons, under
which enormous pressure, on so small a surface, the
masonry has been pressed together nearly two
inches, but beyond this no yield of any kind has
taken place, and each main pillar is now, as far as
experience and calculation can ascertain it, as firm
as if it was founded on a rock. Two such columns
fastened together at the top with a powerful wrought
iron close girder carry the roadway in spans of 154 ft.
The main girders which bear all the strain of the
roadway in the long interval between each pair of
columns are the powerful lattices of wrought iron
which may now be seen on each side of the remains
of the old bridge. The visitor who inspects these
wonderful specimens of wrought iron work will find
that they consist, at top and bottom, of two
trough-shaped girders, 14ft. apart, the top one 4ft.
broad and the bottom 3ft., the uppermost one
being stronger as it has to resist the compressive
strain, which is always more trying to wrought iron
than tension, which is met by the bottom girder of
Mt. broad. Though we have spoken of these as
two, and 14ft. apart, they are joined together and
made in reality one immense girder of that depth
by a latticework consisting of a series of struts and
ties, the struts to uphold against compression, the
ties to resist tension—in plain terms, to meet thrust
or pull in all parts of the structure. The struts
vary from 12in. wide and 3in, thick to 6in. wide
and tin. thick. They are all placed in pairs,
and may be known at once by their being
joined at the back with a powerful wrought
iron bracing, to prevent their buckling out
under great pressure. The ties vary from 12in.
broad by 2iin. thick to 6in. broad by 2in. thick,
Vie greatest strength being given at the ends,
where the strain of the leverage comes. Each of
these pair of girders which carry the roadway be-
tween the columns is, as we have said, 154 ft long,
and the two are capable of bearing a load strain of
1,500 tons, the greatest weight that could by any
possibility be put upon them if the four lines of
rails between them were loaded with tank engines
and the footways outside thronged with people.
Even with such a load the strain would only be at
the rate of 4 tons per sectional inch at the top of
the girder, and 5 tons at the bottom--a slight
weight when we remember that the Britannia
Bridge has a permanent strain of 7 tons to the
inch, and many wrought iron bridges both in
France and America have to do duty with
nearly twice that load. The floor of the road-
way between these main girders is formed of
a series of cross girders placed as close as lift
apart. Each of these weighs nine tons, is
4ft. deep, and equal to a load of 110 tons, though 77
tons is the greatest weight that could
be placed
upon them. The two brick piers of the old bridge
are made to do duty in place of a pair of the circular
iron columns we have described, at some saving as
regards cost, but with a great loss as far as the uni-
formity of the structure is concerned. These brick
piers are to be cut down to the level of trio old road-
way which so recently hung to the chains, a hand-
some parapet and stone balustrade are to be erected

on each, and, as both are now of unnecessary thick-
ness and solidity, a stairway will be cut in their in-
terior so as to give access from the foot bridge to
the steamboat wharves to be formed at the piers as
at present.

The foot passenger traffic is provided for by carry-
ing out a 7ft. path on cantilevers or iron brackets
fixed to the main great girders on each side. The
sides of this footway will be protected by a hand-
some railing about 4ft. high. No device, however,
will entirely redeem the incongruity and ugliness
of this necessary portion of the structure. Where
the main girders join on the heads of the columns
the junction will be concealed behind ornamental
panels of cast iron bronzed. Contraction and ex-
pansion in every part of the longitudinal main gir-
ders are met by fastening only one end and leaving
the other3free and able to move on rollers. A change
of 100 degrees of temperature would not affect its
whole length more than two inches either way ;
but, slight as the difference is, it has to be provided
for. From the Middlesex pier the great difficulties
and contrivances of the design culminate. It was,
of course, impossible to take the station into the
Strand, and equally impossible to manage without
a space equivalent to carrying the line as far, so no
other alternative was left but to commence at once
at the north pier, and instead of continuing the
bridge at a uniform width, to spread out like a fan
from that spot, widening as the work advanced, so
as to attain its maximum dimensions long before
this curious river terminus enters over the ground
of old Hungerford-market. To effect this difficult
object a total change of plan takes place. The span
is diminished from 154 to 100 feet, but what is re-
duced in the length of the span is gained in the
width, which is increased to such an extent that
cross girders for the floor can be no longer used,
and these supports in this portion of the structure
are replaced by longitudinal girders running in the
direction of the bridge. These girders are most
massive ; they are 100 ft. long, sft. deep, each weigh-
ing 25 tons, and they are so closely placed that
there is only sft. interval between them. So rapidly
does the fanlike spread of this end of the bridge
develope itself that, though 10 of these girders suf-
fice to carry the roadway from the brick pier over
the first 100 ft. of the span, 17 are required for the
increasing breadth of the second, and 24 for the third,
which lands this end of the bridge, nearly 200 feet
wide, upon the permanent brickwork of the rest of
the great station to be erected at Hungerford. As a
matter of course the pairs of massive columns which
carry the greater portion of the work across the
river have to be largely increased in number under
this wider end. To support the first spread of the
fan there are seven, and for the second stage nine.
The outermost of each of these groups of columns
are each eight feet in diameter, the inner ones six
feet. All these were erected with the same care as
the cylinders in the river, forced down deep into the
London clay, dredged out in Vie interior, and filled
with solid brickwork. They certainly form the most
massive series of iron supports to be seen anywhere
in this metropolis, if not in this kingdom, and in
their ponderous solidity more remind one of the
great rock-hewn columns of an Egyptian temple,
built only to excite surprise and awe, than the work
of a modern engineer for purposes of approved
utility. These groups of pillars are united at the top
by a massive piece of cast iron work, on which the
longitudinal girders rest. On the space thus gained
the starting and arrivipg platforms—two of each—
will be distributed, the great bulk of the station
offices being erected further back, on the ground
site of the old market. This station has, of course,
to be raised to the level of the bridge way, and will
therefore be built on a series of wide and massive
arches, for the use of which as a sort of bonded
warehouse for storing wine the railway company
have, it is said, received an offer to rent them at an
annual rent which will yield more than 5 per cent.
upon the sum expended in the purchase of the mar-
ket itself,—namely, £lBO,OOO. In this as in other
matters the company appear to have made some
judicious bargains. The actual structure of the old
bridge was purchased by them for £40,000, and the
tolls for £120,000. The tolls and steamboat dues of
course remain a permanent and increasing source of
revenue, while the chains of the old bridge have been
sold to the Clifton-bridge for £5,000, and nearly
£B,OOO expenditure in the construction of the railway
bridge has been saved by utilising the brick piers
of the old structure. By these savings and the sale
of old materials the company are likely toreimburse
themselves in £20,000 out of the £40,000 they
originally paid, to say nothing of the rental they
will derive from the arches under the station. The
cost of Mr. Ha wkshaw's new bridge is only .£160,000,
—an unprecedentedly small sum for a work of such
strength and magnitude. It can never be a very
handsome bridge ; the dead level at which it is car-
ried, the supplementary footpaths at the side, the
fan-shaped end, and brick piers all tend utterly to
destroy anything like uniformity or regularity, and
in the absence of such all-important requisites true
architectural beauty is out of the question. There
is, however, a certain harmony and appropriateness
in its simplicity and massive strength which will
redeem the work from absolute ugliness, which is
more than can be said of any other railway bridge,
in London at least.

From the termination of the bridge on the north
side to the frontage of the station, a length of 450 ft
by 170 ft wide, nearly all will be covered in by an
arched glass and iron roof, as bold in its dimensions
as the Agricultural Hall at Islington. At this sta-
tion, which is to be erected by Messrs. Lucas
Brothers, there will be distinct entrances for the
chief main Southern Continental line, to which the
Charing-cross Extension is to give immediate access
from the west,—an accommodation which will re-
lieve the city streets of at least some 8,000,000 out
of the 13,000,000 who annually pass through the
nest of stations at London-bridge. There is also to be
a distinct entrance for the Cannon-street traffic. We
have already mentioned this line as that on which
the trains would run backwards and forwards be-
tween the Mansion-house and Charing-cross, like
shuttles in a loom all day long. This small but
most important line will be a branch from the
Charing-cross extension, crossing the river near
Southwark-bridge, and having its station in Cannon-
street, almost in a direct line behind the Mansion-
house. This will be a single line of rails, with a
fork at the terminus at each end. Thus, the train
will leave Charing-cross and pass without stop-
ping, at full speed, in about five minutes to the
Mansion-house terminus at Cannon-street, where on
the instant of its arrival on the right fork of the
line the train in waiting at the city, on the left
fork, will start back, and in this manner, at five
minute intervals, there will be incessant communi-
tion between the city and the west all day and
almost all night long. This and the subterranean
line to Moorgate-street, and the promised line from
King's-cross, in a shallow open cutting to the top
of the Haymarket, will do more towards relieving
the over-crowded city streets than railways have yet
done.

With such important land as that at Charing-cross
to dispose of it is needless to say that the company
had many offers for purchase and rental. One of
these, which has been taken, is for the erection of
an hotel on the style with which Messrs. Belk and
Lucas have made us familiar in the Grosvenor, the
London-bridge, Palace, &c. This hotel, which is
also to be built by Messrs. Lucas, is from designs
by Mr. Barry. It is to have at least 200 rooms
with a frontage of 240 ft. looking on to the Strand,
astnrda side frontage of nearly 200 ft. in Villiers-
eet
be adopted.
The style of the building is to be Italian,
andevery convenience
of and improvement which the
modern
hotel building can suggest will
science

--- ---
On Sunday morning, two young women were
found dead in bed together at Musselburgb.. They had
been suffocated during the night by an escape of
gas.
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Holloway's remedies a few days' trial, which will fully
convince the invalid that a cure will be the reward of con-
tinued perseverance.

Charge of Obtaining Money by Threatening
to Publish Letters.

A respectable looking man, named James Dale, aged 46,
described as a carpenter and joiner, residing at 28, Edward-
street, Hampstead-road, was placed at the bar of the Mary-
lebone Police-court yesterday, before Mr. Yardley, charged
with obtaining the sum of £3O by threatening to publish
certain matters or things concerning Jane Katherine Grace
Dickinson, and by proposing to abstain from publishing the
said matters or things on the further sum of £2O being paid
to him at the Circus-road.

Mr. Bury Hutchinson appeared to prosecute, and Mr.
Lewis, jun., defended the prisoner.

The first witness called was a pretty-looking and interest-
ing young lady, aged 18, who said her name was

Miss Katherine Grace Dickinson, daughter of the Rev.
Mr. Dickinson, residing at 15, Circus-road, St. John's-wood.
She said—My father is at Brighton for the benefit of his
health. I have seen the prisoner several times. He came to
our house last night and was shown into the drawing-room.
My mother and sister were there, and Birch, the officer,
was behind the folding door. Prisoner had made an ap-
pointment to come last Friday and bring down the letters to
my mother, and £5O would be paid him. He had asked for
more at first, but afterwards reduced his claim to £5O for
the whole of the letters to be given up. He said these letters
would injure myself if they were made known and pub-
lished. I agreed to give him the money for the letters. I
got the money.—(Five £5 notes and five sovereigns were
here handed to the young lady.) The notes are mine and
the sovereigns also. I marked the notes and gold. I got
the money to give to him for these letters. I should not
have got the money for any other purpose. I gave him the
money because he should not expose me. When he came
last night he asked for money. I received him in the front
drawing room. Sergeant Birch was iu the back drawing
room when prisoner was introduced. He said he had come
for the money, and mother asked him if he had brought all
the letters, and he spid "Yes," and he wanted the £5O•
My mother asked him if it would injure her daughters or
daughter if they were published, and he said, " Yes, if I
was to publish them or expose her," at the same time
pointing to me. At this time my sister had left the room.
Mother said, "I cannot give you £5O to-night." We both
said so, and that we could but give him £3O. Mother said
if she did not give him the other £2O would he still publish
the letters, and he said most certainly he would. The notes
and sovereigns now produced were given to him. They had
been on the table and the letters were in erisoner's hand. I
took possession of the papers, and he took the money and
put it into his pocket. He said if I gave him the money he
would not publish the papers, but if I did not he would.
He asked mother when he should call again, whether casu-
ally or at way fixed time for the remainder. He said he
should call in a fortnight, as it would be better to call in at
a fixed time.

Sergeant William Birch corroborated this witness.
Mr. Hutchinson—That is my case.
Mr. Lewis—Are you not going to can Mrs. Dickinson ?
Mr. Hutchinson—Sot at present, at all events.
Mr. Lewis—lt that is so, I must ask that the case be
adjourned,
Mr. Yardley—You can if you like, Mr. Lewis.
Mr. Lewis—l must say that I cannot help feeling sur-
prised that Mrs. Dickinson has not been called; it is not
fair to my client. During the inquiry Mr. Tye's name has
been mentioned. Mr. Tye had been lodging in Dale's house,
and had borrowed a good deal of money—in fact, to between
£7O and £BO. Dale had been since unable to obtain a return
of that amount, and knowing that Mrs. Dickinson,who was
in good circumstances, and visited Tye whilst he was stay-
ing with him, he applied to her for the money, at the
same time informing her that he had a bill of ex-
change of her son's for £7O. After this she called on the
defendant, and something was said about some letters
which he (defendant) had in his possession, and which
Mrs. Dickinson said contained matters very painful to the
family. During their conversation, she dwelt very much
upon the ingratitude of Tye. Some little while after this,
Tye became a bankrupt, and it was for compensation that
Dale should not oppose him that the £5O was given, and in
so doing the mother makes it conditional that the letters,
which she herself stated were painful to the family, should
be given up. After making this arrangement, she goes to
her solicitor; then the police are called in; but previous to
this an appointment is made for my unsuspecting client to go
to the house. Dale goes there, and the first question he is
asked on getting inside is, "Have you brought the letters ?"
to which he truthfully answered in the affirmative. After
this the matter goes on, Mrs. Dickinson being well tutored
what questions to put and not to put, and everything is
done to bring Dale within the clutches of the criminal law.
Here is the son of this lady, who is well off, a bankrupt,
and she goes and arranges about payment of a debt of his
and gets Dale to go to the house where there is a policeman
behind the door. The money is placed on the table for him
to take up, and the daughter interposes, and says he had
better give a receipt. This he does willingly. It is a
mockery to say it is the daughter's money. Then he is
taken into custody, and nothing, it is said, was mentioned
about the bill of exchange or Mr. Tye. The daughter now
tells you that so far as she has seen, the letters are in the
handwriting of Tye. Now I shall call Mrs. Dickinson.
Mr. Allen, surgeon, of 15, Wellington-terrace, St. John's-
wood, said—Mrs. Dickinson is in a very nervous irritable
state. When I was called in this morning she was perfectly
cold, and in a state of collapse. The action of the heart is
very much increased indeed. I think it would be dangerous
to her health if she were examined in court.
Mr. Yardley—Not to life ?
Mr. Allen—That is too much for a medical man to say.
Mr. Lewis—When did you attend the lady before ?
_ _

Mr. Allen—About three or four years ago. That was for
a nervous complaint. bhe could be examined in private.
Mr. Yardley—That is a thing I have not done for 16
years, and I should never do it only in cases of extreme
emergency. This is a case for further inquiry.
Prisoner was then remanded for a week, but was liberated.
on bail, himself in £lOO, and two sureties in £5O each.

Murder of a Wife by her Husband in

Lambeth.

Yesterday James Hogan, described as a labourer, was
placed at the bar of the Lambeth Police-court, before Mr.
Henry, on the serious charge of murder, in causing the death
of his wife by strangulation.
The first witness called was Ellen Wallis, who, upon being
sworn, said—l am a widow. I live at 1, St. Alban's-buildings,
China-walk, Lambeth. I have lived with the prisoner and
his wife for the last 9 months, and slept in the same room
with them and their five children. Yesterday afternoon his
wife and I and Mrs. Boniface went to the " Mother's Tea
Meeting," at Lambeth Chapel, and reached there at ten
minutes past six, and returned home at half-past eight. At
eleven o'clock the prisoner had not come home, and his
wife and I went to look after him. We went to the house
of a friend where he said he had been on Sunday, but we
did not find him there, but we did find him in a public-house
in Lambeth-walk. I waited outside, and his wife went in,
and what she said I did not hear, but she came out first, and
he followed her, apparently in a great passion. He was the
worse for drink, but not very much, and called her a foul
name. She went in doors, shut the door after her, and told
her husband she should not let him in all night, for she
did not know where he had been. ; She said so to me, and
her husband could not hear it, because he was too far off at
the time. I told her he was drunk, and advised her not to
talk to him that night, but to do so the next morning. In
about ten minutes after the prisoner came down the court,
singing like a drunken man, and I ran and opened the door
and let him in. On my doing so Mrs. Hogan jumped up
from her seat and said to the prisoner, " Where have you
been all night ?" and he replied, " With a strong girl."
She called him a blackguard, and said it was not the first
time he had acted like one. He then struck her on the side
of the head, and then she struck him. She punched at him
and pushed him, and his head went through a pane of glass,
and then they got entangled one with the other, and both
fell. He fell on the fender, which was very sharp, and cut
his knee and arm. She (Mrs. Hogan) then stood off, and
they got fighting again. I went between them and parted
them, when she took a chair and threw it at him, and they
got fighting again, when Mrs. Hogan fell on her back, and
went somehow under the bed. It appeared to me as though
her head came between her knees, as she fell doubled up.
On getting up she stood in the middle of the room, and said,
"Oh I Ellen, I am killed. Oh 1 my back ;" when I said
to her, "Be quiet, and have no more of it now, and lie on
the bed," and at that time she could hardly speak. She flew
at him again, when he threw her on the bed and fell on top
of her. He then grasped her by the throat with his right
hind, and said, " You —, I'll choke you." I suppose
he was on her half a minute, lying flat on her and holding
her throat.

Mr. Henry—And what were you doing all this time ?
Witness—l got behind him, and endeavoured to get him
off, and ultimately succeeded in doing so. I looked at her.
Her eyes seemed fixed on me, and I at first thought she
was in a fit, but then said to the prisoner "Oh, Jem, she
is dying," and he said "Let her die and be --." I then
sent a child for a basin of water, which I put to her lips,
when a small drop of blood fell in the basin, but she did not
drink the water. She was dead.

Mr. John Caffry Constable, surgeon, and assistant to Mr.
Wakem, of West-square, said that, on being called in on
the night before, ho examined the body of the deceased,
and found her quite dead. He also found several abrasions
on the left side of the neck, and was told by the witness
Wallis that the prisoner, who was present, had grasped her
by the throat with his right hand and pressed it, and the
bruises he found might have been produced by the nails of
a man's hand. There were no abrasions on the right side
of the throat, where the soft part of the thumb would come
in pressing the throat. All the marks were on the left side.
He examined the head and body generally, and could not
find any cause for death.
Mr. Henry—Then at present you are not prepared to say
what the real cause of death was ?
Witness—l am not, Sir, without a post mortem exami-
nation, particularly as I was told she had a severe fall.
Mr. Henry here, addressing the prisoner, told him the
charge against him was one of a set ious character, and one
upon whichhe should feel it to be his duty to commit him
for trial. It was also his duty to tell him that anything he
should say would be taken down, and might be used in evi-
dence against him elsewhere; but if, after this caution, it