The Sun.
London, England, 1846-08-22 00:00:00

NEWPORT.

Beef, from 23 8d to 33 8d; Mutton, 33 2d to 4s 2d; Lamb,
4s 6d to 5s 4d ; Veal, 33 8d to 4s 6d; and Pork 4s to
4s 10d per 81bs.

BILLINGSGATE.
We had a slow demand for most kinds of fish, at but little
variation in prices.
VIIIXTECUAPEX..
Beef from 2s 6d to 3s 6d ; Mutton, 3s to 4s 2d ; Lamb,
4s 6d to 5s 6d ; Veal, 3s 6d to 4s 4d ; and Pork, 3s 6d to
4s 8d per Sibs.

BREAD.
The prices of Wheaten Bread in the metropolis are from
7d to 8d ; of Household ditto, 51,2 d to 612 d per 4lbs loaf.
HIDE DIA.REET.
Market Hides, 561 b to 641 b, 3d per lb ; do. 641 b to
721 b, 3d to 3%d; do. 721 b to 801 b, 3d to 31Acl; do. 801 b
to 881 b, 31Ad to 4d; do. 881 b to 961 b, 4d to 41Ad ; do. 961 b to
1041 b, 4d to sd; Calf Skins, each, 4s to 6s 6d; Horn
Hides, 13s; Shearlings, is to is 6d; Lamb Skins, is 8d
to 2s 6d

EAT MAEIiETa.
SMITIMELD.—OId Meadow Hay, 318 a to 41; New ditto,
21 5s to 31 14s; Old Clover, 4l lOs to 5/ 163 ,• New ditto,
315 s to 41 18s ; Oat Straw, 1/ 12s to 1/ 14s ; Wheat Straw,
11 143 to 11 16s per load. A moderate supply, and a heavy
demand.
CUMBERLAND.—OId Meadow Hay, 31 5s to 41 4s ; New
ditto, 218 s to 3/ 183; Old Clover, 4(5s to 5/ 14s ; New ditto,
31 lOs to 4/ 163; Oat Straw, 1/ 14s to 11 16s; Wheat Straw,
1/ IGs to 1/ 18s per load. Supply good, and trade dull.
WIIITECHAPFL.—OId Meadow Hay, 315 s to 41; New ditto,
2/ 5s to 3/ 15s ; Old Clover, 4/ 10s to 51 18s ; New ditto,
3/ 5s to 51; Oat Straw 1/ 12s to 1114 s; Wheat Straw, 1/ 143
to 1/ 16s per load. Trade dull, at barely late rates.

NEWSVF.NDERS' BENEVOLENT AND PROVIDENT INSTI-
TUTION.—.This truly excellent charity, established in 1839,
for granting permanent assistance and temporary relief to
masters and servants engaged as venders of newspapers,
who, from age, infirmity, or distress, may require the aid of
the benevolent, has a benefit at Vauxhall Gardens on Tues-
day next, for which a " bill of fare" has been provided by
the spirited proprietors that cannot fail proving most
attractive.
ENLARGEMENT OF SMITHFIELD MARKET.--Yester-
day the materials of twenty houses between Smithfield and
Charterhouse•street were sold by auction, to enlarge the
sheep market, the portion assigned to which in Smithfield
has been quite inadequate. The site which will thus be
cleared will afford accommodation for nearly one thousand
extra sheep, and it is well known that from that number to
fifteen hundred had every market day to be accommodated
in different inn-yards and other places until the first in the
market were sold.

CRIMINAL COURT.-(THIS DAY.)

OLD COURT.
(Before Baron PLATT and Alderman IruGnEs.)
GUILDIIALL MURDER.

John Smith, cook at the Guildhall Coffee-house, wa3 placed
at the bar, indicted for the wilful murder of Susan Tolliday,
on Saturday morning last.
Mr. Ryland, with whom was Mr. Laurie, briefly recounted
the facts to the jury which appeared in the testimony of the
witnesses.

Win. Carr, a servant -at the Guildhall Coffee-house, being
called, said he was, on the morning in question, cleaning the
windows in front of the hotel, commanding a side view of the
passage leading to the kitchen, which is on the same floor as
the b.r, and saw Susan Tolliday, the kitchen-maid, run into
the passage, holding up her hands, the right one clasping a
knife, and the blood running from her throat. Before he
could lay hold of her she nil, and he left her immediately to
go into the kitchen. There the cook, who was alone, met

him, and said, " I have done it, and I wish you to take me in
charge," which he repeated to the policeman.
By Mr. CLARKSON—The prisoner said, " she drove me
tol t,'
Thomas Phillips said he had been in the kitchen about
five minutes before the deed was done, and saw the cook
there handling ducks, the kitchen•maid Susan and a little
girl both cutt►ng beans. Afterwards he was attracted by a
scream in the kitchen, and saw the deceased fall near the
stairs. She died in a minute after.

Fanny \Vhitmore, the little girl mentioned by the previous
witness, said she had been cutting beans along with Susan
Tolliday, and was sent to the bar by the prisoner for milk
and eggs. As she returned she met the kitchen-maid bleed-
ing at the neck, and she screwy ed out.
By Mr. CL_kRKSON—She heard the deceased accuse the
prisoner of stealing tea and taking it home. This was on
Friday night. She had never known her call him a -

liar, or throw knives at him, but she had seen her bite him.
Susan and he used to quarrel, and she called him names. The
witness never saw the kitchen-maid seize him by the shirt
and tear it off his bosom. On the Saturday, about half an
hour before, there was a quarrel between the cook and the
charwoman about money, which he said she owed him, and
Susan took the woman's part, and said to the c:ok, " why
don't you act like a man ?—go about your business." The
witness had heard Susan call the cook names, and she be-
_

lieved she had seen her smack his face, but not on Saturday.
When she bit his arm he only held her hands. They had
been quarrelling on that occasion.
William Carr recalled—Said he had heard the deceased use
bad language to the cook, and what he had heard was all
on one side. The cook had been 16 or 17 years in the same
house.

City constable 433, said he asked the prisoner his reason
for doing the deed, and he replied, she had been calling him
a thief, and he was afraid of the consequences, as he had a
wife and family. She goaded him to it.
Some other evidence, merely corroborative of the above,
closed the case for the prosecution.
Mr. CLARKSON said there were several fellow-servants of

the prisoner who had not been examined before the magistrate,
but who had evidence as to the acts of provocation of which
the deceased had been guilty towards the prisoner, and
which might have an important bearing on the case. Ile
felt he had no right to have these called, but he hoped
his Lordship would allow it.

Baron PLATT said that mere words or even acts of
violence, if they were done some time before the deed in
question, would have no bearing on the case before the
court, and he could not allow of the irregularity, lest it might
be drawn into a precedent.
Mr. CLARKSON, who defended the prisoner with great
warmth and eloquence, said, he appeared as the advocate of
the unhappy man placed at the bar, acting at the request of
the worthy Under-Sheriff, who, under the direction of the
Sheriffs of London, sought to provide that the interests of a
fellow man, so situated as the prisoner was, might not be left
unprotected. He admitted, without any hesitation, that by the
man at the bar, who was criminal is so doing under any
circumstances—that by that man, and with that knife,
directed by his hand, the deed had been done. He said he
was prepared to go further; he was prepared to admit that
the law looked upon acts of this kind as involving the
deepest criminality, unless reduced, either by witnesses or
by the surrounding circumstances. The jury, therefore,
would give him credit when he admitted that this deed,
now engaging the attention of the Court, amounted to
murder, unless circumstances, resting on testimony or the
probability of the case, proved that there must have been
provocation. He said nobody would fail to see that this
man had been many long years a servant in the same situa-
tion, enjoying the confidence of his master, a circumstance
which, as far as testimony to character might go, would
have more weight than any witnesses he could call. It ap-
peared, further, that twelve months ago he married a wo-
man— the relative of _ the deceased—and that about the

same time the deceased had got a situation in the house with
himself, probably through his interest, an act of kindness
to his relative, which evinced anything bat a malicious
spirit towards the deceased. From time to time quarrels had
arisen between them, and she had been guilty of provoking
acts, which he had thought it desirable to have set be-
fore them by her fellow-servants, but his Lordship, fearing it
might be drawn into precedent, had refused that which he
admitted he had no right to ask. But, as men of the world,
they were to consider the circumstances which surrounded
the act, the probability which scarcely could exist of a man
within two or three minutes (the little girl had said she had
been absent five minutes, but young persons were ili judges
of time), turning upon his fellow-creature, his relative, and
without any cause severing her head from her body. He
admitted the prisoner had struck her, but could the jury
suppose that this act arose out of nothing? To use the words
of the prisoner himself, he had been goaded on by
provocation. It was for them to weigh the circumstances
which might tend to palliate this crime before they would
send the prisoner to the place of public execution. Wit.
nesses he could not call, and therefore he was compelled to
rely on the probabilities attending this unhappy event. But
he said, and not the less confidently, remembering that he
was there at the request of the Sheriffs of London, that the
man was not guilty of murder, notwithstanding that he could
not call living witnesses to prove it. The Learned Counsel
then laid down the law in reference to the evidence necessary
to prove manslaughter, and after alluding to the evidence on
the trial, which went to show the man had had provocation
from the kitchen maid on other occasions, asked the jury to
consider whether it was not probable that the young woman
and the cook, being at the same table, both engaged at their
lawful occupation, with knives in their hands, a quarrel might
have ensued; she might have kicked hint, as he bad
evidence to show she had done before, and the man, in a mo-
ment of rage, did feloniously kill and slay her.
The Judge summed up the evidence, and sent the case to
the jury, who retired to consider their verdict. After being
out just one hour, they retured into Court with a verdict of
" Guilty of Murder," but they recommended him to mercy,
in consideration of his previous good character for 17 years,
and the possibility there was of provocation having been
given, when none but the deceased and he were there.
Silence was then commanded in the Court, and
The Junes, after assuming the black cap, said—Prisoner
at the bar, you have been found guilty by a jury of your
countrymen of the crime of murder, but they, in considera-
tion, partly of your previous character, and partly
from suffering provocation at the moment, which may
have incited you, recommend you to mercy. I
wish I could listen to that appeal ; but your offence is of
that description which prevents me holding out any hope of
mercy. The crime which you have committed is denounced
by God and man, and whoever commits that crime in this
country forfeits his life as an atonement for his act. It is
most painful, deeply painful, to pass sentence on such a man
as you, who have been seventeen years in one situation,
where you had the confidence of your master. You
have a wife and four children depending upon you.
It is impossible to conceive a more painful duty to perform
than passing sentence upon such a man, but there is no
mitigation, no extenuation of such a crime as that of which
a jury of your countrymen, considering your acts, have found
you guilty. The doors of mercy are closed upon you on this
side the grave, and the Court sentences you to be taken back
to the prison whence you came, and at a convenient time to
be taken thence to the place of public execution, and there
hanged by the neck till dead, and your body to be buried
within the precincts of such gaol, and may the Almighty
God have mercy on your guilty soul.
The prisoner throughout the trial, and during the sentence,
maintained that calm composure which seemed to arise out
of settled despair.