The Sun.
London, England, 1833-11-01 00:00:00

POLICE INTELLIGENCE.

BOW-STREET.

" The iron tongue of midnight had told twelve,"
and all other sorts of unquiet spirits were of course
abroad to enjoy their Saturnalia; amongst the rest,
one Mr. John Ferguson, who, be it, however, well
understood, has not yet shuffled off his mortal coil,
was roaming about in the classic neighbourhood of
Clare-market, when a whim seized him to open the
first door he came to. Mr. Nettle, an honest boot-
closer of Brown's-buildings, was at that precise
moment in the very act of going to Nettlebed, when,
while ascending the stairs for the purpose, he was
astonished at the sound of steps in the passage
below. A retrograde movement on his part was
the natural consequence, in order that he might
ascertain beyond question who it was that thus, at
the very witching time of night, came to murder
his innocent sleep, and perhaps himself into the
bargain. On reaching that part of his domicile
which courtesy would style the hall he was encoun-
tered by the aforesaid John Ferguson, hot with the
Tuscan grape, and reeling ripe for fun, a circum-
stance which could not very well have happened
had Mr. Nettle bestowed the same pains upon clos-
ing his doors as he did upon closing his boots. A
scuffle was the immediate consequence. Mr. Fer-
guson was probably aware of Aaron Hill's remark—
" Tender handed stroke a Nettle
It against you will rebel;
Grasp it, like a man of mettle,
And the rogue obeys you well."

. .
Now Mr. Ferguson is a man of mettle, especially
when he has swallowed his usual number of kevar-
tens, and he grasped his antagonist accordingly.
Down went Mr. Nettle, nicking his time so well
that the bony knuckles of the Sussex farmer (for
such is Mr. Ferguson's grade in society), instead of
splitting his os fronds, only split the pannel of the
parlour door behind it. A diversion was at this
moment created by the simultaneous appearance of
Mrs. Nettle at the tcp and a Mr. Franklin at the
bottom of the stairs; nor did Wellington himself, in
the eventful crisis at Waterloo, hear with more joy
the first Prussian cannon than the prostrate Nettle
did the cheering exclamation—" Tot is all this here
row about?" Hercules himself must yield to odds,
and so did Mr. Ferguson, who, overpowered at length
by the united vigour of the Nettles and Franklin
(the latter contending like an athlete of old, in puris
naturalibus, having sprung from his downy couch
on the first alarm), surrendered at discretion, not,
however, before the appearance of two police-officers
rendered further contest hopeless;
Such was the account given yesterday morning to
the presiding Magistrate by the various actors in the
foray. Mr. Ferguson, the delinquent, seemed fully
to admit the truth of what was alleged against him,
declaring at the same time that he knew very little
more aUoul the matter than that he had been drink-
lag, and supposed " he must have gone into the house
by mistake.
To prove his respectability, and that his visit was
erroneous, not predatory, he called Mr. Simpson, a
celebrated restaurateur from Drury-lane, who esta-
blished the fact of his being a frequent and honour-
able customer at his establishment.

Mr. Nettle is a good-humoured man; he did not
wish to press the matter a l'outrancc, and the agri-
culturist was dismissed on the simple conditions of
paying twenty shillings a-piece for the heads and
doors split in the course of the transaction, the
usual pecuniary mulct levied upon those who trans-
gress the bounds of temperance being mercifully
remitted.
MARLBOROUGH STREET.

FRACAS IN A GAMING HOUSE.,--Baron de
Kreuter, who formerly held a commission in our
48th Regiment of Foot, applied to Mr. CHAM-
BERS, the sitting magistrate, yesterday, for a war-
rant against the noted Bob Poulter, the " dealer"
at one of the Pickering•place gambling establish-
ments.

The Baron last night was playing at the house in
question at rouge et noir, when, having noticed that
Poulter, who officiated as dealer on the occasion,
had several times declared the wrong colour, he
pointed out the error, and requested him to be more
cautious in future. On this Poulter used extremely
abusive language towards him, and, in reply, he re-
marked that Poulter seemed to have forgotten the
tread-mill. This observation produced an exclama-
tion from Poulter to the effect that he had it in his
power to expose the Baron before the company then
assembled in such a manner as would place him in
a pretty light in their estimation.
The Baron, on hearing this partial threat, chal-
lenged Poulter to do so, or to bring any charge
against him which could at all affect his character
as a gentleman or as a man of honour.
Poulter, at once accepting the challenge, declared,
before about thirty gentlemen, that the Baron had
been taken up to Guildhall on a charge of having
committed a certain offence in St. Paul's Churchyard.
Some further discussion arose, in the course of
which the Baron told Poulter that " he was a dirty
fellow, and would not degrade himself by touching
him." " Now," continued the Baron, addressing
Mr. Chambers, " as I can prove that I was never
taken into custody in my life, I wish to have a war-
rant against the fellow who has scandalized my
character in the presence of a number of gentle-
men. As an officer in his Majesty's service I can-
not allow such an imputation to be cast against me
without having an opportunity of disabusing my
character of its prejudicial effect, and of chastising
the slanderer."

Mr. CHAMBERS—I suppose, Baron, you had been
playing yourself on this occasion. I cannot grant
you a warrant for the abuse, but we have here year
evidence, which I will send to the officers of St.
James's parish ; and if they will indict the house I
will bind you over to give evidence. What was
your loss last night ?
The Baron, who appeared completely taken by
surprise, and much chagrined at this determination
of the Magistrate, carelessly said, " Oh, nothing;
nothing to speak of;
very trifling."

Mr. CHAMBERS—But, Sir, you have given this
information on your oath, and as you have, you say,
been cheated when you were playing rouge et noir
you ought to say what your lass was.
The Baron (still more astonished-oh, Sir, I do
assure you I did not come here as a common in-
former ; that was not my object.
Mr. CHAMBERS—But, Sir; we must protect the
public against such houses as these ; and I shall,
therefore, adopt such course as I deem best to put
a stop to their proceedings. I shall cause this state-
ment of yours to be shown to the parish authorities ;
and if they do not think proper to prosecute, blame
will rest with them and not the MagistrateF. The
public ought to be protected against the cheats of
hese people.
The Baron—Oh ! Sir, that was an accident, Ido
assure you. I do not wish to appear as an informer.
Plank, the officer, said that the Baron could fur-
nish eVidence against almost the whole of the gam-
Wing-houses at the west end of such a character as
wou!d tend to the conviction of many of the parties
connected with them.

Mr. CHAMBERS—Pray, Baron, who are the pro-
prietors of this house ? Poulter was the dealer, you
say ? The Baron—Yes, he was; but, upon my
honour, Ido not know who are the proprietors. I
have been there many times, and now come to com-
plain of the abuse.
Mr. CHAMBERS —Wel 1, I shall show this state-
ment to the parish officers. The Baron—Pray, Sir,
may j lay my cane across this man's head ?

Mr. CIIAI%BERS —You may act as you please in
that respect; but, if you do, I think we shall have
you brought here for an assault.
The Baron then quitted the office, much disap-
pointed at the immediate and probable result of his
application.

THE HANDSOME WIFE.—Two youths were yes-
terday placed at the bar before Mr. CHAMBERS,
charged with creating a riot at the shop door of
Mr. Husey, a tobacconist, residing in Rupert-street,
Haymarket.

Mr. Husey has the enviable distinction of posses-
sing a very beautiful wife, and the public, on this as
on other occasions, are all extremely anxious to view
the fair tobacconist. However the lady may feel
flattered by the admiration of the better disposed
portion of the public, still she is extremely anxious
to be rid of the crowds who nightly assemble in
front of her shop, and prevent anything like the
possibility of doing business. Several constables
have been on duty there during the week, and have
endeavoured ineffectually to keep the place clear.
Amongst the crowd on Wednesday night were the
defendants, who were making a disturbance, and
on the constable interfering he was struck by one
of them.

Mr. CHAMBERS inquired of Mr. Husey whether
he would indict the parties ? Complainant had no
wish to do so, but he was very much annoyed. He
had put high curtains to the windows in order that
there should be nothing to attract, and yet the crowd
increased. He had tried every means in his power,
but without effect.

Mr. CHAMBERS said he had better indict some of
the parties, and let Mrs. Husey attend the Court.
The public could then go and see her.
Mr. Husey declined doing so, and said lie was
like the old man in the fable: in endeavouring to
please everybody he had pleased nobody, and if the
annoyance continued perchance he might lose his
wife (who was in bad health) into the bargain.
One of the lads was discharged, the other tined ss.
A BLACK, BUSINESS.—WiIIiam White, a journey-
man chimneysweep, well known in the purlieus of
Duck-lane, was brought before Mr. CONANT,
charged with having stolen the working tools of
John Scraggs, a brother artiste, on Sunday last.
John Scraggs, who appeared before the Bench in
his professional toggery, "as black as soot could
make him," described his loss with much warmth
and feeling. He deposed that he placed his bag
and brush in the cellar of his tnistresq, who was the
mother of the prisoner, on Saturday night last,
ready for a job which he had to undertake on Mon-
day morning; but when Monday morning carne he
was struck quite comical on diskivering that the
whole kit had vanished iu such a mysterious way
that nobody had seen nothing on 'em except Jim
Crackein, who was ready to take a 'loath on it.
A bandy-legged lad here stepped forward, and
was about to give evidence, when the prisoner
bawled out, " His name isn't Crackein—that ere
name is vot ve nickname him, because he's sitch a
howdacious thief."

Mr. CONANT—What is your real name, witness?
Witness—My name is Crackein.
Prisoner—lt's very false; his name is Jim
Gardner.

Witness—My name is Crackein. My missus, as
lives in St. James's-place, gimme the name of
Gardner for shortne,s.—(A laugh.)

Mr. CONANT—That is an odd way of shortening
a name. Well, go on.
Crackein—On Monday morning, your "Vership,
Jack Scraggs tells me as how somebody had
prigged his kit, and accordinglye, as I vas going
along Soreditch, I meets that ere prisoner at the
bar, who vas looking out for a job. "
Bill," sis I, " how do you get on ? Have you got
ever a berth yet ?" And according/ye, " No," sis
he, " I don't mit no birth now, 'cause I've jest
sot up in business for myself." Now your Vership,
I knowed that ere wallet no sitch thing.
Prisoner—How did you know it, I ax you ?
Crackein—'Cause you borrowed a ha'penny on
me to get a baked tato with for your dinner on Sa-
turday. Veil, your Vership, accordinglye I looks
at his bag, and I knowed in a hinstant moment as
it vas Jack Scraggses, so 1 cotched hold on him and
giv'd him into a hotlicer's custody, and it aint the
first time as he's been in sitch a salvation.

" No, I nose that to my sorrow," said a red-
faced dame in widow's weeds, coming fOrward.
" I'm his mother, and since his poor dead father's
decease, he's robbed me six times. Three times
he stole my new bags, twice a whole lot of stuff,
and the last time a new vite hat, which I walued
wery partickler, on account of its being the last
momentum which I had of my poor dear husband's
death."

Mr. CONANT asked the prisoner what he had to
say to the charge.
Prisoner—lt's all werry false, and-I've got a vit-
ness to prove it. " Here," said he to a boy in the
office, " Von't you swear as you didn't see me take
them ere tools ?"—" Yes, I can," said the boy.
6"rhete, your Vership," said the prisoner con-
"my vitness swears he never seed me
a
and, according to the law of the land, you
cadkeie: o
vict a man in sitch a case."
take 'em,
; n,
t
Mr. Comm, differed from the prisoner's law
and logic, and directed a committal to be made out.
Prisoner—I hopes your Vership will grant me
the grace of hearing my 'salt varrant as I've got agin
my mother.

Mr. CONANT ordered the parties to come for-
ward. The prisoner's story was, while imbibing a
pint of beer in a public-house, his mother came in
quite " tossicated," and after " jawing" him,
slapped his face, at the same time calling him a
transported thief.
Mother—And so you have been transported.
Mr. CONANT—IS that the fact ?
Prisoner—Vy, the truth on it is, some spoons
and forks got into my sack, vich I knowed nothen
on ; and I vos taken and conwicted quite hinnocent ;
but that eres no reason vy this ere homan should
goys, yen she sees me, chuck sitch a haggawating