The Sun.
London, England, 1834-08-30 00:00:00

CORONER'S INQUEST.

THE ALLEGED MURDER OF A WOMAN BY
HER HUSBAND.

Yesterday afternoon the Coroner and Jury assembled,
pursuant to adjournment, at the Duke of Clarence public-
house, Ernest-street, Regent's-park, to inquire into the cir-
cumstances that led to the death of Arabella Jones, a very
fine woman, aged fifty-six, who resided at No. 30, Clarence-
gardens, and who was reported to have been murdered by
her husband, William Jones.

Jones, who has been in custody since Wednesday morning,
was yesterday brought before Mr. Shutt, one of the Mary-
lebone Magistrates, who ordered him to be delivered up to
Capes, the summoning beadle. He was then conveyed to
the Albany-street police-station, previous to being brought
before the Coroner.

Mr. Wooler attended professionally on 'behalf of Jones.
At the request of the Jury the evidence taken on Taes-
day last was read over. The greater part was to the same
effect as that given before the Magistrates in the Mary-
lebone Police Office on Thursday, and which has already
appeared.

Additional evidence was taken, the most important of
which was that of Mr. Daiv, surgeon, of Great Coram-
street, Russell-square, who stated that he was fetched by
the deceased's husband to attend the deceased on Wednes-
day, the 20th instant, between six and seven o'clock in the
afternoon. She complained of great pain in her bowels, and
he sent her some medicine, but she took a very small por-
tion of it. The bruises on her body and arms were not
sufficient to cause death. Had the deceased been properly
nursed and care taken of, she might have recovered.
William Jones, the deceased's husband, was then brought
into the Inquest-room, and, having been cautioned by the
Coroner not to say anything that might criminate himself,
he made the following statement :—" I am a retired farmer,
and have been married to the deceased eighteen years.
She was my second wife, and did not bear me any children.
She was a good-disposed woman, but was led away by
drink. It is a fortnight since I and my wife went to live at
Clarence-gardens. On Wednesday last she was taken ill,
and complained of cramped toes ; a light blue cast came
over her features, and she exclaimed in great agony " The
cholera, the cholera!" I went to Dr. Daw's to attend
her, knowing him to be a popular man. He came, and af-
terwards sent her some medicine, which I gave her regu-
larly, and treated her kindly. The landlady took away the
bedclothes in consequence of my owing her rent. I was
not in the habit of ill-using my wife."
Mr. Johnson, of No. 7, Croydon-street, Marylebone,
shoemaker, stated that the deceased was his sister, and
that she was in the frequent habit of coming to him, and
complaining of the ill-treatment of her husband. On one
occasion Jones broke her finger, and bruised her in a shock-
ing manner, when witness took a lodging for her that she
might live apart from him, but they soon after got together.
The deceased had an annuity of 2001. a-year, which ceased
at her death.

After a short consultation the following verdict was re-
turned—" That the deceased died from exhaustion ; and
there appears to have been gross neglect on the part of the
husband."

The inquest terminated at nine o'clock, and Jones was
then liberated.

JEREMY BENTHAN AND THE CAT.'

The greatest philosopher of our days—the man whose
mind was beyond comparison the most exalted, and whose
benevolent affections the strongest that I have ever been
privileged to know, was himself a striking example of the
power of sympathy towards the animal creation. He felt
for all that had feeling, and was habitually showing, though
not intrusively, how much he felt. I have known the mice
run up and down his legs, as he was engaged in the pro-
foundest studies, making their Way to a drawer under his
desk, where he was accustomed to keep sundry crumbs of
bread ; nor would he disturb them, or allow them to be
disturbed, till they got noisy and riotous, and then they
were chased away upon his own principle, that they an-
noyed him more than they benefitted themselves. There
was a cat in the family who was a very important personage)
a stately, grave, reverend, and black-coated gentleman,
who, in the latter part of his days, was advanced to
high honours. His early history had been like that of many
of his race : he dwelt in the kitchen, but every now and
then took predatory excursions into the garden, and came
home quite unable to give a good account of himself ; in a
word, it was generally thought lie was no better than he
should be ; but, as age came on, he grew steady and sober,
and was often seen with his eyes closed, engaged in deep
meditation, as if he were recalling the events of his life,
and pondering over the errors of his ways. People said
there were decided symptoms of reform ; and gradually he
established such a reputation for steadiness and sobriety,
that his master paid him marked attention. On one occa-
sion, it-was even reported that he was observed giving mo-
ral lessons to some of his younger brethren, and reproving
their flighty and irregular habits. At last, he became,,so
undoubtedly sage and prudent that he was installed in ec-
clesiastical dignity, and called the Rev. John Blackman.
Nothing could exceed the propriety of his deportment—his
step was solemn—and his every motion that of a thought-
ful philosopher. Having established his claims to advance-
ment, the diploma of Doctor of Divinity was conferred
upon him, and the Rev. Dr. Blackman was introduced with
due solemnity to the guests who visited the philosopher's
hermitage. It was a goodly sight to see with how much
humility and gravity the doctor bore his accumulated dig-
nities. His merits were indeed so striking and undoubted,
that it was thought he would do honour to the episcopacy,
and there was a serious intention of conferring on him a
bishop's rank. But he did not live to receive this new
mark of distinction from the state authorities : he died
during the discussion, full of years, and was buried amidst
the real regrets and respectful remembrances of all who had
the privilege of his acquaintance.—Dr. Bowring's Minor
Ilforals.