The Sun.
London, England, 1861-10-01 00:00:00

CONFESSION OF A MURDERESS.

We abridge the following from the Empire of
Sydney : Most people whose memory carries them
back for a quarter of a century will remember the
leading features of an extraordinary crime which
took place in Loudon about the commencement of
1837, and which probably excited in the public
mind as great a degree of horror as any deed of
guilt ever committed in the metropolis. I allude to
the murdpr by Greenacre of Mrs. Brown, a woman
to whom he was to have been married on the day
following that on which he perpetrated the atro-
cious offence for which he paid the penalty of his
worthless life. Some of the circumstances were
so horribly grotesque, that no lapse of years can
efface them from the memory of those who then
became acquainted with them. Greenacre, it was
proved at the trial, completely dismembered the
body of the unfortunate Mrs. Brown, and after dis-
posing of the trunk and limbs in various places,
actually rode about London in cabs and omnibuses
for two or three days with the head under his arm,
wrapped in a silk handkerchief, telling those friends
and acquaintances who happened to inquire as to
the contents of a bundle he seemed so careful of,
that it was only a cabbage ! Of the murderer
himself, and of the particulars of his trial and
execution, I shall here say nothing. The circum-
stance which I am about to relate has no further
connection with him and his history, than that it
refers to the ultimate fate of the wretched woman
who was his paramour and accomplice, who assisted
him, if not in the actual murder, at least to conceal
the evidence of it, and who was to have shared the
proceeds of his guilt. Sarah Gale, the woman
alluded to, became, if possible, an object of greater
execration than the murderer himself. She was
admitted on the trial to give evidence against him,
and by this means to preserve her worthless life for
the fate which befel her many years afterwards in
the far interior of this country. It will perhaps be
necessary to explain that at the time of the murder
of Mrs. Brown I was almost a child ; that it was
the first crime of horror with the details of which I
had ever been made acquainted; and that the im-
pression left on my youthful mind was of a vivid
and painful nature. In the year 1858 I was resid-
ing in a remote part of this colony. I did not re-
gularly follow my profession as a means of liveli-
hood ; the population was much too scattered, and

far too healthy, to induce a medical man to remain
there. When, however, accident or the usual oc-
currences of domestic life threw anything in my
way, I took advantage of it to help out an other-
wise not very liberal income ; and by this means
became acquainted with facts connected with the
dreadful crime alluded to 20 years after it was
committed.

One morning before daybreak I was aroused from
sleep by a heavy knocking at my bedroom window,
which looked out into the verandah of my residence.
On inquiry I found I was required, at a distance of
some sixty miles, to attend a woman who had been
thrown from her horse against a tree. The mes-
senger informed me that if I made haste
and could save the patient, I should be handsomely
rewarded as she was very rich, having some thou-
sands of cattle and stations half as big as England
itself ; that fresh horses would meet us, and that if
I rode well, we could do the distance in something
like five hours. This gratuitous information he
gave me while hurrying on my clothes. In twenty
minutes I was on my way to the Big River, across
long and arid plains, with not a tree or a shrub in
sight. After a ride of six hours and ten minutes we
arrived at the homestead or head station. After
running the gauntlet through upwards of a
a dozen hungry kangaroo dogs, I reached the pa-
tient's bed room. On approaching the door I saw
the bed directly opposite ; it seemed to contain a
huge pile of something in the centre. On going
close to the bedside I found my patient to be a woman
of vast size and weight—certainly not less than 16
stone, and the heap I bad noticed on my entrance
was her very extensive and respectable corpo-
ration. On examination I found she had suffered
both from external and internal injuries to such an

extent that I feared the case was hopeless. She
turned to look at me. I begged she would not dis-

turb herself. " Not disturb myself," she interrupted,
" it is easy to say so, but why do you not give me
something to relieve this dreadful pain ? Give me
something, I pray, or I must go mad."
At noon next day a marked change for the worse
had taken place. The period had arrived for me
to perform an unpleasant duty. I broke the news
to the unfortunate woman with as much caution
as possible, telling her to prepare for the worst,
and to arrange any affairs she might wish to
have settled before her final departure from this
world. She told me the whole cause of the acci•

dent, in a calm, collected manner, and begged I
would be kind enough to draw up a will for her,
as she informed me the whole of the property
was hers, and that she was living with G-, but

not legally married to him, therefore she could dis-
pose of her property as she liked, which she did. The

will being finished, I wished her to sign it in my
presence, and in that of other witnesses : she had a

marked repugnance to do this, which appeared
dreadful to her, as a last act. I showed her the
necessity of doing so while in the possession of
all her faculties,: or before any derangement took
place. She refused to sign it but in the presence of
two persons, whom she named, her husband and my-
_ _ _

self. I ordered the room to be cleared, and gave her
the pen, putting at the same time, the usual questions.

She hesitated a long time—there was a stillness that

was fearful to me for ten minutes ; at last she sum-

moned sufficient resolution to commence, but

stopped at the first letter. S. " Oh, wait:a little,"

she said, "I am thinking, thinking, thinking,
of times long past," and as she seemed to be talking
more to herself, as it is called, than addressing us,
I made no reply. Her husband, who was now sober,
witnessed this 'death-bed scene with evident emo
Lion. " James," said the woman, "I should like to
be alone with the doctor a little while. I have some-
thing to tell him, but nothing I have to confess that

you do not already know." The husband then left.
She then told me what I was never, never to tell

again. I was at first absolutey paralysed. There,
in that remote solitude, did that dying woman

reveal facts so dreadful, and so connected with my
painfully distinct recollection of by-gone days, that

I absolutely shook with agitation. It seemed

more like a horrible dream than a waking reality.
She recalled me to my senses by her despairing
appeals to Heaven for forgiveness. She seemed

completely hopeless of pardon. I tried at length to
comfort her, and bade her not despair. " How glad
I am you are here, doctor; you shall be well paid
for all this. Do you know I feel happier now since
I have told you all. Oh, if I could have seen a
clergyman, but there is none nearer than 150 miles.
Too late, too late ! I shall soon be elsewhere. Ah,
where ?" I begged of her to sincerely repent of
her faults, and seek hope for the future; she clasped
her hands together, sighed deeply as though
her heart too were oppressed, and she was at a loss
for words. She spoke at last with effort and evi-
dent fatigue. " Call him in," she said. I did her
bidding ; in the presence of her husband I gave her
the pen ; she gave one look of despair and anguish,
signed the will, and I witnessed at once the death
and signature of " SARAH GALE."

As it was too late to start :for home the same day
on which Mrs. G--- died, and to sleep was impos-
sible, 1 mad a memorandum o f the circumstances an
hour or so after her death took place.

I have said all that I feel at liberty to divulge

of a story which will ever haunt my memory.

The Earl and Countess of Hardwicke are enter-
taining a select family circle at Wimpole Hall, Cambridge-
shire. Lady Mary Craven left town yesterday, to join the
party.