The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1839-08-20 00:00:00

SOMERSET ASSIZES.-TUESDAY.

Charles Waldey was indicted for the wilful murder of Eliza
Pain, at Worle.
The prisoner was put up with the first arraignment this
morning. His countenance portrayed anything but that of
being a man who could commit so atrocious a crime. He
appeared conscious of the enormity of his offence, but there
was that calm and placid, but sorrowful cast of countenance,
that gained the pity of all who saw him. There was evi-
dently the inward feeling, but not the outward show of grief.
In truth, though every one shuddered at the brutality of his
crime, yet at the same moment they sympathised with his
feelings when brought up for punishment. Upon being
called upon to plead he said,_" Guilty."

The learned Judge begged him to reflect upon the nature
of his crime, and the punishment that would await him, and
urged upon him that it was more satisfactory that an offender
should be convicted upon evidence than that he should suffer
upon his own confession.
The prisoner still said, " Guilty."
The Judge again interposed, and implored him aot to be
led away by the advice of others, but to act upon his own
judgment. ,The gaoler interposed, and in the most kind
manner entreated him to consider.

The prisoner shook his head, and with an air which showed
the Utmost resignation, again said " Guilty."
He was then remoyedfrom the dock, while other prisonerS
were tried.

In the course of the morning he was again placed at the
bar ; but before the learned Judge would pass sentence.ttpon
him, he had the whole of the evidence completely examined
into, and the following witnesses were called :
Samuel Norman.—l am relieving officer to the Axbridge
Union. I was at Wake St. Lawrence, on the 17th July, on
horseback, in the lane going towards Worle. On getting to
Snatch-cratch I could see a considerable distance along•the
lane. I saw the prisoner come out from a ditch on the left-
hand side of the road. He came towards me and turned up a
lane. I then saw Eliza Pain come out of the same place,
and go a few yards towards Worle, and then turn anthem=
towards me. I saw her face was covered with blood. Her
bonnet was hanging down her back. I thought there, was,
something the matter, and rode after the man, 1 met him
coming back again. He said, " Oh, I must die." I asked
him what he had done. At that moment I saw the girl drop.
I said, " You have cut her throat." He said she stabbed
him first. There was blood about his right hand. I asked
him what he had done it for. He said she had done it her-
self. Then he went towards Worle, and I followed him;
and having gone a short distance, he wished to go back, and
see what was the matter with the girl. We went back to
the -spot. The girl was lying on her face bleeding. The
prisoner said, •‘ She will be better presently." He then
went towards Worle, and I took him into custody, and gave
him to to a constable at Worle. He said he would go any-
where with me. While the constable was getting the hand-
cuffs, I laid hold of the prisoner's collar, and he then pulled
me off the horse. The constable came, but he still resisted,
and the constable knocked him down with his staff.

Henry Stowell.—l live with Mr: Reeves. The prisoner
was in his service, and Eliza Pain was an apprentice. On
Wednesday, 17th July, I saw the prisoner and Eliza Pain go
milking ; it was about rive ,o'clock in the evening. I was
with them. They were on very good terms; After the milk-
ing was over, Eliza Pain went towards Worle. The prisoner
asked her if she would bring his boots from Worle. She
made some reply, but I did not hear what. The prisoner
said, " If you won't, I must go and fetch them myself.".
She then went towards Worle, driving the cows before her.
I think she had a basket on her arm ; the prisoner was. left
behind. He said he must go for his boots, as she would not
bring them, and in about rive minutes he got his hat and
went away, going the same road as she had. He had not
spoken angrily to her.
John Hardwick.—l am a surgeon, and was called to view
the body of Eliza Pain, and saw her about seven the same
evening. Her head and face was covered with blood, and
he discovered on her neck five superficial wounds. Over
the left eye there were five other wounds, (all cuts,) a severe
bruise on the left temple, and a deep wound on the left side
of the neck ; which last wound was the cause of her death.
It was made by a cutting instrument. There were no other
marks of violence whatever.

Tripp.—l picked up this knife in the ditch, about two
yards from the place where the body lay ; it was closed.
There was some hair and blood upon it.
Stowell.—This knife is the prisoner's.
Mi. Justice Coleridge then put on the black cap, and tried
several tithes to commece his address to the prisoner, but
sobs choked his utterance, and he was obliged to cover his
face with his handkerchief. For a short time the judge was
absent and the man alone presided. Even to those accus-
tomed to scenes of this kind, this was one of the most affect-
ing ever witnessed. The court was crammed with females,
and the solem silence that afterwards prevailed was only
broken upon by. sobs of sympathy and anguish, The ccoun-
tenace of the prisoner was the only one that remained un-
altered. The expression of his features will never be for-
gotton. He ivas 29 years of age, but did not appear more
than 20. The learned judge at length, his voice broken by
his sobs, addressed the prisoner in the following terms :
" Charles Wakley, you have pleaded guilty to, the offence of
wilful murder—the wilful murder of Eliza. Pain, who was
your fellow-servant, your companion, and with whom, as
tar as we know, you had never any quarrel, but lived on
friendly terms. Under what awful temptation, or under
what circumstances, this dreadful crime was committed we
know not. It is not even for us to inquire further than we
have now done. At present it remains within your own
bosom. This only it is fitting for me to say, that let no one
suppose, because it is against the .direct language of Scrip-
ture, that that temptation proceeded from God. Had you
received his grace, or had you made the earnest endeavours
which it behoved you to have done, no doubt you would
have received assistance sufficient to have enabled you to
have overcome it ; but your conduct since and your conduct
now have been such that I have no necessity, and of course
have no desire, by any remarks I shall make, to add to the
pain you must be feeling at this moment. The few observa-
tions which I feel myself able to make to you will be for the
purpose of advising, and assisting, and rendering you conso-
lation for the short period of life now remaining to you. I
have but two remarks to make. The first is—let nothing
induce you to deceive yourself as to the enormity of the
offence ; don't cheat yourself a single moment by believing
that you have acted as others might have done, or in any
other way than that which makes it imperative on an earthly
judge to pass upon you the severest sentence which our laws
can inflict.. The other remark is this—don't cheat yourself
with the slightest hope that you have any longer anything to
do with this world, or with the interests of this world—with
your family or relations here—with the places or persons to
whom you have been much attached ; your only business in
this life—one, awful as it is, enough to employ a much longer
period than will be allowed to you—is to prepare yourself for
the next ; and the best mode of preparation is to throw your-
self upon the mercy of your Redeemer entirely, without the
'slightest reservation, repenting deeply of the past, and earn-
estly imploring that you may not be thought unworthy to
share in the benefits of His all-sufficient sufferings. Think
no more of this life ; don't for a single instant suppose that
there is any chance of any mercy being extended to you here.
You must meet the fate you have brought upon yourself,
which I trust will serve as an example to all others who may
be disposed to yield to strong temptations ; and still more, I
hope it may be received in your behalf as something like a
satisfaction, and that your punishment being allotted in this
world, you may be thought fit for mercy hereafter.
The awful sentence of the law was then pronounced, and
the prisoner left the bar.

DR. FRIEND.-Friend, who was generally what is termed
mellow after dinner, was once sent for in this state, to a
family of consequence ; but the family, not choosing to
trust to his prescription, sent for Dr. Mead, who came, and,
after looking► at what Friend had written, took the opportu-
nity of paying him a very high compliment. "'Pon my
word," said Mead, " if Dr. Friend wrote this when he was
drunk, he prescribes better than I can do when sober."—
Physic and Physicians.
DR. ELLio-rsoN.—When he was at the age of 15, a con-
versation took place after dinner at his father's house, re-
specting the future prospects of the professor. One friend
suggested the army, another the navy, and a third the
church; and on young Elliotson being asked what profes-
sion he would study, he exclaimed with great animation,
" I'll be a physician, and ride in my carriage." A physi-
cian accordingly it was determined he should be.—Physic
and Physicians.

A GHOST.—That apparitions do not always wander with-
out sufficient cause, is proved in a well attested fact which
we copy with the endorsement of the Montreal Transcript.
Last Tuesday fortnight, as Mrs. --(a lady of literary taste
and rather studious habits,) sat reading in the drawing-room,
the clock on the mantel piece struck twelve, as the last stroke
reverberated through the apartments, the door was suddenly
flung open. In the act of raising her head to reprove the
intrusion (unrung for) of her servant, her eye rested on the
form of her late husband ; she screamed and fell senseless on
the carpet. This brought up such members of the family as
had not yet retired to rest ; restoratives were administered,
and when Mrs. - had regained possession of her suspended
faculties, and being a woman of strong mind and highly cul-
tivated intellect, she felt disposed to consider the whole
distress she had undergone as the result of certain associa-
tions between the melancholy tale she had been perusing and
her late loss, operating on a partially deranged nervous sys-
tem. She, however, considered it advisable her maid ser-
vant should repose in her chamber, lest any return of what
she had determined to consider a nervous affection should
distress herself and alarm the family. Last Tuesday night,
feeling stronger and in better spirits than she had enjoyed for
several months past, Mrs. - dispensed with the presence
of her attendant, retiring aloneto her chamber; and went to
bed a little before ten o'clock. Exactly as the clock struck
twelve, she was awakened from sleep, and distinctly beheld
the apparition she had before seen advancing from the table,
(on which stood her lamp,) till it stood opposite to, and drew
aside the curtains of her bed. A sense of suffocating oppres-
sion deprived her of all power to scream aloud. She describes
her very blood retreating with icy chillness to her heart from
every vein. The countenance of her beloved in life wore not
its benevolent aspect; eyes once beaming with affection,
were now fixed in stern regard on the trembling half dissolved
being, who with the courage of desperation, thus adjured
him " Charles ! dear Charles ! why are you come again ?"
"-Jessie," slowly and solemnly aspirated the shadowy form,
"waiing'in its harid a small roll of written paper, " Jessie,"
pay my newspapei• accounts, and let me rest in peace I"—
American paper.