npedrazzini/19thc_murder_suicide_news huggingface dataset:
Northern Weekly Gazette. — 1903-04-04 (Stockton-on-Tees, Cleveland, England)

APRIL 4. 1903.  rookery where I had seen him. Nesting, or, rather, building operations were in progress, but beyond the ordinary cawing of the birds at such times, nothing unusual seemed to be on hand. For quite half an hour I waited at a respectable distance, but as I saw nothing of the white bird, I approached to make a closer inspection. As is their wont, the whole assembly of Rooks imnsediately set up a loud cawing, and all of them either sought the highest branches, or circled in the air above the trees. Still there were no sigaa of the white bird, and I concluded that he had either been driven away or killed. In the latter event, I thought his skin would be worth preserving, and set about looking in the underwood for it. My senniae proved oerneot, as I soon found the dead body of the white Rook, but so mangled and torn, either by the Rooks themselves, or by them first and weasels or rata afterwards, as to be useless for steffing. Still he bore the appearance of a bed, and I determined on a little experiment with his supposed slayers. Cutting a short stick from a hazel bush, I passed it under one wing, and with a piece of cord I secured the body to the stick, by both the wirg and the neck. Then after searing away as many of the Rooks as I could, I mounted a tree, and securely fastened, by means of another piece of cord, the Rook and stick to a branch. I descended the tree, walked some distance away until a wall hid me from the rookery, and after waiting for a short time, returned to await events. By this time the rooks had begun to return, and scareey had I again reached my former place when a couple of them made a dash for the defunct white bird. They were soon joined by several others, and for the next few minutes there was a Lively scene. First one and than another bird made a dash at the tied up bird, and all of them kept up a continuous cawing and sorearnirig. After quite twenty minutes of this kind of thing the birds desisted, and all of them flew to the top branches of a tree, evidenty to hold a council of war. Why the white intruder had not succumbed to the vigorous treatment he had been subjected to evidently puzzled them. After a few minutes' noisy confab, the Rooks again returned to the attack, and another terrific onslaught was made. Still the cord held fast, but showers of feathers told plainly of the fury of the rooks. At last a portico of the bird gave way, and deviled to the ground. Almost immediately after the remainder became loosened and also dropped. Down came the rooks after it, and the poor battered body was still further mangled. Five minutes 02 so after, when I disturbed the furious rooks at their fell work, I found the remains of the white bird easily eneugh, but short of dissection and the study of anatomy, no naturalist on earth could tell what the bird had been. Scarcely a feather remained, the body was literally torn in pieces, and the work of the murderous rooks was compete.—W. Smith, Granby-buildings, Morpeth.
Northern Weekly Gazette. — 1903-11-21 (Stockton-on-Tees, Cleveland, England)

NORTHERN WEEKLY GAZETTE.  broken with the sorrow I have brought to you. Because the night I thought would bring us happinees has brought us woe and misery. Oh, Alan darling, let roe tell you here and now, believirg you have done cast has been done, what my heart has been been bursting to say. That I loved Ralph was true, but since I married you my love has been yours, and yours alone. I did not know it at first. I did not know is il Ralph came home. Even then 1 felt afraid to think that it was true; but for weeks, for months, I have known all it means to love. I sent you to-night to Ralph to learn from him that he ako had found that truth; that he who thought he laved me, and, believing k, elk:owed it to mac his life, had also found that he had been mistaken, had h‘arnt it as I have done, bcoa-usa when the real love of his life came to him his eyes were opened, and he knew the real from the false. I wished him to tell you. I told you to ask him. that you might learn that ens more beautiful than I, a hundred-fold more clever, bed come into his life, and that it is she who made him turn from poaching, and is sending him to his work again that he may win her in the end. It was to be my part to tell you, as I tell you now, all that your dear love has grown to be to me. Alan, you love me.. You will forget the pt. Kiss me, inyvhusband I"  Alan had listened to her as if in a dream, but a dream in which every word she said WAS burnt into his brain, and the dull eyes grew bright, the ashen cheeks grew warm as with joy too great for words his arms sTri og, possead pus Jari punor passad heart, for in that night of misery had come the greatest joy which Alan Cameron could ever know, the knowledge that the love which he had thought was dead was living, was his own, his only, his for ever. "You love me, Janet?" he said, with a sob, as, bending his head, he pressed his lips to hers, and with the kiss a great dread was lifted from her.  "Forgive me, Alan," ahe wlrkpered. "I know not what I fr./wed."  He pushed the subject from them, and, still pressing her to his side, he questioned her of Ralph, for her words puzzled him. "You tell me Ralph has given up his life as s. poacher, yet he was out to-night." "You me him? You spoke to him? He told you?" she cried, in wonderment. He shook his head sadly, and again his face darkened. "You must not ask me more. I had not meant to speak." She gave a cry of dismay, and, relaxing her hands, pressed them upon hm. heart. "I thouglit you killed him., Alan," she whispered faintly, "but now I undemtend what has brought such grief to you. Ralph murdered Murdoch."  "Hush!" he whispered wn.rn;ngly. "No one mmt guess. Ralph will be far froan here to-morrow."  (To bo continued.)
Northern Weekly Gazette. — 1903-01-24 (Stockton-on-Tees, Cleveland, England)

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS.  A ghastly murder has b.:4.2n perpetrated, and poor old Mrs Butt is discovered lying on the kitchen floor w th her throat, out, while the condition of the house goes to prove that the murderer was searching for something. The local police fail to obtain further evidence and thsi place the matter in the hands of :Soatland Yard. DetectiveInspector Glassingto2 unde:takes the job, after somewhat deleate handling from his chief, and travels to Harlesden, where he interviews Mrs TictSy, with whom he thoroughly ingratiates himself. Lady Mary Stratford and her daughter, Flora Beatrice, arc at home that evening. Among the guests is a Mr Norman Vansittart, a man without means and social position, tvho is deeply in love with Flora Beatrice. This affection is returned, but Flora Beatrice has decided to marry Lord Heslington, the most eligible man in her circle—when she is asked. But this same lord is entangl:ng himself with Miss Mabel Eyre, Lady Stratford's pretty governess. Norman Vansittart returns home. Bowed down by his crushed hopes and shattered dreams, he longs to raise the veil of his own and his mother's past life. While he is alone he unlocks his mother's desk and prooeeds to read a packet of old letters belonging to her. Norman learns the true story of his birth. He is no longer a PAIIICIPSS OlltCadlt, but the legitimate son of the Earl of FuHord, while Lord Heslincton, the favoured suitor of Flora Beatrice, is the son of Mrs Vansittairt,_the one who has kept Norman from  rightful place all these years. I In the early morning Mrs Vaneittart finds that Nerman has discovered her secret. Remorse and dread fill her oup of woe to the brim, and she fallA down dead. Norman seeks an interview with his father, but failing to find him at home, is received by Lard Heslington. The latter repoats the story to the earl when he returns, but can get no satisfactory answer as to the truth of matters. When in this state of indecision he is thrown into the society of *Mabel Eyre and engages himself to her Flora Beatrice and Vansittart meet in Kensington Gardens, and Norman extracts from the proud beauty that had he been rich she would have permitted his suit. Both Lord Fulford and his son, Lord ' Heslington, are stpaected by Glassington, who, as a friend of Norman Vansittares, itears his story, and is then afforded a valuable clue. The detective cleverly manoeuvres to compel Lord Heslington's preeenee in the witness-box, and thereby came a gre.a.t sensation in soeiety. Mabel Eyte visits Lard Fulford, and begs him to intercede for his son and prevent him from sacrificing himself for the family honour. Rile so far prevails that the proud old ariathecat condescends to visit Scotland Yard. Glassingten is present at the interview without the Earl's knowledge, and hears his evidence. Lord Fulford's words, and the piece of evidence he produces in their so port, are such that both Glassington and his chief see plainly they have been working on the wrong tack. Glassingten is murb annoyed at his failure, but promkes to Fee the case to nit end.
Northern Weekly Gazette. — 1903-09-05 (Stockton-on-Tees, Cleveland, England)

USED AGAINST HIM.  After dinner, by way of a little relaxatian,l went to a certain cafe wher3 thcre are women who sing. I do not pretond that the place was a place of particularly good repute, or that the entertainment which it offered was in any sense worth listening to. As a inaLter of fact, the performance was execrably bad and abominably dull Indeed, the place was a -vulgar and blackguard plaoe, and therefore excellently suited to the humour I was ia---forl was in a blackguard frame cf mind. I sat drinking the poisonous concoction which they call " absinthe a l'anisette," witile one of filo chanteuses, a hideous fat woman, hovered about me and asked for drink. On the table next to mine their were some papers. I drew them towards me. Among them was a London paper of that day's date. It was uncut. It had travelled quicker tleln I had, having probably reached liett,s-7,1s by the Ostend route. Opening it, my eyes searched down the columns. They lighted on a paragraph which was headed "Dreadful Tragedy in Sackville-street." I read the para. griTil. It was a narrative, up to dats, of :ldan Foster's murder.  It seemed that they must ha.ve discovered the body only a few minutes after I left the house. Alan's man had Tone to the room, and knocked, and having received no answer, had trie.d the handle, and found that the dour was locked. He waited some minutes, then returned, and, as he sft I received no answer to his knockit,, fearing that Alan was ill inside th, room, he sent for assistance, and had the door forced open. Braithwzi.te had been in the service of Alan's father. He had tended Uun himself a)aost since he was a child. I pictured the old man's face as he saw his itia,ter lying dead—murdered—on the Poor. It seemed that the body had innle a mess. The newspaper said that the corpse was discovered lying in a great pood of blood. I could not alL;gether understand how that couid he. I was positive that I had spitted the heart with one blow, given with Alan's own stilletto, a long, slender weapon, scarcely broader than a bodkin. It seemed hardly probable that much blood would flow from such a v.'etnid as that. The paragraph concluded by stating that the police were on the track of the assassin, and that a warrant had been issued at Scotlani Yard. So! we shall see. When I had finished reading this in.structive item of current news, a chanteuse came round, a scallopshell in her hand, soliciting subscriptions to compensate her, in some measure, for the vocal agony which she had been recently enduring. As I glanced up, to drop some sous into her shell, Thy eyes chanced upon a man who Was seated at a table right in front of me,- but on the opposite side of the room. It was the man of the train! He, too, was reading a journal, just. :Is I had been doing, and apparently his was. an Enzlish journal too. As
Northern Weekly Gazette. — 1909-03-20 (Stockton-on-Tees, Cleveland, England)

SATURDAY, MARCH 20, 1909.  "Did you get your lost dog back when you advertisM i" "No, but I got three better ones."  -: 0 :  'Thai man flirting with the girl yonder is a divinity student." "Yes, so I see; hut who is the divinity?"  —: o :  " Don't be afraid.," said a mother to her child at a show, "the lion is stuffed." "Very likely," reriponded the lad, "but perha.pG he could find room for a little boy like me!"  : o :  Aiagistrate: "Why, did you strike the telegraph operator?" Prisoner: "It vruz Lae this, yer Honour; I gave him a message to send to me gal, an' the feller started to read iL Then I swiped hint:*  —: o •  Cultivate a. pleasant manner. Mach of the happiness of life depends on our outward demeanour. We have all experienced the charm of gentle and courteoub conduct; we have been drawn irresistiNy tow.ards those who are obliging, affable, and ey-inpathntic in their demeanour.  -: 0 :  "Do you think your sister likes me, Tommy?" "Yes; she stood up for you at dinner." "Stood up for me! Was anybody saying anything against me?" "No; nothing much. Father said he thought you were rather a donkey; but Sis got up and said you weren't, and told father he ought to know better th. 42-1 judge a fellow by his looks."  - : 0 :  "You recommend spare diet, long walks, and plenty of exercise," said a stout gentleman querulously to his doctor. "Why, I could do all that at home and save the expense of this place." "Yes, my dear sir, I know," said the medico suavely. "But a patient so stout as you needs plenty of worry. The hotel bills here will go a long way in the reducing of your, weight!"  —: o :  Gentleman (to valet): "Is the baron at homer Valet: "No, he has gone to the baths." Gent: "Did he not say when he would be ha.ek?" Valet: "He said he would not make a long stay." Gent. (takes a e.at): "Then I will wait for him." After two hours' useless waiting—Gent.: "The baron is a long time; pray, tell me, where does he usually take his bath?" Valet: "In Switzerland!"  / - : 0 :  Through an incautious reference to a law suit a country paper was condemned to pay heavy damages. This made the editor extremely careful. Not long afterwards the junior reporter, sent to do a church service, referred in a summary of the sermon to Cain, the murderer of Abel. "Look here, young man," said the editor impressively, "how often must I tell you to say 'alleged murdererr You'll get us into serious trouble again!"  - : 0 :- The idea is prevalent amongst some girls that sarcasm adds a, certain piquancy to their attractions. They imagine that men regard the girl who is oa.pablo of making sharp, caustic remarks about anything or anyone as a person of superior wit, to be sought after and admired accordingly. Men certainly are attracted somewhat towards the sarcastic girl, but not because they feel any distinct admiration for her. She is simply a type of girl they have not met with before, and up to a oertain point they like and laugh at her pungency. All the same, the sarcastic girl is usually "left on the shelf," and more often than not beoorzles at'. acrimonious old maid.
Northern Weekly Gazette. — 1909-04-10 (Stockton-on-Tees, Cleveland, England)

CHAPTER XXX V. (Continued.) , oU—you will be seat fOT trial % "  I fear EO. Unless— Amos Thwaite told me to hope. He said that he could clear me. lam hoping." Then in a lower tone he added: " I dare not give up hoping."  "Amos Thwaite!" Margaret exclaimed. "Do you know him?" Then a moment later she knew that she had spoken foolishly. It must have been through meeting Edward that the detective came to discover the misunderstanding under which they both had laboured. • "Yes. He came to me. You knew I married?" "Yes, I knew that." The answer was in a very low voice. "She left me—ran avra.y—a couple of hours  after the ceremony. I don't know why. She left a letter—saying she was unworthy of me. , I thought then—l think so still—that her mind was unhinged. AIMS Thwaite came to my house when I discovered that she had gone. She had fainted on the way tack—l ought to explain that. I left her to recover at her request. It was then she ran away." He paused a few moments. He was bewildered at seeing Margaret— it confused him—he was telling the story badly. "It appears—that she was not really my wife. It was a bigamous marriage. She had married before. I cannot understand it. clearly." She was not his wife! It was a bigamous marriage, and she had left him practically at the church door! Margaret stared at him. "Amos Thwaite was helping me to find her. Poor girl! I--I never loved her." He had to say that—he could not help it. He could not let Margaret think that--that he had forgotten his love for her. " I know that," she replied softly. He looked at her in some astonishment. How did she know? He met her eyes. What did the light in them mean? There was an embarrassed pause as they both looked away confusedly. "Poor girl!" he repeated. " Whatever—however she did wrong by me I fm-give her. To find her dead, mw-dared! So young! I forgive her—as I hope for forgiveness. ' He spoke'z'the last words in so low a tone that they were ibardly audible. Could she not forgive also? Young—and murdered, taken away without a chance of repentance! She did forgive, fully, freely. "You—you are not married?" Though it hurt him he must speak of that. "I saw the announcement in the paper—your approaching marriage. I expected it.' "You expected it?" he was surprised, a little annoyed. What did he mean by his words? He could not know the circumstances under whieh she had promised. "Long before the announcement was made. It was natural that I shoulki expect it to be made public." He spoke bitterly. Her heart beat at his bitterness. "Tam mot going to be married now," she said. " Not—going " He stared at her again, and again his eyes fell baffled by the light in hers.  "I have to ask your forgiveness, Edward," she commenced haltingly. It was difficult to speak, but it was right to confess. " I—l heard the sca-ndial spoken: at Bliclmouth. I believed it. Knowing you as I did it WaS grievous in me to believe." She had forgiven the poor erring dead  y
Northern Weekly Gazette. — 1909-03-27 (Stockton-on-Tees, Cleveland, England)

CHAPTER XXXII. (Continued). T was feasible to think tlint "The Captain" had visited Sybil since her return from Blidm.outb. He was undoubtedly the man who had been in the habit of visiting her. Suppose he had become aware that Sybil  had married, suppose that he was still in love with her, suppose by some means he had become aware of the letter Sybil had written, was it stretching a point too far to believe him guilty of murder in a paroxysm of jealousy ? He did not think it was. Certainly the purpose of the letter was known. There was the bogus telegraan sent by Barrows. It looked as though the letter had been kept back until the telegram was seirt—that Sybil had given the note to someone she trusted who had betrayed her. The more the detective thought out the case the more an.x.ious was he to discover the identity of "The Captain." A paroxysm of jealousy! But there was no doubt from the position of the corpse that Sybil had been stabbed when asleep—or certainly when she was unprepared. Mere had been no quarrel. That was a paint that would shake to some extent the theory of the prosecution of Edward Couneey. If she were ex-peering him she would hardly he lying quietly upon the sofa.. 111 any case the theory of a quarrel would be upset. But jealously—even mad jealousy—might be crafty, cool, careful. Mr Peckton alighted from the omnibus in Harrow-road, and presently found himself in Tankerville-street. Although close upon midnight that street presented quite a vivacious aepect. Children were playing as vigorously as their tired little bodies would permit, for the night wind was cold, and only constant movement could keep warmth in their little starved limbs: women were waiting in gossiping groups for the closing of public-houses and the consequent reloase of their husbands from interminable debates; and here and there men and women, with thin coats and thinner jackets, very closely buttoned, were drifting tiredly to the rooms they designated home. Mr Peckton mounted the steps at No. 19, arid rang the bell. At his second summons a voice came to him through the door. "Who's there ?" demanded the husky tones of Mrs Hawkins. "All 'me lodgers are in. I exPee' you've mistiken the number." "Can you let me have a room, Mrs Hawkins ?" Mr Peekton asked, speaking through the keyhole. The door was immediately unlocked, and Mrs Hawkins disclosed herself in the full glory of hair released from curlers.  "You, Mr Nekton! Well, I never! If you're wantin' to see Mr Graves he ain't 'cane, and I don't expec' him to-night. I should let that testymonial slide. 'E ain't the workin' sort. Got a. telygram this evenin', 'e did, and was off to once. All shalcin' with excitement." So Jim. Graves hod been summoned by telegram! Whose was the haaid pulling all these wires, setting so many da.ncing in obedience to his will?  "It's ilot the testimonial, Mrs Hawkins, and I don't want to see MT Graves. I want a
Northern Weekly Gazette. — 1909-11-20 (Stockton-on-Tees, Cleveland, England)

NOVEMBER 20. 7,011.  seen Mother Vixen's little ones playing with My latest family in most friendly fashion. Father Fox will only trouble rabbits when he can't get poultry, and we are so accustomed to person_ tion that we think nothing ill of him for that, preferring to accept his kindness when he is kind, mid keeping out of his way when he is hungry. That winter the farmers were more miserly than usual, and the foxes ate several of their old friends. To be sure, they apologised for the necessity, but that consolation did not go far.  "I should weary you," added the buck rabbit, after a brief pause to recover his wind, if I told you of all my 'hair-breadth 'scapes from the imminent, deadly breech-loader, or how I have successfully defied ferrets, foxes, stoats, weasels, pole-cats, badgers, big hawks, dogs, boys, poachers, and things that call themselves sportsmen. One more experience and I must bring my story to a close. "Last autumn I migrated for a time, and went to the park in search of fresh fields and pastures new. It is a lovely place, full of lordly pheasants, and it belongs, I think, to a fat man in velveteen, who lives in a cottage by the wood, and orders the gentleman who lives in the big house to do as he is told. Well, there is a meadow by the warren—a very big meadow, full of soft grass—and in the coldest weather rabbits find a lot of food there—fresh greenstuff for the most part. I went once. You had to go through some narrow holes in the fence that surrounded the entire field. I did not like it, and said so. Something will happen,' I said to the rabbits; and the elder ones, being devoted to fresh green.. stuff, said they were fatalists, and that what was decreed was decreed, while the younger ones said I was a tiresome old person who ought to be suppressed. "Well, one morning, when there must have been three or four hundred rabbits in that great pasture, there was a big cry of alarm. Every entrance had closed suddenly. Two hours later a party from the big house ca-me into the field, and in two hours there was not a rabbit left alive. I heard them congratulating the fat man in velveteen, and saw some of them giving things to him, although I had heard him speaking very angrily while the murders were being committed. That night I left the park, never to return, and I spend my old age in the fieads where I was born. And here my lessorn ends. I am old enough to believe that there are still a few things I have to learn; but if all rabbits had as much wisdom as I, you wouid have very poor sport.. Now, good-bye, and thaeks for your assistance with the snare."  So saying, the aged rabbit went off very quietly to his favourite bank, and I saw him no mom.