npedrazzini/19thc_murder_suicide_news huggingface dataset:
The Cotton Factory Times. — 1901-07-12 (Manchester, Greater Manchester, England)

EXPLAIN IT AS YOU LIKE.  The following outdone story appears in the last number of The Spectator from a correspondent : A few years ago I met a lady of perfectly reliable veracity, who reported the following to me as the experience of an intimate personal friend. Miss X dreamed that she was occupying a room in a strange house; that daring the night her room was entered by a man who robbed, and eventually—she believed—murdered her. Miss X spoke of the dream in the morning to her brother, and it was several days before she could shake off the unpleasant impression created. Some weeks after she received an Invitation to accompany her brother on a visit to some friends of his in Scotland. They arrived late in the afternoon, and were welcomed in the trout hall by their friends, servants, dec., but as they went to the drawing-room for tea Miss X whispered to her brother "The butler is the man in my dream." After tea the visitors were about to be shown their rooms, when Miss X again got hold of her brother and said to him : "Before we go upstairs let me describe again to you the room in my dream." She described it accurately, and on going upstairs with her be was obliged to own that her description and the room tallied exactly. I need not prolong my letter by relating the objections of Miss X to occupy the room alloted to her, or the arguments by which her brother overruled them. The result was that her brother was to be installed in a room oommunicating by a door with Miss X's, and on that condition she consented to remain the night. When the ladies went to bed, young Mr. X and his frienn went into this adjoining bedroom, and there talked and smoked. Miss X sat in her own room, having locked the door which led into the passage. After some time, as the young men's talk died into silence Miss X heard some one trying the locked door of her room. Immediately she went through into the next room, and said to her brother: " He has just tried my door; he will he trying to come in by way of yours directly." Miss X had just retreated when the butler made his appearance iu Mr. X. room ; " Oh, I beg your pardon, gentlemen, I did not know there was anyone occupying this room; I thought I heard a noise." Mr. X dismissed his friend, locked his door, and went to sleep, and on the following day Miss X made an excuse and returned home. The butler Was found soon after tube subject to "homicidal mania."  In His and. -I know not if or dark or bright Shall be my lot, If that wherein my hopes delight Is best or not. My barque is wafted to the,strand By breath divine, And on the helm there reste a hand  -Other than mine. One who nal known in storms to sail I have on board; Above the raging of the gale I hear my Lord.  He holds me, when the billows emite, I shall not fall.  If sharp, 'tie short; if long, 'tis Ugh— He tampers all.  Safe to the Land. safe to the Lend— The end is this, _ . . _ _  _.._ ___ ._ _......., And then with Him go hand in hand Far into bliss.
The Cotton Factory Times. — 1910-07-22 (Manchester, Greater Manchester, England)

SUNSHINE.  Welcome theaw art, merry, dancin', prancin', glitterin' eunshoine. An' bless thee, owd sun, larnt foak on' th' monarch o' t' blue vault aboon. Bounteous, owd sun, theaw art, spreadin' thi warm mantle o'er t' face o' Natur'. Aw fancy avr yer thi talkin' to thi ehilder, or what others coe'n sunbeams, i' this way: "Away, away, my bairns, an' warm yen babblin' brooks, singin' their songs i' green, sequestered place., wheer pebbles th' bed smile at one like happy (Milder dun when they wakken in a mornin'. Whoil t' shinin' ripples bike streaks o' sunny meet dance merrily and eternally along." Glorious, thrice precious an' ever welcome eunehoine! Yon peerless ehoinin' orb, dispenses his rays equally i' beautiful or unlovely places. Equally on the cotter's shed and on the mansions great in England's princely realm. Incomparably lustrous sun, up you, in his isolated an' resplendent grandyer, stops o' on us deawn here fro' knovvin' too mich, defyin' eawr puny efforts to gauge or measure his imperial front. An' fancy yers him talkie' to his childer still: "Away deawn you to Mother Earth and nourish the seeds that await you there. Shoine ye on meadows green or dusty lane as is your wont. Gild ye, my children, the forest trees, call forth the blossom sweet secreted there. Shoine on the heaving, boundless, mystic main, on rivers large or small, all hurrying towards the sea. Shoine, too, my willing bairns, on kingly couch or beggar's crib. Let nought escape your magic touch. Shoine ye in coiner's den, in murderer's secret lair. Yea, shoine in the sweater's room, illume the pale-faced toilers there. Alike shoine on the brazen face of a scoundrel bold; on the god-like front of a good Samaritan or candid friend. Shoine on the outcast an' the wearied tramp—the tramps, the homeless, friendless, all detested tramp. Warm ye, my bairne, the pool wherein he seeks to lave his blood-stained feet. The while some feathered minstrel floods the air with music and pitying hovers o'er his aching, honseless head. Shoine ye in narrow courts and cheer the occupants behovelled there. Show ye how God's own light, as yet untaxed, is free to all. Merry, dancin', welcome sunshine! Let pretty ander raise their little bonds vri tinfeign'd joy an' bask 'ern in thy radiance. On aged men and women whose blood is thin, thy warmth bestow—theaw'e bin absent a long, long toime, owd friend; and in thy mute way tells no spring has come an' fleawers are peepin' eavvt. Hail, good owd sun !—(Pinis.)  "What dent think o' that, Bill, for one theaw's so often coed a numbskull?" Bill paused a bit afore he answert, an' then he said: "Theaw's no mooar writ that than sm've to do wi"t makin' o' t' moon. Theaw knows no moose o' potry or owt o' that sooart than a pig knows abeawt a clen shirt. Ther' wer' noan o' thy lot as could tell t' difference between a haystack an' a piano. Heawever, send it forrad, an' if th' editor doesna punce thi font Mime he sees thi, then aw'm RA big a foo' as aw're anion ta'en thee to be."
The Cotton Factory Times. — 1907-05-24 (Manchester, Greater Manchester, England)

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS INSTALMENTS.— Lady Werwick is waiting in her boudoir for Lord Stainforth, a young man with whom she has, unknown to himself, fallen deeply in love. He has lost his way in the thick fog where he is of service to Consuelo Vail, the daugliter of an old friend of Lord Wenwick's, as she is on her way to visit the latter. Together they go to a tea-shop until the fog has cleared up, when they proceed to their destinehon, arriving extremely • late. Owing to the nonarrival of her luggage. Consuelo is unable to attend a ball given by Lord Wenwick. but watches the dancing from a musicians' balcony. After the ball she involuntarily overhears a coMYersation between Lady Wenwick and Lord Stainforth, in which the former announces that Lord Wenwick has been dead for. some hours, and further confesees that she has poisoned her huisband, in order to be free to marry Lord Stainforth, who, on learning the fearful truth, leaves the house, horrified, whilst the murderess totters to her room, whence a fearful fascination draws her to her husband's death-bed, upon which she falls, with a terrible cry, repentant. There is no suspicion that Lord Wenwick's death arose from any but natural causes; the knowledge of the crime being confined to Consuelo and Lord Sta,inforth, who blames himself no severely for his conduct towards Lady Wenwick as to offer to marry her, which offer, however, she refusoi as having br;ing prompted not by love for her, but by his sense of culpability. Lady Wenwick seeks refuge from her remorse in a convent, whilst whilst Stainforth. haying entered the Church, is appointed vicar of the parish in which Consuelo lives, though, owing to his change of name, she is unaware of his identity until attending service. Consuelo, thou-h she had only met Lord Stain. forth on her visit to London,. and then only for a few hour, in so moved by the remembrance of hi., and by his appearance as to gently refuse an offer of marriage from Sir Anthony Wyndham, an old friend of her fether's. She does net meet Stainforth, for he has determined that a pert of his atonement shall consist in svoili ig ,he society of his equals. concentrating all n's effects on bettering the conditions of the pen. He lives a Lb, of the sternest self-denial. and whit, encagrtl in think-inc 'cut a ser mt., by which he hopes to settle a strike amongst the fisher folk. :he is startled by hearing a tapping at his study window. The parson is warned by one of the village women that the strikers intend to fire the Souire's house. Rushing through the storm lie finals en arrival that he is too late to prevent the attempt. theugh fortunately in time to rescue, with great difficulty, the Squire and Consuelo, and, baring placed them in safety in a part of the house which is not threatened by the fire, he dashes back into the blazing houses to rescue the two servants.
The Cotton Factory Times. — 1889-08-30 (Manchester, Greater Manchester, England)

HALF-TIMERS.  A hurricane blast blows the wind this morn, Shipwrecks to-day on the wild seas borne, Mill chimneys may fall, and homes be blown  down, Woe, woo to umbrellas, hat, dress, or ;own. The sycamore, sturdy old oat, and beech, Their level with earth this day some shall reach • . . . .  How Cl2-;;Tir'id growls in its terrible might, Like thousands of foes engaged in a tight. z3nt fiercer sea wilder the mad wind may blow, May send monster ships to a watery doom, But little half-timers, come rain, wind, or snow, At six in the morning must venture from home. Down comes the rain in torrents this morning; The roofs of buildings with sheen adorning; The dykes ate all full, tubs running over, Flat with the earth in fields is the clover. Oh, how it splashes! how fast it comes down As though this morning determin'd to drown The whole world in a deluge once again— So fast and fiercely this morn falls the rain. But faster and faster the rain may pour down, • May fall as before we have ne'cr known it come, Sut little half-timers, if rain did them drown, At six in the morning must venture from home. The morning is dark, 'tis wild winter time, The boughs of the trees are covered with rime, Icicles hang from the sheltering eaves, Deep 'near h the snow lie the dead autumn leaves. Reen blows the north wind; it nips children's ears, So great is their pain the poor things shed tears; Though tett:lain; your nose, and close to your eye, You couldn't your fingers this morn descry,— Thougn Egyptian tle.ckness, nay though darker still .  Far darker than any vile murderer's doom, Yet little half-timers who work in the nill, At six in the morning must venture from home. Down cornea the snow in & merciless squall, Moors, fields, and hills cov'ring with a white pall, Boughs on the trees are all bent to the earth, Doubled and trebled seem walls in their girth. Out of one's sight are the homes on the moor, Covered in towns are each window nod door; Row nice this morn in a warm bed to sleep, 'Stead of wading through snow at least kneedeep. But faster and faster the snow may fall down, May fall as before we have ne'er known it come, Yet little half-timers must brave Nature's frown, At six in the morning they all must leave home. Let weather be ford, let weather be fair, Blow warm saminer winds, or cold wintry air, Let the lightnings flash, let the thunders roar, In wild gushing torrents let rain downpour. Let raindrops be frozen to wintry hail, Let winds blow gently, let winds blow a gale, Let mornings be dark, let mornings be light, Let all heaven's forNes in storms unite. Yet what be the season, what be the weather, The little half-timers,—like workers at loom,— Oftimes hand-in-hand go out together, As at 'is in the morning they leave their home. TTIELBEnT.
The Cotton Factory Times. — 1889-09-27 (Manchester, Greater Manchester, England)

CHAPTER XIV. SWORN ALLIES.  Lucas was drumming idly with his left hand upon a volume of the Revised Statutes when he again said: "Mr. Endicott, answer me one question first, and then we may or may nottry to arrive at a common understanding in this business." _ _ _ .  He now faced about, and leaning over the table, eyeing me as a cat would watch allbird about to become her victim, inquired:  "Would you .do One act or speak one word to help the assassin of Charles Clinton to escape the vengeance which the law provides?" It was my turn now to grow vehement. Springing to my feet, and dramatically shaking my right hand heavenward, I replied: "So help me God, I would not." He was still eyeing me as if he would read my soul,. Without removing his gaze, he said:  „ "Sit down !” I complied, when he continued, after a short pause.:  "Then you do not believe Lucy Gray to be the murderer, spite of all the deadly evidence against her ?"  I again sprang to my feet in excitement. This time I fairly shouted: "My Goa,man, I know she is innocent. lam a living witness of her proof !" This time I sat down without being invited. What was I doing? Once more I had let my excitement carry me beyond my reason, and again had I unwittingly played into this man's hand by saying too much.  His steady stare was still upon me, but it had changed to a puzzled expression. "You know she is innocent—you are a living witness to her proof?" be repeated. "Then, for heaven's sake, why do you not remove this awful accusation? Snatch her from this deadly danger? You love her, too? _I cannot uuderstand—"  Here I interrupted him. ",Just now you taunted me with a reminder of my official oath. Can you realise that there may be such a thing to a man of honour as an oath more binding—more sacred than the oath of office? Can you realise this ?" "I think I can," he slowly said. At least I will trust you and believe that you are dealing with me in this case on honour's level."  I reached across the table, and, grasping his hand, shook it warmly. Something was giving me confidence in the man; I knew not what. But I began to have faith in his integrity and professional ability. Before he spoke again I bad made up my mind to give him what aid I could to unravel the mystery. When he resumed the conversation it was to say: . . _ _  "Until just now I have believed that Charles Clinton came to his death by the hand of his granddaughter. Your words impress me with a hope that there may possibly be some terrible mistake in all this unexplainable evidence against her. With a detective a bare hope—a mere suspicion—is enough to work upon. You are oath-bound; will you tell me to whom ?" There was nothing in my promise to her to close my lips to this question. I rapidly told myself, and the reply was: " To Miss Gray herself I" The four words were like so many thunderbolts to the detective. lie sprang to his feet, leaned over
The Cotton Factory Times. — 1889-01-11 (Manchester, Greater Manchester, England)

INTERESTING TO RAILWAY PASSENGERS.—The Secretary of the Railway Passengers' Protection Asa°. elation writes to the Times to point out the various particulars in which the by-laws of the railway companies have been judicially decided to be illegal, and therefore unmaintainable. The first is the well-known case of compelling a passenger to pay his fare from the point whence the train started if he has lost or is unable to produce his ticket. The next is the case in which companies deny their respousibility for the default of other companies with which their trains correspond. The third case is that in which the presumption of guilt is cast upon passengers in regard to any breach of the by-laws, and he is required to prove his innocence. The fourth is the disclaimer of the responsibility on the part of the company for want of punctuality, whether the result of negligence or not. The fifth is the refusal to allow a passenger to alight at a station short of that for which a ticket is taken when the fare for the longer distance is less than for the shorter. The last case is the disclaimer on the part of the company of responsibility for luggage left in charge of a porter before the train is due tc leave, unless booked at the cloak room. On all these points the law, as interpreted by the judges, is against the companies and their by-laws. At the Vaeup Police Court, on Saturday after. noon, John Matthews, 32, labourer, Newge.te, Bacdp, was charged on remand with the wilfu? murder of his wife, Mary Matthews, on the 2nd instant. Prisoner and deceased were heard quarrel. hug about one o'clock on Wednesday morning, and deceased was heard to appeal to her husband not to murder her.—Dr. Barclay said the woman must have been dead or in a dead faint from which she never recovered when she was put to bed, as there was no blood on the bed. There were some stains on the counterpane, which appeared to have been dipped in water. Deceased's clothes had bees pulled off hurriedly. There was only one wound on the body, a punctured wound on the right shin• such as might be caused by a kick with the clogs prisoner was wearing. It was of recent infliction, On making a post-mortem examination of the body he found all the organs bloodless but healthy. The cause of death was hemorrhage from the wound on the leg. In his opinion a person would bleed to deata in half an hour from such a wound. He believed the wound which caused death was due tr. violence. The wound on the shin had evidently been washed after it ceased bleeding, but there were blood stains on the ankle and the sole of the foot.—Prisoner, in answer to the charge, said that he was not guilty. He was committed to take his trial at the next Manchester Assizes on the capital charge. The hearing of the case lasted nearly flaxen hours.
The Cotton Factory Times. — 1886-08-27 (Manchester, Greater Manchester, England)

PETER." "Because I did not have the experience I have now.  "The governor was going to give rue his foot, so 1 took his daughter's hand. 11." _ _  " Because I had more money than I knew wimt to do with. Now I have more to do than I have money with. B. 1)." " I wanted a companion of the opposite sex. P.S. —She is still opposite. A." " Had difficulty unlocking the door at night, and wanted somebody to let me in. "Because it is just my luck. I', d." " I didn't intend to go aml do it. S." "I yearned for company. We now have it all the time. &mt."  Because I asked her if she'd have me. -SI-le-Said she would. I think she's got me. Bums."  The Azkanszvr County Treaazzort  A character of the jolly, free-aud-casy kind had been elected County Treasurer in an out-of-the-way county in Arkansaw, far away from railroad connection. When the time came for him to make a report to the State Treasurer of, and to hand over, the funds in his hands belonging to the State, he conclintal to take the funds in his saddle bags and report iu person, rather than run the risk of a bank deposit, and check sent by mail. Accordingly he provided himself with an old-fashioned horse pistol and an Arkansaw toothpick in the shape of a tellinch bowie knife, likewise for his supposed comfort he took a quart bottle of strong Arkansa.w "bugjeice." Several miles of the road over which he had to pass was a dense forest, with thick undergrowth of brush, a low, flat, and marshy tract of land on both sides of the highway, in wbidi desperadoes, horse thieves, robbers, and murderers found :% safe retreat, for no ofiicer of the law would dare risk life in the pursuit of these Dick Turpins when once this "Disiiial Highwayman's Swamp," as it was called, was gained. Mr. , County Treasurer, tells his experience thus :—" I'd got that ar' Miss pistel in good order, an' practised with her till I thought I could hit gnat's head at 'er bug range, and when I got most through 'er Highwayman's Swamp out stepped a pair of the ugliest. looking chaps I ever see, and, taking my old hoss by 'Cr bridle, both holdin a Mr. Colt in his hand, demanded, • Yer money or yur life, stir.' I knowed with my single burl old boss piste' I'd have no show at all, so I said in er pleasantest sort of way, • Hold on, my friends, I'm prepared for you,' au' er bottle of licker, held her up, sayin', 'This is what'll fix you.' Pon my honor, they let loose the hoss's bridle, an' e:tclaimed, both ter once, Let us have it, let us have it.' Sure's you're born, 'Cr highwayman drink all that whisky, au' when I told 'em I was County Treasurer, an' had 'er saddle hags full o' money, they garded me cot of 'er swamp, an' told me th,:y's see I got ivry vote in 'Highwayman's swamp for lection agin'. I'll tell ycr, sir, a man in 'er hands of 'er highwayman, 'er in lection tunes in Arkausaw can do more with 'er quart o' whisky than any other weapon. It's 'er center pop, an' don't you forget it."
The Cotton Factory Times. — 1892-11-04 (Manchester, Greater Manchester, England)

THE OLDHAM MURDER.  MELLOR'S ACCOUNT OF HIS MARRIAGE. AN ILL-MATED PAIR.  A statement made by Joseph Mellor, the man committed to take his trial for the Hollins-road murder, throws some light on the unhappy life led by himself and his wife. Given m his own 'verde, the staterneht, which was made on Sunday night, the 2.3ril October, is se follows I wish to say that Mary Jane Mellor, or Stagged. and I Dever lived a happy day for the last live and a half years. She wee always nasty with me, every time I entered the house, and what the neighboirra say %boat living happily together is untrue, for there is not one who spoke to her np to her death. About three years ago she went to Hyde, and got her sister to go with her to put in the banes of marriage, and we were married at the latter end of August. At that t4ine I had been drinking very heavily, and I was under the influence of drink when the marriage took place. The week after she stagfied falling out with me, and told me I was roT her husband—he was in Liverpool. She took the marriage lines out of the cupboard and threw them into the fire. I should have liked to have lived happily with her, but she would not allow me to do so. She has left me for weeks at a time, and when I spoke to her about this emidnet she would say, 'You have nothing at all to do with me.' Then, when I went to see my mother and sister she would commence making her bother (presumably at the relatives' house). She tuts eves gone to my sister's house and knocked her down because I went there. One time, when my father came to see nes, she ordmed him out of the house; so I could stand it no longer." . . . Mellor, after referring to ins coartehip with Miss Sunderland, broke down in tears, and when he collected himself said, "Put that on one sides bit. I will tell you more by and bye:' Prisoner commenced making this statement at twenty minutes mist three in the afternoon, and it was seven o'clock by the time he had fiuished. The rearm that it occupied such a long period—nearly four hours—was that during its delivery Mellor frequently paused, and fell back on the hard, wooden pallet apparently deep in reverie. He would continue this, sometimes with tears in his eyes, for a considerable length of time, and then suddenly rise and resume his story. When he finally broke down he remained quiet for some houre, cud then undressed and went to sleep. The next morning (October 24th, after a good night's sleep, he asked for pen, ink, and paper, which were accordingly supelied. On Tuesday be commenced writing, and after being thus occupied for an hour, he suddenly changed his mind. for he threw down the pen, tore no the paper on which he had written, and threw it down the closet in his cell.