npedrazzini/19thc_murder_suicide_news huggingface dataset:
The North-Eastern Weekly Gazette. — 1891-06-27 (Stockton-on-Tees, Cleveland, England)

TURNER'S ACQUINTANCE "JACK" FOUND.  ; 1.2.7 bet. 'aen  It will be remembered-deal-in the first interview with Mr Willey, Turner protested his innocence, and stated that the body of Barbara Waterhouse had been left at the house by a quarryman named "Jack." "I was standing at the door on Saturlay afternoon," he said, "when a man named 'Jack,' whom I had not seen for a long time, , paned. ' Jack 'is a quarryman—a tall man, with 'kale whisker, and he works at one of the Horsforth quarries. I had only seen him once before. lie came in, and we had some beer. We most have had about ten pints altogether." Turner wid the beer was fetched by them alternately—not !rem ono public-house, but from several. From kat 'shit, he declared, he recollected nothing sluff he found himself in bed. He did not know whoa he went to bed—in fact it was possible that "Jack " put him to bed, and then took 0 the shawl in which the body was discovered. At all events, on awaking he went down stairs to the coal cellar for fuel to mend tho fire, and there found the bundle, which he supposed "Bier DAVI: BEEN LEI BY JAtK." The polite ard many of the public have from the trot doubted the truth of the whole of this extraordinary story, admitting, however, that possibly Tuner had an acquaintance answering the descrip:ion of the person named. The man to whom Turner evidently alluded has been found. His name is " Jack " Barnes, and lie now lives in a lodging-house in Leeds. A week or so before Whitsuntidehe was at Horsforth, and with a corniguion went into the Black Bull Hotel. He there aw Turner, and the three men drank together. In the curse of the conversation Turner said he wee alone at home, and asked Barnes and his mate I they could cock. Turner was assured they could. The thrse men theweupon left the hotel, bought some food in the village, and went to the corner hones it the top of Back-lane, where they partcmk ifs hurriedly-prepared meal. The dinrer or tea ever, they rsturned to the Black Bull, but did not dap there long. Barnes 1.1.1 T nsnsronan THE SAKE DAY, awl has not since been in the village. These parrtionlars came to the knowledge of the West I Hiding police on Monday, and consequently they kok steps to communicate with Barnes, who is kocribed its a cilia, inoffensive, and hard-working ekl man. Barnes has visited the County Police Station in Perk. street, and has recognised Turner U the man with whom he was drinking some weeks ago at liorsforth. It need hardly be added that Barnes denies any knowledge whatever of the elinv, and that the police are thoroughly satisfied nth-the truth of the denial.  On Tue da-, a coroner's jury returned a verdict If" WUu Murder" against the male prisoner, and flis mother guilty as accessory. Iz Arthur Willey had *slather interview with ie prisoners its the cells at the Leda West tiding Police Station on Tuesday, and informed Lem of the verdict of "Wilful murder" which ses returned by the coroner's jury on the previous Y. Turner received the news quite calmly, but Ls mother was greatly moved at the announce
Northern Weekly Gazette. — 1905-02-04 (Stockton-on-Tees, Cleveland, England)

ELEANOR, IT IS YOU I WANT." At last the strap she clung to gave way, and she nearly fell out of the car, but she recovered herself and struggled desperately, hitting Carden in tho face. Miss L. Arbuthnot held on to him again, and so the atrugile went on.  In the meantime there was an attempt at a rescue. A man named McGrath came up, but he was set upon by Garden's men and kept back. Then Lord Gough's ehepherd, Smethwiek, arrived, and rushed to the rescue. Ho fought his way through the armed men, receiving two terrible blows on the head from life-preservers. Garden cried out to his men to shoot him, but the brave fellow fought his way up to the would-be abductor, and the latter, seeing that the game was up, and calling cut " Murder," ran to his oarriage—to which two blood-horsta were harnessed— followed by his men, and was driven off at a groat pace. Already the alarm had been given by Mrs Gough, and soon se.ino mounted constables gave chase to the baffled ruffians.  After a pursuit of twenty-two miles out of the conatabLes caught up the carriage, got in front of it, and turned the horal into the hedge. The °them came up. and Garden and his oonfederates were taken into custody. The carriage was searched. In it were found plstols of the best construction, and ammunition. "But, gentlemen," said the Attorney-General in Lis speech. "these wore the leas guilty and n tamous &macs taken on that occasiim in that ouriaga Gentianen. I have Jamrd  of sympathy being maniteeted for thia attempt, and some foolish people have polluted the name of love in speaking about it. It is not with au& potions and bitters as those with which Mr Carden had provided himself that love makes its way. There is no passitcm more likely to ensue upon disappointed love, or that feelting which goane men, incapable of a n(ible elevated lore, sometime. entertain, than revenge. His rejection might have given rise in his bremt to a bitter and unrelenting hatred and a desire for revenge. Be that as it may, the weapons with which Mr Carden had provided himself were cliloro. form and drugs of a stupefying character. The ease, as it was opened, was proved by the witnessee for the prosecution. Thera really was no dispute as to the facts of the ease. Mr Martley, Q. 0., who appeared for the defence, was an eloquent and experi. encecl counsel, but, as events afterwards turned out, he could hardly have shared the curious sympathy that prevailed for he client The facts seemed to suggest that there was a legal defence to the more serioua count—that the abduction had not been completed. Miss Arbuthnot had not been dragged out of her carriage. The defence rested on this. The blackest part of the case, however, the stupefying drugs that were found in the carriage, could noI be left une.xpla,ined—if any explaination were possible. A
Northern Weekly Gazette. — 1912-08-17 (Stockton-on-Tees, Cleveland, England)

WATSON SMITH..  T was a broadeet. genial-faced, mid leasized gentleman of sixty-five. Very young looking for his years, who one morning, in a very agitated manner ciimied the weli • %soya st.aircaee toward the glasa-panelled door bearlug the name ' • John Dunstan, Advisor and Investigator.'' •• Good ulorti'ne." he said to the clerk in aliarge, soon as he out reeover enough breath after his exertion to speak. "Where is your master i ity eon-in-law•s been murdered, a.nd—" • ' What is that you say?' interrupted Dunstan . appearing in oaarcoat and gloves in the doorway posii.e. He laeekotied his visitor to cross the room. and took him into the little private office reserved for interviews wlth such ciiente. In a vety few minutes the detective obtained the ini.ormation thee the stranger'a name was Pollock; that this Pollock's son-inlaw--a grocer, miller, and general dealer, living in a lonely country village— had gone out late one night to collect accounts, and had never been heard of since. The police were baffled, and he wanted Dunstan to take up the case. "We have but time, Mr Polleek," he said, puttie; on his hat anal looking at his watch at the same- time," to catch the next train going your way. ••We must be off at once: no ene can ovaestimate the value of a minute in such cases. You can give rue the details of the case as we. ride." During the drive from the railway atation. a: which they alighted to tha village of Thorntiale. ten miles away. Dunstan trutnaged to glean from his cempanicn certain facts which set Lun thinking very hard. Willard had been missing for a fortnight then. Without eeeming to do so, Dunstan was closely watching the face of his elle Tli as he aaked sharply-"What do you know about your sonin-law's private affairs—financial natters—connected with his business or otherwise?" -Nothing. Nothing at all. My daughter will tell you anything you wish to know about these things; I konw nothing," he answered. "He was careless ea money matters—very careless, 'out not La any difficulty—at least, not so far as I. know." What sort of man was he---'tall or short, fair or dark. strong OT the opposite; and about how old?' "..kbout forty -a tali, fine fellow, likely to very roughly hand ;e an aesail ant unless disabled before he had an opportunity to strike, He'd have no mercy for any ruffian interfering with him." Oh! And this affair, you say, occurred at night time?" "Ya.. It was quite dark when he left home. One account he intended trying to collect was a vezy much overdue one, owing by the worst charae ter about the village—a poacher. He said that to this rascal he should speak very strongly if he got no money from him." "Ireeresting, that, said Dunstan, with a sharp glanee at Pollock from under his great eyebrows. "This fellow may be connected ,with the disapperanoe in some way, if not the actual perpetratoi of the deed. Is that your assumption?" "We can't tell, Mr Dunsta.n. At first we thought so; but nothing can be traced to him, and be won't ovimit anythieg. He was arrested, but ddschargea the same day"
Northern Weekly Gazette. — 1903-09-12 (Stockton-on-Tees, Cleveland, England)

CHAPTER 11. THINGS WHICH I DID NOT THLL Nothing more of moment happened on that evening. I had got my own little revolver from the gun cupboard and loaded the five barrels of it. I was used to shooting at a target with the boys. and I remember, as I stood there, wondering if I could hit the men should the chance come to me. The man I called him, for in my mind he had a distinct personality: he was the cause of the curious feeling which had come upon me during the drive that evening; he was one with the figure we had passed on the road; he was in some way coneerned with my affairs; his purpose in coming to the west, in venturing to approach the house, had to do with me. That it was an evil purpose I never doubted; uatuition, which had already warned we, now told me certainly that danger headed my path. But what could the danger be? Ah! that I could not imagine! I had no wealth to incite to theft, no heritage to prompt murder. That Mrs Pimper reel received half-yearly payments for my maintenance I know, though whence they came I never could find out, as on the one or two occasions on which I lved ventured to ask for information, she had merely told me that the lawyers paid her the money and had refused any further answer to my questions; but wherever it Came from OT in whatever SO3IOO it belonged to me, I was convinced that I could not be wealthy. And as for my personal possessions—well, I had my clothes, the bracelet Mrs Sullivan had given me when I was one-end-twenty, and my mother's locket. Who could envy me ? These thoughts, and others such as these, flitted in incoherent wondering; across my brain as I stood there waiting, my revolver ready for use my finger an the trigger, my heart beeting at twice its usual speed, and my sem.se,; of sight and hearing keenly on the alert. I felt as if it 'would be almost a relief if that stealthy enemy of mine (for stealth' ness was the quality with which some how I especially credited him) were to come upon me face to face so great was the tension of Ivatchfeilness and dread; but, as I said before nothing more of moment happened that even Dig, only as I lay awake in the dark ne,ss, I was aware that the stillness was not absolute; some slight sound destroyed its completeness. Very slight the wound was, and only, I think, in the very dead of night could it have boon distinguished, so carefui were the feet that made it. For it Was footfalls that I heard, footfalls soft, careful, intermittent; there would be a pause of two minutes, eoraetimes, between one and the neat.  '1) 14. f. Vt 4  1-0--e-E 1-4  At the moment when the dawn broke' I slipped out. of bed, stole across th, floor to a window, and—very cautiously—drew the blind just an inch aside. A dim grey light was creeping over the earth, and from the dcepe. darkness of the roam I could distinguish faintly the outlines of the trees upon the lawn. The silence was complete just now; the sounds had ceased; and ten presently camagain the stealthy footfall, and, barely discernible in the meagre light, I saw
Northern Weekly Gazette. — 1916-11-04 (Stockton-on-Tees, Cleveland, England)

CHAPTER XV. (Continued). In a few moment's Mr .s Ellison and Pcnkridge had written their Ila Meti watched by the white mice, and Mr Ezra put thc will abide. We hall have to give some sort of explanation to account for the will having been found," he said. "I'm thinking what will be the beblt  awry. "Leave vhat to me," answered Mrs Ellison. I eau promise to Explain satisfactorily, if any questions are asked.' You have wrote to Devayne's solicitors already, you say," remarked Penkridge. wrote to them a day or two ago. They're to see the will this afternoon. I've an appointmeat with them. After that I .shall take out probate. and affairs will go on swimmingly. I'm sorry for .31r Adrian Devayne, but if men will persist in running counter to their Telattives' views and opinions, they can't grumble at the comequences. ' -It was almost an open secret that Sir Brooke bad decided on altering his will," exclaimed Mrs Ellison. He told me as much, and there are the instructions he gave Mr Jodrell to prove it." -Ho paid dearly for changing his mind," answered Mr Ezra drily. "Murdered! I shall be very much surprised if they don't bring the crime 'home to •omehody one day. What do you think, Mr Penkridge?” "Why do von ask retorted Pen kridge angrily. tßut to my mind there's very litt doubt as to who -iv was murdered Sir Brooke Devaino." or to mine," laughed Mr Ezra, "and now, dear lady. T think. we've don' and said all that needs saying and doing. You will see Mr Dorman forthwith and make it quite clear to him that his troubles are at an end." .Septimus. in the private den. heard the rustle of lins Ellison's dress as she rose front the client's deseript chair, and a spasm of chill ,golly racked him as he heard the office door elne.•' I can't work, I can't sleep, and people go mad that way,''. he muttered, sighing so that Mt Ezra raved out at him: •• et out of the place,' he shouted. "You're groaning again, Inklev. Go and groan to 'em in Red Lion Court." Sepvimus took his battered silk hat off its book and departed without answering. The office seemed to he stifling hinn and he hurried away Iron: in ti reaching Great Titchfieldatreet he se't 1 down into his ordinary amble. And as Ii I a round-faced man had come so close to hik z o.tt all ill-repaired rent in Sep'tinms Inkley's (.a.,t could be scYll pBlllly. A triangular piece of the skirt had been torn away, replaced by c!oth of a different shade. and the stranger became interested. The little clerk was too absorbed in thought to heed the usual sounds and sights around him, as he made his way home. There was a dreadful fear of -something- hovering over him, although when he tried to analyse his feeling,. they .seemed to evade him. He was a !ha:TT fl• r• 11W—he realised that. at-ei a pietin-U f'" •.-1 vithi natncl,ss.shame tryntai vision. He, blamod himself he well knew--the nuhr to hare. 'resisted tempiAtion, but he had done- noither, 4114 ratlwr prided hip264lf for being courage riaing sr) mitch.  tro,'  irflit to I,
Northern Weekly Gazette. — 1902-04-19 (Stockton-on-Tees, Cleveland, England)

GOVERNMENT. She would not yield to the arrogated authority of men over her conscience, and in this attitude she was, indeed, as her persecutors said, a heretic—a heretic preferring her God to her priest. To give some little credit to one of the priests (a judge) who attended her, it is worth recording that when she asked him that morning where he thought she would lie that night, he answered "Have you not good faith in the Lord?" He should have said, to be consistent, with his condemnation of her as a heretic, that Hell would be her resting-place. With clear faith and hope, Jeanne answered: "Yes. God helping me, I shall be in Paradise." The last scenes were truly heartrending. As she was drawn through the streets on the open car to the place of emecution, that wretched spy of Cauchon's, who had tried to entrap her, rushed forward to throw himself at her feet and ask for forgiveness. But he was hustled off by the crowd of soldiers, and but for Warwick would have bean trampled to death by the populace, who, though they crowded in their thousands, seem to have had some contempt for the priest. The procession reached the marketplace. There three scaffolds had been prepared besides the horrid stake with enormous piles of wood reaching so high that the executioner might not reach her to give a merciful blow before the flames could mount to the tender form soon to be placed at the summit. One scaffold was for Cardinal Beaufort, regent in England of. Henry VI; another was for the judges; the third was for Jeanne and the preacher who h.ad to sermonise her.  !limns!" words at which he then trembled. Now Jeanne knelt, unmindful of the surroundings, praying. Again and again broke through her devotions the sorrowing cry: "Rouen, Rouen! is it here truly I must die "—a cry the special pang of which it seems impossible for history to explain. Praying on, she prayed for her enemies, fcrr  That ordeal might at least have been spared her. She he-ird him through in silence, although to his abuse was added that of Cauchon's, whom she h.ad, in the prison that morning, accosted with the words, "Bi.hop, I die by your  me! my revelations were of God!" The flames mounted higher and higher. Her prayers continued, interrupted by the cries of her Long, drawn-out agony. One terrific cry rent the air as a puff of wind swept. away the smoke, and revealed her form to the strickeu crowd, and then all was silent; the head bowed, and the spirit of the valiant martyr departed to the God who gave it. That English soldier, who in his intense hatred of .the witch hail vowed to cast a faggot on the pile, could only do so as this last expiring cry went forth. He fell fainting on the spot; land he assured his friends when he recovered, that at the very moment be had soon i white dove fly towards I heaven.  Cries of shame were heard that day on every hand. The secretary of the young King even publicly announced: "It is a fearful murder." The judges were pointed at with lingers of scorn, and for long branded with the name of murderers; and so widespread was the horror that the authorities could do
Northern Weekly Gazette. — 1904-09-03 (Stockton-on-Tees, Cleveland, England)

CHARITY. A poor. girl in a tattered gown, Wand ring alone through the orowded  town, All weary and worn, on the curb sat down By the aide of the way to nest; Bedimmod with tears were her eyes of  brown, Her hands on hor bosom pressed. The night was approaching„ and winter's chill blast That fa on the child as it hurried past, Congealed the bears that were falling fast From the poor little maiden's eyes. The blinding snow on her pale cheek east, Unheeding her plaintive cries. Now, hurriedly passing along the street, oatches the sound of approaching feet, And wearily rises, as if to notreat, Some aid from the passer-by, But isiewly and sadly resumes her seat, Repelled by the glancea of his eye. He saw the wild tempest resistlessly hurl The gathering snowflakes, vr.th many a wfirl Upon her bare head, where each soft shining curt, Was swept by the breath of the storm. But what did he oare for the little girl His raiment was ample and warm? He went to a charity meeting that night And spoke to his listeners' great delight, Of how 'twee the duty of all to write The suffering poor to relieve; And held lap his cheque for a thousand at , sight, So all the crowd could pawed-ye. He handed his oheque to the treasurer, when The audienos applauded again and again, But the angel who holds the recording pen, This sentence methinks did sword: "Ho death his alms to be seen of men  Their praise is his only reward." The papers nest morning had much to say Of how the "good gentleman" did display His generous spirit in giving way, So much to the poor man's canna, He smiled as he read his own praise that day, And thought of QlO night's applause. Near by, the same pa.per went on to repeat A story they'd heard, of how, out in the  street, A watchman, at dawning of morn, on his beat, A poor littie child had found , With only the snow as a winding-sheet, Frozen to doath on the ground. Ah! who can declare that, when God shall unfold Eternity's records He will not hold, Him guilty of murder who seeks with his gold, In charity's name to buy The praises of men, while out in the cold, He leaves a poor child to die? —From your loving member, DOIGLXB THOILPSON (13). Gibson-street, Glom House, near Biehop Auokland.  IO.—WHERE IS THE KNAVE? Sheridan was one day very much annoyed by a fellow-member of the Houfe of Commons, who kept arying out every few minutes, "Hear, hear." During the debate, he took 00Clith011 to describe sitalitioal contemporary, who wished to ay the rogue, but had only sense enoug to act the fool. "Where?" exclaimed he, with grt emphasis "where shall we find a more foolish knave, or a more knavish foci that he?" "Rear, hear !" was shouted by the troubloaome member. Sheridan turned round, and, thanking him for the rprorript information. at down amid & general roar of laughter.—Your affectionate member,  EUNICE MYERS (7). claanon-fitreet, Middlesixough,