The Sun. — 1838-08-27 (London, England)

MURDER AND SUICIDE OF THE  MURDERER.  The beautiful and secluded 'little village of Hudnell, in Buckinghamshire, has lately been the arena of a murder and suicide of unexampled horror and atrocity. The report which we give is supplied by a gentleman residicg in the immediate neighbourhood, and we confidently rely on its authenticity. Mr. Thomas Allotson, a respectable farmer occupying the Hall farm, in the parish, and a man of good property, has a son, a youth of about 18 years of age, who is afflicted with frequent aberration of intellect. About six years ago, Thomas Allotson, jun., had a severe attack of typhus fever. From this ill. ness he recovered with the greatest difficulty, by the aid of the best medical advice that could be procured. Since that time to the present he has led an idle life, rambling about from place to place, and from field to field on his father's farm, without doing any kind of work. In fact, the poor fellow was in a state bordering on idiotcy. He was generally quiet and harmless, but at times he wrought himself into most alarming paroxysms of rage, when he attacked any person who came in his way, and destroyed everything within his reach. These paroxysms returned at irregular intervals, sometimes once or twice in a day, and then not for months together; they were brought on by the most trivial matters. His parents were advised by their medical attendant to let their son have Isis liberty, and not in any respect to put on even the appearance of controul. In compliance with this advice, Thomas Allotson was allowed to ramble wherever he thought fit, to stay out as long as he thought proper, and to return at such times only as he pleased ; his food was placed in his bed-room, and he partook of whatever was laid before him without making any remark. Ile rarely spoke to any person. If he accidentally met a friend, who put a question to him, he would look him earnestly in the face for a moment, and then run away. There was only one exception to this rule, and that was in favour of a little girl named Susan Saunderson, the daughter of a labouring man in the employ of Mr. Allotson. For this child Thos. Allotson, jun., or as the villagers call him, " Poor Tom," had always a strong partiality. Within the last few weeks she has been the frequent companion of his walks. He would gather flowers for her, carry her in his arms, kiss her, and show her all the little endearments in his power. His parents, wishing to give the poor creature all the pleasure in their power, permitted him to associate with this little girl. On Thursday last " Poor Tom" called as usual at Saunderson's cottage for little Susan, and she went with him. As they did not return at their usual hour their parents became alarmed ; they waited patiently until nine o'clock, and then proceeded in search of them. They had not looked far before the body of the little girl was discovered on the bank of a river which runs through a considerable part of Mr. Allotson's farm. Blood was lying in pools around her, the whole of her d-ess was torn from her back, and her body was covered with wounds and bruises ; when taken up she was quite dead. The search was then continued, and at a long distance the body of Thomas Allotson was found, with his throat cut from ear to ear. In his hand he grasped with tenacity a large clasp knife, with which it was evident he had inflicted the murderous wound. The spectators,. in beholding this dreadful spectacle, were perfectly horrified; they had no doubt that the aretched being who lay weltering in his blood at their feet was the murderer of Susan Saunderson. No satisfactory reason can be assigned, although it is supposed that Allotson had worked himself into a phrensy, and then wreaked his vengeance on his helplass companion. The distress of the parents of both the children may readily be conceived. The wife of Saunderson now lies in a dangerous state, a premature confinement having been the effect of her shock. A Coroner's Inquest is to be livid on Monday. The neighbourhood, for miles around, is in a state of the greatest anxiety and excitement.—Morning Paper.