■ IRDeAl.1. at SON NOWTMAMPTOIir 
 
5^ tl. IxtaWI^-^^^ 
 
 0 
 
NARRATIVE 
 
 OP THE 
 
 MURDER 
 
 OF THE LATB 
 
 Rev. J. WATERHOUSE ; 
 
 WITH A FULL REPORT OF THE 
 
 TRIAL, CONPESSION, 6e EXECUTION 
 
 OF THE MURDERER ; 
 
 AND A 
 
 BIOGRAPHY and ANECDOTES 
 
 Of Mr. Waterhouse and of Slade. 
 
 EMBELLISHED WITH 
 
 a Vit\s> of tf)t mettorp l^omt $^ dt^nx^p 
 
 GROUND PLAN OF THE PREMISES, 
 AND A 
 
 PORTRAIT OF SLADE. 
 
 You have undone a man of fourscore years, 
 That thought to fill his grave in quiet. And now 
 The hangman must put on thy shroud, and lay thee 
 Where no priest shovels in dust. — 
 Peace to his soul, if God's pleasure be I 
 Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all. 
 
 Shakspearb. 
 
 HUNTINGDON : 
 PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY T. LOVELL i 
 •OLD BY BALDWIN, CRADOCK AND JOY. LONP0!<* 
 AND BY ALL BOOKSELLERS. 
 
 1827. 
 
ENTERED AT STATIONERS* HALL, 
 
 J 
 
iii 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Pag« 
 
 Description of tbe village and church of Little Stiikelty . ^ 
 
 Murder of Mr Waterhouse . . . 9 
 
 The Inquest .... 12 
 
 Adjourned Inquest . • . .20 
 
 Apprehension of Slade . • -23 
 
 Examination of Heddings • . .27 
 
 Examination of Lansdale Wright • • 32 
 
 Slade fully committed for trial . . .33 
 
 Sketch of the Life of Mr Waterhouse . ibid. 
 
 Sketch of the Life of Joshua Slade • • 46 
 
 The Assizes . • • . 56 
 
 First Day of the Assizes • • .57 
 
 Second Day— Trial of Slade • . .60 
 
 Condemnation of Slade • , • 86 
 
 Trial of Beddings . . . 87 
 
 Slade respited • • . 90 
 
 Confession of Slade • . 92 
 
 Conduct and conversation of the Prisoner . lOO 
 
 The Execution and Dissection of Slade • .106 
 
 Concluding Remarks . 112 
 
 LIST OF THE PLATES. 
 
 View of the Rectory-house and premisei • To face Title 
 Ground Plan of the House and Premisef • 5 
 
 Portrait of Joshua Slade « • • i(( 
 
fii. * a- ft 
 
 2 ^ 
 
 D3 ^• 
 
 _ ST ^ <^ 
 
 = W 5' 
 
 5^ 
 
 pr 
 
 CO 
 
 ST 
 
 o 
 
 ^ I 
 I S 
 
 O 
 
 CD 
 
 a ^ > 
 
 c 
 
 r 
 
 9 
 
 cr 
 o 
 a. 
 
 o 
 s 
 
 a 
 O 
 
 w 
 
 5* 
 
 I 
 
 to 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
is ARRATIVE, 
 
 The crime of murder is happily so rare in England> 
 and the character of the English nation so little tarnished 
 with cruelty, that we can scarcely wonder at the extra- 
 ordinary interest which has been manifested on the sub- 
 ject of the l^te atrocious outrage, perpetrated in this 
 county. So violent an infringement of the personal 
 security and moral feelings of the people committed, too, 
 under circumstances of almost unexampled barbarity, €ind 
 in the open light of day, was eminently calculated to 
 awaken public attention 5 while the mystery in which 
 the case was, for a time, enveloped, tended materially 
 to heighten the public anxiety and consternation. l\y 
 means of that powerful engine of publicity, the Press, 
 the tidings of Mr. Waterhouse^s murder, with all its 
 painful and harrowing details, were spread far and wide, 
 and every consideration, both from home and abroad, 
 called upon our local authorities to exert their utmost 
 vigilance for the discovery of the offender. Their efforts 
 have at length been crowned with success : the murdered 
 has been apprehended, tried, convicted, and executed 5-^ 
 and thus the last eventful scene of this frii^htful tragedy 
 
6 
 
 has terminated as it ought, in a due atonenaent made to 
 public justice. It may be useful, however, to recal the 
 circumstances which so lately agitated us ; and to pre- 
 serve, in regular form and order, the memory of a trans- 
 action which can only be parallelled in atrocity by the 
 kindred horrors of the murder of Weare. 
 
 Little Stukeley — ^the spot with which our narrative is 
 chiefly connected — is a small village situated in a hol- 
 low betwixt two hills, about three miles from Hunting- 
 don. It lies to the right of the Great North Road, and, 
 in 1821, contained 385 inhabitants. The number of 
 houses was 52 5 seventy-one families were returned as 
 being employed in agriculture and sixteen in handicrafts. 
 
 The ancient name of the place was Stivecle, and we 
 read of a Sir Nicholas de Styvecle, Knt. who resided 
 here in the lime of Richard II., and purchased the manor 
 of Priestly, in this parish. About the time of the Re- 
 formation, the manor of Stukeley passed into the hands 
 of John Stone, Serjeant at Law 5 who purchased the 
 advowson of Sir Oliver Cromwell (uncle to the Protec- 
 lor), and in his family it continued till the reign of 
 Charles II. It afterwards became the property of Sir 
 Robert Barnard 5 and from him descended to the pre- 
 sent proprietor, Lady O. B. Sparrow. 
 
 The church of Little Stukeley, though in rather a 
 dilapidated state, is a handsome Gothic pile. It stands 
 on a considerable eminence, about a bow shot from the 
 North Road, and commands a fine view of the village, 
 which slopes along the hill beneath. From an inscrip- 
 tion over the south porch, it appears that the church was 
 enlarged or repaired in the year 1652. On one of the 
 
battlements above the upper south window of the tower 
 is the date 1659 — most probably the year in which the 
 tower was completed. Another inscription over the door 
 of the North isle informs us that the church was repaired 
 in 1 673, when John Bigg, Esq. and John King were 
 Churchwardens. The porch opens under a Gothic arch 
 of the Tudor style, and contains the remains of a broken 
 piscina. The chancel was anciently separated from the 
 body of the church by a Rood-loft, or shrine for the 
 reception of images, the indications of which may be 
 plainly seen. These remains of antiquity would seem 
 to assign the date of the building to a period anterior to 
 the Reformation^ 
 
 The external appearance of the sacred edifice is ren- 
 dered more striking and pictures(|ue from a considerable 
 part of it being covered with ivy, the roots of which 
 spring from the wall, and are at least three feet from the 
 ground. The interior presents little worthy of notice, 
 excepting some monumental inscriptions to the memory 
 of part of the family of Mr. Justice Bayley— •that upright 
 and truly constitutional Judge having spent the earlier 
 portion of his valuable existence in the village of Stukeley. 
 Here slumber the ashes of his father, John Bayley, Esq. 
 who died in 1790, at the age of 54 : of his brother, the 
 Rev. Daniel Bayley, formerly vicar of Madingley in the 
 county of Cambridge j and of his mother, Mrs. Sarah 
 Bayley, grand-daughter of Dr. White Kennett, formerly 
 Bishop of Peterborough, who died in 1801, aged 68. 
 The two following inscriptions bear evident marks of 
 the pen of the venerable Judge : they are engraved on 
 
 B 2 
 
8 
 
 handsome marble tablets, by Westmacott^ placed against 
 the houthem wall : — 
 
 lu the body of this Church lie the remains of 
 LUCY, 
 
 The second and much-lamented daughter of 
 The Honourable Mr. Justice aud Lady Bay ley, 
 Who died the 29th day of July 1821, 
 In the 29th year of her age. 
 She was laeek, but animated ; affectionate and conciliating. 
 Intelligent without pride, 
 Well-informed without ostentation ; 
 Pious, unaffected, religious, and resigned. 
 Regretted much by all who knew her. 
 But most by those who knew her best. 
 
 In the same vault with her Niece lie 
 Also the remains of Lucy Bayley, sister 
 To the Honourable Mr. Justice Bayley; 
 A Lady of exemplary life and character ; who after 
 Having practised, during a residence of 41 years 
 In this village, unbounded kindness and hospitality 
 "^o her relatives and friends ; and a constant and 
 Unwearied charity to her poorer neighbours, 
 Bi^ed on the 29th day of December 1823^, 
 In the 63d year of her pilgrimage. 
 Beloved, respected, and regretted* 
 By who. Hue w her. 
 
 Oh the back ol the Clerk's desk i& afeed a memo-* 
 random in the hapd-writing Mr. Waterhouso, and 
 highly characteristic of the unfortunate gentleman. It 
 is as follows :— • 
 
 In the Morning Service — While the Epistle is 
 reading, the congregation are to sit down 5 and to stand 
 up while the Gospel is reading. 
 
 " In the Churching of IVomen — The congregation 
 are to stand up while the Psalm is reading. 
 
 In the Burial Service — The congregation are to 
 stand up while the Psalm is reading *' 
 
 The inhabitants of Little Stukeley are chiefly employed 
 in agriculture ; and hence it is the more extraordinary 
 
9 
 
 that in a place presenting so few temptations to vice, 
 where men do not congregate together in masses, and 
 spread the moral contagion from one to another, with a 
 sort of electric force and rapidity, that a murder should 
 have been committed, exhibiting the most revoltin^^ 
 features of depravity 5 and that a gang of ruffians should 
 have existed, almost whose sole occupation was rapine 
 and plunder. 
 
 On the morning of Tuesday the 3d of July, 1S27, an 
 alarm was spread through the village of Little Stukeley, 
 that their rector, the Rev. Joshua Waterhouse, wtio 
 had been incumbent of the parish for about fourteen 
 years, and was in the eii^hty-first year of his age, had 
 put a period to his own existence 'by cutting his throat. 
 The eccentricities of the deceased were well known 
 among his parishioners. He lived, in a manner, secluded- 
 from all society, and indulged in habits and pursuits 
 but seldom found ajuong gentlemen of his ^order a.,d 
 station. The variotfs peculiarities of the rev. gentleman 
 we shall describe hereafter 5 and we only advert to- 
 them in this place so shew that the idea of his having 
 committed suicide originated as much in the singular 
 character of the deceased as in the appearance pre- 
 sented by his mangled body. Mr. Waterhouse, as we 
 have said, lived almost constantly alone 5 he had no 
 regular female domestic 5 and on the morning of the 
 fatal day, the old woman who occasionally assisted in 
 the management of his house had been sent into a hM 
 to hoe thistles. The danger attendant upon such a 
 solitary mode of life had been often represented to the 
 deceased by his friesw^s 3 but though in the last stage of 
 
 b3 
 
10 
 
 existence, the rev. gentleman was of a robust, hardy 
 temperament, and an ntter stranger to fear. About half 
 past ten o'clock, two boys in the service of Mr. Water- 
 house entered the kitchen of the rev. gentleman, in 
 which he chiefly resided, to eat their luncheon, which? 
 they had brought with them from home. They satdown 
 on a form opposite the fire-place, and presen-tly after dis- 
 covered the legs of their master hanging over the side of 
 a large bi'ewing tub, which stood in an adjoining passage. 
 Ahrmed at a circumstance so unusual, and at the deep, 
 groana which proceeded from, the spot, the boys fled 
 from the premises in the utmost trepidation, and enter- 
 ing the house of a neighbour, Ann Whitney, informed 
 her of what they had seen. From her previous know-. 
 Ipdge of Mr. Waterhouse, this woman thought he was 
 either intoxicated, or had thrown himself into the tub 
 in order to frighten the boys ; and, accordingly, instead 
 qf proceedy^ig to tlie rectory to render what assistance 
 she Gonld, she detained the boys in her own house, until 
 they had finished thtir luncheon. In the interim, a 
 young man, naificd Frederick Rogers, came up to the 
 kitchen door^ and rapped wkh his whip, three several 
 limes, but received no answer. The boys^ however, 
 almost instantly returned to the yard, and seeing Rogers, 
 informed him of the condition in which they had left 
 their masier. After some hesitation, it^ appears he went 
 in, but made, no attempt to extricate the unfortunate 
 gentleman, until assisted by another person, William 
 Ashby, who, opening the garden-door, which lighted^ 
 the dark and gloomy passage, lifted the deceased out of 
 ihq tub, and laid him on the floor. The hands and fore-* 
 
11 
 
 head were quite warm ^ but it was too app irent tliat 
 the vital spark had fled. A large wound wasdbcovered 
 on the right cheek, and two or three on the handis. A 
 female who was present unbuttoned the shirt collar of 
 the deceased, when the blood came out in large flikes, 
 and several wounds were discovered on the body. I'lie 
 throat was also cut, and was bleeding profusely. 
 
 A messenger was instantly despatched to Huntingdon 
 for medical assistance, and iMr. Oakeley, a surgeon of 
 that place, hastened to the spot, rather with a view to 
 ascertain the nature of the injury which had occasioned 
 the death of the rev. gentleman, than with the hope of 
 being able to restore him. The appearance of the 
 wounds in a moment convinced Mr. Oakeiey, that the 
 deceased had not die<l by his own hand. His death 
 had been occasioned, he said., by the tremendous blow 
 on the jaw, and this bk)\v could not have been inflicted 
 by himself. Mr. Wilson, another surgeon of^that place> 
 repaired to the parsonage to examine the body, and 
 after inspecting the wounds gave a similar decision. 
 The tub also bore marks of having been frequently struck, 
 in the course of the conflict, with some sharp instrument. 
 There were several incisions en the edge, and a mark 
 inside, as if the instrument had penetrated pretty deep, 
 and a piece of the wood had come away when it was 
 extracted. The walls of the passage were spotted with 
 blood, and a considerable quantity was found in the tub 
 which received the body of the expiring man. 
 
 A thousand conjectures were now spread abroad as to 
 the probable motives which actuated the murderer, and 
 the means by which th^ deed was accomplished. It was- 
 
12 
 
 believed by many that a feeling of ill-will or malice had 
 impelled the hand of the assassin 3 but the more pro- 
 bable supposition that some one had entered the pre-^:, 
 mises to plunder, and being surprised by the rev. 
 gentleman, a contest ensued which terminated in death, 
 was generally received. The situation and internal 
 condition of the premises, and the habits of Mr. Water- 
 house, offered every facility for the commission of rob- 
 bery. The rectory house is a large and elegant mansion, 
 but the deceased latterly inhabited only the kitchen and 
 a bed-room up stairs. The windows of the other apart- 
 ments were blocked up to evade the payment of the 
 window tax, and the rooms were filled with wool, grain, 
 and other articles; thus at once affording a temptation 
 to plunder, and ready opportunities for concealment. 
 Opening up from the passage is a door leading into the 
 garden, throufijh which the murderer apparently escaped, 
 and found easy access into the adjoining fields. 
 
 At seven o'clock in the evening of the murder, Wm. 
 Margetts, Esq. coroner for the Hundred of Hursting- 
 stone, attended at the Bell inn, for the purpose of 
 holding an inquest. The constable having assembled a 
 competent number of individuals, a jury was sworn,, 
 consisting of the following persons : — 
 
 William Busby, Foreman. 
 
 Edward Lovett. Thomas Kendall. Thomas Garner;; 
 
 William Butler. John Stanion, jun, John RobinsoEk* 
 
 William Woods. Joseph Woods. William Chi Ids. 
 
 John Stanion, sen. Benjamin Wyman. William Gale. 
 
 There were also present the Rev. T. Brpwn,.0f Coa-^. 
 uiogton, and H,enry. Sweeting, E$q. 
 
13 
 
 The jury having repaired to the rectory, the Coroner 
 addressed them to this effect: ''Gentlemen, our first 
 duty is to examine the state of the bodv of the deceased. 
 From every appearance there can be no doubt but that 
 a most deliberate murder has been committed. If sus- 
 picions arise in the mind of any one of you, with respect 
 to the person or persons likely to defile their hands by a 
 crime of the heinous nature on which we are about to 
 deliberate — if you have witnessed any corroborative 
 incident, or have heard of any conversation tending to 
 throw light upon this frightful transaction — it is your 
 bounden duty to make a full and unreserved declaration 
 of every particular. The rights of justice and the laws 
 of your country expect this fulfilment of your duty as 
 men and jurors." 
 
 The body was then minutely inspected : it was hor- 
 ridly mutilated, at once confirming the ferocious spirit 
 and deadly malignity of the assassin. The following 
 account of the inquest will give the more minute details. 
 
 Mr. George Oakeley, surgeon, deposed that he ex- 
 amined the body of the deceased 5 found a very deep 
 incision near the right ear, with a fracture of the right 
 jaw, a great portion of which was completely severed, 
 separating the vessels that were near it 5 he was deci- 
 dedly of opinion that the wound on the jaw was sufficient 
 to occasion death 5 has not the least doubt but that he 
 was murdered by some person or persons, as no man 
 could inflict such desperate wounds on himself as the 
 body of Mr. Waterhouse exhibited ^ conceives that they 
 were occasioned by some heavy instrument, probably 
 axe or bill. 
 
14 
 
 Mr. J. Wilson stated, that on the return of Mr. Oake- 
 ley from Stukeley, he went to examine the body of the 
 deceased, and found it accurately to correspond with 
 Mr. CK's description. Several very dreadful wounds had 
 been inflicted on the arms and the inside of the wrists 
 and hands, which could only have been occasioned by 
 defending himself from the attack of his murderous 
 assailants. One wound had been received on the right 
 lower jaw, in a line from the outer angle to the chin, 
 and which had completely separated the jaw in two, 
 longitudinally; another wound had been given across 
 the nose; two superficial cuts upon the left cheek 5 
 several cuts upon the right arm, between the elbow and 
 wrist, on the outside; a dreadful cut upon the left 
 elbow, which had completely separated the condyles of 
 the humerus ; there was also another cut, rather a 
 severe one, on the outside of the left arm, on the elbow 
 and wrist ; the inside of each wrist had received a ter- 
 ribly incised wound, evidently in his own defence ; but 
 what seems to have produced instantaneous death was 
 a stab or thrust which had been received on the upper 
 part of the throat, which had separated the bone of the 
 tongue from the windpipe, had penetrated the wind- 
 pipe on its upper part, and completely cut across the 
 large vessels of the neck on the right side, from which 
 blood had spurted most forcibly, and stained the two 
 walls of the passage in which the deed was committed, 
 from all which there can be no doubt that Mr. W. must 
 have been cruelly murdered. 
 
 William Parker, aged 14, the son of Samuel Parker> 
 of Alconbury, labourer, being sworn, said he saw his 
 
15 
 
 master for the last time about half past ten o*clock j he 
 was then quite well j he rinced his pitcher, and went to 
 wipe it on a towel in the passage 5 he was then in his 
 usual spirits. Witness then went into the brewhouse, 
 and threw some wheat out of the copper, which occupied 
 a quarter of an hour. Reuben Briggs came home, and 
 took some straw to litter the pigs 5 at eleven o'clock 
 they went into the kitchen to have their luncheon 5 when 
 in the kitchen, they saw the legs of their master hanging 
 over the tub, and heard him groan 3 they were fright- 
 ened, and ran to a neighbour's house (Mary Whitney's) 
 to have their refreshment, Parker told her of the noise 
 his master was making, and that he was in the tub 5 she 
 replied that he was drunk, and wanted to frighten them 5 
 stopped at Mrs. Whitney's and had allowance. Mrs. 
 Whitney told her sister of the circumstance. Was sure 
 that his master w^as ill. He then, with R. Briggs, 
 returned to work, at which he continued a quarter of 
 an hour. A person of the name of Rogers came to the 
 yard with a stallion, and knocked at the house door. 
 As nobody came, he asked witness where the folks 
 were. Told him that master was laid in the tub ; he 
 asked me whether I would go in 5 told him I could not, 
 as I was afraid, Rogers then said, do you stop here in 
 the yard, and I'll go in. Rogers went straight across 
 to the door, and called out, but did not receive any 
 answer. Parker stated that he then went out of the 
 yard with Reuben Briggs; told Mr. Ashby, and asked 
 him if he would go in 5 he said yes, entered the pre- 
 mises, and found Mr. Waterhouse in the tub ; attempted 
 to lift him out, but could not, until assisted by a woman 
 
16 
 
 who came in. William Harrison, who came at that 
 moment, assisted to hold him. Witness was working 
 in the dovehouse close at about eleven o'clock, and 
 heard a loud scream 3 the close is nearly three chains 
 from the house 5 the dog, which was chained to a ken* 
 nel in the yard, was at that time barking very violently. 
 A tramp came to the house about nine o'clock 5 saw 
 him go through the gate 5 his master had been to lay 
 his net in the fish pond in the morning 3 the kitchen 
 door, the passage door, and the garden door, were all 
 open at eleven o'clock ; he was the first person in his 
 master's house that morning, being there at five o'clock 5 
 Mr. Water house washed his hands and face at that 
 hour 5 did uot in the course of the morning see any 
 person upon the premises, except the tramp and Rogers. 
 Witness always goes to church when he can* He has 
 no suspicion whatever of the person who committed the 
 crime* 
 
 Mr. Sweeting, solicitor, who during the investigation 
 of the horrid transactioR evinced the most intense anx- 
 iety, addressed Parker, and said,/* You are now, you 
 say, fourteen years of age, and are a stout boy 3 you 
 heard the dying groans of your master, yet you with- 
 held your assistance. You have certainly shewn a most 
 lamentable want of conrage, humanity, and prudence. 
 Let me conjure you not to conceal anything respecting 
 your master's untimely end, and in a matter of so much 
 importance to tell the whole truth. 
 
 Parker, who is a dull-looking boy, and who gave his 
 evidence in an equivocal manner, declared that he did 
 not know who had committed the murder. 
 
17 
 
 Reuben Briggs, 1 1 years of age, the son of John 
 Briggs, labourer, stated that he was at work at five 
 o'clock in the morning, feeding the hogs 5 saw his master 
 an hour afterwards, who gave him his breakfast 5 the 
 passage and yard doors were then open : about eleven 
 o'clock heard screams and the dog barking 5 was then 
 a short distance from the house. When he went into 
 the house at eleven, heard his master groaning in the 
 tub, was afraid, and ran out to Mrs. Whitney's 5 got 
 lunch there, and told Mrs, Whitney of the situation of 
 his master 5 she said he was drunk. The remainder of 
 this witness's evidence was similar to Parker's. 
 
 Mary-Ann Wells, of Wandsford, aged 25, spinster, 
 deposed that she came to Little Stukeley one month 
 since, for the purpose of being married to Edward 
 Briggs, of Stukeley 5 the marriage banns were published 
 the second time on Sunday week, and were to have been 
 published the third time on the following Sunday. 
 Mr. Waterhouse objected, owing to some informality. 
 Briggs left Little Stukeley the same evening, went to 
 his work in the Fens, and has not been at Little 
 Stukeley since. On Tuesday morning, between ten and 
 eleven o'clock, a little girl, the daughter of Mrs. Whitney, 
 came to her and said, " the old man is dead ; went 
 afterwards into the house, and assisted in getting him 
 out of the tub ; his forehead was then warm ; the 
 garden door was partly open. Met Rogers, who said. 
 
 For God's sake, some good Christian woman assist 
 the old gentleman." Ashby, the blacksmith, assisted 5 
 untied Mr. Waterhouse's neckhandkerchief, upon which 
 there was a great quantity of congealed blood 5 he was 
 then warm, Ashby said, he's not dead: he's tipsy." 
 
 c 
 
18 
 
 Ann Whitney stated that the boys Parker and Brigg^ 
 came into her house, and said their master was groaning 
 in the tub 5 thought he was tipsy. The boys stated 
 they heard Mr. Waterhouse groaning at eleven o'clock 
 in the forenoon, just before they went to get their 
 allowance 5 she did not go into the house, as her con* 
 stitution was weak. Did not see any tramp on the 
 premises that morning. Young Rogers, of Warboys, 
 was the person who first discovered the body. Parker 
 and Briggs are both steady and industrious boys, and 
 of good character. 
 
 William Harrison, labourer^ has been in the employ 
 of Mr. Waterhouse nine years 5 had been working till 
 half-past eleven o'clock, when he returned home > 
 assisted Mr. Ashby in getting him out of the tub y he 
 was then motionless, but quite warm. Has never had 
 a quarrel with his master 5 was always on the best 
 terms with him ; did not suspect any person of having 
 committed the deed 5 he must have been murdered from 
 a spirit of revenge, as his purse and keys were left in 
 his pockets, His master had not taken any money 
 lately for the sale of cattle or stock ; has not sold any 
 thing for the last fortnight. He never kept more 
 money in the house than was sufficient to pay his men. 
 Mr. Waterhouse was in the habit of making presents to 
 Mary Martin, who formerly lived with him as servant; 
 she has since married a person of the name of George 
 Sharpe, of Brampton. Mrs. Sharpe has been in the 
 habit of visitins: his master twice in the year 5 she was 
 at his house one day last spring, got dinner, and 
 departed home in the afternoon. Never heard, nor did 
 he know, anything detrimental to the character of 
 
19 
 
 George Sharpe. He did not that morning see any 
 vagrant on the premises. Mr. Waterhouse entertained 
 a great dislike to vagrants, and frequently expressed it 
 to them, when they asked charity of him 5 they have 
 threatened him with violence 3 he never gave beggars 
 any thing, and when they called, he would instantly 
 order them to quit his premises. No hatchet or weapon 
 likely to commit such a deed was found near the spot 
 where it was perpetrated. 
 
 Ann Gale, of Little Stukeley, deposed that she went 
 to Mr. Waterhouse's at half-past five in the morning ; 
 Mr, W. had then risen, and appeared in good health. 
 Stopped in the house till half-past nine, thea went to 
 hoe thistles in the fallow field. About eleven, the boy 
 Parker came, and said his master was all over blood 
 in the tub, and thought he was dead. She could not 
 suspect any person. Her master turned off a stone- 
 mason last week, for falling asleep when he should have 
 been at his work. A vagrant came to the door that 
 morning, at about half-past eight 5 he wore a blue 
 handkerchief round his head, and was dressed in a light 
 coloured jacket, and light trousers. He was a short, 
 stout, pale-looking man. 
 
 Ann Wormsley gave similar evidence. 
 
 Sarah Leach stated that she had heard a conversation 
 with respect to the affair. Mrs. Heddiugs said that her 
 husband had remarked on the Sunday preceding the 
 last, that now Mr. W.'s servants had left him, he should 
 not be surprised if he cut his throat before the next. 
 
 Mrs. Heddings was summoned from her bed at 
 Iwelve o'clock, and deposed that she had no suspicion 
 
20 
 
 6{ any person, and that she had never held any conver- 
 sation with respect to the singularity of the affair. 
 
 The Inquest was then adjourned to Wednesday after- 
 noon. 
 
 At five o'clock on Wednesday afternoon the coroner 
 and jury re-assembled 5 but little fresh evidence was 
 brought forward tending to throw any light upon the 
 mysterious transaction of the preceding day. Two men^ 
 who were strongly suspected of being implicated in the 
 horrid deed, produced each a witness, who positively 
 swore that they were respectively working with them in 
 the hay-field during the whole of Tuesday. 
 
 The next witness examined was Anne Elby, who 
 deposed that she was in company with another woman, 
 walking along the high road near to the Horse Shoes, 
 at Great Stukeley, when she saw a man coming down a 
 close in a line from Mr. Waterhouse's house, making 
 for the road, and when he arrived at the hollow between 
 the two hills, where there is a tunnel beneath the road, 
 he disappeared under it, and was not afterwards seen, 
 although the witness and her companion watched for a 
 considerable time. He appeared to have a short slop 
 on 5 but the distance was too great to allow her to 
 speak to the lower part of his dress 5 it was exactly 1 1 
 o'clock when they reached the Swan at Little Stukeley, 
 which is but a short distance from the above-mentioned 
 place. 
 
 Two men who had examined the tunnel were next 
 sworn, and deposed to finding foot-marks, with large 
 nails in the shoes, in the entrance of the tunnel, but 
 
21 
 
 could not discover any thing further of a suspicioatj^ 
 nature. 
 
 The wife of one of the suspected persons (Heddings) 
 was again re-examined, touching some rather remark- 
 able expressions told a neighbour, and having been used 
 by her husband, as to what might happen to the decea- 
 sed " before another Sabbath day but she, as well as 
 her husband, now stoutly denied having used the expres- 
 sions stated. 
 
 The coroner then summed up and addressed the jury. 
 He regretted that their labours had hitherto been inef- 
 fectual, but he strongly entertained an opinion that the 
 deceased had been murdered by some person or persons 
 well acquainted with the house, and the habits of its 
 unfortunate inmate 5 he felt convinced the deed was 
 committed from a feeling of jealousy or revenge 5 and 
 concluded by expressing his earnest hope that they 
 would strain every nerve to detect the inhuman authors 
 of so foul a crime. After some observations from Mr. 
 Sweeting (who with the worthy coroner were unremit- 
 ting in their exertions to further the ends of justice), 
 pointing out the most prompt method of seizing any sus- 
 pected person, and recommending the utmost watchful- 
 ness, the jury unanimously returned a verdict of fFilful 
 Murder against some person or persons unknown. 
 
 It is a singular circumstance, that during the morning 
 of the murder, the yard-dog belonging to Mr. Water- 
 bouse, which was always considered as a very fierce 
 animal, and the terror o( the villagers, was observed to 
 be unusually restless and continually barking 5 but he 
 was unfortunately chained to bis kennel. Since the 
 ' q3 
 
5^2 
 
 commission of the murder, his temper has undergone a 
 complete change : he now permits every stranger to 
 caress him, and is extremely docile. The faithful ani- 
 mal seems to be aware of the death of his master, and 
 that he has no further need of his protection. 
 
 The first person suspected of having perpetrated this 
 atrocious crime was William Heddings, a man of noto- 
 riously bad character, resident in the village. In 1823 
 he was convicted at the assizes of a burglary, and con- 
 demned to be executed ; but his sentence was commuted 
 to three years' imprisonment in the House of Correction 5 
 and so well did he conduct himself during the earlier 
 part of this period, that at the expiration of twenty 
 months he obtained his release, application having been 
 made on his behalf to the Secretary of State. On 
 regaining his liberty, Heddings was placed by his friends 
 in comparatively easy and comfortable circumstances. 
 His wife's father had died and left her a house and close 
 and about sixty pounds ; and with this sum a cow was 
 purchased, two or three pigs, &c. Thus possessed of 
 the means of present and of future comfort, it was confi- 
 dently anticipated that a radical change would take 
 place in his demeanour. The seeds of vice, however, 
 \^ere too deeply sown in the mind of Heddings to be so 
 easily eradicated. He returned to his former habits 
 with renewed activity, and though he had as yet escaped 
 a second apprehension, it was well known that he had 
 linked himself with two abandoned youths in the village, 
 John and Joshua Slade, in the commission of various 
 pelty and extensive robberies. It was soon proved that 
 Heddings stood wholly free from the capital charge. 
 
23 
 
 On the second examination before the coroner, he came 
 home, having been at Huntingdon from the Sunday 
 previous, and established an alibi. On Tuesday he had 
 been employed by Mr. Maile, mowing in a field near 
 Huntingdon. 
 
 Joshua Slade, another suspicious character, was then 
 called upon to account for himself on the day of the 
 murder. He stated that after leaving the swan public 
 house, where he had been drinking till one or two 
 o'clock on Tuesday morning, he went to Godman- 
 chester to invite his sister, a married woman, to Stnke- 
 ley Feast. At her house, he said, he remained all day, 
 and returned to Stukeley about seven o'clock in the 
 evening. The same assertion he repeated before the 
 coroner on Wednesday, and added the names of two 
 public houses, the Horse and Jockey, Huntingdon, and 
 the Rose and Crown, Godmanchester, at which he had 
 stopt and drank some beer during the day. His sister 
 voluntarily came forward, and confirmed this statement 5 
 and the prisoner was discharged. The general feeling, 
 however, at Stukeley, was strong against Slade 5 and on 
 the Friday, John Richardson, a constable of Huntingdon, 
 again apprehended him, and took him to the two public 
 houses at which he said he stopt, in order to ascertain 
 the truth of his statement. The constable soon discover- 
 ed that the whole was a fabrication, Slade had stopt at 
 neither of the public houses, and his brother in law, 
 Joshua Rowledge, came forward and deposed that the 
 statement that he had been at his house on the Tuesday 
 was equally false. Driven from this ground, Slade sta- 
 ted that he knew the Stukeley people were all against 
 
24 
 
 him, and would hang him if they could, and it was on; 
 that acco^int that he had said he was at Godmanchester^. 
 The truth, however, was, that feeling himself tipsy after 
 he left the Swan, he went into a hay-field and lay there 
 all day 3 and he knew nothing of the murder until his 
 mother told him of it in the evening. 
 
 In consequence of these prevarications, Slade was 
 taken into custody, and various evidences of guilt began 
 to thicken against him. Peter Sabey, an old man who 
 inhabits a cottage opposite to the Rectory, said he saw 
 a person get over Mr. Waterhouse*s wall, about three 
 o'clock on the morning of the murder. He did not see 
 the face of the man, but from his general appearance, 
 and from his lobbing- from one side to another as he 
 walked, he thought it was Josh. Slade. The clothes 
 of the prisoner were then taken from him, and examined : 
 his coat was discovered to be stained with blood 
 inside, though care had been taken to wash it off the 
 exterior. His breeches also appeared to have been 
 partially washed. His shoes were taken off and com- 
 pared with a footmark near Mr. Waterhouse's kitchen 
 window, where a person would stand to look in 5 and 
 with some other marks at a stile leading to the tunnel 
 between the two Stukeleys, into which a person, 
 corresponding in appearance with Slade, was, as we 
 have already stated, seen to enter. The footmarks 
 corresponded exactly with the print of Blade's shoe. 
 While the enquiry was still going on, a young man who 
 had worked in company with Slade, at Mr. Hall's, 
 Stukeley, came forward and stated that he had heard 
 the prisoner say he would murder Mr. Waterhou§e,, 
 
25 
 
 and that he had keys to let himself into his house at all 
 times. 
 
 A few weeks previous to the murder^ Mr. Waterhouse 
 was robbed by a person who had concealed himself in 
 the house, and in the dead of the night going into his 
 bed-room, took from over his head his watch j and 
 about £2, from the pockets of his small-clothes, which 
 lay upon the floor. So impressed was the rev. gentle- 
 man with the narrow escape he had then of his life, 
 that on the next Sunday, with tears in his eyes, he 
 offered up two prayers or thanksgivings to Almighty 
 God for his safe deliverance from the hand of an assas- 
 sin. The suspicions of Mr. VV, instantly fell upon the 
 prisoner Slade, whose sister was at that time in his 
 service, and suspecting her to be privy to the robbery, 
 he immediately discharged her. It was upon this occa- 
 sion that Slade was heard to threaten Mr. Waterhouse. 
 
 That the case mi;j[ht be fully investigated in every 
 point, application was made to the Secretary of State 
 for the Home Department to secure the assistance of a 
 Bow Street officer ; in consequence of which Kllis arri- 
 ved, and entered upon the task with his accustomed 
 activity. Little, however, was left for this able officer 
 to perform : the guilty person was undoubtedly in cus* 
 tpdy, and in this opinion Ellis fully concurred. He 
 deeply regretted that so much time had at first been lost. 
 
 As the parents of the prisoner also bore a bad cha- 
 racter in the village, a warrant was obtained for search- 
 ing their house, when goods were discovered not likely 
 to have been honestly obtained by persons in their des- 
 titute condition. Though in the weekly receipt of 
 
26 
 
 money from the parish, the inmates of this miserable 
 cottage were found to possess six or seven flitches of 
 bacon, two sacks of pease, quantities of pork, ham, &c. 
 In the cottage was also found, stained with blood, and 
 mixed with what seemed to be grey hairs, a bill, or 
 cleaver, the kind of instrument with which it was gene- 
 rally supposed the murder was committed. These vari- 
 ous suspicious circumstances induced the magistrates to 
 detain the fatlier and mother of the prisoner in custody, 
 until a further examination could take placfv 
 
 On the day following these important discoveries, 
 John Slade, a brother of the prisoner, aged 22, delivered 
 himself up, and said he was tired of leading the life he 
 had for some time led. In co!fj':nction with his brother 
 and Heddings, he had been coficerned in several burgla- 
 ries and robberies, and he was anxious to make every 
 atonement in his power. 
 
 Search was instantly made for Heddings, but though 
 he had been at home at Stukeley the evening before, he 
 was not then to be found. 
 
 Proceeding upon the confession of John Slade, a pub- 
 lic examination took place on Monday in the Town Hall, 
 Old Sabey, the labourer, who lives opposite the parson- 
 age, declared his belief that the prisoner was the person 
 who got over the wall on the morning of the fatal day, 
 and Mr, Wilson, surgeon, deposed to finding the stains 
 of blood on the prisoner's clothes. 
 
 On Thursday another examination took place, when 
 Slade, the father ; his wife, and two sons, were placed at 
 the bar, charged with breaking into the dwelling house 
 ot Emmapuel Thorapaquj of Stow, near Kimbolton, in 
 
27 
 
 the night of the 5th of June last, and stealing a quantity 
 of hams, bacon, &c. They carried a bureau out of the 
 house a distance of sixty yards, and opening it stole 
 iiome money in sovereigns and notes, a hat, gun, and 
 great coat, ail which were found on Slade's premises. 
 John and Joshua Siade confessed the burglary, and 
 charged Beddings as an accomplice. 
 
 The second charge against them was for stealing three 
 live pigs out of the yard of Mr. Goodliffe, Woodwalton, 
 two of which were found in a pigstye at Slade's, and 
 one at Heddings's, They had also stolen a sack 
 belonging to Mr. Goodliffe. 
 
 The third charge was for stealing pease, and some 
 sacks from Messrs. Bowker and Morley, executors of 
 the late Mr, Burgess Bowker, of Alconbury 3 and there 
 was another charge of pig-stealing from Mr. Storey, of 
 Broughton, the examination of which was deferred till 
 another day. For the above felonies, John and Joshua 
 Slade were fully committed, for trial at the assizes, and 
 also the father and mother for receiving the goods know- 
 ing them to have been stolen. 
 
 iSxammatiaii of i^eUKing^* 
 
 One link in the chain was still wanting, the capture 
 of Heddings, and this was soon supplied by himself. 
 Late on Thursday night this notorious offender surren- 
 dered himself to the keeper of the House of Correction. 
 He had concealed himself in a hovel near New Pasture 
 Common, for four days, and seeing no chance of escape, 
 and most probably tired of his retreat, he discovered 
 himself to the shepherd, and wished him to fetch the 
 
kfeepfei* of the House of Correction, to whom he would 
 deliver himself up. This being done, he was conveyed 
 to the office of Mr. Sweeting, and confessed to the bur- 
 glary committed at Stow, He also stated, that meeting 
 with Joshua Slade on the night of the inquest, the latter 
 confessed to him that he was the murderer of Mr 
 Waterhouse, Information coming from so polluted jsl 
 source was obviously liable to much suspicion, but the 
 magistrates acted wisely in determining to confront the 
 two offenders, and thus endeavour to establish more 
 clearly the supposed guilt of Slade. Accordingly atone 
 o'clock on Monday, Slade was brought from the gaol to 
 the council chamber, surrounded by a vast concourse of 
 persons. He was heavily ironed, and had at first sight 
 a squalid and miserable appearance. He looked round 
 on the full bench of magistrates and numerous spectators 
 with evident surprise, but betrayed no symptoms of fear 
 or remorse. Heddings vras shortly afterwards produced 
 at the bar ; but Slade, although he had been kept igno- 
 rant of the latter being in custody, manifested no emo- 
 tion on the occasion. The clerk of the county, John 
 Sweeting, Esq , then proceeded to read the deposition 
 of Heddings, which was in substance as follows • 
 
 On Wednesday night after the murder, I saw 
 Joshua Slade on the turnpike road in Little Stukeley, 
 near nine o'clock. The inquest was then over. I jog- 
 ged him on the elbow, and called him on one side, and 
 asked him what he thought of this concern. He said, 
 
 ' I don't kuow.* I made answer, — ' D n it, how 
 
 came you to lay hands on him V He said, ' I was forced j 
 I was in the low kitchen, plundering 3 Mr, Waterhouse 
 
hatched hold of me 5 1 drew ray knife, and began to 
 stab him where 1 could 5 he then called out " murder," 
 and I got him down on the floor, and got a weapon, 
 with whidi 1 hit him a hard blow on the face, anil 
 knocked him down 5 thea 1 hit him several times oa the 
 arms, and where I could, to prevent him rising up again. 
 I then heard the dog bark very vehemently at the door, 
 I went to see if any person was coming j there being 
 nobody there, I went back to Mr. VVaterhonse again, 
 and he had risen up on his legs. I then hit him ano- 
 ther hard blow on the head, and knocked him into the 
 tub. I then ran out at the garden door and left him. 
 1 ran down the close of grass leading to Great Stukeley." 
 
 Having disposed of the murder, Heddings went on 
 to state that he and Slade, and a fellow named John 
 Hawkes, of Huntingdon, whom they met, went into the 
 Swan public-house, and drank some ale, after which he 
 went home and went to bed. 
 
 About seven weeksago," he continued, according to 
 the deposition, on a Saturday night, Mr W aterhouse's 
 house was robbed, which I heard from a labourer. 1 he 
 next day after dinner I was lying in my own close j 
 Joshua Slade, seeing me as he went by, came and lay 
 down with me. I said there had been some one rob- 
 bing the old parson of a pound note 5 he said, I know 
 better than that — they robbed him of two, and a good 
 many other things besides 1 then said, have you been 
 there } and on his owning it, I asked him what he 
 had got 5 — he said, I got a pair of boots, a large dining 
 table cloth, and seven small ones 5 about 40 yards of 
 fine shirting cloth, and 17 yards of coarser 5 a dozen 
 
 D 
 
so 
 
 and a half of knives and forks, and five cheese knives* 
 1 said, I wonder how Mr. Waterhouse should go to bed 
 and leave the door open 5 he said I went in about eleven 
 o'clock in the day, and went up into Mr. W.'s bed- 
 chamber, when I took down his blunderbuss and 
 unloaded it, and shoved some paper in the stead of it, 
 so that he could not shoot me. Having done this, I 
 took what [ chose, and tied them up in a bundle 5 I then 
 went up into a garret, and laid down among some wool 
 till eleven o'clock at night, when Mr. W. was in bed ; 
 I went out at the garden door, and set my shoes and 
 bundle there 5 I then went up stairs again, with a brace 
 of pistols of Mr. W.'s (which I had taken from him 
 before), to see what money he had about him } I saw his 
 breeches lying on the floor, and I took out of them one 
 pound in silver and a pound note. I then asked Slade 
 if he was not afraid Mr. W. should waken 3 he said, 
 ^ No, not 1 5 if he had stirred hand or foot, I should 
 have shot him as he lay." 
 
 After the deposition had been read, and Heddings 
 had affixed his mark to it, Slade was asked if he had 
 any thing to say : he answered, ^' No, your honour ; 
 but he has told some false tales ; 1 did not say a word 
 of what he says on the Wednesday night 3 he wants to 
 hang me without judge or jury, d — n him, he should 
 have been hanged years ago himself/' 
 
 Mr. Cole, keeper of the prison, was then sworn and 
 examined *^ I produce a knife which I got from the pri- 
 soner, Joshua Slade 3 I asked him for it after the first 
 day of examination, but he said his mother had got it 
 and his watch. I told him afterwards that he must 
 
31 
 
 give it up 5 he then said, they (himself and the other 
 prisoners) had concealed it, as they had no knife to 
 cut their bread with. I replied^ you must give it up/' 
 and he immediately got it down from a shelf. I ex- 
 amined the knife j it was newly cleaned : I wrapped it 
 in a piece of brown paper, and laid it by. Two or 
 three days afterwards I looked at the knife again, and 
 there appeared on the blade marks of blood 5 the red 
 shades which are now seen appear to have come out 
 since I had it.'* (The knife was then handed round the 
 table 5 it is a good large clasp knife, and apparently 
 new. Stains of a dark brown or reddish shade may be 
 clearly perceived about an inch from the point.) 
 
 The prisoner being interrogated as to the nature of 
 the stains which appeared on the knife, coolly replied 
 
 They a'n't blood, nor aught like it." 
 
 The commitment of the prisoner was then made out, 
 and he was conducted back to prison. 
 
 Heddings was next examined as to his participation 
 in a felony, developed in the following evidence : — 
 
 John Storey, of Broughton, in the county of Hun- 
 tingdon, had two pigs stolen from his straw-yard one 
 night, about ten or eleven weeks since. Hearing of the 
 apprehension of John and Joshua Slade, he went to 
 Stukeley, and found one of the pigs in a stye of Joshua 
 Slade's house, and the other in a stye at Heddings's. 
 
 John Wayles, brother-in-law of Storey, corroborated 
 this evidence, and said he could swear to the pigs on 
 account of their breed, colour, and a cut in the nose 
 of each. Heddings confessed, though somewhat reluc- 
 tantly, that he could not account for the pig being in 
 his possession, and was accordingly committed. 
 d2 
 
32 
 
 iBxamimtion of Uamtfalt Wivigftu 
 
 Suspicion being entertained that a man named Lans- 
 dale Wright was possessed of part of the property of 
 Mr. Waterhouse, a constable was despatched to March, 
 in the county of Cambridge, where it was understood 
 he was then living, to examine his house, and take him 
 into custody. On Friday (July 20), Wright was brought 
 up before the magistrates, when he confessed to having 
 purchased the following articles of Joshua Slade : a pair 
 of new boots, a pillow-case, a piece of striped dimity, 
 a piece of Irish sheeting, two pieces of Irish shirting, 
 a large table cloth, and sundry knives and forks. Part 
 of the goods were found in holes dug in the garden, 
 which Wright's wife pointed out to the constable. Maria 
 Sharpe, wife of John 8harpe, of Brampton, identified 
 the articles prod'orced as the property of the late Mr 
 Waterhouse, Mrs.. JSharpe had lived five years with 
 Mr. W. as housekeeper, and left him seven years ago 
 to be married. Wright was then fully committed for 
 receiving the goods, knowing them to have been stolen. 
 
 Having disposed of this case, the sitting magistrate> 
 Mr. Torkington, called upon William Francis, a ma- 
 chine-mender, or carpenter, of Little Stukeley, on the 
 subject of the murder. Francis deposed to having been 
 in company with Slade at the Swan public house on the 
 night of Monday the^2d. Slade left between one and 
 two o'clock, he seemed sober, and went up towards 
 the church, which is the way both to his own house and 
 to that of Mr, Waterhouse. This witness, and Mr. 
 Woods, the constable of Stukeley, stated that they had 
 compared Shade's shoes with the footmarks seen in the- 
 adjoining grounds, and found that they fitted exactly* 
 
33 
 
 The case of the prisoner now seemed desperate. He 
 was fully committed for trial, on a charge the heaviest 
 which can be preferred against a human being, and a 
 variety of circumstantial evidence had been adduced 
 against him, which, together with his previous bad 
 character, left little room to doubt of his guilt. A fort* 
 night, however, had to intervene before he could be 
 brought up for trial 5 and we shall take this opportunity 
 of presenting the reader with a more detailed account of 
 the life and character of Mr. Waterhouse, and of his 
 murderer. 
 
 Sfeetrft of tfie Uift of £Bv. midittti)omt. 
 
 Mr.. Waterhouse was born at his father's estate of 
 Birch-hall, near Hayfield, in the parish of Glossop, 
 Derbyshire, in January, 1746. He was the younsjest 
 of four children, all of whom have now paid the debt 
 of nature. The history of his eldest brother is some- 
 what singular. He was apprenticed to a shoemaker, 
 but disliking the business, or being naturally of a roving 
 disposition, he ran away before the expiration of his 
 apprenticeship. Repenting of this step, he wrote to 
 his master desiring him to take him back, which the 
 good-natured craftsman agreed to do. He had some 
 doubts, however, of the lad's integrity, and as he went 
 on horseback to fetch him home, he took the precaution- 
 ary measure of fastening him to his own body, by 
 means of a strap, to prevent his escape from the horse 
 on which they were hoth seated. But even in this 
 Crispin was foiled. As they were leisurely proceeding 
 on their journey, the lad contrived to cut the stra|> 
 
34 
 
 which bound him to his master, and slipping off the 
 horse at a convenient part of the road, which was much 
 wcoded, he was speedily out of sight, and beyond the 
 reach of his employer. The latter beiag unable to pur- 
 sue him on horseback amidst the tangled wood, sooa 
 gave up the pursuit, and seeing the unpromising dispo- 
 sition of the youths made no further inquiry after him. 
 Young Waterhouse then enlisted, and was afterwards 
 present at the battle of Fontenoy, where the allied 
 forces, under the command of the Duke of Cumberland, 
 were partially defeated by the French in the year 1745. 
 Towards the close of the day he was lying on the ground 
 slightly wounded, and observing the slain body of an 
 officer beside him on the field, he stretched out his arm, 
 and made a pull at the officer's watch, which displayed 
 the tempting appendages of a gold chain and seals. The 
 unfortunate gentleman was in no condition to resist 
 the attempt j but at that moment another person, bent 
 on the same thieving errand, beheld the motion, and 
 despairing of his booty if Waterhouse succeeded in 
 obtaining it, he lifted up his rifle, and discharging it 
 at his head, stretched him lifeless on the field ! This 
 anecdote we had from one of the heirs of the late Rev. 
 Mr. Waterhouse. 
 
 Joshua was from his earliest years destined for a 
 respectable station in society. His father, though not 
 an affluent, was a respectable English farmer ; and 
 having given him the best education the place afforded, 
 he determined upon sending his son to college. Accord- 
 ingly, about the year 1771, he was entered of Catherine 
 Hall, Cambridge. He took his first degree in 1774, 
 
35 
 
 his next, A.M., in 1777, and S.T.B, (Bachelor of Divi- 
 nity) in 1786. Mr. W. although he obtained a fellow- 
 ship, did not much distinguish himself at college. His 
 name is not once inserted in either lists of honours, and 
 his election to a Fellowship was rather incidental to the 
 Under-Graduates of his college that year not having 
 obtained an honour (with the exception of Mr. Wood) 
 than to any intrinsic merit. Having entered into orders, 
 Mr. Waterhouse succeeded shortly afterwards, to the 
 college living of Coton, near Cambridge, which he was 
 permitted to hold w^ith his fellou^ship. On the death of 
 Dr. Lowther Yates, in 1799, he was a candidate for 
 the Mastership of the college, in which he was disap- 
 pointed, though he was defeated by only a majority of 
 one. It is said that, believing himself to be elected, he 
 took Some extraordinary steps to secure the appointment, 
 such as taking possession of the Master's house, &c. 
 but of course he was compelled to relinquish his tran- 
 sitory honours. During the period of his academic 
 career, Mr. Waterhouse is described as being one of 
 the handsomest, best-dressed men of his college. In 
 company with his friend Sir John Danvers, Bart, who 
 contributed materially to his advance in life, he visited 
 Bath, and the various fashionable w^atering places, 
 mingling with the best society, in ** the bustle of the 
 busy and the flutter of the gay." 
 
 About the year 1806 he obtained the next presenta- 
 tion to the rectory of Little Stukeley, for which, it is 
 said he gave ^2000. At the same time time he bought 
 a piece- of land called the Denhills, in the same parish ; 
 and before his final removal to Stukeley, the rev. gen- 
 
36 
 
 tlcraan used to visit it once or twice a year, to look at 
 this land, and observe the condition of his stock, &c.. 
 
 In 1813, the Rev. Dr. Torkington, incumbent of 
 Little Stukeley, died, upon which Mr. Waterhouse 
 succeeded to the living, and went thither, in June, to-? 
 reside* It is said that the change was in many respects^ 
 agreeable to him. During the excessive high price of 
 corn, about thirty years ago, he had excited a good 
 deal of odium and evil report by keeping up many years' 
 growth of wheat, which he afterwards sold at loss. 
 Several charges for immoral conduct are also said to 
 have been preferred against him before the Bishop of 
 Ely 5 and it w^as therefore equally natural and proper 
 that the rev. gentleman should desire to enter upon a 
 new scene of action, in which he might, if so disposed, 
 correct the errors of his past conduct, and in which he 
 would at all events be removed from the observation of 
 his former censors. Happy, if he had carriedT with him 
 into his new residence a sincere desire for the welfare 
 of his flock^ and a resolution to maintain the respecta- 
 bility of the sacred character with which he was invested. 
 
 The latter years of Mr. Waterhouse*s life presented a 
 woful contrast to the honourable scenes amidst which 
 his youth.and manhood were spent^ and furnish ample 
 natter for reflection to those who love to study the vari- 
 ous phases and aberrations of human nature. For the 
 
 * The Register of Little Stukeley commences in 1655. On the first leaf is 
 written as follows : 
 
 Benjamin Gery succeeded Mr. William Halley 1657, and died 1699. 
 
 Leonard Green succeeded, and died 1737, 
 
 James Torkington succeeded, and died 1813. 
 
 Joshua Waterhouse succeeded. 
 
37 
 
 last twenty or thirty years of his life, the rev. gentlemant 
 might be considered as no bad representative ot a cer- 
 tain class of English Clergy of the last century, who 
 sat as models for the portraitures of Fielding and other 
 satirists, but who are happily now fast disappearing. In 
 dress and manners he was simple as Abraham Adams 
 himself 5 though it must be confessed, in certain points 
 of his character, he bore a closer resemblance to Parson 
 Trulliber. The whole of the land attached to his rec- 
 tory at Stukeley, about 300 acres^ he retained in his 
 own occupation, and busied himself incessantly, though 
 often very unprohtably, in the management of his rural 
 affairs. As he would seldom pay his labourers the 
 wages usually given in the parish, his land remained 
 uncultivated if work was to be obtained elsewhere, and 
 last year he had not completed his hay^harvest till con- 
 siderably after Michaelmas. Frequently the snow might 
 be seen on Mr. Waterhouse's standing grain, or the 
 cattle feeding in his corn-fields. The same blind parsi- 
 money led him to hoard up his produce, till the greater 
 part became rotten and useless. Every room in the 
 parsonage, with the exception of the kitchen and a sleep- 
 ing room, was filled with grain or wool, and in different 
 granaries in Huntingdon, the rev. gentleman had about 
 600 loads of corn. In consequence of this unnatural 
 impropriation" the rectory abounded with rats, which 
 exacted a tithe of their master's crops, besides dilapida- 
 • ting his mansion from turret to foundation stone/ * 
 
 * A ludicrous instance of the prevalence of these vermin in the house 
 occurred lately. One of the men employed to sit up with the corpse of the 
 deceased gentleman had just dropped off into a gentle slumber, when a tre- 
 mendous rat mounted the table, and ran off with the candle. The poor 
 fellow, on beiqg awakened by the noise, was almost frig-hteced out ot his wit& 
 
as 
 
 In the same spirit, the windows of the house were 
 blocked up — the garden became a wilderness — and 
 scores of pigs disported in front of the rectory door, 
 formerly graced with a lawn, and a carriage entrance. 
 A few years since, Mr. Waterhouse believing himself to 
 be on the brink of matrimony, had two or three of his 
 apartments elegantly furnished. Men were employed 
 from Cambridge to complete the undertaking, and about 
 5^300. were expended in making preparations for the 
 expected bride. But from some undiscovered cause the 
 match was broken off — the moreen curtains and splen- 
 did mirrors were suffered to remain in the cotton cover- 
 ings which enveloped them, and the Turkey carpets, 
 instead of being pressed by the foot of beauty, were 
 covered with s prying grain ! 
 
 Every Saturday Mr. Waterhouse attended Hunting- 
 don market on foot, sometimes driving his pigs before 
 him 3 and after transacting his farming business, he 
 used to carry home in a basket his tea and sugar, and 
 other necessaries for the week. He had all the indif- 
 ference of a Stoic of the woods to the various changes 
 of the weather. Amidst hail, rain, and snow, the aged 
 rector might be seen perambulating his grounds, or 
 hallooing to his workmen or cattle. When his clothes 
 were soiled after following the pleasures of the chace, 
 of which at one time he was very fond, frequently rising 
 before day-break, or sleeping under hedges, to be early 
 in the field on the first of September, the rev. gentleman 
 required no extensive wardrobe to repair the mishaps of 
 his outward man. On these occasions he used to visit 
 the fish-pond situated on his premises, and with the aid 
 
39 
 
 of a brush, copiously charged with water^ restore thi5 
 wonted respectability to his personal appearance. 
 
 A favourite grey horse which he had reared was lat- 
 terly a source of much pride and gratification to Mr. 
 Waterhouse. This beautiful animal he intended to 
 exhibit for a week at the horse bazaar, and then present 
 it to his Majesty, It is said that he was offered above 
 c^200. for the horse, but refused to sell it, as the 
 intended purchaser had rather outwitted him in a for- 
 mer bargain. Two horses bred from the same mare 
 had fetched ^''600. in London, although Mr. W. had 
 incautiously parted with them at less than half that sum. 
 To be revenged on the dealers, Mr. Waterhouse, with 
 his usual policy, determined that they should never again 
 enrich themselves at his expence. The memorable 
 speech of the Duke of York on the Catholic claims so 
 transported th€ rev. gentleman, that in the extacy of the 
 moment he exclaimed, the Duke shall have my beau- 
 tiful creature" — the appellation he generally bestowed 
 on his favourite horse. At the sale of the rev. gentle- 
 man's effects, this highly-prized animal was sold for 155 
 guineas. The sale was attended by thousands of indivi- 
 duals, attracted by the value of the stock, the various 
 circumstances attending the sale, and the unusual fine- 
 ness of the day. Every horse, gig, and chaise in the 
 county was in requisition ; and droves of pedestrians 
 braved the summer's heat and dust to visit the far-famed 
 parsonage. Though living in such a " muddling way,'* 
 as the villagers terra it, Mr. W. was possessed of a 
 variety of excellent furniture 5 and few farmers could 
 boast of a better stocked farm-vard. He had 15 horses, 
 
40 
 
 about 15 cows and calves, 200 sheep and lambs, a 
 numerous progeny of hogs, pigs, 8tc. amounting in all 
 to about 150. These might be truly termed the family 
 of Mr. Waterhouse. Induced by the chagrins of life, or 
 false views of his own interest and comfort, he relin- 
 quished the society of his equals, and lavished upon the 
 irrational objects around him that care and anxiety 
 vi^hich should have been devoted to higher purposes. 
 
 In politics, Mr. W, was a zealous Tory, and decidedly 
 opposed to granting any further concessions to the 
 Catholics if ever they attained to power, he used to 
 say, he should fall the first martyr to the fires of perse* 
 cution 5 for the Catholics could not but be aware of his 
 strenuous resistance to their claims. 
 
 The following passage in the life of this singular cler- 
 gyman is worthy the pencil of Cruickshank. To beggars 
 of all descriptions he had a strong insuperable aversion : 
 and as in most small villages the domicile of the rector 
 is only inferior in importance to the mansion of the 
 squire, numbers of these itinerants contiived to way-lay 
 the path of the rector of Stukeley, vi^ith prayers and 
 supplications. Of course they were always repulsed 
 w^ith scorn and indignation, and not unfrequently veteran 
 tars* and soldiers might be seen at his gate shouldering 
 their crutches, not to shew how fields were won, but to 
 attempt the achievement of fresh victories. One Sun- 
 day, while performing divine service, the rector per- 
 ceived from a window in the church a sturdy mendicant 
 prowling about his grounds, whom he instantly deter- 
 mined to remove in the most prompt and efficacious 
 manner. Watching a favourable moment, the preacher 
 
41 
 
 descended from the desk ; after giving out tfee Psalm, 
 and throwing off his surplice at the church door, he in- 
 stantly attacked the graceless intruder, and Uivly (hr ashed 
 him off the premises. Having performed this feat, Mr. 
 W. coolly re-entered the church at the conclusion of the 
 Psalm, and proceeded to read the Lessons of the day.*^ 
 'On one point the rector of Stukeley was a careful shep- 
 herd of his flock ; he would not suffer any of his parish- 
 ioners to appear in Church dressed in a smock frock, 
 the usual cjarb of our agricultural labourers 5 and if a 
 hapless rustic chanced to drop in arrayed in tlie pro- 
 hibited toga, he was instantly ordered by the pastor to 
 quit the Church. This severity of discipline was the 
 more extraordinary in Mr. Waterhouse, as few men 
 vi^ere more careless of their own exterior. A coarse blue 
 great coat, corduroy breeches, and light grey stockings, 
 formed his usual costume. 
 
 As a necessary consequence, from his unaccommoda- 
 ting disposition and outr^ manners, Mr. Waterhouse was 
 but little respected by his humble parishioners. One 
 Sunday whilst delivering his sermon, his attention was 
 attracted by the appearance of a boy in the Church, who 
 was standing up, swinging his body backwards and for- 
 wards. ^' What is the matter with that boy," said he, 
 " he does not seem right:' If you were as right as 
 he U/* rejoined the boy's father, speaking aloud, " you 
 
 • An anecdote similar to the above is related of Mr. W. at Coton. He 
 ont Sunday told the Clerk, Mr. Agar, to give out a good long psalm, whilst 
 he went to the parsonage to dislodge a young man, a miller, whom he had 
 seen enter his house, and who was in the habit of risting his housekeeper. 
 The clerk, faithfuUo hi» trusty sang on tiU the r«ctor returned, by which 
 titi>e he had accomplished at^out twenty verses. 
 
 E 
 
would be better tuan you are.*' The rector proceeded^ 
 but observing the boy continue in the same position, he 
 again stopped. ** Cannot that boy sit down/' he said, 
 
 he must be out of his senses.'' *^ I tell you again/* 
 said the former interlocutor in this strange dialogue, 
 
 that if you were as sensible as he i&^ you would be 
 better than you are.'* No further interruption took 
 place ; and it would be difficult to say which party 
 stood in the most humiliating light^— the parent of the 
 boy who could so far forget the sanctity and decorum of 
 the place, or the clergyman to whom such language 
 could with seeming propriety be addressed. It is wor- 
 thy of remark that almost the only poor family in the 
 village to whom Mr W» seemed to shew any attention 
 or regard was the family of the Slades. 
 
 At Coton, Mr W. was distinguished for the same 
 eccentricities which afterwards marked his conduct at 
 Stukeley. Being then a Fellow of Catherine Hall, he 
 was entitled to dine at his collie, and he never failed, 
 we believe, to walk into Cambridge, duly every day, to 
 participate in the banquet. An old woman of the parish, 
 whose door he used to pass in the course of these daily 
 peregrinations, frequently surprised him by invoking 
 blessings on his head, and praying for the prolongation 
 of his life. One day while the aged dame was dropping 
 her usual curtesy, and pouring oiit her unusual benedic- 
 tions, the rector stopped and enquired the reason why 
 his parishioner always saluted him so kindly — *'You 
 know, sir/' she replied, it is said that after bad 
 comes worse, and I am sure w^hen you are taken away, 
 we shall have the old one himself/* Mr. W. it is said. 
 
43 
 
 kughed at the joke, and gave the old woman a 
 penny. 
 
 Amongst the numerous peculiarities which marked 
 the wayward ill-regulated mind of Mr, Waterhouse, 
 may be reckoned an excessive fondness for the company 
 and amusements of children, which contrasted strangely 
 with his usually selfish, violent, and even morose tem- 
 per. He seldom passed a child in the streets without 
 addressing it in a tone of good humour or affection. He 
 delighted also in teasing his poor uncouth farm-boys, in 
 sending them upon wrong errands — and standing over 
 them brandishing a whip, with his coat off and his shirt 
 sleeves tucked up, whilst the terrified rustics were eat- 
 ing their victuals. 
 
 Mr. died intestate, though possessed of considera- 
 ble property. His two li ings were worth about aS700 
 ^r 5^800. per annum, and if we consider his advanced 
 age, and his solitary, economical habits, we shall readily 
 believe that his property amounted to several thousands. 
 It is a remarkable circumstance in his remarkable life, 
 that though he lived to such an advanced age in a state of 
 celibacy, and though his usual tastes and pursuits were 
 of such a nature as seem calculated to deaden every 
 trace of the tender passion,** his correspondence con- 
 sists almost entirely of love letters. So careless was 
 the rev. gentleman of these amatory epistles, that lat- 
 terly they might be found lying scattered about his 
 kitchen, open to the gaze of every curious visitor. Se- 
 veral of them, written about forty years ago, when Mr. 
 W. was in the hey*day of life and fashion, breathed the 
 most ardent attachment and devotedness to his interests. 
 Others were of a more worldly, every-day character : 
 E 2 
 
44 
 
 Mr. Waterliouse was in both the object of ttnboondcd 
 regard and affection ^ but in the latter, a spirit of pru- 
 dence prevailed 5 and tender enquiries after his health 
 and spirits, were accompanied by admonitions no less 
 tender respecting the management of his cows and pigs. 
 Mr. W. used to say that he had love letters enough, of 
 one kind or unother, to cook the marriage feast, when- 
 ever it should take place y and that the rev. gentlenaan 
 was not far wrong in his conjecture may be guessed 
 from the fact, that at the time of his death, these melting 
 epistles were numerous enough to fill an entire sack. 
 Amongst the many fair ones to whom the singular 
 rector of Stukeley paid his addresses was the once-fa- 
 mous Mary Wolstoaecroft, distinguished during the 
 period of the French Revolution for her democratical 
 writings, and afterwards united to Mr. Godwin, author 
 of St. Leon, &c. How far the rev. gentleman sped in 
 his wooing with this intellectual amazon we have not 
 been able to ascertain 5 but, like all his other attach- 
 ments, his passion for the author of the Mights of 
 PFoman was destined ta evince the truth of the poet's 
 observation. 
 
 The course of true love never did run smooth. 
 
 In 1823, a man named Savage was executed at Hun- 
 tingdon for arson, and Mr, W., like many others, went to 
 witnes the painful exhibition. On the road he happened 
 to meet with Joshua Slade, and it is worthy of remark, 
 that they entered Huntingdon together, and beheld the 
 criminal suffer. Could they have foreseen what was to 
 occur in a few short years, with what feelings must 
 they have regarded each other ! 
 
 : The last sermon preached by M r. Waterhoqse was m 
 
45 
 
 his own church, from the following words. Job, chap. ii. 
 V. 10, Shall we receive good at the hand of God, and 
 shall we not receive evilP*' In the morning of the same 
 day (the Sunday prior to his death), he performed duty 
 at the neighbouring parish of Upton, and preached an 
 impressive discourse from these words, also in Job : — 
 
 Ml/ soul is weary of my life I will leave my com' 
 plaint upon myself.^' (Chap, x,, v. 1.) In the discharge 
 of his clerical duties, particularly whilst engaged in 
 reading the Lessons, Mr. W. was frequently overpow- 
 ered by his feelings, and compelled'lo stop. The selfish 
 and sordid passions which, in his iiitercourse with the 
 world, seemed to hold such a mastery over his heart and 
 understanding, vanished before the touching exhortations 
 and sublime truths of the Gospel, and unable to contain 
 himself he would burst into tears. 
 
 A short time before his death he made a singular 
 request with regard to his funeral . — Let me," said he 
 to his clerk, be buried twelve feet deep— my coffin 
 standing perpendicularly on its foot: let my face front 
 the east : I shall then be ready : for the trumpet shall 
 sound, and the dead shall be raised/* — This request was 
 not literally complied with : his grave was dug to nearly 
 the depth of twelve feet, but his coffin was placed in the 
 usual position. 
 
 The life and history of this ecceniric, i»l-fated clergy- 
 man will long be remembered, and will serve, we hope, 
 as a beacon, to warn succeeding clergymen from the 
 dangerous courses into which he fell. We forbear enter- 
 ing into details over which humanity counsels us to draw 
 a veil — Let his errors sleep with him in the grave, a nd 
 
 Be not remembered in his epiUplu 
 B 3 
 
4fe 
 
 Joshua Slade was born at Great Stukeley, on the 
 14th of January, 1809, and was the third of nine chil- 
 dren. His parents were m the lowest condition of our 
 agricultural poor, aad, burdened with th^ maintenance 
 of so numerous a family, could not afford, even if their 
 inclination had prompted them, to provide their chil- 
 dren with the rudiments of education. It appears, how- 
 ever, that Joshua received some instruction at a Sunday 
 School established in the village. He had mastered the 
 drudgery of learning his letters, and could spell words 
 of one or two syllables. The benevolent lady who 
 instructed him, from his aptness and attention, was fond 
 of her scliolar : she rewarded him frequently with merit 
 tickets, and gave him a suit of clothes. One Sunday in 
 returning from the schoo], he lost his tickets, and this 
 serving as a pretext for non-attendance, no considera- 
 tion could afterwards induce him to go again to school. 
 The little learning that he had gained was consequently 
 soon forgotten J and deprived of this opportunity of 
 acquiring knowledge, he was left literally destitute of all 
 religious and moral instruction. We wish to say 
 nothing harshly of his parents 5 but the gradual deteri- 
 oration which has, of late jTars, taken place in the gene- 
 ral character and condition of our labourers is a subject 
 fraught with melancholy reflection. The situation of f 
 the best and most virtuous amongst them can hardly be 
 viewed without sorrow and regret. When fully employed, 
 their wages are barely sufficient to afford them a inain- 
 teixance^ and when overtakea with sickness and family 
 
® S M W A S A B 3S 
 
 Dxa-wnfromlafel):? E-TxeslOTL Trmteiljy CSuHnLaiiiel . 
 
47 
 
 misfortune — or thrown into debt from the pressure of 
 unavoidable circumstances — the poor peasant has no 
 means of extricating himself — no alternative but to apply 
 to the parish. The institution of a legal provision for 
 the poor reflects honour upon the humanity of the 
 country, but it loses its proper character, and ceases to 
 be beneficial, when indiscriminately applied. It certainly 
 never was contemplated by our ancestors, that agricul- 
 tural labourers should receive part of their wages from 
 the poor's box. This is an innovation of modern times; 
 and one, we are sorry to say, which has obtained a foot- 
 ing in this county. What can be more cruel or prepos- 
 terous than that young able-bodied men should receive 
 only six or seven shillings per week from the farmer, 
 and be sent to the parish to make up the means of 
 subsistence for themselves and families ? They are thus 
 brought up in the degrading habit of dependence, and 
 lose all self-estimation, industry, and regard for charac- 
 ter ; whilst the poor shopkeeper or tradesman of ihe 
 village is compelled to assist in paying the farmers' 
 labourers. A system at once so short-sighted and ini- 
 quitous must have tended materially to lower the na- 
 tional character of our peasantry. Other causes have 
 doubtless co-operated in no small degree ; but by 
 making our labourers paupers — by doling out the same 
 mite to the idle as to the industrious, — we destroy all 
 motives to honest industry, and break the spirit of 
 manly independence. 
 
 Had Joshua Slade been early and habitually taught 
 his duty to God and man, and received even a common 
 education^ he could scarcely have failed in proving a 
 
48 
 
 useful and intelligent member of society. He was natu- 
 rally of quick and lively parts, and his progress in reli- 
 gious knowledge during the short period of his impri- 
 sonment was truly astonishing. He surprised all who 
 visited him by the readiness and acuteness of his 
 answers. Unfortunately, however, his mind was suf- 
 fered to run waste, at the time when it was capable of 
 receiving the strongest impressions. He saw nothing, 
 that was good around him, and consequently had no 
 check upon his evil inclinations. His natural activity, 
 sought employment in fraud and cunnings and from his 
 earliest years he was looked upon as a lad of suspicious 
 cliaracter. The first open act of dishonesty in which he 
 was detected occurred in his fourteenth year. A neigh- 
 bour, Mrs. Bedford, having occasion one day to leave her 
 house, locked the door, and deposited the key in a place 
 where the different members of her family were accus- 
 tomed to leave it for their mutual convenience. The 
 action was observed by young Slade, who happened at 
 the time to be working in an adjoining close. He instantly 
 repaired to the house, opened the door, aud abstracted 
 a sovereign from a bureau which stood in the room. On 
 discovering their loss, Mrs. Bedford and family sus- 
 pected Slade, and going to his father's cottage, taxed 
 him with the theft. For some time the audacious boy 
 denied it in the strongest terms 5 but on his father 
 promising him a shilling if he gave up the money, he 
 drew the sovereign from his pocket and laid it on his 
 father's chair, when it was delivered to the owner. On 
 this occasion, the mother of the boy remarked that it 
 was a good job for hina, as he had got a shilling by it*.' ' 
 
49 
 
 The propriety of such a remark, made at such a time, 
 requires no comment. Yet who can peruse it without 
 reflecting on the awful responsibility of parents, and the 
 importance of early instruction and good example. 
 
 Slade had previously been employed as a herd by the 
 family whom, on the above occasion he robbed. When 
 a boy he was distinguished for his obstinate, head-strong 
 disposition 5 if spoken sharply to for any neglect, he 
 would instantly run away, and it required some coaxing 
 to make him return. His mother states that he would 
 sometimes sleep in the fields for two or Ihiee nights 
 together^, if offended at home. There was nothing, ac- 
 cording to the testimony of his parents, that Joshua 
 could not turn his hand to. Had he been a scholar," 
 says his mother, he would have been -a forger'' 
 
 In 1824, William Slade, the father, was turned out 
 of his house, and his effects sold for debt 5 upon which 
 he removed with his family to the neighbouring village 
 of Little Stukeley, where he rented a small cottage 
 belonging to Mrs. Eady, of Huntingdon. The overseers 
 of his former parish paid the rent, and allowed the old 
 man and his wife five shillings per week. Joshua was 
 by this time grown a stout active youth, and though 
 slightly made, was of a sinewy, muscular fiame, capable 
 of enduring much fatigue. He now wont regularJy to 
 work ) and, amongst others, was employed by the rec- 
 tor of the parish, Mr. VVaterhouse. He was, we believe, 
 a good industrious labourer, though but little esteemed 
 by any of his employers. From November 1826, to 
 May 1827, he was in the service of Mr Hall, farmer, 
 of Little Stukeley, and conducted himself with general 
 
50 
 
 propriety, till the last week of the above time, when 
 Mr. Hall, detecting him in a petty theft, discharged him 
 from his premises. This seems to have been the last 
 place in which Slade was regularly employed. During 
 the nine or ten weeks which intervened before the 
 murder of Mr. Waterhouse, he did do work, with the 
 exception of a day or two's mowing 5 and as his parents 
 were unable to support him, he mu&t have chiefly sub- 
 sisted on the property he had dishonestly acquired. On 
 the day of the murder he was engaged to work with 
 Mr. William Stanion^ but of course did not go. 
 
 During the last year of his residence at Little 8tuke- 
 ley, Slade contracted an intimacy with a fitting associate, 
 William Heddings, of whom we have already given some 
 account. HeddingsV close runs up almost to the door 
 of Slade's cottage, and they had thus frequent oppor- 
 tunities of meeting, and laying their plans together. The 
 connexion of Slade with this incorrigible rascal confirmed 
 him in vice, and completed his ruin. A companion of 
 a different character might have weaned him from his 
 vicious habits, and given a new direction to his mind ; 
 but meeting with one hackneyed in the paths of crime, 
 and insensible to all feelings of compunction, every 
 moral barrier was broken down, and every restraint 
 removed. Some of the robberies committed jointly by 
 Slade and Heddings have already been detailed in the 
 different examinations before the magistrates 3 and it is 
 to be feared there were but too many others which have 
 not yet been divulged. The natural courage and hardi- 
 hood of Slade urged him on to greater lengths than his 
 associate intended, but the latter never failed to reap 
 
51 
 
 the pfincipal part of the bootj\ John Slacle, an eidef 
 brother of Joshua, was joined to the party last Michael- 
 mas 5 but he appears to have been a youth of better 
 principle, aud was soon disgusted with the trade. 
 
 Amongst the numerous persons in the county who 
 experienced the nocturnal visitations of this gan^r^ Mr 
 Waterhouse was perhaps the greatest sufferer. We 
 have seen that Slade stole a variety of articles from the 
 parsonage, amounting in all to about ^20., which he 
 sold to Lansdale Wright. Heddings confessed that they 
 one night entered the farm-yard of the rev gentleman, 
 and drove off six pigs, which they took to Peterborough 
 market and sold 5 and, strange to say, they were never 
 missed by the unsuspecting rector. They were also 
 possessed of a bunch of skeleton keys, twenty-seven in 
 number, with which they could open every room in the 
 house 5 and on Sunday mornings, duiing the time of 
 divine service, Heddings and Slade frequently repaired 
 to the parsonage, and regaled themselves on the ale 
 and wine of tlie rector*s cellar. Often has this deluded 
 minister, after being plundered, gone to Lucas, the 
 parish constable, proceeded with him to the cottage of 
 Slade's parents, and identified property of which he had 
 been deprived. On these occasions, the peace-officer 
 took possession of the discovered booty 3 immediately, 
 however, on quitting this den of thieves, the venerable 
 expounder usually remarked—^' Well, officer, here's 
 your money ; Til let them rest this time 5 but if they sin 
 again, I will not forgive them*' On searching the 
 premises of Slade, after the murder, a sack and pow- 
 der-flask, belonging to the rev, gentleman, were found 
 
52 
 
 (ibncealed in the lhatch of the pig-stye 5 and a pair of 
 handsome silver-mounted pistols, also belonging to Mr. 
 Waterhouse, were picked up amongst the dung in the 
 same phice. Slade himself confessed that he had hid 
 the pistols in the thatch, thrusting up his arm as far as 
 he could I and from this depository they had dropped 
 into the soil. 
 
 From the statements of his mother, it appears that 
 Slade had stolen the pistols long before the time of the 
 above robbery* Mr» Waterhouse missing them, in- 
 formed Slade's sister (who then lived servant in the 
 house) that some one had stolen his pistols, and would 
 surely murder him. The girl, to appease his anxiety 
 and perturbation, in a few days carried back the pistols, 
 which she had found concealed in her mother's house. 
 Her desperate and deluded brother, however, had again 
 laid his hands on the dangerous instruments, meditating 
 the commission of the atrocious crime which he was 
 destined afterwards to accomplish. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the determined character of 
 Slade and his accomplices — wherever they went to 
 plunder, they went also with the decided resolution 
 of destroying any one who might chance to oppose 
 them in the attainment of their object 5 and two or 
 three individuals who suffered by their depredations, 
 may congratulate themselves that they did not fall 
 victims to the desperate courage of these rufRans.— The 
 night that the house of Mr. Thomson, of Stow, was 
 plundered, was at the time of the feast j and whilst the 
 delinquents were busily epgaged inside, Mr. T, came 
 home, and finding the door open and some tjiinga. 
 
33. 
 
 ^^splaced, immediately went (supposing some person had 
 been robbing the house) to procure assistance 3 in the 
 mean while^ the plunderers, being disturbed, made off, 
 taking with them a bureau, which they carried to some 
 distance and then ransacked. — ^At the time two ho^s 
 were stolen from Mr. Goodliffe, of Wood Walton, Mr, 
 G. has not a doubt but that he was crossing the yard at 
 the moment they were in the styej but regarding the 
 noise made by the hogs as nothing unusual, he fortu- 
 nately did not proceed to ascertain the cause : had he 
 discovered them, Slade declared it was their intention 
 to have destroyed him.— On another occasion, Slade and 
 Beddings, (together with one or tvyo other des- 
 peradoes, whom the arm of the law has not yet reached) 
 were one evening drinking in a public-house in Hunt- 
 ingdon, when they observed a small farmer, who was 
 also present, to have a considerable sum of money 
 on him — they resolved to dispossess him of his cash, and 
 going home immediately, they armed themselves with 
 pistols, and secreted themselves in a part of the road 
 which they knew he must pass on his way home- 
 wards, determined to plunder him, even at the expense 
 of bis life. Fortunately for the person alluded to, 
 he had taken too much of Boniface's brown stout to 
 brave the perils of the night, and was persuaded to take 
 a bed at the house at which he had been drinking. — 
 By this prudent step he probably saved his own life, 
 and disappointed the rulBans of their expected booty. 
 
 Some of our readers may recollect that at the time of 
 the last General Election, the Rev. Mr. Fell, of Hunt- 
 ingdon^ had a fat hog stolen from his premises, on the 
 
 F 
 
54 
 
 very night previous to the day on which it was intended 
 to kill the animal. This well-timed theft was committed 
 by the Stukeley gang 5 but being already burthened 
 with the products of the night, gleaned from various 
 quarters, they were unable to carry home the hog. 
 They accordingly left it, tied down in a hamper, in a 
 field near Huntingdon, where it was found some time 
 afterwards literally starved to death. 
 
 Every moonlight night was devoted by this infamous 
 party to purposes of plunder, when sheep-folds, hen- 
 roosts, and farm-yards were visited and ransacked 5 as 
 the party consisted of several individuals, who w^ere 
 adepts in the practice, the work of plunder lasted but a 
 few seconds; and they generally escaped without.exciting 
 any alarm. On returning at day-break from these noc- 
 turnal depredations, laden with their booty, Heddings 
 Hud the two Slades were frequently observed by the 
 inhabitants of Little Stukeley 5 but, from a dread of en- 
 countering their resentment, no one dared to become 
 informer. Heddings asserted, while in prison, that he 
 never saw a lock which he could not open, and under 
 his tuition Slade attained to equal perfection in the art. 
 He used to sit for hours in the little sleeping-room of his 
 father's cottage, filing and preparing picklock keys, and 
 when he heard his mother or sister coming up stairs, he 
 would snatch up the apparatus of theft, and hide it in 
 his box, or amidst the lumber of the room. There 
 was no use in speaking to him/* to adopt the words of 
 his parents, as he would answer only with oaths 5 aud 
 he was grown too big and headstrong for correction/' 
 Prom such a career, the closing scene of the life of this 
 
55 
 
 desperate and unhappy youth might be safely prog- 
 nosticated. 
 
 A striking proof of the hardness of heart and callous- 
 ness of feeling, which latterly characterised Slade, was 
 afforded by the following incident, which took place a 
 few days after the murder. Before his final apprehen- 
 sion, he requested permission to take a farewell glance 
 at the remains of Mr. Waterhouse. The body was then 
 incoffined ^ but the lid was unscrewed to gratify the 
 wish of the suspected murderer. He gazed upon it 
 without the least visible emotion, remarking how 
 *^ hardly the poor old gentleman had been dealt with/* 
 and that it was impossible the tremendous wound on the 
 jaw could have been inflicted with a knife !— The young 
 woman who accompanied him to the coffin, and who 
 related the incident to the writer of these pages, said she 
 was so struck with the cold indifference of his manner, 
 and his fiendish looks, as to be obliged to leave the 
 room * His mother states that when he came home on 
 tlie night of the murder, his face was flushed and red, 
 and there was something uncommon in his looks and 
 manner. She asked him where he had been all day ; 
 be answ^ered at Godmanchester, seeing his sister 5 he 
 felt poorly,^ he said, in the morning, and could not go 
 to work. His mother then told him of the death of 
 Mr. Waterhouse, and of the general opinion that he 
 
 * An incident somewhat similar Is related in history of a much greater 
 <;riminal. After the death of Charles I., a man deeply masked entered at 
 midnight into the room where the body of the martyred monarch was de- 
 posited, and after gazing on it intently for some time, remarked how well 
 the body seemed formed for length of life ; and muttering the words, 
 ••Cruel necessity/* retirtd. Lord Southampton ana others who were sitting 
 with the corpse belieTed the visitor to be Oliver CromweU. 
 
56 
 
 had been murdered. — Yes/* replied Joshua^ when f 
 heard the news, I thought 1 should have swoundedJ' 
 He afterwards said, that perhaps there were two persons 
 concerned in the murder^ and one of them might im- 
 peach against the other. In this cool deliberate strain 
 of hypocrisy did the young but artful villain gloss over 
 his guilt, His parents and other relatives^ believed 
 from the first that Joshua was the murderer 5 but from 
 their knowledge of his close malignant temper and dis- 
 position^ none of them imagined that he would ever 
 confess. 
 
 We come now, in the regular course of our narrative 
 
 to 
 
 Crowded as our small town generally is during the 
 week of the Assizes^, at no former period did it exhibit so 
 large a concourse of strangers and visitors from the 
 country as were assembled upon this occasion. The 
 interest excited by the murder of Mr. Waterhouse has 
 been correspondent w^ith the atrocity of the deed, and 
 the infrequency of such occurrences. Thousands of per- 
 sons of both sexes^ during the three foregoing weeks, 
 visited the premises of the deceased, and though we 
 have heard of no relics being carried away by pious 
 strangers, as was the case at Gill's Hill, the gloomy 
 passage in which the unfortunate gentleman breathed 
 his last, with its bloodstained walls, and the surround- 
 ing grounds through which the murderer escaped, have 
 been traced by many an anxious and curious observer. 
 It is difficult at all times to repress the efforts of idle, 
 vulgar curiosity 5 and, perhaps, in cases of this kind. 
 
57 
 
 like the Spartan exhibitions of drunkenness, its gratifi- 
 cation may be attended with salutary results, 
 
 Mr. Baron Garrow and Lord Chief Baron Alexander 
 arrived on Saturday afternoon from Bedford. On Sun- 
 day morning the learned judges attended divine service 
 at St. Mary's church, where an excellent and highly ap- 
 propriate sermon was preached by the Rev. Edward 
 Theed, M.A. of Sidney Sussex College, Cambridge. 
 The text chosen by the rev, gentleman was that impres- 
 sive portion of the Decaloigue, '*Thou shalt not take the 
 name of the Lord thy God in vain 5'* in descanting upon 
 \ihich the preacher drew a vivid picture of the gradual 
 progress of \ice from its first dawnings in the human 
 mind to its consummation in the crime of murder. He 
 also pointed out with equal truth and eloquence the 
 immense importance of an oath in the administration 
 both of criminal and civil justice. 
 
 About two o'clock the learned judges repaiied to the 
 scene of the murder, and minutely examined the topo- 
 graphy (if we may so speak) of the spot. The numerous 
 stains of blood still remain, as we have hinted above, on 
 the floor and walls 5 and the tub in which the deceased 
 was found immediately after the murder maintained the 
 same position in the corner. 
 
 MONDAY, July 30th. 
 
 At an early hour tliis morning, the Market-place in 
 front of the Town -Hall, or Court House, was thronged 
 with individuals anxious to witness the trial of Joshua 
 Slade, which, it was confidently anticipated would come 
 on to day. At nine o'clock Baroa Alexander entered 
 the court, when a tremendous rush took place, and the 
 F 2 
 
'58 
 
 utmost anxiety was manifested to obtain admission. 
 The court was instantly filled, but through the judicious 
 arangements and personal superintendence of the under- 
 sheriff (C. Margetts, Esq.) the inconvenience likely to 
 result from a crowded court in such intensely hot wea- 
 ther, was almost wholly obviated. The following noble- 
 men and gentlemen were sworn on the 
 
 GRAND JURY. 
 Lord Viscount Makdeville, M.P. Foreman. 
 
 Lord John Russell, M.P. 
 W. H. Fellowes, Esq. M.P. 
 John Heathcote, Esq. 
 Lawrence Reynolds, Esq. 
 Denzil Onslow, Esq. 
 James Torkington, Esq. 
 G. Thornhill, jun. Esq. 
 John Bonfoy Rooper, Esq. 
 John Carstairs, Esq. 
 George Thompson, Esq. 
 David Rowley, Esq. 
 
 George Rust, Esq. 
 T. W. Vaughan, Esq. 
 W. Pears, Esq. 
 John Maxwell, Esq. 
 Samuel Newton, Esq. 
 James Linton, Esq. 
 Edward Theed, Esq. 
 Castle Slierard, Esq. 
 Richard Smith, Esq. 
 David Veasey, Esq. 
 Anthony M. Darnell, Esq. 
 
 The Lord Chief Baron shortly addressed them -On 
 one case in the calendar he thought it would be proper 
 to offer a few observations. The case to which he allu- 
 ded was one of murder, the greatest crime, certainl}^ 
 which could be inflicted against human society. It was 
 highly necessary that the evidence should be strong 
 and clear before the prisoner could be convicted, or even 
 put upon his trial. On the other hand, equal care 
 should be taken that the ends of justice be not defeated 
 by the escape of the prisoner. It was an important 
 point for their consideration, that if the evidence was 
 not sufficient to ensure conviction, and if the prisoner 
 was acquitted, should any, even the clearest, evidence of 
 his guilt be subsequently discovered, it would be of no 
 avail 5 for the prisoner could plead that he had been 
 
59 
 
 before tried aad acquitted on the same charge, and such 
 a plea would in law be held to be insurmountable. 
 
 Contrary to general expectation, the trial of Slade 
 did not come on to day. The following cases were dis- 
 posed of : — 
 
 James May, aged 28, was indicted for petty larceny, 
 in stealing on the 5th of July, a brass tap and some old 
 metal, from the shop of Mr. Carrington, oi St. Neots, 
 ironmonger, valued at 2s. 6d. — ISIot Guilty. 
 
 John Blachwelly aged 35, for stealing two sheep, the 
 property of Mr. Titchmarsh, of Hemingford AbboJs, — 
 Guilty. — Death recorded, 
 
 James Chandler, aged 25, for stealing an ewe sheep 
 from Mr. Peppercorn, Eynesbury. — Guilty — Death 
 recorded, 
 
 Elijah Marshall, aged 58, was indicted for having, 
 in conjunction with his son, broken into the dwelling 
 house of Mr John Smith, grocer and draper, of Brough- 
 ton, in this county, and stealing a large quantity of goods 
 and money, to the amount of upwards of three hundred 
 pounds. — The jury returned their verdict *^ that the pri- 
 soner was guilty of having a part of the property in his 
 possession, knowing it to have beeii stolen, but that he 
 did not enter the house." The learned judge said, that 
 as the prisoner was charged in the indictment with ha- 
 ving burglariously entered the dwelling house, he must, 
 from the verdict delivered by the jury, direct the prisoner 
 to be acquitted, 
 
 PFiUiam Apethorpe, aged 20, was found guilty of 
 stealing a cake of the value of 4s. and a metal ring, the 
 property of Thomas Richards, of Offord Darcy, and 
 
60 
 
 sentenced to nine months* imprisonment and hard labour. 
 — It is more important to the purpose of this narrative 
 to state, that the Grand Jury found no true bill against 
 fVilliam Slade, aged 64, and Elizabeth Slade, aged 56, 
 charged with feloniously receiving a gun and other pro- 
 |)erty from Joshua Slade. 
 
 No true bill against Lansdale Wright, for feloniously 
 receiving divers goods and chattels, the property of the 
 representatives of the late Rev* Joshua Waterhouse. 
 
 TUESDAY, July 31st. 
 
 Ctlal of 3lo0!iuai %uy$t. 
 
 Exactly at nine o'clock this morning. Lord Chief 
 Baron Alexander entered the Court, and shortly after- 
 wards Slade was placed at the bar. Amongst the 
 company present we observed Lord Mandeville, his 
 brother Lord William Montagu, Lord John Russell, 
 Mr. Fellowes, Sec. Reporters for the Local Press, and 
 for the following London papers, were also in attend- 
 ance — The Times, Courier, Morning Chronicle, 
 Morning Herald, Sun, and Standard. The Court was 
 crowded to excess, but the utmost silence prevailed. 
 Our readers are already acquainted with the extreme 
 youth of the prisoner: he was only 18 years of age. 
 He was about 5 feet 6 inches in height, and of a slight 
 make. His complexion was of a dark sun-burnt hue, to 
 which his solitary confinement had imparted a sallow 
 tinge. The general character of his countenance was 
 that of stupid hardihood and insensibility 5 but on 
 closer inspection, there appeared something extremely 
 villainous in the expression of his eyes — ^his upturned 
 
nose, low forehead, and beetling eyebrows^ Vfhdh were 
 slightly arched and met in the centre. 
 
 The Clerk of the arraigns, Mr, Edgell, read the 
 indictment, charging him, in the emphatic phraseology 
 of the law, with having wilfully murdered the Rev, 
 Joshua Waterhouse, clerk, in Little Stukeley, in this 
 county, on the 3d day of July, instant, by felooionsly 
 assaulting the said Joshua Waterhouse, and giving him 
 several mortal wounds, of which he languished a short 
 time and then died. The prisoner manifested not the 
 slightest emotion or concern during the whole of the 
 trial. On being asked in the usual manner, whether he 
 was guilty or not guilty, he deliberately replied not 
 guilty." 
 
 The following jury was then sworn : — 
 
 William Bedford, jun, Earith. 
 Richard Bedford, Ramsey. 
 Thomas Beeton, sen. Ramsey. 
 "William Behagg, Ramsey. 
 William Bradley, Alwalton. 
 William Butler, Ramsey. 
 
 John Catling, Ramsey. 
 Henry Cope, Buckden. 
 John Day, Ramsey. 
 James Darlow, Ramsey. 
 Richard Fox, Brampton. 
 Joseph Garratt. 
 
 Mi\ Serjeant Storks, with whom was Mr. Maltby 
 and Mr. Kunt for the prosecution, opened the case, in a 
 calm and temperate speech, delivered with great ear- 
 nestness and impressiveness of manner, — Standing, he 
 said, as lie did, in the situation of a public prosecutor, he 
 was anxious to pay homage to the benevolent adminis- 
 tration of the laws of his country, by abstaining from all 
 inflammatory statements. He was anxious to present a 
 gim pie, cold narrative of facts. In the same spirit he 
 trusted that the jury would forget every thing that they 
 might have heard to the prejudice of the prisoner, — and 
 anxiously guard themselves against even the ordinary 
 
m 
 
 sympalliies of their natures. He trusted that they would 
 regulate their verdict altogether according to the force 
 and distinctiveness of the evidence to be adduced before 
 them, and would, in deciding upon the fate of a fellow 
 creature, remember that they were in the presence of 
 that Being without whose knowledge not even a sparrow 
 can fall to the ground. The deceased, Mr. Waterhouse, 
 was the rector of Little Stukeley. From early disap- 
 pointment, or from eccentric habits, he had separated 
 himself from society 3 living in a large house fit for the 
 accommodation of a gentleman in his station of life, he 
 had not only neglected his residence, but had devoted 
 the greater part of it to various agricultural purposes, 
 and confined himself to two rooms and a bed-room, and 
 latterly almost to one only. He had had various ser- 
 vants whom he had dismissed, and lately was without 
 any. A char-uoman and girl came to do what was 
 necessaiy in his domestic department, and two boys to 
 attend to his pigs. His habits were to rise early, and 
 to live with his servants in the kitchen — to breakfast at 
 an early hour, and then to betake himself to — what 
 seemed almost the sole business of his life— •his farming 
 concerns. On the morning of the 3d of July he arose 
 as usual aud breakfasted 5 about nine o'clock he drew 
 some beer and rinced out the mug, the last act he was 
 seen to perform. The boys were ordered to go and 
 look after the pigs, and the woman and girl were 
 ordered to betake themselves to the field, which they 
 did. About half-past ten the boys returned to take their 
 luncheon which they brought with them from thir homes 
 —-they went into the kitchen, and out of the kitcheu 
 
63 
 
 there is a passage, and in the passage there was a \drg4 
 tubr— hanging over the sides of this tub they saw the legs 
 of Mr. Waterhouse. Some extraordinary operation of 
 mind instantly took place — they were struck with invo-* 
 luntary fear, but they had no defined notion of what had 
 taken place. They went over to the other side of the 
 street to a person's house of the name of Whitney. 
 Shortly after came up to the door a person of the name 
 of Rogers, with a horse, which he fastened to the gate, 
 and went to the kitchen door 3 the dog barking fiercely 
 he struck it a violent blow, and the dog returned into 
 his kennel He knocked at the door, but received no 
 answer 5 and during the time he Ptood there he heard 
 some indistinct noise as he thought of some persons 
 going up and down the stairs. Alarm was excited, and 
 others came to the spot — the house was entered, and 
 then was found the dead body of Mr. Waterhouse, he 
 having just previously breathed his last. At this time 
 his body was quite warm. Upon examining it, it was 
 found he had received a violent blow on the jaw, and his 
 neck was in a dreadfully mangled state. Upon such an 
 occurrence as this, of course universal alarm was spread 
 at once. In the bame village lived the prisoner at the 
 bar, in a cottage not far from the parsonage ; he lived 
 with his father and mother, two brothers, a sister, and a 
 person whom he should call before them of the name of 
 Sykes. Suspicion lighted on the prisoner 5 inquiry was 
 set on foot, and he was called upon to give an account 
 of himself at the time of the murder. He stated that he 
 had been to his sister's, at Godraanchester, to invite her 
 to Stukeley feast — that he was at a public house at 
 
m 
 
 Huntingdon, and at a public house also at Godmanche^^^ 
 ter> and his sister was called upon to confirm this 
 account. He should prove to the jury, that at one 
 o'clock in the morning he left the public house at Stuke- 
 leyj at three o'clock in the morning, a person, whose 
 walk and dress resembled the prisoner's (and he should 
 prove that his gait or walk was remarkable) was seen 
 to approach the garden gate of the parsonage 5 the de- 
 ceased keeping a key of the gate, and that key being 
 usually deposited in a particular place on the wall 3 the 
 person who was seen to approach the gate appeared to 
 look for that key and not to find it 5 he was then seen 
 to get over the wall. There were also some prints of 
 footsteps seen 5 but that part of the case he should leave 
 to the witnesses to state. He was anxious not to make 
 any undue impression 5 there were prints of footsteps to 
 be seen near the wiudow^, and at a particular stile i 
 About ten o'clock in the morning was seen at some dis- 
 tance a person in dress resembling the prisoner at 
 the bar, coming from the direction of the house 3 he was 
 seen to go under a tunnel, and not to leave it. The 
 prisoner at the bar had lived in the service of Mr. Wa- 
 terhouse, and so also had his sister, but had been dis- 
 missed from his service 5 the premises of the deceased 
 must, therefore, be well known to him. After suspicion 
 had fallen upon the prisoner, and his statements proved 
 false, other examinations took place. His dress was 
 examined, and marks of blood were found in various 
 parts of it — the prisoner attempted to account for this 
 by saying he had cut his finger, and wiped the blood on 
 his clothes. A further investigation took place 3 and 
 
65 
 
 belongitig to a man who lived as a part of the same 
 family with the prisoner, of the name of Sykes, was 
 found a wood man *s bill. He had used it in the spring-^ 
 he had then carefully cleaned it and deposited it in a 
 cupboard-^ he had not himself removed it. There are 
 no outlets in the cottage of the father by which anybody 
 cati have access to the cupboard excepting through the 
 bouse. A person must pass through the keeping-room 
 to get to the outbuilding. This bill was found in a state 
 which he (the learned Sergeant) should not describe — 
 it would be produced before them. The prisoner was 
 taken up, and when he went to gaol he was asked to 
 produce the knife he said his mother had got it — that 
 was false — it was found upon him, and it had marks 
 upon it resembling blood. This was the circumstantial 
 part of the case 5 a»d before he introduced to them a 
 piece of evidence of the greatest weight and importance 
 ~and in the introduction of that witness he was anxious 
 not to deceive them as it respected his character. He 
 would put into the witness-box a person of the name of 
 Heddings — they would hear from him the detail of what 
 passed between hiia and the prisoner. At the termina- 
 tion of the second meeting of the coroner's inquest, the 
 prisoner at the bar and Heddings were seen together. 
 Heddings would narrate what the nature of the conver- 
 sation was, if they could believe him 5 and he (Sergeant 
 S.) hardly knew that he ought to say so, for he was not 
 concerned in this transaction, nor suspected 5 and he 
 should distinctly prove that it was impossible that he 
 could be present at the murder. The prisoner was 
 told what Heddings had said ; he answered, if he had 
 
 6 
 
66 
 
 known what Heddings had been about^ he wonid have 
 done his business for him. The learned Sergeant then 
 said, he had no doubt that the Jury would most con- 
 scientiously and most religiously do their duty. If they 
 eventually entertained no doubt of the guilt of the pri- 
 soner, they would by their verdict deliver him to the 
 justice of the country j butif they had any doubt, they 
 would, in conformity with the benevolent disposition of 
 the country's laws, acquit him, 
 
 Mr. Taylor, a barrister present, with a feeling of 
 humanity which did him great honour, here offered his 
 services to the prisoner, in questioning any of the wit- 
 nesses that might appear. 
 
 Ann Gale examined—" I live at Great Stukeley. On 
 the 1st of July last, I was at work at the house of Mr, 
 VVaterhouse, on the day he lost his life. I came in the 
 morning at half-past five o'clock. He was up, and in 
 the first kitchen, sitting on a chair 5 no other person 
 was in the house. The second kitchen is at the end of 
 a passage eight or ten yards long, which leads from one 
 kitchen to the other. The passage is light when the 
 garden door is open, I went through the passage to 
 the dairy for some milk. I can't say if the first door 
 v/as shut. On going to the garden door 1 passed a 
 staircase on the left hand 5 that staircase can be seen 
 from the garden door. I remember a beggar called that 
 morning, and I saw no other person. After I left the 
 dairy, I took my breakfast, and put the tea-things 
 away. Mr. Waterhouse was still sitting in his chair. 
 A little girl came to work at seven o'clock, and the girl 
 went with, me to work in a field about half-past nine 
 
67 
 
 o*clock. We were withia call of any person at the 
 house. We returned at eleven o'clock to the house, 
 having been sent for. A great many persons were there. 
 I saw Mr. Waterhouse a corpse in the passage, lying 
 against the side of a tub." 
 
 Cross-examined — The beggar came about an hour 
 before I went to the field. Mr. Waterhouse said to the 
 beggar, ' What do you want ^— be off about your busi- 
 ness.' The beggar said he was unwell ; he appeared 
 to be a stout-looking man. Mr. Waterhouse ordered 
 him off, and told him he had nothing to give him. I 
 never before saw any sturdy beggars asking alms at the 
 house of Mr. Waterhouse,*' 
 
 William Parker, a boy employed as a labourer by Mr. 
 Waterhouse, said, that between nine and ten o'clock on 
 the morning of the murder, after Mrs. Gale had left the 
 house, his master came into the brew-house, and asked 
 him about some sacks. The brew-house is across the 
 yard, over against the kitchen door. A little before 
 eleven, witness went into the house along with Reuben 
 Briggs, to eat his victuals. They sat down on a form in 
 the front kitchen, when they saw Mr. Waterhouse's legs 
 hanging over a tub in the passage. They heard him, 
 and went and told two persons, who came back to the 
 house with them. Mr. Waterhouse's dog, which was 
 tied to a kennel near the kitchen door, had barked 
 almost all the morning : it left off when witness had seen 
 his master in the tub. 
 
 Cross-examined — I saw the beggar, who called and 
 asked for charity that morning 5 his head was bound up, 
 and he looked like a sailor. I saw him go away. He 
 was not very near the passage.'* 
 
68 
 
 Frederick Rogers — " I went to Mr. Ashby% m 
 Stukeley, in July last, and afterwards to the house of 
 Mr. Waterhouse. 1 got there abont eleven o'clock. I 
 entered at the yard-door. There was a dog tl^ere about 
 three feet from the door (I speak of the door which 
 leads out of the kitchen into the yard). The dog wa& 
 barking before and at the tinje I entered the yard* I 
 stood at the door, and thought I heard something like 
 blows in the passage. I then rapped at the door with 
 my w hip three times very sharply. I heard what ap- 
 peared to me to be two persons coming down stairs ^ 
 and I rapped again three times, sharper than before. I 
 heard nothing after 1 had rapped again. I had been at 
 Mr. Waterhous^j's twelve months before, and had been 
 ^n the house. I did not know where the back stairs 
 were situated. I rapped again and stood at the door 
 for soncie time, when two boys came across the yard, 
 and I called Harrison. He objected to go into the 
 house. 1 entered alone, and saw the boys at the kitchen 
 door. I crossed the back kitchea, and went through 
 the inside door, which leads to the pas^sage. The door 
 was open, and I observed Mr. WaterhoBse's legs hang* 
 ing oyer the tub j I called to Mr, Waterhouse by name 
 three times > and receiving no answer, I went back, 
 and afterwards other persons entered with me.** 
 
 Cross examined—** About three or four minutes 
 elapsed after I entered the yard> and before I saw Mr. 
 Waterhouse*s legs hanging over the tub. The blows I 
 heard appeared to sound as if given by a fist on the 
 face of some person, I saw nobody about the premises/* 
 
 A plan of the deceased's bouse and grounds was li^ijft 
 put in by Mr. Lovell, surveyor * HuntingSo^^ ^ 
 
69 
 
 ' William Ashby— I know Mr. Waterhouse*s house j 
 was going past about eleven o'clock ; went into the firsst 
 kitchen, and, in consequence of something I had heard, 
 I went into the passage, and saw Mr. Waterhouse lying 
 in the tub. The garden door was shut, and the passage 
 dark 5 I called out, ^ Mr. Waterhouse, what do you do 
 here?' and took hold of his hand, and pulled him up- 
 right. A young woman had followed, and I told her to 
 come in, for he was not dead. The garden door was 
 opened, and two women helped to get him out of the 
 tub. My arm felt wet > 1 thought it had been swill, as 
 he had fallen into the swill-tub, but found that it was 
 blood. When we had laid him on the floor, I saw a 
 large gash on the cheek, and one or two on the hands." 
 
 Cross-examined — *^ Have seen a great number of 
 tramps about his premises, i did not see a beggarman 
 that morning near the houpe of Mr, W, j the dog com- 
 monly barked when [Msrso as entered the gate/* 
 
 Mary Ann Briggs—- 1 live at Little Stukeley, and 
 recollect the morning of the day Mr. Waterhouse lost 
 his life 5 Mr. Ashby called me in 3 I saw him standing 
 in the passage, and holding the old gentleman's hand. 
 Mr, Ashby told me to open the garden door ; I pushed 
 it open, for it was not fastened 5 1 then went to Mr. 
 Ashby, and took hold of Mr. Waterhonse*s hand, and 
 felt his forehead J it was quite warm, as was also his 
 hand, and lithsome j when on the floor, I unbuttoned 
 his shirt collar j the blood came out in flakes, as large 
 as my fingers j on his person there were three or four 
 wounds, on his breast, arms, hands, and face — his jaw 
 was divided, and I could have wrung the blood out of 
 his handkerchief." h cm u 
 
70 
 
 ' Jonah Wilson, Esq. examined by Mr. Sergeant 
 Storks.-^*' I am a surgeon at Huntingdoo, and hav« 
 been for 18 years. I saw the deceased at four o*clock 
 on the day he lost his life. 1 found a large wound 
 across the throat, three inches deep, extending deep on 
 the right side, which separated the tongue from the 
 windpipe J and found a large hole at the right side of 
 the windpipe." 
 
 By the Judge — " One of the wounds appeared to 
 have been made by a stab, and the other was an incised 
 wound 5 the whole of the interior of the neck had been 
 severed by some sharp instrument ; there was a tremen- 
 dous wound on the right cheek, given in a longitudinal 
 direction ; the jaw was divided, and the upper part 
 fractured j it must, of necessity, have been inflicted by 
 some heavy cutting instrument. I examined the hands j 
 Ihe right wrist was cut across, and the left was cut in 
 a similar manner, and pieces of flesh hung down, and 
 flapped towards the elbow. The fingers and hands 
 were niuch cut. The right elbow was cut in two, and 
 the injury appeared to have been inflicted with the same 
 instrument with which the jaw was divided. There 
 was an injury on the chest, which appeared to have 
 been given by the back of an axe or the back of a bill. 
 I am of opinion that the wounds were not all inflicted 
 bv the same instrument." 
 
 By Mr. Sergeant Storks—** The immediate cause of 
 the death of the deceased was the wound on the throat. 
 It was impossible that the wou^d could have been in- 
 flicted by the deceased's own hands. I saw the prisoner 
 on the Thursday, ten days after the m^irder, when he 
 was brought up for examination. I examined him rai- 
 
mitely. I was struck with the appearance of histfoasers 
 • down the front. He wore slop fustian trousers and 
 jacket, of a dirty brown colour, and a blue cravat j the 
 -front of his trousers, I noticed, had a dark greasy shi- 
 ning appearance. It struck me, but not at that moment, 
 that it was blood and dirt rubbed together. The next 
 morning I examined the prisoner's dress and person in 
 Mr. Waterhouse*s house. 1 look tjim into a room and 
 desired him to take off his trousers, that I might exa- 
 mine the inside surface> and 1 distinctly discovered 
 blood, which had gone through the fustian or cloth. 
 There was no wound about that part of the prisoner's 
 person to have caused the bloody stain j there was a 
 little scratch about one of his knees, but that could not 
 have produced ihe stain , There were stains about one 
 of Ihs knees, but I could not say they were caused by 
 blood, though I could swear the stain on the left thigh 
 of the trousers was from blood. The prisoner accounted 
 ■ for it by saying that he had cut his finger, which had 
 bled profnsely, and] he had pot some salt upon it, and 
 had staunched it against the thigh of his trousers. I 
 examined his jacket on the Sunday following, and his 
 shoes three days ago j I found a large stain of blood on 
 the inner side of the covering of the skirt of his jacket, 
 and also a stain on the inner side of the left shoulder j 
 the right thigh of the trousers appeared to me to have 
 been washed, or some liquid put upon it to take out the 
 stain. I saw a bill produced in the justice-room, and 
 also a knife 5 I observed that there appeared at the end 
 of the bill some hair and animal matter, and there ap- 
 peared to be blood. I examined the bill with a magni- 
 
72 
 
 fying glass, and could discover grey-coloured human 
 hair and blood, and dirt appeared to have been put oa 
 afterwards^ I knew Mr. Waterhouse — he was an old 
 man, and had gray hair, and the hair on the bill corres- 
 ponded. There were several cuts on the tub 5 they 
 must have been given with great violence, and, in my 
 opinion, with a bill. I think I might venture to swear 
 that the handle of the bill, which was willow, was 
 stained with blood. When I was examining the pri- 
 soner's trousers on the Friday morning, I said, ' Slade, 
 this is biood j decidedly blood, on both sides of your 
 trousers.' His manner was a great deal hurried, and 
 he appeared to be lost for a few minutes. He said, 
 * Yes, it is blood , it came by the cut on my finger.' I 
 said, * then it is for your benefit and for the interests of 
 justice that you establish an alibi, for this is evidently 
 blood." 
 
 Cross-examined — I said the only mark of blood I 
 could swear to was on the left side of the trousers, and 
 the prisoner gave a very probable cause for it. It is a 
 very difficult thing to swear to blood, To the best of 
 my belief it was human hair on the bill, and there was 
 some stain on the handle. What I thought was human 
 hair might have been the hair of a sheep's face, but it 
 was not wool. There was a great deal of blood in the 
 tub and on the wall. The deceased had struggled very 
 much, and had made very great resistance. There was 
 an artery cut, and the throat cut across, and a great 
 deal of blood must have flowed. The deceased was near 
 six feet high 5 he was infirm and stooped. The prisoner 
 might have inflicted the wounds, and forced the decea- 
 
73 
 
 $ed into the tub without his clothes being vei'y much 
 spotted with biood. In my opinion, the wounds on the 
 bands and wrists were inflicted before the deceased's 
 throat was cut. I think, most probably, the deceased 
 received the blow on the chest which forced him into the 
 tub, and from the position of the body, the b-ood might 
 not spout much, and life might in consequence have been 
 extended. I think the deceased's throat was cut after 
 he was knocked into the tub." 
 
 W. Francis stated, that he was playing at bowls at 
 the Swan public-house, in Stukeley, the night before the 
 murder, in company with the prisoner and William 
 Wright. They had a good deal of liquor. The prisoner 
 and witness left the house together between one and two 
 o'clock in the morning } the prisoner went towards the 
 church in the way to his own house. Witness on the 
 Monday after the murder accompanied a person named 
 Woods into Mr. Waterhoiise's field— went across the 
 field— the grass was not then mowed—there is a stile 
 and a ditch j but no planks. Witness crossed first, and 
 saw the print of the toe or shoe left in the bank of the 
 ditch, they compared it with the shoe they had with 
 them, which belonged to the prisoner, and the footmarks 
 .exactly corresponded with the nails in the shoe — they 
 were worn away on the left side. This close leads to a 
 place called the Tunnel, which crosses the road. The 
 prisoner had then a darker-coloured jacket on than he 
 now wore. 
 
 Peter Sabey — "i live at Little Stukeley 5 my house 
 is about fifty yards from Mr. Waterhouse*s residence, 
 and forty yards from his garden gate. 1 know the prj» 
 
74 
 
 soner 5 1 have a strong suspicion of him ; I have known 
 him three or four years 5 and have often seen him ^ he 
 has something particular in his walk, he lobs a little 
 in his gait j he generally wore a light jacket, I got up 
 at a quarter before three o'clock on the morning that 
 Mr. Waterhouse was killed ) I went to my door, and 
 saw a man walk about forty yards up to Mr. Water- 
 house's gate, who wore a short slop, or a jacket 5 when 
 the person arrived at the gate, he fumbled a little on 
 the wall, where a key used to be placed by Mr. Water- 
 house ; the man got on the wall, and turned towards the 
 htables. 1 heard the dog in Mr. Waterhouse's yard bark 
 once. The man lobbed a little in his gait, and appeared 
 to be a young man, about five feet six inches in height. 
 My opinion was, that it was the prisoner Slade 5 but I 
 did not see his features, and could not swear it was him. 
 He came in a direction from the public-house, and not 
 from old Slade's house,** 
 
 By M r Taylor—*' I cannot swear to him 5 I only 
 believe it was the prisoner.'' 
 
 By the Judge — '* 1 did not see that the man had any 
 instrument under his coat or frock 3 I did not discern it. 
 The man fumbled with his right hand on the wall.'* 
 
 By Mr. Taylor — " 1 do not recollect seeing other per- 
 sons with a lob gait like the prisoner 5 there are many 
 lame beggars about the neighbourhood at times,*' 
 
 Ann Elby deposed, that as she and another female 
 were on the road between Great and Little Stukeley, 
 about half past ten o'clock on the day the murder was 
 committed, she saw a young man coming in a direction 
 from Mr. Waterhouse's house: the man went under a 
 
75 
 
 tunuel or bridge, at tho end of which there is a deep 
 dyke, with hedges and trees growing : he remained 
 there. The man had a black hat> and wore a short 
 frock or jacket. Witness had kuow^n the prisoner two 
 years : knew his person well. 
 
 John Crane said, that on one occasion the prisoner, 
 talking about Mr. Waterhouse having been robbed 
 before, said that he could undo all the locks of Mr> Wa^* 
 terhouse's premises, and also of the premises of Mr. 
 Hall, his employer, 
 
 John Richardson examined — " J am a constable. I 
 had the prisoner in custody. When I asked him to 
 account for himself on the day of the murder, he told me 
 that he had been at the Swan, at Little Stukeley, on 
 the Monday evening preceding, playing at bowls until 
 one or two o'clock in the morning — that he then went 
 towards Godmanchester to invite his sister to Stukeley 
 feast, and slept in a hay-field by the way, and got to 
 Godmanchester about half-past seven : that he break- 
 fasted with his brother and sister 5 after breakfast bis 
 brother went to his work : that he left Godmanchester 
 about half-past ten o'clock, but called at the Rose and 
 Crown, Godmanchester, and got some beer 3 then cal- 
 led at the Horse and Jockey, at Huntingdon, and had 
 some beer there. He then said he set off towards Little 
 Stukeley — again slept in a hay-field, and got home to 
 Stukeley about half-past seven. — I afterwards took the 
 prisoner to the Horse and Jockey, on Friday, and 
 enquired of the landlord if prisoner had any beer there 
 on the preceding Tuesday, and desired all the persons 
 who were in the habit of drawing beer to come forward. 
 
76 
 
 for prisoner to say who drew it.* Prisoner pointed to 
 the girl, and said that she had drawn it. The girl 
 utterly denied it, or that he was there at all on the Tues- 
 day. The landlady was up stairs, and asked us to 
 wait till she came down. When she came, she said, 
 • Oh, it is you, is it ? I know you very well, by your 
 pug nose, you have not been here since you was 
 here with Hawkes, and drank wine.' I then took 
 him to the Rose and Crown, at Godmanchester 5 saw 
 the landlady. Slade said it was her who drew the beer ; 
 she asked him where he sat, he said by the clock 5 she 
 answered she drew nothing on the Tuesday morning for 
 any body sitting there, but had for an elderly person 
 near the door. I went to the Swan, they said they had 
 not seen prisoner there. Was present with Mr. Cole 
 and the prisoner on Monday the 9th — had a conversation 
 relative to a knife 5 I said, ' Slade you had a knife, 
 where is it V Prisoner then gave it me. I had previously 
 asked him for his watch and knife, and he said he had 
 given it to his mother — searched his mother's house but 
 could not find it. 1 again went back to the prisoner and 
 asked him what he had done with it ? he immediately 
 took it from his pocket and gave it to me, also the 
 watch, which he took off a shelf. On searching the 
 house, I found a bill-hook in the room, and brought it 
 to Mr. Sweeting — I gave the shoes to Butler." 
 
 Mr. Butler and Mr Woods stated that they had com- 
 pared the shoes with foot-marks under a window in Mr. 
 Waterhouse's garden, and they corresponded as nearly 
 as possible. There were similar marks along a path 
 leading from the house toward* the tunnel. There were 
 
77 
 
 two rows of nails on one side of the shoes, and none on 
 the other, one side being much worn. On their cross- 
 examination^ the witnesses said, that many husband- 
 men have shoes worn on one sidej and shoemakers in 
 that neighbourhood make many shoes off the same block, 
 and also nail them similarly, 
 
 Thomas Sykes, who lived in the same house as Slade, 
 said that in March last, after the bean-sowing, he put 
 the bill he had used into a cupboard. He first scoured 
 it to prevent its rusting. He had not used it since. He 
 could not say whether the prisoner slept at home the 
 night before the murder. 
 
 Mr. Wilson, the surgeon, re-called to examine the 
 knife taken from the prisoner, said, There is a mark 
 on the blade. The iron is corroded by some matter of 
 a red colour. I know that animal matter in a decompo- 
 sed state suddenly corrodes and eats into iron.*' 
 
 Mr. Cole re-examined — *^ I was in the gaol when the 
 prisoner and Mr. Orridge, the gaoler of Cambridge, 
 were present : Mr. Orridge asked the prisoner several 
 questions, and particularly about the blood on the knife : 
 the prisoner said, ^ They were all cursed fools, and did 
 not know what blood was when they saw it 5 and if he 
 had known Heddings would have split against him, he 
 would have done his business for him.' 
 
 Mr. Wilson re-examined-^" The knife produced is 
 just such an instrument as I should conceive was most 
 likely to inflict the wound I saw in the deceased's throat." 
 
 Cross-examined — " Other instruments of a similar 
 shape and size would inflict such a wound. I believe 
 the corrosion on the knife is caused by coloured animal 
 
 H 
 
7a 
 
 matter 5 the blood of a sheep would produce the same 
 effect." 
 
 William Barker, a constable, deposed, that the pri- 
 soner first told him that, on his return from Godmau- 
 chester he lay down in a hay-field near Stukeley, and 
 he did not hear of the murder till he got home. He said 
 the reason he left Stukely was. because the people there 
 were against him, and they would all hang him if they 
 could ; and he also left, becaupe he was fearful he should 
 be taken up on suspicion of the murder of Mr. Water- 
 house. He afterwards said, " Now 1 will tell you the 
 true story : when 1 left the public-house at Little Stuke- 
 ley, on Monday, after playing at bowls, I went to a hay- 
 field at Stukeley, and lay down all that day." 
 
 William Stanion and Henry Hills, two labourers, 
 were working with Heddings on the day of the murder. 
 They were mowing all day, first at Mr. Maile's park, 
 against Hinchingbrook, and afterwards at Mrs. Gim- 
 ber's. They saw Slade and Heddings go together into 
 the Swan, on the night of the inquest 5 they did not 
 talk more than two minutes. 
 
 Robert Merry saw Slade and Heddings together on 
 Wednesday evening. Josh, said, * are you dry } will 
 you go and drink?* and they went into the Swan. They 
 had not a hundred yards to ^o, 
 
 Nathaniel Maile, Hall-keeper, produced the bill, 
 shoes, and clothes. The bill was found in a lower roorn^ 
 in Slade*s cottage 3 it was not concealed, but stood near 
 a cupboard, which the witness Sykes said was always 
 locked, and no one used it but himself. The bill was 
 the same he put by, but not so clean. 
 
1^ 
 
 Mr. Wilson said there was certainly a mark of blood 
 on the bill, and there appeared to be wool or hair on its 
 point 5 it looked to him like hair and wool mixed toge- 
 ther : it would inflict the wound he saw onlhe face and 
 jaw of the deceased. If used to slaughter a sheep, the 
 same appearance would be visible on the bill. The 
 clothes were stained with blood, but he could not say 
 how long it had been on : he saw them in less than a 
 week after the murder. 
 
 The witnesses who compared the prisoner's shoes 
 with the footmarks were recalled j and they stated, that 
 the examination did not take place till the Monday after 
 the murder. 
 
 The Lord Chief Baron said, he did not think the 
 evidence as to the footmarks would go for much, 
 because the prisoner, before and after the murder, might 
 have gone innocently along the road leading to the stile 
 and the tunnel. 
 
 William Beddings was then called, and stood up in 
 the dock beside Slade. His appearance caused a strong 
 sensation in court. He is a sleek, good-looking fellow. 
 Examined by Sergeant Storks — 1 come from the gaol 
 to the box 5 I am the William Heddings against whom 
 a bill has been found for a felony, and who am to be 
 tried. Have been much acquainted with prisoner for a 
 twelvemonth. Have been with prisoner several times* 
 I am thirty-six years old, a labourer, and married. I 
 live at Stukeley, and recollect the day of the murder, 
 I saw the prisoner on the Sunday preceding the murder j 
 had not seen him the whole week previous. I first met 
 Slade at harvest-work at Mr. Waterhouse's. Saw him 
 
80 
 
 on Wednesday night after the murder, on the high road ; 
 1 was coming from the inquest when I saw Slade 3 he 
 was standing with a good many more people 3 I jogged 
 him on the elbow, and called him to one side 5 the 
 people were within four or five yards of us, and could 
 not hear. I asked Slade what he thought of this con- 
 cern. He said, ' I don't know.' I said, * D — n it, 
 how came you to lay hands on him ?' He answered, ' I 
 was forced 3 1 was in the low kitchen a plundering. Mr. 
 Waterhouse came in and caught me, and resisted my 
 coming out 3 when I went to come out, he catched hold 
 of me. Having nothing to defend myself with, I drew my 
 knife, and then began to stab him, and cut him where 
 I could 3 he then called out murder," and 1 got him 
 down on the floor 3 I then got myself a weapon/ " 
 
 Judge— Did he tell you w^hat weapon ? 
 
 Witness — No, my lord. * I then hit him a blow 
 on the face and knocked him down again. 1 then hit 
 him several blows over the arms, and where I could, to 
 prevent his getting up again. I then heard the dog 
 bark vehemently at the door 3 I went to see if there 
 was any person coming. 1 then, seeing nobody coming, 
 came back to Mr. Waterhouse again. I then struck 
 him another hard blow on the head, and knocked him 
 into the tub. I then ran out at the garden door. I ran 
 down the close of grass leading to Great Stukeley.' — 
 This was what Slade told me. After this, Slade and I 
 went into the Sw^an, and had a pint of ale with John 
 Hawkes, of Huntingdon.'* 
 
 Cross-examined by the Lord Chief Baron. — " Slada 
 said all that I have mentioned in two minutes. I cannot 
 read or write.** 
 
?81 
 
 Judge.— ^Prisoner, will yoa a«k this man arty ques- 
 tions ? 
 
 Prisoner— He has told a false story, my Loid. t wAl 
 tell you the question he put to me. 
 
 Lord Chief Baron.— You will be allowed to say 
 what you like in your defence, and may now put any 
 question. 
 
 The prisoner here made a communication to his 
 counsel. 
 
 Witness continued. — Stanion, Merry, and Hills, 
 came out with me from the Bell public-house just before 
 1 saw the prisoner, and saw me talk to him.** 
 
 Cross-examined by Mr. Taylor. — I do not know 
 what is the offence I am charged with, except by the 
 calendar. I see by it that I am charged with stealing a 
 pig. 1 have been in gaol before. I was once convicted 
 capitally of a burglary, and afterwards broke prison. 
 I can't tell who the persons were who stood by Slade 
 when I saw him near the Swan public-house. I ask- 
 ed him what he thought of the concern. I never had 
 any conversation with the prisoner on the subject before. 
 I know a person named Wright 5 i never told the pri- 
 soner that I suspected Wright had committed the mur- 
 der. I mean to say that all this conversation took place 
 on the road, before 1 went into the Swan public-house 
 with the prisoner. I had not heard much of the evi- 
 dence on the inquest 5 1 had been in the room, and was 
 called upon to give an account to the Jury where I was 
 at the time of the murder. I'he place where I stood 
 when this conversation took place was about 16 yards 
 from the Swan J 1 stood on the road during this con- 
 
82 
 
 Versation j Merry and Hills were six or seven yards off, 
 and they stood there during the whole of the conversation 
 between myself and the prisoner. I know the house 
 and grounds of Mr. Waterhouse very well j if a person 
 had struck three times loudly against the door with the 
 butt end of a whip, he must have been heard in the 
 passage. 
 
 Mr. Taylor — What do you expect to get by convict- 
 ing this man } 
 
 Witness — I don't know. 
 
 Mr. Taylor — Don't you expect that the Crown will 
 ^how you mercy in the offence of which you are charged, 
 if Slade shall be convicted } 
 
 Witness — I hope so. 
 
 This was the case for the prosecution. 
 
 The Lord Chief Baron here directed Stanion to 
 be re-called, and examined him. The witness stated that 
 he heard no conversation between Slade and Beddings 
 before Slade asked Heddings to go into the Swan. 
 Slade and Heddings might have had a few words before 
 they went into the Swan, but witness did not see them 
 talk together. Witness did not stop more than two 
 minutes in the whole. 
 
 Henry Hills was also re-called, and re-examined by 
 his Lordship — saw Slade and Heddings together on the 
 Wednesday evening before they went into the Swan y 
 they seemed to be about five minutes together before 
 they went into the Swan 5 tliey seemed to be talking 
 tog<;ther« 
 
 Merry re-called — *^ 1 heard Slade, upon the occasion 
 mentioned, say to Heddings, ' Are yoa thirsty ?' and 
 
83 
 
 they went immediately to drink. 1 am convinced that 
 this was the only conversation which took place between 
 them. Heddings did not take Slade aside j if there was 
 any taking, it was Josh, (the prisoner) that took Hed- 
 dings aside into the Swan." 
 
 The Lord Chief Baron then addressed the prisoner, 
 and told him if he had any thing to represent to the 
 court and jury, it would be patiently heard. 
 
 Prisoner. — I saw Heddings come from the Bell, as I 
 was in the Swan along with John Hawkes. Hawkes said, 
 'Tell Heddings to come in.* I went out to him and 
 tapped him on the shoulder 5 he said, * What do yon 
 think of this concern V I said, ' I don't know.* He 
 said, * I have a strong suspicion of old Wright * These 
 were his very words. He then said, ' I am sorry the 
 old man is dead 5 I would as leave half the parish had 
 died as him, for I counted on having a quarter of 
 barley from him this week.' Hawkes can prove that 1 
 was in the Swan, and only went out for a minute to call 
 Heddings to have some drink.'* 
 
 Judge — Is Hawkes here ? 
 
 Prisoner — I don't know, my lord. 
 
 Hawkes was then called, but did not appear. 
 
 Mrs. Garner, landlady of the Swan, was then called, 
 and answered to the following questions, which Slade 
 put to her with great coolness. 
 
 Prisoner — Was not John Hawkes and myself at your 
 house on Wednesday night ? 
 
 Witness — You and Heddings were there. 
 
 Prisoner — Don't you remember Hawkes had a basket 
 and fowls with him r 
 
 Witness — O yes, I do remember it now. 
 
84 
 
 Judge — Do you remember whether the prisoner went 
 !o call Heddinj^s } 
 
 Witness — Heddings and he came in together. 
 
 Prisoner— You know I cut my finger ? 
 
 Witness — You took up the bread, and was going lo 
 cut it» and cut your finger and thumb. 
 
 Judge — When was that? 
 
 Witness— On the Monday-week before the murder. 
 Examined by Mr. Taylor — I know there is such a 
 person as Lansdale Wright. Hawkes, Slade, and 
 Heddings had two pints of beer, and not one only, as 
 stated by Heddings." 
 
 The Lord Chief Baron then proceeded to charge 
 the jury. It was his misfortune to address them on one 
 of the most siiifi^ular cases of which he had ever heard 
 or read. It had happened on this, as on all occasions 
 which excited the public interest in a high degree, that 
 the public papers and public conversation were filled 
 with a great variety of rumours tending to excite differ- 
 ent impressions in regard to this transaction, and to pro- 
 duce a powerful prejudice against the prisoner at the 
 bar. It was, however, the duty of the jury (and it was 
 his Lordship's duty to point it out to them) to weed out 
 of their hearts and understandings all the notions which 
 they might have formed upon this extraordinary case, 
 and which were not supported by the evidence which 
 had been adduced. — The case entirely, or mainly, rested 
 upon the evidence of William Heddings. Without his 
 evidence, the case would have consisted entirely of cir- 
 cumstances, and those circumstances so slight, and 
 hanging so loosely together, that without the evidence 
 of that person they would never be considered by an 
 
English jury as a sufficient ground on which to convict 
 an English subject. His Lordship then proceeded to 
 recapitulate the evidence, which he read with the utmost 
 patience, commenting as he went along upon every pas- 
 sage. At length, upon coming to the testimony of Hed^ 
 dings^ his Lordship paused, and said, that he was anx- 
 ious to point out to the jury a fact which he had obser- 
 ved in the progress of the case, and which had produ- 
 ced a powerful effect upon his mind. It appeared that 
 Heddings was on the 16th July before the Magistrates, 
 giving evidence upon the subject of this murder, and it 
 was a most extraordinary circumstance that the evidence 
 which he gave then not only corresponded in substance 
 with that which he had delivered to-day in the box, but 
 was delivered in the same order, and, with a slight 
 exception, in the identical words which he had made 
 use of sixteen days ago. There was not a word, not a 
 pause, different in the two accounts, except the omission 
 of a very short passage. This was certainly remarkable 
 in a person without education, and gave to his evidence 
 the semblance of a prepared story. There uas a mystery 
 hanging about the transaction which nothing but the all- 
 scrutinizing eye of Providence could bring to light j and 
 if the jury should believe that there was not evidence to 
 warrant them in coming to the conclusion that the pri- 
 soner was guilty, he trusted that ere long the real cri- 
 mimal would be brought to justice. 
 
 His Lordship concluded about half-past six o'clock, 
 when the jury requested permission to retire. They 
 returned in about twenty minutes, and^ through their 
 foreman, returned a verdict of GUILTY, 
 
86 
 
 FrOiri the turn winch the case seemed to take (luring 
 the latter part of the trial, and from the summing up 
 of the Judge, a verdict of acquittal was generally 
 anticipated. 
 
 The Loud Chief Baron then put on the fatal cap, 
 and pronounced sentence of death : — Joshua Slade, 
 you have been indicted for the murder of this unhappy 
 old gentleman, in w hose service you appear to have 
 been j to that indictment you pleaded not guiUy, and 
 for your deliverance put yourself upon God and your 
 country; uhich country, after a long, patient, and im- 
 ])artial trial, has found you guilty. This is one of the 
 greatest offences that can be committed against the 
 social order, and is contrary to every law, human and 
 divine, i know what your feelings must be at the pre- 
 sent moment, and I will not aggravate them. It becomes 
 you to address yourself to the throne of grace, when 
 your offences, if yen are truly penitent, may find for- 
 giveness. The sentence which the law of your country 
 passes upon you is, That you, Joshua Slade, be taken 
 from hence to the prison from whence you came, and 
 from thence on Thursday next to the place of execution ; 
 that you there be hanged by the neck till you are dead, 
 and your body afterwards be dissected and anatomized ; 
 and may the Lord in his infinite goodness have mercy on 
 your soul.*' 
 
 The countenance of Slade appeared somewhat paler 
 on hearing the verdict, and while the Judge was pro- 
 nouncing sentence upon him. He stood for a few se^- 
 conds, as if lost, in the dock ; but, recollecting himself, 
 he descended quickly, and shook hands with Heddings 
 
87 
 
 —as striking a proof, perhaps, of his guilt as had that 
 day been adduced. 
 
 Crial of ^tXdsing^. 
 
 Slade was then removed to a cell behind the dock / 
 and after the buzz in the Court had subsided, fViUlam 
 Heddings was put to the bar, charged with breaking 
 into the house of Emmanuel Thompson, at IStow, in the 
 county of Huntingdon, and stealing a quantity of bacon, 
 three sovereigns, and two one pound notes. The bur- 
 glary was distinctly proved by the prosecutor and his 
 two servants. 
 
 John Slade, aged 22, who was admitted as King's 
 evidence in this case, deposed as follows : 1, and my 
 brother Joshua, and Heddings went to Stow, eight 
 weeks since, intending to steal a pig a-piece, Heddings 
 looked round the house, and seeing the dairy window, 
 said, if we could get a few of those slats off we could 
 get something to eat !' The iron bar across we pulled 
 back, and my brother Josh, got in first, and I followed, 
 and took out the bacon, two whole flitches, and two 
 hams 5 we put them into a sack, and took it home 5 
 this was about twelve o'clock at night. We parted the 
 bacon at Heddings's house.*' 
 
 Heddings stated that he never was in the house. 
 
 The Judge summed up, and the Jury instantly re- 
 turned a verdict of Guilty. — Death recorded. 
 
 Having turned King's evidence, John Slade was of 
 course released from the House of Correction, in which 
 he had been confined. Next day, he enlisted into the 
 Royal Marines y but Captain Stevens, an ofiicer of 
 
88 
 
 that corps^ residing at Caaibridge, refused to attest 
 him 5 and a report having been made to Colonel Savage, 
 the Commanding Officer at Chatham, an order was im- 
 mediately returned for the dismissal of Slade. The 
 unfortunate young man — for such he may be truly con- 
 sidered — then succeeded in obtaining employment as a 
 labourer, during the harvest. His former employers 
 give him an excellent character, and we sincerely trust 
 that his future conduct will not belie their expectations. 
 
 Heddings was removed from Huntingdon Gaol to the 
 Hulks at Woolwich, on Wednesday, August 8th. As 
 the coach was starting from the George Hotel, he took 
 off his hat, and gave three cheers to the assembled 
 populace! — We now return to the principal actor iu this 
 eventful drama. 
 
 After the trial, Slade was fastened to Heddings by a 
 chain and re-conducted back to Gaol. His return from 
 the court to the prison was marked with the most unbe- 
 coming levity. He pushed Heddings in sport from side 
 to side, and laughed, to see," as he said, such a 
 parcel of fools following them.'* He entered the prison 
 with an air of vulgar triumph ^ but, as he afterwards 
 affirmed, with the full intention of immediately taking 
 away his own life. On being left alone in his cell, he 
 was about to suspend himself by means of his handker- 
 chief, when Mr. Brown, the Chaplain, providentially 
 entered^ and frustrated the rash attempt. It was a 
 source of much consolation to him, dunng the remain- 
 ing partion of his life, that he was prevented from adding 
 self-destruction to the number of his crimes. 
 
 On Thursday morning a respite for twenty-four hours 
 
89 
 
 arrived from Cambridge^ and signed by Lord Chief 
 Baron Alexander. Slade continued up till the after- 
 noon of that day to deny all participation in the murder. 
 He deserved death, he said, for the numerous offences 
 he had committed. He had frequently robbed Mr. 
 Waterhouse, and on one occasion he had threatened his 
 life, as stated by Heddings 5 but of the horiid deed for 
 which he was about to suffer, he was as innocent as 
 the child unborn. The same declaration he made re- 
 peatedly, affirming his innocence to his relatives, and 
 particularly to one of his sisters, who was much affected 
 at parting with him, believing it to be for the last 
 time. His poor old father did not come from Stukeley j 
 but his mother, the most culpable of the two, visited 
 him in prison, and parted from her son without the least 
 emotion. You know,'* said she, that 1 never told 
 you to steal ; I brought you up as vve!l as I could.'* — 
 *^ Yes," said the keeper of the prison, who was standing 
 by, but you know that you partook of the stolen 
 goods, and must have been all along aware of the course 
 of life your children were pursuing.'* Ay,'* added 
 the virago,*^ but God bless you, Josh 5 good bye — what 
 way do I go to get out ?" — and so saying, she took her 
 departure. The Sacrament was then administered to the 
 unhappy youth j and it is appalling to think, that though 
 he believed himself t» be within an hour of his death, he 
 persisted, even with the sacramental elements in his 
 hand, in declaring his total ignorance of the murder. A 
 few hours afterwards, when informed of his respite, a 
 better spirit seemed to possess him 5 he sent for the 
 Chaplain, and entered into a full and unreserved disclo- 
 sure of his guilt. Before the Rev. Gentleman had left 
 
 I 
 
90 
 
 hun, the Under-sheriff arrived from Cambridge and 
 alighted at the gaol door; he was the bearer of another 
 respite from Chief Baron Alexander, deferring the exe- 
 cution till the first of September. The Under-sheriff, 
 upon being informed that the prisoner had made a con- 
 fession, considered it necessary immediately to take the 
 direction of the Judge, under the then circatostance&, 
 and immediately posted to Cambridge 5 but before he 
 coidd arrive there, the Judges had left for Bury, to 
 which place he followed them and called their lordships 
 up the Judges having consulted together were of opi- 
 nion they had power ic grant the respite, and as it had 
 gone forth they would not rescind it. 
 
 The postponement of the execution disappointed thou- 
 sands of persons, w ho had assembled from all parts of 
 the county to witness the painful exhibition. I'he town 
 was literally filled with visitors 5 and on Friday morn- 
 ing it seemed as if their wishes were about to be gra- 
 tified • for the gallows was erected in the usual place, 
 ^J<d every preparation made for the expected execution. 
 1 he arrival, however, of the Under-sheriff, with a 
 second respite, put a stop to the proceeding, and in- 
 stantly dispersed the multitude. In anticipation of the 
 death of Slade, one of the publishing fraternity, who, 
 as has been humourously remarked, obtains a iiving- 
 bv printing f/^^;^g speeches/' threw off a large impres- 
 sion of the last moments of Slade, on the morning on 
 which the respite was received. It was couched in the 
 usual language ot these posthumous broadsides, and ex- 
 [)erienced an immense sale;^ 
 
 * As this production must hereafter be considered a curiosity of its kind, 
 j'p. shall subjoin the passage relative to the pretended execution: — "This 
 
91 
 
 It would have been a singular coincidence had Slade 
 been executed according to his sentence on the 2d of 
 August, as it would have been the anniversary of the 
 last execution for murder in this county—that of Jarvis 
 Matchan, who was executed 41 years ago^, and hung in 
 chains in the parish of Alconbury, for the murder of a 
 boy named Jones, a drummer in the 49th regiment of 
 foot, Matchan had enlisted into the same corps, and 
 was sent to accompany the boy to Major Reynolds's of 
 Diddington, then the recruiting officer, for subsistence 
 money. The boy received 5^7. and on their return was 
 robbed and murdered by his companion. He succeeded 
 in effecting his escape j but seven years afterwards, 
 having in the interim been various times at sea, he sur- 
 rendered himself at Salisbury, and confessed his crime. 
 The gibbet on which he was suspended was only taken 
 down the week before the murder of Mr. Waterhouse. 
 
 The confession of Slade was written down by John 
 Sweeting, Esq. but in consequence of a promise of 
 secrecy extorted from Mr. Sweeting by the prisoner, 
 and as the confession implicated one or two other indi- 
 viduals in different offences, the learned gentleman did 
 
 morning (Thursday Aug. 2) precisely at the appointed time, the prisoner 
 underwent the awful sentence of the law on a gallows erected for that pur- 
 pose. At the place of execution he behaved with more propriety than was 
 at first expected, and appeared impressed with his dreadful situation ; he 
 acknowledged that he deserved death, and exhorted all who witnessed his 
 sad untimely end to beware of giving way to the many temptations that 
 daily present themselves to the giddy and thoughtless ; and which, if the 
 mind is not daily employed in industry, becomes an easy prey to the dis- 
 solute, and is led astray to commit some petty theft ; and that once done, 
 others follow in succession; — so avoid all bad company, keep holy the 
 Sabbath, and remember thy creator in the days of thy youth. He then forgave 
 all who had witnessed against him — the drop fell — and he waslauoched into 
 eternity !" 
 
 Eeally, as the painter exclaimed, this surpasses nature ! 
 
 I 2 
 
92 
 
 not consider himself justified in submitting it to the 
 public. On the following day, however, the Under- 
 sheriflf repaired to the gaol, and took the deposition 
 afresh 5 and with a landable anxiety for the satisfaction 
 of the public, and the prevention of false reports, he 
 permitted it to be copied for publication. The following 
 is a correct copy of this important disclosure : 
 
 mtonftmion of ^Ulse, 
 
 On the morning of the 3d of July 1827, I went di- 
 rect from the Swan public-house, at a quarter past two, 
 and got over the garden wall. 1 was then fresh (tipsey): 
 I saw Peter Sabey at his door 3 I went to a straw wall 
 near the dove-house, and laid there whilst five o'clock 
 in the morning j I had a sword hid in the straw wall 
 about four or five weeks 5 had swlen it from the Horse 
 and Jockey public-house, Huntingdon j drew the sword 
 out, and left the scabbard in the wall, and put the sword 
 down my trousers by my thigh. I went into the garden 5 
 saw Mr. Waterhouse then in the yard, but he did not 
 see me 5 the garden door was not fastened. I opened 
 the door, and went in up stairs and hid myself in the 
 wool-chamber from five o'clock nntil ten, for the purpose 
 of plundering the house ; I meant to have robbed the 
 house at night of any thing I could. I was asleep from 
 five to ten amongst the wool 3 Mr. Waterhouse, happen- 
 ing to come up stairs, heard me breathe 5 I dare say I was 
 snoring ; upon which Mr. Waterhouse came np to the 
 chamber, and called ' Holloa ! who are you ? what do 
 you do here V I then got up, drew the sword, and laid 
 hold of him. Mr. Waterhouse tried to go in at the 
 
93 
 
 chamber where his blunderbuss was, but I would not let 
 him. I led him down stairs, Mr. Waterhouse trying all 
 the way to get up stairs. No conversation passed in 
 coming down. When we got down stairs, I said, ' Now, 
 Mr. Waterhouse, if you'll forgive me, I will forgive youj 
 and if not, this is your death warrant,' holding up the 
 sword. Mr. AVaterhouse said, ' No, I will suffer any 
 thing first.* I was standing opposite to him in the lower 
 passage. When I let him go, Mr, Waterhouse went to 
 run by me to the kitchen-door to call somebody; upon 
 which, just as Mr. Waterhouse was turning into the 
 kitchen, I struck him a back-handed blow, the great 
 cut across the jaw, and he reeled back, caught himself 
 against the tub, and fell backwards into it 3 he guarded 
 his head with his hands when in the tub; I struck him 
 several blows with the sword ; he laid hqld of the sword 
 twice 5 upon which 1 drew it out of his hands and cut his 
 fingers 5 I also stabbed him in the throat, which was tlie 
 last blow. Mr. Waterhouse then said, * 1 am done/ 
 and died immediately. There was no blood whatever 
 upon me except on my finger, which I spit oA and wiped 
 it on the grass, and also one spot on my waistcoat, 
 which I scratched out with my nail immediately; it 
 never was seen. I have heard that blood of a murdered 
 person will not wipe out, but I am sure this did. I did 
 not hear the dog bark aJl the time ; he would not bark 
 at me 5 he barked once when I first got over the wall, 
 but as soon as he heard my step he knew me, and wa«? 
 quiet. The kitchen -door leading into the yard was wide 
 open all the time 3 no person came into or near the 
 house all the time. No other instrument was used 
 I 3 
 
94 
 
 excepting the sword, and no other person was present, or 
 knew any thing about it, until I made a confession to 
 the Chaplain yesterday. All that passed between Hed- 
 dings and myself on the Wednesday and night of the 
 inquest was as follows. I asked Heddiugs whether he 
 would go and drink with me 5 Heddings drew me on ane 
 sid6, and asked me ^ what do you think of this concern V 
 Heddings said, ^ I have strong suspicion of old Wright, 
 and, I am sorry he (Mr. Waterhouse) is dead 5 1 would 
 as leave all the folks in the town should be dead as him, 
 for I counted of having a quarter of barley from him 
 this week.' Having committed the murder, which was 
 all finished by ten minutes past ten (I had my watch 
 with me), I immediately ran out of the house. I had 
 pulled off my shoes w^hen I first went into the garden at 
 five m the morning, and am sure the footmarks alluded 
 to in the evidence at the trial were not made then. The 
 one in the garden might have been mine^ as I was in the 
 garden on the following day, when I was examined at 
 Mr. Waterhouse's by Mr. Torkington. I turaed imme* 
 diately to the right, and threw the bloody sword among 
 the young oaks near the privy. I then ran at the back 
 of the hay-ricks, went over that stile where it was said 
 that the steps were, without my shoes, which 1 put an 
 when 1 got to the top of Horse Close. In going through 
 Dove-house Close, I saw Parker by the dove-house : 
 but Parker did not see me. There was an old man at 
 work in the chiirch-yard at the same time, hut he never 
 saw me. After getting over the stile i turned to the 
 right, and went across the clobcs into the tunnel, as sta- 
 ted in the evidence 5 saw the two women on the hillj. 
 
95 
 
 did not stay in the tunnel a minute 5 went down the dike 
 and laid down in Mr. Waterhouse's fields. It was about 
 twenty minutes after ten when I got to the barley field 5 
 I remained there till seven at night ; and then I went to 
 my own house, round by the town^ had my supper, and 
 went to bed 5 as I was going home I saw folks running 
 about. On Wednesday I was at work at Staniou's/' 
 
 The ><! of Joshua Slade," 
 Witness, Charles Margetts. 
 John Thomas. 
 I wish the public to be acquainted with this confes« 
 sion, which would have been made before it was, but 
 from a dread of meeting my family, with their know- 
 ledge that I was guilty." 
 
 The X of Joshua Slade." 
 
 Witness, C. M. 
 
 J. Tr 
 
 In his previous confession to Mr. Sweeting, Slade had 
 stated that as he stood before Mr. Waterhouse, about to 
 plunge the sword into his throat, the rev. gentleman 
 looked up and faintly articulated — Don't murder me — 
 what have I done to you ?" We asked him the same 
 evening why he omitted these touching words in his 
 second deposition, — 1 thought of them," he said, " but 
 wanted to have done speaking about it." 
 
 Next morning (Saturday) Mr. Sweeting went to Lit- 
 tle Stukeley, and found the sword in the spot described 
 by Slade. The scabbard had been discovered about ten 
 days before, in searching the premises of Mr. Water- 
 house 3 and it is surprising that a closer search should 
 not have been made for the fatal instrument itself. The 
 
96 
 
 idea, however, that the murder was perpetrated with a 
 bill-hook was so generally and confidently entertained, 
 that the discovery of the scabbard attracted but little 
 attention. Yet even a cursory inspection of the finely 
 indented cuts in the tub might have convinced any 
 observer that they could not have been made with so 
 rude a weapon as a bill. The clump of oaks amongst 
 which the sword was concealed is situated at the back 
 of the parsonage, about twenty yards from the garden 
 door. The trees are only about three feet in height, 
 and occupy a space of about fifteen square yards. Being 
 thickly planted, they form, at top, a close matting or 
 screen, below which the ground cannot, without put- 
 ting aside the boughs, be perceived. It is singular that 
 this spot should have been previously searched by differ- 
 ent persons and nothing discovered. In surveying the 
 grounds, with a view to preparing a plan to produce at 
 the trial, Mr, Lovell, of Huntingdon, repeatedly passed 
 through amongst the oaks, but met with no obstruction. 
 How long the blood-stained instrument might have 
 remained concealed, had the prisoner preserved his 
 hitherto impenetrable silence, it is of course impossible 
 to conjecturej but as the place was rarely visited, and 
 never closely examined, a considerable time might have 
 elapsed before a discovery could have been made. It 
 was, however, wisely and fortunately decreed that the 
 murderer himself should draw aside the veil of mystery, 
 and reveal the evidences of his guilt. 
 
 The sword belonged to a tradesman of Huntingdon, 
 Mr. W. Cawley, cabinet- n^ker, who is a member of 
 the corps of yeomanry cavalry. He had lent it to Mr. 
 
97 
 
 Titterfon^ landlord of the Horse and Jockey 5 as ths 
 latter, who was formerly in the army, was then employed 
 ill teaching some young gentlemen of the town the sword 
 exercise. How it came into the hands of Slade^ he him- 
 self gave the following account. Whilst drinking one 
 day in the Horse and Jockey, in company with Hawkes, 
 he observed three cavalry swords in the yard, and deter- 
 mined to possess himself of one of them : he slipt out 
 unperceived, after paying his reckoning, and thrusting 
 one inside his trousers escaped over the wall at the back 
 of the pre iiises What a pity it is,*' said Heddings, 
 when his associate informed him of this exploit, that 
 you did not take all the three, as we should then have 
 had one a-piece,'* meaning himself and the two Slades. 
 
 Had kSlade not confessed, it is highly probable that he 
 would have escaped with his life. The circumstantial 
 evidence upon which he was convicted was generally 
 thought to be insufficient 5 and particularly the learned 
 Judge, beix)re whom the case was tried, very unequivo- 
 cally declared his opinion, that notwithstanding the trial 
 of the prisoner, the murder of Mr. Waterhouse was en- 
 veloped in the darkest mystery. In crimes of so heinous 
 a nature, clear and decisive evidence can scarcely be ex- 
 pected, for the perpetrators are generally careful to 
 guard against every })ossible means of discovery. In 
 proportion, however, to the magnitude of the crime, is 
 the responsibility which belongs to the Jury that nothing 
 dubious should be wrested to the disadvantage of the 
 prisoner. In cases of murder, circumstantial evidence 
 is, perhaps, the best that can be adduced. It would be 
 easy for a criminal, in the absence of all collateral 
 
98 
 
 proofs, to bring forward one or two of his accomplices 
 to swear in court that the prisoner was present with 
 them in a different part of the country at the time when 
 the deed was perpetrated and by persisting in this 
 statement, an aiiin would be established, and the pri- 
 soner must be discharged. This is no bare hypothetical 
 case; it is a fact which has frequently occurred.^ It is 
 
 Holcroft, in his Memoirs, relates an interesting anecdote of a case of the 
 above description-. A gentleman, followed by a servant in livery, rode into 
 an inn in the west of England, one evening a little before dusk. Hetoldthe 
 landlord that he ivhould be detained by business in that part of the country 
 for a few days, and wished to know if there were any amusements going OQ 
 in the town to fill up the intervals of his time. The landlord replied that it 
 was their race and assize week, and that a very interesting trial for a robbery 
 would come on thenf-xtday, on which people's opinions were much divided, 
 the evidence bring very strong against the prisoner, but he himself persisting 
 resolutely in declaring thut he was in a distant part of the kingdom at the 
 time the robbery was committed. His guest manifested c; nsiderable 
 curiosity to hear the trial, and accordingly next morning he went into court, 
 and was shewn to a seat on the bench, presently after the trial began While 
 the evidence was giving against him, the prisoner had remained with his 
 eyes fixed on the ground, seemingly very much depressed, till being called 
 on for his defence, he looked up, and seeing the stranger he suddenly fainted 
 away. As soon as he came to himself, on being asked by the judge the cause 
 ofhis behaviour, he said, 'Oh, ray Lord I see a person that can save my 
 life : that gentleman (pointing to the stranger) can prove I am innocent, 
 might I only have leave to put a few questions to him." The ey€& of the 
 whole court were now turned on the gentleman, who said he felt himself io 
 a very awkward situation to be so called upon, as he did not remember ever 
 to have seen the man before, but he would answer any question that was 
 asked him. Weil, said the man, don't you remember landing at Dover at 
 such a time ? To this the gentleman answered, that he had landed at Dover 
 not long before, but that he cou d not tell whether it was on the day he 
 mentioned or not. Well, said he, but don't you recollect that a person in a 
 bluejacket and trousers carried your trunk to the inn, and told you a story 
 of his being in the service, that he thought himself an ill-used man, and that 
 he showed you a scar that he had on one side of his forehead ] During this 
 last question, the countenance of the stranger underwent a considerable 
 change; he said he certainly did recollect such a circumstance, and on the 
 man's shewing the scar he became quite sure that he was the same person. 
 A buzz of satisfaction ran through the court, for the day on which, according 
 to the prisoner's account, this gentleman had met with him at Dover was 
 the same on which he was charged with the robbery in a remote part of the 
 country. The stranger, however, could not be certain of the time, but said 
 that he sometimes made memoranda of dates in his pocket book, ancl 
 
99 
 
 ciifi&cult, however, to overturn a pile of circumstantial 
 details, established by different persons unconnected 
 with each other ^ and though apparently of little impor- 
 tance^ when taken separately, yet forming in the whole 
 a case of strong presumptive, and perhaps undisputed, 
 guilt. Whether the evidence produced against Slade 
 was of the Litter description we shall not pretend to 
 decide A Jury of his countrymen evidently thought it 
 uas though in returning a verdict of guilty they acted 
 counter to the charge of the learned Judge. The 
 strongest point against the prisoner was his contradic- 
 tory accounts of himself on the day of the murder, and 
 this we have reason to know had considerable weight 
 with the Jury. The evidence of the old man Sabey, of 
 the woman who saw him enter the tunnel, and the con- 
 tradictory statements alluded to^ are the only points in 
 the evidence which Slade's confession leaves untouched. 
 The fine minute speculations respecting the bill-hook~ 
 the prints of the prisoner's shoes — and the marks of 
 blood found upon his clothes — and above all the testi- 
 mony of Beddings, without which the Judge said Slade 
 could not possibly be convicted ; these have all been 
 utterly and entirely demolished by the confession of the 
 prisoner. Up to the period of his death, Slade con- 
 tinued solemnly to assert that he never made the slight- 
 might possibly have done so on this occasion. On looking into his pocket 
 book, he found a memorandum of the time he landed from Calais, which 
 corresponded with the prisoner's assertion. This being the only circumstance 
 necessary to prove the alibi, the prisoner was immediately acquitted amidst 
 the applause and congratulations of the whole court. Within less than a 
 month after this, the gentleman who came to the inn attended by a servant 
 in livery, the servant who followed him, and the prisoner who had beea 
 acquitted, where all three brought back together to the same gaol for 
 robbing the mail I 
 
100 
 
 est communication to Heddings respecting the murder ; 
 and there seems to be no reason for doubting the truth 
 of the declaration. That incorrigible culprit had evi- 
 dently prepared the story, during his stay in the hovel, 
 before surrendering himself to justice ^ and aware of the 
 want of evidence against Slade^ he sagaciously thought 
 that by criminating him more deeply, and convicting 
 him, as it were, out of his own mouth, he himself would 
 experience a more lenient judgment, Unfoi tnnately he 
 was right in his conjecture, and the conduct of Heddings 
 strikingly veriies the truth of the old maxim_, that there 
 is no honour or friendship amongst thieves. Yet we 
 scarcely think that Slade would have acted in the same 
 manner by his companion, if their situations had been 
 reversed. Heddings was in some things even a worse 
 villain than the murderer Siade. 
 
 After making the above confession, the mind of Slade 
 appeared to undergo an entire and favourable change. 
 The only obstacle which had stood in the way of his re- 
 pentance was removed ^ and convinced at last of the 
 enormity of his guilt, he listened with the most eager 
 attention to the exhortations of his spiritual monitors. 
 The worthy Chaplain of the gaol, the Rev, T, Brown, 
 was indefatigable in his attentions to the unhappy youth, 
 and he v^as latterly assisted by the Rev. J. Fell, curate 
 of St. Mary's, Huntingdon. To the courtesy of these 
 gentlemen we are indebted for most of the subsequent 
 details, relative to the state of mind of Slade, during the 
 few remaining days of his eveatful life. 
 
 It generally happens that after the assassin has de- 
 prived his fellow creature of life— when he finds his 
 
101 
 
 liands stained with human blood, the full atrocity of the 
 crime he has committed flashes upon his soul, and con- 
 science returns with all its terrors. It was long before 
 Slade was awakened to this feeling of repentance and 
 remorse. He had familiarised his mind to the contem- 
 plation of murder; and when he beheld his victim ex- 
 piring under his hands, it seemed but the consummation 
 of what he had for some time anticipated. Even after 
 his committal to a solitary dungeon, his mind was undis- 
 turbed by any compunctious visitiugs : he slept soundly, 
 and had no dreams or visions of his departed victim, 
 with which murderers are generally haunted. His na- 
 tural insensibility, however, was at last penetrated ; 
 and his repentance was, we trust, not the less sincere or 
 efficacious because it was long delayed. It would be 
 impious to limit the mercy of God 5 but as few can be 
 placed in the circumstances which at once produced and 
 mitigated the guilt of Slade, the procrastinating sinner 
 would do well to impress the following sentiment on his 
 mind : In the pardon of the thief upon the cross, 
 there is one instance given of the efficacy of a death-bed 
 repentance, that nobody might despair j and there is but 
 one, that nobody might presume." 
 
 Slade was first aw&kened to a sense of his guilt, or 
 rather to a dread of its consequences, by a very simple 
 but striking incident. The cell in which he was con- 
 fined doring the day is situated at the back of the prison, 
 and boks into a small spot of garden ground, intercepted 
 by the boundary wall, against which a few fruit trees are 
 planted. Whilst walking one day, a short time before 
 the Assizes, in this open space, he happened to cast his 
 
 K 
 
102 
 
 eyes upwards to the room above, when he was startled 
 by the appearance of an aged person with grey hairs, 
 looking stedfastly down at him. I started back," 
 said he, " for I thought it was the oid man/* meaning 
 Mr. Waterhouse. Nobody, however, was near to ob- 
 serve his emotions, and the impression soon wore off. 
 The individual whom he had seen was a Mr. Dare, of 
 Somersham, who had been committed to prison a few 
 days before for an assault. 
 
 The progress of Slade in religious knowledge was ne- 
 cessarily but slow ; his mind was uncultivated, and he 
 had almost from infancy been hardened in sin. In the 
 commis&iion of his various robberies, he never imagined, 
 he said, that in so doing he offended the Deity 5 such a 
 thought had never entered his mind. But when once 
 his heart was touched, and he had entered upon the task 
 of self-examination, he comprehended his case clearly, 
 and saw the inexpressible danger of the situation in 
 which he stood. Because the character of Mr. Water- 
 house had been stained with some immoralities, Slade 
 at first thought there could be little or no sin in destroy- 
 ing such a person > he was now, however, he said, con- 
 vinced that his crime was on that account the greater 5 
 and the rev^ gentleman had always treated his parents 
 and himself with the utmost kindness. He frequentl 
 entered, without solicitation, upon the subject of the 
 murder, ^'l had no intention," he said, "of taking 
 away the life of Mr. Waterhouse. I went on purpose 
 to steal a silver candlestick and stencher (extinguisher) 
 which he had locked up in a bureau : they were the 
 only articles of plate I had ever seen in the house, ex- 
 cepting a few tea-spoons.'* 
 
103 
 
 How came you then to take the sword with you ? 
 I took it without considering wherefore, except to 
 defend myself. 
 
 Had you sharpened it? 
 
 No, it was very dull : when Mr« Waterhouse catched 
 hold of it, I had the greatest difficulty in the world to 
 draw it out of his hands. 
 
 What idea had you when you deposited it in the straw 
 wall on Mr, Waterhouse's premises } 
 
 I used to hide the different things 1 stole there ; I 
 could not take them home; and 1 put the sword there 
 among the rest. I was not altogether above a minute 
 m committing the murder. Mr. Waterhouse did not 
 utler a word all the way down stairs. When I struck 
 the first blow, I stood between him and the first kitchen 
 door, by the foot of the stairs. 
 
 Did he not offer to make any resistance } 
 
 No J he knew it would be of no use. The last words 
 he said were, after 1 had stabbed him in the throat — 
 
 Now you have done it he then let his hands fall, 
 which he had put up to guard his head, as I aimed all 
 the blows at his head 5 when I saw his hands fall I ran 
 out, and threw the sword among the oaks 5 I ran on to 
 thetunnTel. 
 
 What could be your motive in murdering Mr. Water* 
 house } 
 
 I was afraid he would tell of me, and I should be 
 hung, I thought because I was found in his house I 
 should be sure to be hung. I know now that I was 
 wrong in thinkiug so. 
 
 Did you not feel very sorry and shocked at what you 
 had done ? 
 
104 
 
 No : I hope God will forgive me 5 I was such a fel* 
 low, I thought about nothing, I was always of a cruel 
 disposition. I did not feel any remorse daring the time 
 I lay in the barley field, or the day after the murder. 
 
 In this way did the miserable and misguided youth 
 aeek to relieve his mind by discoursing on the subject of 
 (he diabolical deed which brought him to the scaffold. 
 He imputed most of his crimes to his connexion with 
 Heddings.. He lived two years servant, he said, with Mr. 
 HoddeM, a farmer near Ellington, and conducted him- 
 self with honesty. After he got acqu^^inted with Hed* 
 dings, at Stukeley, the latter was always coaxing him 
 to join him, *^ 1 can tell you," said he, *' how to get 
 a wooMird (a sheep) when you like.'* They promised 
 never to inform agaii^st each other 5 " and I am sure/' 
 said Slade, *^ I never would ha^ve told on him.*' — 
 
 Did you not acquaint him with the murder, as stated 
 in his evidence at the trial ? 
 
 No 5 it was all false j but he knew what I could do 
 when I was put %o it : and he knew that I could give 
 no account of myself on that day. Beddings spoke the 
 truth about the robbery, when I entered Mr. Water* 
 house's bed«room. I got just fifty shillings. 
 
 You could not, 1 am sure, be any better for the 
 money and goods you got in a dishonest way } 
 
 O no, sir, I never was : I spent all 1 got, and aiy 
 earnings besides, in the public house.* 
 
 • Slade was latterly much addicted to drinking, in consequence, no doubt, 
 of his irregular life and dangerous pursuits. We have already mentioned 
 that he and Beddings used frequently to enter Mr. Waterhouse's cellat* 
 on the Sunday mornings. There was one cask of remarkably strong old ale» 
 which the rev. gentleman intended should be drunk after his funeral, by 
 tbe men who carried him to the grave. Slade and Heddings havinp^ htsir^ 
 
105 
 
 He frequently expressed his thankfulness that he had 
 been convicted for the murder : he might, if not detect- 
 ed this time, have gone on deepening his own guilt, and 
 perhaps depriving others of their lives. The ensuing 
 winter, he feared, would have been a terrible one with 
 him, for his conscience had been so completely seared 
 that he contemplated the commission of murder without 
 the least fear or remorse. Now, however, he thought 
 otherwise, aind hoped God would forgive him for the 
 past, and enable him to prepare for the change that 
 awaited him. The conduct of the Judge appeared to have 
 made a strong impression on his mind : he had antici- 
 pated only the terrors of the law 5 and was therefore 
 equally gratified and surprised to find that his case was 
 treated with the most considerate impartiality and even 
 kindness. His heart, he said, was often melted during 
 the trial, and if the fatal sword had been produced iu 
 court he could have stood out no longer. He had per- 
 sisted in denying his guilt chiefly on account of his rela-- 
 tives, as he. could not bring his mind to face them with 
 their knowledge that he was guilty. He did not consi- 
 der sufficiently the criminality of persevering in such a 
 line of conduct 5 but he would not, he said, have gone 
 out of the world denying his guilt. In this composed 
 state of mind he continued till the period of his execu- 
 tion. His health remained untouched 5 he ate his meals 
 heartily, and slept soundly. A deep feeling of sorrow 
 and remorse was ever present to his thoughts 5 but even 
 
 of this choice ale, broached the cask one day, and at a few sittings com., 
 pletely emptied it. They then filled up the barrel with small beer, whicb, 
 tbi / took from a larger cask in the cellar. 
 
106 
 
 this contrite gloom, heightened by the conBciousness 
 that he was soon to die an ignominious death, was infi» 
 nitely preferable to the reckless gaiety and sinfulness^! 
 his former life. He never, he said, felt so sincerely and 
 truly happy. If his chains were struck off, he would 
 rather walk to the gallows, than go to Stukeley to live 
 as he had hitherto done. 
 
 The condition of Slade at this momentous period of 
 his life has often reminded us of the following powerfiri 
 passage in one of Crabbe's Tales :— 
 
 But he was cured ; for quiet, faith, and care. 
 Strove with the gloom, and broke on the despair 5 
 Yet slow their progress, and as vapours move 
 Dense and reluctant from the wint'ry grove ; 
 All is confusion till the morning light 
 Gives the dim scene obscurely to the sight ; 
 More and yet more defin'd the trunks appear, 
 Till the wild prospect stands distinct and clear !— 
 So the dark mind of th' assassin grew 
 Clear and sedate, the dreadful mist withdrew; 
 And he resembled that bleak wiht*ry scene, 
 Sad, though unclouded ; dismal, though serene. 
 
 As the fatal first of September drew nigh, Slade ap- 
 plied himself more and more to prepare for eternity. 
 " 1 never hear the bolt of my door withdrawn,** said he 
 one day, but I liope it is some one coming to read to 
 me, or to talk on religious subjects.** The idea that he 
 would have to answer not only for his own sins (which 
 were heavy enough), but for those of Mr. Waterhouse, 
 whom he had sent out of the world without allowing a 
 moment's time for repentance, weighed heavily upon 
 his mind, and produced sometimes the greatest depres- 
 sion of spirits. On these occasions, his chest would 
 
107 
 
 heave — his limbs tremble — and the cold sweat stand 
 npon his forehead. " Did not Mr. Waterhouse call on 
 God to assist or to forgive him, id his last moments 
 said a rev. gentleman. No/' replied Slade, with a 
 strong expression of countenance, I wish he had— 
 but I scarcely gave him time." The beautiful Parables 
 of our Saviour interested him deeply, and he instantly 
 comprehended their meaning, and knew how to apply 
 them. By reading and conversing with him daily, the 
 worthy Chaplain effected a wonderful change in his 
 heart and feelings : he entered upon his religious duties 
 with the same ardour that he formerly embarked in his 
 vicious pursuits, and exhibited an affecting example of 
 the power of religion in transforming and exalting the 
 human mind. 
 
 On Thursday, his father, a. wretched-looking old 
 man, bent almost double by. age and infirmity, came 
 from Stukeley to take leave of the prisoner. His mother 
 was unable to attend from illness. Two of his ^^isters 
 also arrived, and the parting scene was more affecting 
 than could have been anticipated, from the indifference 
 previously manifested by the parties. One of his sisters 
 asked him particularly if he had said any thing to Hed- 
 dings concerning the murder. He answered in the most 
 solemn manner that he had not : the whole was false. 
 
 Do you know,'* said she, I have seen your likeness 
 at the shop windows, and it is very like you." — Is it,'* 
 said he with astonishment, 'Miow could it be taken?'* 
 The turnkey told him it was taken in court during his 
 trial 5 Slade seemed much surprised at the circumstance. 
 After some further conversation, his sister asked him if 
 
108 
 
 he was afraid at the thought of dying 3 he said no 5 he 
 was quite easy and resigned. The former then expressed 
 how glad she was to hear him say so, and hoped God 
 would forgive him, upon which they shook hands with 
 each other, kissed, and parted. 
 
 On the day before his execution the chaplain scarcely 
 ever left his cell , and nothing, we are informed by the 
 rev. gentleman, could exceed the tranquillity and re- 
 signation of his mind* He frequently remarked how 
 just was that text of Scripture, fVhoso sheddeth man s 
 blood, hy man shall his blood be shed'* The Rev. Mr. 
 Lee repeated to him the concluding verse of the sixth 
 chapter of Romans : For the wages of sin is 
 
 death ; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus 
 Christ our Lord.*^ He derived great comfort from the 
 text, and repeated it, as will be seen hereafter, on the 
 scaffold. His memory was unusually retentive, and 
 easily retained any portion of Scripture, which it was 
 sought to impress upon his mind. The Chaplain left 
 him about ten o'clock on Friday evening, and upon be- 
 ing locked up, he said to the turnkey, " this is the last 
 time you will have to lock me up 5 to-morrow night, I 
 trust, I shall be happier than I am now.'* He slept 
 soundly, and awoke about six o'clock. At seven, Mr. 
 Cole, keeper of the prison, found him engaged in assist- 
 ing an old man, a debtor, to light the fire. He appeared 
 cool and collected, and even unconcerned. During 
 the whole of the morning he was engaged with the 
 Chaplain in his religious duties. At ten o'clock the 
 Sacrament was administered to him in the chapel^ in 
 presence of the other prisoners, of whom he took leave. 
 
109 
 
 shaking hands with them ail^ and telling them to tak« 
 warning by his fate. 
 
 " About eleven, the Under-sheriflf arrived on horse* 
 back, attended in the discharge of his painful duty by 
 several constables. The prisoner's irons being knocked 
 off, and his arms and wrists pinioned, he was conducted 
 to the cart which awaited at the door to convey him to 
 the place of execution. At the same time the bell of St. 
 Mary's Church began to toll. Slade*s wonted firmness 
 seemed to forsake him in these trying moments, and he 
 shook violently. On being placed in the cart by the 
 side of the executioner, a more moving picture of hu- 
 man wretchedness was never perhaps exhibited. Hi« 
 countenance was pale as death, and he seemed unablo 
 to sit upright. He was dressed in the clothes in which 
 he committed the murder — a dirty fustian jacket and 
 trousers. His hat was pulled over his brows, his eye* 
 shut, ^nd he seemed internally engaged in prayer du- 
 ring the progress of the melancholy cavalcade. 
 
 The gallows was erected in the outskirts of the town, 
 near the race-course, in a place singularly well adapted 
 for the purpose, where the common-land of the Bur- 
 gesses suddenly descends, and forms a sort of natural 
 theatre in front of the river, about 100 yards in length, 
 and 50 in breadth. The scene was highly striking and 
 picturesque, and the day fine 3 the sun shone without a 
 cloud. The sides of the hills, and the plain below on 
 which the gallows stood, were crowded with spectators. 
 There could not be less than four thousand persons 
 present. Indeed, during the whole of the day, the town 
 resembled a fair, or the period of a contested election, 
 Oo arriving at the fatal spot, the prisoner was assisted 
 
110 
 
 to mount the platform, where the Chaplain arrayed in 
 his surplice stood ready to receive him. He joined in 
 the prayers with the utmost fervour and devotion 5 but 
 was at times dreadfully agitated. Having concluded the 
 impressive service, the reverend gentleman shook 
 hands with the culprit, and asked him if he had any- 
 thing on his mind which he wished to divulge. He said 
 110 5 he was quite prepared to suffer. The executioner 
 then proceeded to do his duty, and having put the fatal 
 noose round the neck of the prisoner, adjusted the 
 rope, and pulled the cap over his face^ he quitted the 
 platform. Slade then stood alone on the drop, and 
 seeming to collect all his energy, he said with a firm 
 unfaultering voice — My friends ^ I bid you farewell. I 
 hope you will all take warning by my fate, Remem^ 
 ber, the wages of sin is death-, but the gift of God is 
 eternal life through Jesus Christ my Saviour. And 
 now, my dear friends, I once more bid you farewell: 
 farewell /'* The drop instantly fell, and in a few mo- 
 ments the unhappy youth had ceased to exist. He ex- 
 pired without a struggle. The spectators seemed deeply 
 affected by his calm demeanour and untimely fate. 
 When he stood up on the scaffold and spoke the few 
 touching words quoted above, the affecting nature of the 
 address, and the boyish tone of his voice moved^ many 
 persons even to tears. 
 
 After hanging the usual tim.e the body was cut down 
 by the executioner, placed in a coffin, and re-conveyed 
 to the prison, where it lay till about one o'clock on Sun- 
 day morning, when it was taken to the premises of Mr. 
 Wilson, surgeon, for dissection. 
 
 Slade was five feet six inches and a half in height, of a 
 
Ill 
 
 slight make, but sinewy and muscular. The appear- 
 ance and expression of his countenance were scarcely 
 altered in the slightest degree by death. On stripping the 
 body, its muscular strength and fine proportions excited 
 the admiration of the medical gentlemen present. He 
 had died in full health, and appeared much stouter thaa 
 when alive 5 and it is a curious fact that the culprit had 
 even grown comparatively fat during the period of his 
 imprisonment. He never ate so heartily, he said, as he 
 did in gaol 3 and through the kindness of the Under- 
 sheriff he wanted for nothing that might contribute to 
 his nourishment and support. On examining the body, 
 the peculiar conformation of the great toe on each foot 
 produced considerable surprise : it extended in length 
 about an inch beyond the others. As the dissecting 
 room was, during the greater part of the day, open to 
 the public, numbers of individuals attended to witness 
 the appearance of the body, which presented a motst 
 humiliating and revolting spectacle. His countenance 
 seemed a fitting index to the mind of a murderer — cruel, 
 deliberate, and ferocious. A plaster mould has been cast 
 from the features. On Tuesday morning the brain was 
 dissected in the presence of most of our medical autho- 
 rities. 
 
 From deferring the dissection as long as possible, to 
 accommodate a greater number of young surgeons, the 
 brain had undergone a considerable change 5 and it was 
 therefore almost impossible to elucidate the different parts 
 with that degree of anatomical accuracy which might have 
 been attained at an earlier period. The investing mem- 
 brane, called the Dura Mater, was, however, extremely 
 
112 
 
 tense and firm, and in several places inflammation 
 l)etween it and the Pia Mater, or immediate envelope 
 of the brain, was discovered^ and must have existed for 
 fiome time. Firm adhesions had in consequence taken 
 place 5 but these appearances are, we believe, by no 
 means uncommon 3 for few people v/ho have suffered 
 from fever, or severe blows on the head, are without 
 them. Siade previously to his execution confessed that 
 at different times he had received blows upon the head, 
 and described the external situation of two of them, 
 which corresponded exactly with the internal adhesions : 
 between the under part of the cerebellum, and the con- 
 tiguous Dura Mater, several strong adhesions w^ere 
 also discovered. 
 
 The internal viscera of the chest and of the body were 
 in an extremely healthy state, not having apparently 
 ever suffered from illness. 
 
 Mr. Wilson, to whom the dissection of the body was 
 committed, acted wisely, we think, in making it public 
 as far as wnth propriety could be permitted 5 for, judg- 
 ing from our own sensations, if men can be deterred 
 from the commission of acts of bloodshed by a dread 
 of the consequences, the exhibition of one dissection 
 must go farther than a hundred executions. 
 
 The conduct of Slade's relatives, during the whole of 
 this trying affair, has been exposed to considerable cen- 
 sure. In persons of their condition it would be absurd 
 to expect that acuteness of feeling and nice sensibility 
 which shed an indescribable charm over the intercourse 
 of intelligent and refined society ) but the Slades appear 
 to be wanting even in common humanity. His sisters 
 
113 
 
 were not ashamed to attend the races, whilst their bro- 
 ther was immured in a solitary cell^ under sentence of 
 death — his mother talks of Joshua's guilt and of his 
 vicious habits without the least display of common 
 feeling— and his father was seen trudging home on the 
 night before the execution with a load of wood which 
 he had been plundering from the neighbouring hedges,* 
 On Monday the old man came to Huntingdon, to 
 enquire of Mr. Cole, keeper of the prison, whether 
 Joshua had left any thing for him — any old clothes, or 
 doctor's bottles, that he might sell. Being answered in 
 the negative t *^ Do you know," added he, what has 
 been done with the body No,'* replied Mr. Cole, 
 I do not."-^^^ I have been told," rejoined old Slade, — 
 " that they only want the heart and two or three other 
 
 * If our information be correct, the elder Slade might have sat for the 
 following picture : — 
 
 '* Wo to the gard'ner's pale, the farmer's hedge. 
 Plash' d neatly, and secured with driven stakes 
 Deep in the loamy bank. Uptorn by strength, 
 Resistless in so bad a cause, but lame 
 To better deeds, he bundles up the spoil, 
 An ass's burthen, and, when laden most 
 And heaviest, light of foot steals fast away." 
 
 The Task, Book IV. 
 The inhabitants of Great Stukeley have a lively recollection of their for. 
 mer neighbours, the JSlades, who were alike feared and despised in the parish. 
 John and Joshua latterly carried on, in coojunction with Heddings and 
 others, an extensive traffic in poaching, by which they realised occasionally 
 considerable sums of money. The Rev. Mr. Bailey has obligingly furnished 
 us with the following certificate of Joshua's baptism, extracted from the 
 Register : — 
 
 BAPTISMS. 
 1809 
 ****** 
 
 Joshua, son of William and Elizabeth Slade, baptized March 26th. 
 
 John Bailey, Vicar. 
 He was born, as we have already stated (upon the authority of his mother), 
 on the I4th of January ; and was consequently at the time of his death ex- 
 actly 18 years, 7 months, a fortnight, and 3 days old. 
 
 L 
 
114 
 
 things out of hira — a speech to which no answer was 
 leturned. In this callous, unnatural deportment, may 
 be traced the germ of Joshua's guilt. — Yet who can tell 
 l ow much of the apparent insensibility of the Slades 
 may not be imputed to ignorance and want, and to the 
 absence of spiritual instruction, peculiar to the viUnge ? 
 Nothing tends so effectually to shut up the heart and 
 deaden the feelings as long-continued poverty. 
 
 Atrocious as was the crime for which Slade justly 
 forfeited his life, the spectacle of a human being cut off 
 in the very spring-time of his days could not be wit- 
 nessed without emotion, and was beheld evidently with 
 deep commisseration. His extreme youth and peni- 
 Rnce pleaded powerfully in his favour, and the con-^ 
 sciousness that he had been neglected by his parents, 
 and afterwards made the dupe of an accomplished vil- 
 lai i, tended to blunt the feeling of abhorrence with 
 which his guilt was universally regarded, and to excite 
 sentiments rather of pity and compassion. Depraved as 
 his life had been, there was doubtless a time when he 
 little dreamt that it would be closed upon the scaffold — 
 when, if he bad been told, while earning his bread ho- 
 nestly by the sweat of his brow, that he would turn out 
 a robber and a murderer, he would have rejected the im- 
 putation with scorn, and have been ready to say with 
 I liizael of old : Is thy servant a dog that he should do 
 this great thing?'* Had 1 but known the least part 
 <?f v\l:at I know now/* said he one day to his rev. at- 
 tendant, I should never have been here/' Of what 
 unspeakable importance tlien must it be to inspire the 
 ymmg mmd vAih right principle^^ of religion 5 to check 
 
115 
 
 with a gentle but steady hand the first approaches to 
 vice 5 and to incaicate lessons of industry, sobriety, and 
 integrity, by that most pers^jasive of all arguments — a 
 good example. The fate of Slade can scarcely fail to 
 be held up as a warnin-' to the young in the humbler 
 walks of life ; but we trust it will extend farther— that 
 it will stir up among the higher and more influential 
 classes an increased spirit of active benevolence, to in- 
 quire into the conditon — to supply the deficiencies, and 
 to alleviate the wants of their poorer brethren. This 
 can best be done, not by parochial assistance, or casual 
 charity, necessary as these may be in cases of urgent 
 distress, but by acts of personal kindness and attention 
 — by providing them with employment — seeking out and 
 rewarding the honest and industrious, and discouraging, 
 or endeavouring to reform, the idle and profligate. How 
 consoling, and, at the same time, how beneficial must it 
 be to the poor man to know that his rich and powerful 
 neighbour is interested in the welfare of himself and 
 children — that he rejoices in their prosperity, and is 
 grieved at their disasters or misconduct ! And if the 
 man who raises only tw^o blades of corn where but one 
 ^rew before, be more useful to his species than either 
 the poet or philosopher, how much more so is the ho- 
 nest peasant who rears a healthy and virtuous offspiing 
 to recruit the ranks of the state, andJcontribute to its 
 wealth and stabdity ? 
 
 THE END. 
 
HUNTINGDON t 
 fBINTED BY THOMAS LOVBLtM. 
 
ADDEND A. 
 
 A tomb is about to be erected over the rernams of Mr. 
 Waterhouse^ executed by Mr. Payne, stone-raason, Hun- 
 tingdon. According to immemorial wont and usage, a 
 copy of verses is appended to the inscription 3 and in 
 point of style, taste, and orthography, this monitory effu- 
 sion is on a par with the uncouth rhymes** alluded to by 
 Gray in his inimitable Elegy. It is surprising that a better 
 taste should not have arisen among our village bards and 
 moralists, and that in the present day any body should 
 commit themselves so far as to indite the following for 
 the edification of the public : — 
 
 Sacred to the Memory of the Rev. Joshua Waterhouse B.D. 
 nearly 40 years Fellow of Catharine Hall» Cambridge, 
 Chaplain to His Majesty, Rector of this Parish, aud of 
 Coton, near Cambridge, who was inhumanly murdered 
 in this parsonage house . July 3rd 1827, aged 81." 
 
 •* Beneath this Tomb his Mangled body's laid. 
 Cut Stabb'd and Murdered by Joshua Slade^ 
 His ghastly Wounds, a horrid sight to see, 
 And hurl'd at once into Eternity. 
 What faults you've seen in him, take care to sliuri, 
 And look at home, enough there's to be done ; 
 Death does not alhvays warning give, 
 Therefore be carefull how you live." 
 
i