what they deemed insufficiency of e:idence.

The discharge of the accused party would now have followed of course; but William Green, the brother and heir of the deceased, immediately lodged an appeal; in consequence of which Cuff was brought to trial at the next sessions but one, when his case was argued with the utmost ingenuity by the counsel for and against him; but this second jury found him guilty,

and he was sentenced to die.

After conviction his behaviour was the most devout and resigned that could be imagined: he exercised himself in every act of devotion, but solemnly declared his per. fect innocence with respect to the murder.

He was visited by his friends, who earnestly entreated him to make a sincere confession, especially as, in his case, it was not in the power of the king himself to grant a pardon. In answer hereto, he freely confessed all his other crimes; but, saying he would not rush into eternity with a lie in his mouth, again steadily de nied the perpetration of the crime of which he had been convicted.

The clergyman who attended him urged him to the confession of his guilt, and even refused to administer the sacrament to him, on the morning of his execution, on any other terms than those of acknow. ledging his crime: but nothing could, shake his resolution; he still steadily persisted in his innocence.

On his way to the place of execution, he desired to stop at the door of his late master; which being granted, he called for a pint of wine, and, having drank a glass of it, addressed Mr. Payne in the following

terms:

'Sir, you are not insensible that I am going to suffer an ignominious death for a crime of which I de

clare I am not guilty. As I am to appear before my Judge in a few moments, to answer for all my past sins, I hope you and my good mistress will pray for my poor soul. God bless you, and all your family.

At the place of execution he behaved in the most composed, devout, and resigned manner; and seemed to possess his mind in the consciousness of innocence. There was a great concourse of spectators to witness his fatal end; to whom he spoke in the following manner :

Good people, I am going to die for a fact I never committed; I wish all mankind well; and, as I have prayed for my prosecutors, I hope my sins will be forgiven through the merits of my ever-blessed Redeemer. beg you to pray for my departing soul; and, as to the fact I now die for, I wish I was as free from all other sins.'

I

He was hanged at Tyburn on the 25th of July, 1729, exhibiting no signs of fear to his last moment.

The case of this man is very extraordinary. The evidence against him was at best but circumstantial, and this not supported with such strong corroborative proofs as have occasioned conviction in many other instances. No person was witness to his commission of the murder, nor was there any absolute proof that he did commit it; and from the steady perseverance with which he denied it, under the most awful circumstances, and at the very concluding scene of his life, charity would tempt one to believe that he was innocent.

Ought not this case to afford a lesson of caution to juries how they convict on circumstantial evidence? Is it not better that the guilty should escape than the innocent be punished? All the decrees of mortals are liable to error; but the time will come when all mists shall be

WAS a native of Hitchin, in Hertfordshire, and had been well educated, his father possessing 3001. per annum. He was apprenticed to a salesman; but, running away from his master, he entered into the army, and served in Flanders, where he behaved so well that he was promoted to the rank of sergeant. On the return of his regiment to Eng. land he purchased his discharge, and, repairing to London, bought the place of an officer in Whitechapel Court, in which he continued

Doddor

about seven years; but, having given liberty to some persons whom he had arrested, one Charlesworth, a solicitor of that Court, caused him to be discharged, and then sued him for the amount of the debts of the parties whom his inconsiderate good nature had liberated. To evade imprisonment, Everett enlisted in Lord Albemarle's company of footguards; and, soon after his again engaging in the army, he fell into compauy with Richard Bird, with whom he had been formerly acquainted.

This Bird hinted that great advantages might be acquired in a particular way, if Everett could be trusted; and the latter, anxious to know what the plan was, learnt that it was to go on the road; on which an agreement was immedi ately concluded. Hereupon they set out on their expedition, and robbed several stages in the counties adjacent to London, from which they obtained considerable booty in jewels, money, and valuable effects. Thus successful in their first exploits, they went to Hounslow Heath, where they stopped two military officers, who were attended by servants armed with blunderbusses; but they obliged them to submit, and robbed them of their money and watches: the watches were afterwards left, according to agreement, at a coffeehouse near Charing Cross, and the thieves received twenty guineas for restoring them. Soon after they stopped a gentleman in an open chaise, near Epsom. The gentle. man drew his sword, and made several passes at them; yet they robbed him of his watch, two guineas, his sword, and some writings; but they returned the writings at the earnest request of the injured party. They also made a practice of robbing the butchers and higglers on Epping Forest, on their way to London. One of these robberies was singular:-Meeting with an old woman, a higgler, they searched the lining of a high-crowned hat, which she said had been her mother's, in which they found about three pounds; but returned her hat. Soon after this they stopped a coach on Hounslow Heath, in which were two Quakers, who, calling them sons of violence, jumped out of the coach to oppose them; but their fellowtravellers making no resistance, and begging them to submit, all the

parties were robbed of their money. Everett, observing that one of the Quakers wore a remarkably good wig, snatched it from his head, and gave him in return an old black tie, which he had purchased for half a crown of a Chelsea pensioner. This sudden metamorphosis caused great mirth among the company in the coach. About ten days after this he and his companion walked to Hillingdon Common, where, seeing two gentlemen on horseback, Everett stopped the foremost, and Bird the other, and robbed them of upwards of three guineas and their gold watches; they then cut the girths of the saddles, and secured the bridles, to prevent a pursuit. They now hastened to Brentford, where, understanding that they were followed, they got into the ferry to cross the Thames; and when they were three parts over, so that the river was fordable, they gave the ferrymen ten shillings, and obliged them to throw their oars into the river. They then jumped overboard, and got on shore, while the spectators thought it was only a drunken frolic, and the robbers got safe to London. Some time after this Everett was convicted of an attempt to commit a robbery on the highway, for which he was sen. tenced to three years' imprisonment in New Prison, Clerkenwell. After some time he was employed to act here as turnkey; and his conduct meeting with approbation, he remained in that station after the term of his imprisonment was expired; but the keeper dying, he took a public house in Turnmill Street. He had not been long in this station when the new keeper who had been appointed frequently called on him, and made him advantageous offers, on the condition of his resuming the office of turnkey. This he did; but, when Everett had

perfectly instructed him in the management of the prison, he dismissed him, without assigning any reason for such ungenerous conduct.Everett being now greatly in debt, and consequently obliged to remove within the rules of the Fleet prison, took a public house in the Old Bailey; after which he took the Cock alehouse, in the same street, which he kept three years with reputation, when the Warden of the Fleet persuaded him to keep the tap-house of the said prison. While in this station he was charged with being concerned with the keeper in some mal-practices, for which the House of Commons ordered him to be confined in Newgate; but he obtained his liberty at the end of the session, as no bill had been found against him. During his confinement his brewer seized his stock of beer, to the amount of 300l. which reduced him to circumstances of great distress; but he even now resolved on a life of industry, if he could have got employment; yet his character was such that no person would engage him. Thus perplexed, he once more equipped himself for the high way, with a view, as he solemnly declared after sentence of death, to raise only fifty pounds, as his brewer would have given him credit if he could have possessed himself of that sum. Having stopped a coach on the Hampstead road, in which were a lady, her daughter, and a child about five years old, the child was so terrified at his presenting a pis. tol, that he withdrew it at the request of the lady, who gave him a guinea and some silver; and though he observed she had a watch and some gold rings, &c. he did not demand them. Some company riding up, he was followed to the end of Leather Lane, where he evaded the pursuit by turning into Hatton Garden, and going into the Globe

tavern. Here he called for wine, and, while he was drinking, he saw his pursuers pass; on which he paid his reckoning, and slipped into a public house in Holborn, where he again saw them pass. Thinking himself safe, he remained here a considerable time. When he thought the pursuit was over, he called a coach at the end of Brook Street, and, driving to Honey Lane Market, purchased a duck for his supper, and a turkey for his Christmas din ner: he then went to his lodging in Newgate Market. On the following day one Whitaker (called the boxing drover') circulated a report that Everett had committed a highway robbery; on which the latter loaded a brace of pistols, and vowed he would be revenged. He went to Islington in search of Whitaker, and visited several public houses which he used to frequent; but, not meeting with him, the crime of murder was happily prevented. A woman in the neighbourhood of Newgate Market having buried her husband, who had left her enough to support herself and children with decency, Everett repeatedly visited the widow, was received with too great marks of esteem, and assisted her in the dissipation of that money which should have provided for her family. The widow's son, jealous of this connexion, remonstrated with his mo ther on the impropriety of her con duct, and told her it would end in her ruin. This made Everett and her more cautious in their meetings; but the son watched them with the utmost degree of vigilance and cir.. cumspection. Having one evening observed them go into a tavern, he provided himself with a large and sharp knife, and, entering the room where they were sitting, swore he would stab Everett to the heart; but the latter, by superiority of strength, disarmed him. The young

fellow was at length persuaded to sit down, when Everett assured him that he entertained the utmost respect both for himself and his mother; but the youth answered he was a liar, and the mutual destruction both of mother and children must follow their unlawful connexion. As the lad grew warm, Everett affected great coolness and good humour, and considered how he might most readily get rid of so unwelcome a guest, as he was unwilling so soon to part with the widow. At length he determined to make the young fellow drunk, and plied him with such a quantity of liquor that he fell fast asleep, in which condition he was left, while the other parties adjourned to a distant tavern, where they remained till morning, when Everett borrowed seven guineas of the widow, under pretence of paying her in a week. Not long after this Everett was married to this very widow at Stepney church, by which he came into possession of money and plate to a considerable amount, and might have lived happily with her if he would have taken her advice; but the extravagance of his disposition led to his ruin. When he was in very low circumstances he casually met his old accomplice, Bird, and joined with him in the commis. sion of a robbery in Essex. They were both taken, and lodged in Chelmsford gaol; but Everett having turned evidence, the other was convicted and executed. As soon as he obtained his liberty he committed several robberies in the neighbourhood of London, the last of which was on a lady named Ellis, whom he stopped near Islington; but, being taken into custody on the following day, he was tried, and

capitally convicted. He had been married to three wives, who all visited him after sentence of death. He was likewise visited by the son of the widow; but, recollecting what had formerly passed between them, Everett would have stabbed him with a penknife, but was prevented by one of his wives; for which in! terposition he afterwards expressed the greatest happiness. What gave him most uncasiness was the crime of perjury, of which he had been guilty, with a view to take away the life of an innocent man. One Pickett, a cooper, having affronted him, he swore a robbery against him; but, the jury not being satisfied with the evidence, the man was fortunately acquitted. Mr. Nicholson, the then minister of St. Sepulchre's church, attended the prisoner while under sentence of death, and kindly exerted himself to convince him of the atrocious nature of his offences; but the number of people who visited him from motives of curiosity took off his attention from his more important duties. However, he was at times serious, and would then advise his brethren in affliction to prepare for that death which now appeared unavoidable.

The gaol distemper having seized him while in Newgate, a report was propagated that he had taken poison; but this was totally false. He wrote letters to some of his acquaintance, begging they would take warning by his unhappy fate, and avoid those steps which led him to his ruin.

At the place of execution, at Tyburn, Feb. 20, 1729, he behaved in such a manner as induced the spectators to think that his penitence for his past crimes was unaffected.