ly apprehended for picking the pocket of an Irish nobleman of his gold watch and money, at the theatre, but was acquitted for want of evidence. Here, however, was his first display of elocution; for, having received a serious admonition from the judge, he addressed the court with considerable animation, and enlarged, with great ingenuity, upon what he termed the force of prejudice, insinuating that calumny had followed him from England to Ireland. On his acquittal, however, he deemed it most prudent to leave Dublin: he therefore visited Edinburgh, where being suspected he was obliged to decamp. He now returned to London, and braving danger, frequented the theatres, opera-house, pantheon, &c. but was at length taken into custody. Having been acquitted for want of evidence for the charge brought against him, he was unexpectedly detained for having returned to England in violation of the condition on which his Majesty was pleased to grant him a remission of his punishment, and was accordingly confined in Newgate during the remainder of the time that he was originally to have served on the river Thames. On the expiration of his captivity he returned to his former prac tices, but with greater caution. He was at length apprehended for picking the pocket of Mr. Le Mesurier, at Drury-lane play-house, but effected his escape from the constable; and while the lawyers were outlawing him, and the constables endeavouring to take him, he evaded detection by travelling in various disguises and characters through the northern counties of the kingdom: he visited the great towns as a quack-doctor, clergyman, rider, &c. but was at last apprehended in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and removed to London by a writ of Habeas Corpus He now employed counsel, and had the outlawry against against him reversed; was then tried for stealing Mr. Le Mesurier's purse, and acquitted in consequence of the absence of a material witness. Being once more enlarged, he had the presumption to visit Dublin again, where having been soon suspected, he with difficulty escaped to England; but shortly after his arrival, was taken into custody, for picking the pocket of Henry Hare Townsend, esq. For this he was tried at the Old Bailey, Sept. 1,1798, and found guilty, notwithstanding he made an ingenious defence. On Wednesday, Sept. 22, the Recorder pronounced the sentence of transportation on him for seven years, when Barrington addressed the court in words to the following effect: "My lord, I have a great deal to say in exten uation of the cause for which I now stand convicted at this bar; but upon consideration, I will not arrest the attention of the honourable court too long. Among the extraordinary vicissitudes incident to human nature, it is the peculiar and unfortunate lot of some devoted persons, to have their best wishes and their most earnest endeavours, to deserve the good opinion of the most respectable part of society, entirely frustrated. Whatever they can say, or whatever they may do; every word and its mean, ing, every action and its motive, is represented in an unfavourable light, and is distorted from the real intention of the speaker or the actor. That this has been my unhappy fate does not seem to stand in need of any confirmation. Every effort to deserve well of mankind, that my heart bore witness to its rectitude, has been by such measures as those, and consequently has been rendered abortive. Many of the circumstances of my life I can, with out any violation of truth, declare to have, therefore, happened absolutely in spite of myself. The world, my lord, has given me credit for abilities, indeed, much greater than I possess, and therefore much more than I deserved, but I have never found any kind hand to foster these abilities. I might ask where was the generous and powerful hand that was ever stretched forth, to rescue George Barrington from infamy? In an age like this, which, in several respects, is so justly famed for liberal sentiments, it was my severe lot, that no noble-minded gentleman stepped forward, and said to me: Barrington, you are possessed of talents which may be useful to society. I feel for your situation; and as long as you act the part of a good citizen, I will be your protector: you will then have time and opportunity to rescue yourself from the obliquy of your former conduct. Alas, my lord, George Barrington had never the supreme felicity of having such comfort administered to his wounded spirit. As matters have unfortunately turned out, the die is cast--and as it is, I bend resigned to my fate, without one murmur or complaint." Having thus concluded his neat address, rendered more forcible by his pathetic manner, he left the bar with a respectful bow, and thus withdrew from public life in Europe, to act a new part in the NEW WORLD. On his arrival at Port Jackson, he was introduced to the governor, and appointed superintendant of the convicts resident at Paramatta. His conduct, during his exile, has been such as to compensate for all the past. According to recent accounts he has been deranged in his mind; and it has been also reported, that he is dead. While in London he cohabited with a woman, who went by his name, and who, since his transportation, has been apprehended for several thefts, as if desirous of following him to Botany Bay. BARTON, J. See DICKENSON, E. BEDDINGFIELD, ANNE, (MURDERER,) was the wife of John Beddingfield, who was the son of respectable parents, at Sternfield in Suffolk, and to whom she was married at seventeen years of age, when he was about twenty-four the young couple were placed in a good farm, which was carefully attended by the husband, who bore the character of a man of industry and integrity. They had two children, and lived apparently happy for some time. Richard Ringe, a youth of nineteen, was engaged in the service of Mr. Beddingfield; nor had he been long in the house before his mistress became so enamoured of him, that her busband was the object of her contempt. Her beha viour to Ringe was such that he could not long doubt of her favourable inclinations; nor had he virtue to resist the temptation: and they were so incautious in their amours, that four of the servants were occasional witnesses of their criminal intercourse. At length Mrs. Beddingfield, having formed the horrid design of destroying her husband, communicated her intention to Ringe, who hesitating at the dreadful proposal, she promised that he should share her fortune as the reward of the deed. Mr. Beddingfield happening to be indisposed, it was recommended to him to take a vomit; but the water which the servant-maid brought him to drink proving too hot, Ringe was directed to bring some cold water to mix with it; and he took this opportunity of putting arsenic into the water; but Beddingfield, observing a white sediment in the bason, would not drink, though no suspicion of the liquor being being poisoned had occurred to him. On the failure of this they determined on another scheme of dispatching the unfortunate object of their vengeance. Mr. Beddingfield having been selling some cattle to another farmer, they had drank a sociable glass together, but not to such a degree as to occasion intoxication. When Mr. Beddingfield came home, he found that his wife was in bed with one of the maid-servants; on which he desired her to come to his chamber, but this she refused, and mutual recriminations passed between them. It had been determined by Ringe to commit the murder on that night, while his master was asleep; accordingly when his master was in bed, he quitted his own room, passed through that in which his mistress slept, and went to the bedchamber of his master. Observing that Mr. Beddingfield was asleep, he threw a cord round his neck to strangle him; but, being hurt by the weight of Ringe iying across him, he struggled so that they both fell off the bed together. However, the horrid deed of murder was soon perpetrated. Mrs. Beddingfield, being asleep in the next room, awoke at the noise, and in her fright awakened the servant. At this instant Ringe entered the rcom, and said, "I have done for him;" to which the wife answered, "Then I am easy." The girl was greatly alarmed; but cried out, "master," supposing Mr. Beddingfield was present; for there was no light in the room: but Mrs. Beddingfield commanded her to be silent. Ringe asked the mistress if any one was acquainted with what had passed besides her and the maid; on which the girl asked, "How came you here, Richard?" The villain, terrified by his guilt, replied, "I was forced to it." He then went to his own room, and lay down; and the mistress and maid getting up, the latter |