the spirit of a friend and fellow Christian; and in that spirit he told them, that if they pronounced the word lightly, its memory would never die within them. It would accompany them in their walks; it would follow them in their solitary retirements like a shadow; it would haunt them in their sleep and hover round their bed; it would take the shape of an accusing spirit, and confront and condemn them before the judgment seat of their God. So let them beware how they acted. Some witnesses to character were called. Mr. Jennings, proprietor of the British hotel in Jerminstreet, James Noble, waiter at the same inn, Jean Peton, servant of Lady Julia Lockwood, Jeanne Peton, his wife, and Lady Julia Lockwood, gave evidence that the prisoner was a modest, good-tempered, inoffensive man; he had lived in the service of Mr. Jennings and of Lady Julia Lockwood. little stress ought to be laid upon what persons of that class said of their masters in their private talk. Evidence to character, he reminded the jury, was of great value in cases of doubt, but could not have so much weight where proofs of guilt were strong and decisive. He left it entirely with the jury to say whether in this case the facts proved put the guilt of the prisoner beyond doubt. If they had any hesitation, the prisoner ought to have the benefit of it. The jury retired; deliberated for an hour and twenty-five minntes; and then returned with a verdict of "Guilty." The prisoner heard it unmoved. Chief justice Tindal prefaced the sentence of death with a brief and feeling address, interrupted by his own sobs; his utterance at times was quite choked. The prisoner looked very pale, but in other respects betrayed little emotion. CONFESSION OF COURVOISIER. A full account of the state in which Lord William Russell was Chief Justice Tindal charged found on the morning after the the jury. He placed before them murder will appear from the eviall the material points of the evidence before the coroner given indence; parts of which were read fra. by Baron Parke. He directed attention to the chief circumstances in favour of and against the prisoner; and was at pains to guard them from being misled by the counsel on either side. The evidence of Baldwin the policeman he considered unworthy of credit, on account of his prevarication; but Sarah Mansell ought to be believed. He remarked, that without the offer of reward, many crimes would remain undiscovered; but it was for the jury to consider how far the credibility of witnesses was affected by their expectation of reward. As to the conversation among the servants, he thought The following is a copy of the confession made by Courvoisier, and sent to the Home-office from Newgate on Tuesday last : "Newgate, June 22, 1840.On the Friday before the murder was committed I began two or three times not to like my place. I did not know what to do; I thought if I gave warning none of my friends would take notice of me again, and I thought by making it appear a kind of robbery he would discharge me; and on the Saturday before, I took this plate to Leicester-place. I had a mind to rob the house on Monday, and after I had forced the door down stairs, I thought it was not right, and went to bed: nothing further happened on the Monday. On Tuesday night, when his lordship went to bed (he had been rather cross with me before about the carriage), he gave me two letters, one for the post, and told me, rather angrily, that he was obliged to write those letters in consequence of my forgetting the carriage: this was in the drawing-room, about eleven o'clock at night. I then went down stairs into the kitchen, and stood reading a book for some time. About twelve o'clock he rang the bell; I went up to him, and took the lamp out. After that I thought he had gone up stairs to his bedroom; and when he rang his bed room bell I thought it was to warın his bed, and I took the warmingpan up, with coals in it, just as usual, and he began to grumble because I did not go up to see what he wanted instead of taking up the warming-pan. I told him he always used to ring the bell for the warming-pan, and that I thought it was for that purpose he had rung; and he said that I ought always to go to answer the bell first, to see what he wanted. He and put everything in the state it was found in in the morning. As I was in the dining-room with a light, he came down stairs to the water-closet; he had his waxlight; I was in the dining-room, but as he had his slippers on I did not hear him come down. He opened the dining-room door and saw me. I could not escape his sight. He was quite struck, and said, "What are you doing here? You have no good intentions in doing this; you must quit my service to-morrow morning, and I shall acquaint your friends with it." I made him no answer. He went to the water-closet, and I went out of the dining-room down stairs. He was about ten minutes in the water-closet, and I waited to see what he would do after he came out. While he was in the watercloset I put some of the things to rights again in the dining-room. When he left the water-closet he went into the dining-room, where he stayed about a minute or two. I was on the corner of the stairs that go from the dining-room to the kitchen. I watched him upstairs. I stopped, perhaps, an hour in the kitchen, not knowing what I should do. As I was coming up stairs from the kitchen I thought it was all up with me; my character was gone, and I thought it was the only way I could cover my faults by murdering him. This was the first moment of any idea of the sert entering my head. I went into the dining-room and took a knife from the sideboard. I don't remember whether it was a carving knife or not. I then went upstairs. I opened his bed-room door and heard him snoring in his sleep; there was a rushlight in his room burning at this time. I went near the bed by the side of the window, and then I murdered him; he just moved his arm a little, and never spoke a word. I took a towel which was on the back of the chair, and wiped my hand and the knife; after that I took his key, and opened the Russian leather box, and put it in the state it was found in in the morning, and I took all the things that were found down stairs; the towel I put over his face; I took a purse, I also took a 107. note from a note case, which I put in the purse, and I put them in a basket in the back scullery; the day after I thought it would be better to put it behind the skirting board. I had before I went to Richmond lost a shilling behind the skirting-board, so I thought that would be a good place to put it. said to him it was a locket; but in the position in which I was I did not like to say that it was lord William's locket, as if I told the truth I should not be believed; the policeman then returned it to me, and I put it in my trousers' pocket. The watch and seal were in my jacket pocket, which I had on until the Friday morning, and then I undid the riband, and took the seal off; it was the day the sweeps were in the house, which was either the Thursday or Friday. Having the watch in my pocket the glass came out; I did not know what to do with it, as the police were watching me, so I took the watch from my pocket and put it in between the lining of my jacket and twisted the pocket until I smashed the glass; after While at Richmond lord Wil- that I dropt some of the pieces liam's locket dropped from his coat about the dining-room, and at difwhile I was brushing it. I picked ferent times put the large pieces in it up, and put it in my trousers' my mouth, and afterwards having pocket, but had not the least idea broken them with my teeth, spat of taking it. I intended to have them in the fireplace. The watch returned it to his lordship while II had by me until Friday morning; dressed him in the morning. I put my hand in my pocket at that time, but found I had changed my trousers; this was on the morning we left Richmond for Camden-hill. I did not put the trousers on again while we were at Camden-hill? I did not recollect the trousers being different, and thought I had lost the locket. I then thought it best to say nothing about it. On the Friday morning I was looking at some of my old clothes, the police man who had cut his chin was watching me, and in taking the trousers out of the drawer in the pantry the locket fell out of the pocket; it was wrapped up in a piece of brown paper; the policeman opened the paper, and looked at it, and said, "What's that?" I I then burned the riband, and put the watch under the lead in the sink. I kept the seal in my pocket until they came into the diningroom to show me the ring they had found behind the skirting board. When I was called to go down to the pantry, I let the seal fall and put my foot upon it, and afterwards put it behind the water-pipe in the scullery, Beresford and Cronin, and two masons were there at the time taking the drain up, but did not see me do it. The watch, the seal, and the locket, together with two sovereigns, I had about me until the Friday, and if they had searched me they must have found them; but they did not do so until Friday, after 1 was taken into custody, in my bed room. The two sovereigns I afterwards (on the Friday, when I slipped the locket under the hearthstone) also slipped down near the wall under the flooring. There is no truth in saying I put any thing in the ale or beer, for all that time I had no idea of committing the deed. I had scarcely had any beer all the week, and the ale that I had drunk that night, together with the wine, and some more I took after the cook went to bed, affected me. The gloves were never placed in the shirt by me, nor to my knowledge. When I left Mr. Fector's, I gave all my white gloves to the coachman. The handkerchiefs that were found in my portmanteau were never put there by me. They were in my drawer where I used to keep my dirty linen, or in my bag with my dirty linen in the pantry. If there is blood upon them, it must have been from my nose, as it sometimes bled. I know nothing whatever of the shirt front. I turned up my coat and shirt sleeve of my right hand when I committed the murder. I did not use the pillow at all. After I had committed the murder, I undressed and went to bed as usual. I made the marks on the door on the outside, none of them from the inside, for the purpose of having it believed that thieves had broken in. I never made use of the chisel or the fireirons. I placed the things about the house to give the appearance of robbery. It is not true that the bottom bolt was never used to secure the door; it was bolted that night. I took the jewellery after I had committed the deed. All the marks on the door were made from the outside on the Monday night, for I got out of the pantry window and broke in at the door, and while getting out of the pantry window made a little mark on the wall outside near the water-pipe, which the witness Young saw, and mentioned in his evidence. I went to bed about two o'clock. I burned nothing. I did not wash my hauds or the knife in the bedit in his lordship's bed room. Sarah Mansell knew nothing about it. Neither did the cook, nor any of the other servants. I am the only person who is at all guilty. FRANCOIS BENJAMIN COUR VOISIER. Witnesses-T. FLOWER, W. W. COPE. June 22, 1840. THE EXECUTION OF COURVOISIER. JULY 6. Before seven o'clock, several noblemen aud gentlemen were admitted to the prison, through the gate leading to the new Central Criminal Court. Amongst them we observed lord Glentworth, lord Lowth, lord Arthur Paget, lord Fitzharris, and several members of the House of Commons. At six o'clock, Mr. Carver, the spiritual adviser of Courvoisier, arrived, and Mr. Sheriff Wheelton and the Swiss minister a little before seven; they then went to the room in which Courvoisier was confined, and continued in prayer till half-past seven o'clock, when the sacrament was administered to the prisoner. Mr. Baup, the Swiss clergyman, who had frequently visited the prisoner, remained with him the whole time, and accompanied him to the scaffold. The conduct of the criminal was remarkable for firmness, particularly within the last three or four days. His mode of expressing himself was uniformly-"Oh God! how could I have committed so dreadful a crime? It was madness. When I think of it I can't believe it. He admitted a short time before his execution that he had contemplated self-destruction, but the vigilant superintendence under which he was kept ever since he was placed within the walls of Newgate, rendered it impracticable for him to carry his intended scheme into execution. He was employed in writing till eleven o'clock on Sunday night, and at that hour he went to bed and slept soundly until half-past four. He wrote some sentences in several of the French and English books furnished him by the kindness of the ordinary, and handed a book to each of the sheriffs and both the clergymen, with a request that they might be kept in remembrance of him. A few minutes before the death-bell tolled he wrote on the back of a letter, which he put into the hands of sheriff Evans, the following words: "6 FRANCOIS BENJAMIN COURVOISIER, The 6th of July, 1840, the day of my Execution." The time having arrived for proceeding to the scaffold, Mr. Cope, the governor, led the way, followed by the sheriff, the undersheriff, the two clergymen, and the murderer, who, upon arriving at the foot of the ladder, shook hands with the sheriffs, and ascended the platform. The people were pressed together in the compactest mass, and we believe it to be a moderate calculation, when we state that 20,000 persons at least must have witnessed this memorable execution. So great, indeed, was the anxiety felt to procure a favourable station, that some hundreds of individuals had taken up their position in front of the debtors' door of the Old Bailey so soon as ten o'clock on Sunday night, cheerfully exposing themselves to the inconvenience of standing in the open air during the whole of the night, in order that their curiosity might be fully gratified in the morning. The windows of the neighbouring houses were all occupied by spectators, who, in most instances, paid a pretty high fee for their places, whilst others who had less money to spare, but more nerve, ascended to the roofs, and perched themselves in the most precarious situations. Among the crowd there was a considerable sprinkling of females and boys, and the number of men-servants present was remarkable, as evincing the fearful interest taken in the culprit's fate by the class to which he had belonged. At five minutes to eight o'clock the dismal sound of the prison bell struck upon the ear, and immediately the vast multitude uncovered. This was a moment of intense excitement; it was impossible to behold the mob, with their heads all bared, and their eyes all eagerly directed towards the gallows, without the deepest feeling of awe, and the spectacle thus exhibited was enough in itself to have struck terror to the heart of the miserable felon, whose ignominious fate rendered him the sole gaze of such an immense mass of human beings. At two minutes after eight o'clock, Courvoisier ascended the steps, and advanced without looking round to the centre of the platform, followed by the executioner, and the ordinary of the prison, the rev. Mr. Carver. On his appearance a few yells of execration escaped from a portion of the |