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. 1, 1860.]

has been acquitted by the verdict of a Liverpool Jury. He was charged with the murder of Ann James, by administering to her antimony in small doses, whereby her death was hastened, if not caused in the first instance. This crime of poisoning is on the increase amongst us, and we had best look round and see what steps we can take to ensure ourselves against the murderer who approaches the bed-side of his victim as a husband, as a wife, as a friend. Your burglar or highwayman is, by comparison, an honest villain—a right gentle ruffian. He kills you with a bludgeon—you kill him with a halter. He levies war upon you, and is ready to take the consequences of defeat. When one thinks of Palmer and his doings, Rush is almost worthy of canonisation,—always, be it understood, with the murderer’s doom as the first stepping stone to glory. The modern poisoner has discarded the rough agencies of his earlier brethren. He treats you secundum artem, and gives you the benefit of the latest discoveries in toxicology. He considers your circumstances—your little peculiarities of constitution—your habits, and then passes his arm under your own, and, with soft expressions of sympathy and commiseration, blandly edges you into your grave. He knows that the business in hand is a ticklish one. He is playing a game of chess—with poisons and antidotes for his pieces—against Mr. Herapath of Bristol, and Dr. Alfred Taylor of Guy’s Hospital for his adversaries, and must give them check-mate—or stale-mate at the least—under very sharp penalties in case of defeat. The two gentlemen named are supposed to possess some skill at the game.

When one comes to think out the details of these crimes, it seems as though the mere bodily tortures which the victim must undergo, form the smallest part of his sufferings. He is struck down apparently by disease, and acquiesces in his infirmity as the mere condition of mortality. We must all part. The last half-choked words must be spoken sooner or later, so that in idle grief there is no use. That which alone can soothe—even whilst it aggravates—the pangs of those last few days or hours is the consciousness that those whom we have loved are around us, and doing what they may to conjure back the grim spectre which is standing at the bed-head, and claiming us as its own. Human affection is immortal, and cannot pass away like a dream or a tale which is told. But what if a moment should come when, upon comparison made between the pangs of yesterday and the pangs of to-day, a horrid suspicion stings the brain sharply and venomously as though a wasp had done it?” Is that a murderer’s hand which, a few minutes back, smoothed the pillow and the coverlid, and which is now wiping off the clammy moisture from my aching head. It is the hand which was pressed in mine at the altar—it is the hand which, over and over again, exchanged with mine the cordial grasp of manly friendship—but now! My murderer is waiting on me. In place of medicine they give me Death. In place of food they give me Death. I cannot breathe my suspicions, save in the ears of the person who is killing me. I am lying helpless in the midst of millions of my fellow-creatures, who would rush to my rescue, if they knew how hard I am bestead. Under the window there is the measured tread of the policeman, but I cannot call him to my help.” Such things have been, although in most cases there is the doctor, and to him, at least, the doubt may be expressed—though the expression is, for the most part, deferred until it is—too late. Those secret murderers are the most merciful, who do their work quickly. If our relatives and friends must poison us, at least let them economise suffering, and not give us time to be aware of what they are about. One would willingly compromise for a bullet through the head, or the quick, sharp streak of the assassin’s knife.

One would suppose that Science was ever more powerful for good than for evil. The same skill which discovered fresh poisons, should discover fresh antidotes—or at least, where the operation of the poison is too quick, fresh tests, so as to render impunity well-nigh hopeless. On the other hand, juries do not like to hang scientifically, so to speak—that is, upon the bare testimony of men of science. They say that the discovery of to-day is the error of to-morrow. No doubt mistakes have been made. Doubts have been expressed, if the ruling of Mr. Justice Buller was correct in the famous laurel-water case. It is now admitted that the tests employed to ascertain the presence of arsenic, when Mary Blandy was arraigned for the murder of her father, only proved the presence of some innocuous substance with which the arsenic was adulterated. The Scientific Chymist may make mistakes—the Hangman makes none. All this is true enough; but juries are apt to lay an over stress upon it. Witnesses may bear false testimony. Circumstantial evidence may be wrongly interpreted. The Analytical Chymist, at least, intends to be honest; and the processes he employs are less likely to result in error, than ordinary reasoning upon ordinary events. He stops short, to be sure: his testimony only goes to the extent of indicating the presence or absence of the poison; and after that the question falls within the scope of ordinary men. It is not, however, very common in cases of poisoning, that any great doubt prevails as to whether poison was the cause of death: the real difficulty always is, “Who gave it?” This Liverpool inquiry was no exception to the usual rule. The victim’s death was caused—or at least her death was much accelerated by small doses of antimony. So far, there is no doubt. Nor in this case, as in that of Smethurst, could there be any hesitation as to the intention with which Thomas Winslow administered the drug—supposing that he administered it at all. There could be no idea of mala praxis in this case. If Winslow put antimony at all in the poor woman’s broths and potions, his intentions were evil. One of the most alarming features in this case is, that the poisoner had the discretion to avoid all violent, or heroic effects. You could not say that Mrs. James was poisoned on this day or that day in particular. She was afflicted with a somewhat sharp illness, and the poisoner assisted