lsea, and across a canal of which the bed has
since been used for the railway terminating at Victoria Station, there
was at the time of which we speak a rude timber footway, long since
replaced by a more substantial and convenient erection, but then known
as the Wooden Bridge. It was named shortly afterward Cutthroat Bridge,
and for this reason.

While Mr. Fiddyes and Dr. Carnell were discoursing over their wine, as
we have already seen, one Peter Starke, a drunken Chelsea pensioner, was
murdering his wife upon the spot we have last indicated. The coincidence
was curious.

* * * * *

In those days the punishment of criminals followed closely upon their
conviction. The Chelsea pensioner whom we have mentioned was found
guilty one Friday and sentenced to die on the following Monday. He was a
sad scoundrel, impenitent to the last, glorying in the deeds of
slaughter which he had witnessed and acted during the series of
campaigns which had ended just previously at Waterloo. He was a tall,
well-built fellow enough, of middle age, for his class was not then, as
now, composed chiefly of veterans, but comprised many young men, just
sufficiently disabled to be unfit for service. Peter Starke, although
but slightly wounded, had nearly completed his term of service, and had
obtained his pension and presentment to Chelsea Hospital. With his life
we have but little to do, save as regards its close, which we shall
shortly endeavor to describe far more veraciously, and at some greater
length than set forth in the brief account which satisfied the public of
his own day, and which, as embodied in the columns of the few journals
then appearing, ran thus:

"On Monday last Peter Starke was executed at Newgate for the
murder at the Wooden Bridge, Chelsea, with four others for
various offences. After he had been hanging only for a few
minutes a respite arrived, but although he was promptly cut
down, life was pronounced to be extinct. His body was buried
within the prison walls."

Thus far history. But the conciseness of history far more frequently
embodies falsehood than truth. Perhaps the following narration may
approach more nearly to the facts.

A room within the prison had been, upon that special occasion and by
high authority, allotted to the use of Dr. Carnell and Mr. Fiddyes, the
famous sculptor, for the purpose of certain investigations connected
with art and science. In t