On one occasion she ran down to her mother's, with her face bleeding; but I went to bed.

When I woke, I saw she was not there, so I went out and got drunk.

I came home and got a large carving-knife, put it up my sleeve, and went down to her mother's, with the intention of killing her; but they saw the knife.

The police were called in, and I was taken to Spitalfields Station.

But no one coming to press the charge, I got off.
"Eight years ago God thought fit to lay me on a bed of sickness for thirteen weeks, and I was given up by all the doctors.