HANGED FOR A POST-OFFICE ROBBERY.

Lake Wakatip Mail, Volume I, Issue 33, 22 August 1863, Page 3

HANGED FOR A POST-OFFICE ROBBERY.

(From Temple Bar.)

It's not more than sixty years ago that a banker's parcel, containing notes to the amount of several hundred pounds, was posted at the Bath post-office, addressed to London, and never arrived. The failure was made known in due course; inquiries were set on foot, and it was found that one of the notes, for a large amount, had been changed at a jeweller's shop in London on the day when the letter should be delivered. The character of the jeweller—his name, I think, was Stanmore—stood far too high to allow of suspicion resting on him. He declared that he had himself served the man who had changed the note; that he had supplied him with certain articles of jewellery, to any one of which he could swear; and that he thought he could swear to the identity of the purchaser, whomhe described as a farmer. Mr. Stanmore was then taken to Bath, and shown all the persons engaged in the post-office, but could not identify any of them; they were all men of good character. The postmaster —as is the case with places like Bath—was a leader amongst the townspeople; and the keenest scrunity of Townsend and some of the other leading ' robin redbreasts' from Bow-street, failed in discovering where or by whom the letter was stolen. Mr. Stanmore returned to town; but not without having contracted a strong liking for the postmaster —a feeling which was reciprocated, and which was based on the fact that they were both devoted to fishing. " There is something," observed Mr. Lamb parenthetically—"something marvellously fascinating in fishing, whatever sized prey you angle for." Mr. Stanmore left Bath, intending to return when the mellow autumn days should promise abundant sport; and he kept his word. Seven or eight months after his first visit he returned to Bath, and took up his quarters at his new friend's house.

The next morning—dark and hazy, such as old Izaak would have loved—the pair set forth to a noted water within some few miles of the town, and fished for several hours. Then when he saw his friend's casts losing somewhat of their energy, and his aim becoming less accurate, the hospitable postmaster led him to a neighbouring inn, where dinner had already been ordered, and where the landlord honored his guests by bringing in the first dish with his own hands. When he retired, Mr. Stanmore rose from his chair, hurriedly locked the door, and rushing over to the astonished postmaster, exclaimed, 'That—that is the man who changed the stolen note! I thought I recognized his face; but I am convinced of his identity—on his watch chain I saw hanging a seal which I myself sold him!' After a rapid consultation they determined on ringing the bell. It was answered by a servant girl; but they told her they wanted to consult the landlord about some wine, and begged that he would come to them. In a few minutes the landlord came. Immediately on his appearance they both looked at his watchchain—the seal was gone! " Time's nearly up, and I've got to pack my clothes/ said Mr. Lamb, finishing his wine; 'so to make a long story short, the landlord was arrested, the seal was found in a dust heap at the back of the house, the man was proved to have called at the post office on the day of the theft, to have been admitted into the sorting room while he held a conversation with one of the clerks, and ultimately he confessed that he had stolen the parcel out of a pigeon-hole in the desk, had gone up to London (as was frequently his custom) by the night mail, and had changed one of the notes at Mr Stanmore's shop. For this crime he was hanged; but so great a commotion was raised about the severity of the punishment, that the law on this point was speedily altered.