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Updated: May 27, 2025
Bambridge had been accommodating enough not only to trust him for the hire of horses and the accidental expense of ruining a fine hunter, but also to make a small advance by which he might be able to meet some losses at billiards. The total debt was a hundred and sixty pounds.
The next day, the same committee went a second time to the Fleet prison, where, upon complaint made to them that Sir William Rich was again put in irons, they made report thereof to the House of Commons, who thereupon ordered Mr. Bambridge, the warden of the Fleet, to be taken into the custody of their sergeant at arms. "On Thursday, the 20th of March, Mr.
The first of these appeared at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, so early as the month of October. It consisted of the Rev. William Turner, as chairman, and of Robert Ormston, William Batson, Henry, Taylor, Ralph Bambridge, George Brown, Hadwen Bragg, David Sutton, Anthony Clapham, George Richardson, and Edward Prowit. It received a valuable addition afterwards by the admission of many others.
Lydgate was playing well, and felt confident; the bets were dropping round him, and with a swift glancing thought of the probable gain which might double the sum he was saving from his horse, he began to bet on his own play, and won again and again. Mr. Bambridge had come in, but Lydgate did not notice him.
A bill was brought in, disabling Bambridge to execute the office of warden; another for the better regulating the prison of the Fleet, and for more effectually preventing and punishing arbitrary and illegal practices of the warden of the said prison.*
Oglethorpe, by direction of the committee, it was unanimously resolved to address his Majesty that he would be graciously pleased to direct his Attorney General forthwith to prosecute, in the most effectual manner, the said Thomas Bambridge, John Higgins, James Barnes, William Pindar, John Everett, and Thomas King for their said crimes.
Bambridge would gratify them by being shot "from here to Hereford." Also, a pair of blacks which he was going to put into the break recalled vividly to his mind a pair which he had sold to Faulkner in '19, for a hundred guineas, and which Faulkner had sold for a hundred and sixty two months later any gent who could disprove this statement being offered the privilege of calling Mr.
But inspiration could hardly have served him better. Lydgate had not before seen that Fred was present, and his sudden appearance with an announcement of Mr. Farebrother had the effect of a sharp concussion. "No, no," said Lydgate; "I have nothing particular to say to him. But the game is up I must be going I came in just to see Bambridge."
Bambridge drive up, noted the crowd follow him about the farm, like black flies, and felt himself a man at his own funeral. The hour was dark enough. In the ear of his mind he listened to the auctioneer's hammer, like a death-bell, beating away all that he possessed.
They began with the Fleet-prison, which they visited in a body; there they found sir William Rich, baronet, loaded with irons, by order of Bambridge the warden, to whom he had given some slight cause of offence. They made a discovery of many inhuman barbarities which had been committed by that ruffian, and detected the most iniquitous scenes of fraud, villany, and extortion.
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