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Updated: September 1, 2025
ON Sunday morning, when the church bells in Stoniton were ringing for morning service, Bartle Massey re-entered Adam's room, after a short absence, and said, "Adam, here's a visitor wants to see you." Adam was seated with is back towards the door, but he started up and turned round instantly, with a flushed face and an eager look.
NEAR sunset that evening an elderly gentleman was standing with his back against the smaller entrance-door of Stoniton jail, saying a few last words to the departing chaplain.
But the sound of the next witness's voice touched a chord that was still sensitive, she gave a start and a frightened look towards him, but immediately turned away her head and looked down at her hands as before. This witness was a man, a rough peasant. He said: "My name is John Olding. I am a labourer, and live at Tedd's Hole, two miles out of Stoniton.
Unless she could afford always to go in the coaches and she felt sure she could not, for the journey to Stoniton was more expensive than she had expected it was plain that she must trust to carriers' carts or slow waggons; and what a time it would be before she could get to the end of her journey!
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