A very unusual kind of murder was committed last Sunday,
and discovered on Wednesday, a murder of his wife by the Rev. John Selby Watson, MA., a clergyman, and apparently a man of ability and learning, who has edited classical authors, translated and written books, and who, till last Christmas, was the bead master of Stockwell Grammar School. He murdered Mrs. Watson, by his own confession, " in a fit of rage, to which she provoked me," on the Sunday evening, while the only servant was out of the house. On her return he told her her mistress had gone out of town, and pointing out some blood-stains on the door, said they were due to port wino which she had spilt before leaving. He spent Monday and Tuesday in hesitation as to his future course, at one time, apparently, having contemplated sending the corpse away in a large deal box, which he had ordered of such a size that it would hold it in the crouching position in which the body was found, and then having changed his mind, wound up his affairs, and de- termined upon suicide. He seems to have obtained some prussic acid,—a weak solution,—to have written to the physician, Dr. Rugg, telling him of the murder and where the body of his wife would be found, to have enclosed the servant her wages, to have given various directions about his books, and then to have taken an insufficient dose of poison on Wednesday morning. When Dr. Rugg came, Mr. Watson was insensible, but not dead. His confession was read, the body found, and he was restored. The examination before the magistrates and inquest took place on Thursday, but the former was adjourned to next Thursday, and the latter to next Monday. There is nothing at present to show insanity, and oddly enough, the servant's evidence was that Mr. and Mrs. Watson had lived quite happily together. They had apparently been to church together on the day of the murder.
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