Shortly after 8am on Tuesday, July 23rd 1912 – the sound of the tolling bell from inside Stangeways Gaol closed the final chapter of a story that first began in the cotton manufacturers of Jubilee Mill in early May of the same year.

Outside the walls of the prison, over 700 people, mainly women, had  congregated outside to show their disproval at the sentence handed down  to 22 year old Arthur Birkett and as the sound of the bell echoed inside the cold, damp walls of the prison, tears flowed not only in Manchester but also on the streets of Blackburn as hundreds of well-wishers and supporters had made their way to Birkett’s home at number 54 Riley Street.

From 7am that morning, there where pitiful scenes outside his house as supporters sang hymns that included “Nearer, my God, to Thee” and “Safe in the arms of Jesus” as well as “God be with you till we meet again” and inside the house, Mrs Birkett and Arthurs brother as well as Mrs Beetham (Isobella) were being comforted by the Reverand F. G. Chevassut.

Many women began weeping as a Salvation Army officer  mounted a chair and began conducting a service near the front door and  when Birkett’s mother and brother both came outside, their tear stained  faces showing extreme signs of distress, the crowd could not hide their  grief, singing even louder as the music to “Nearer, my God, to Thee” began to play once more.

But behind all this emotion and indeed sadness lies a truly horrific tale that began, simply, because of rejection.

97 years ago, the residents of Burnley were shocked to the core after  one of worst tragedies to befall them occurred on a wintery, cold  mid-day on the 21st December 1923.

Burnley Corporation Tramcar Number 10, which was being driven by 47 year old, William Norris,  had been out in use over in nearby Rosegrove before making its return  to Lane Head.  It had been a relatively normal morning, and just like  most other days, no issues with the tramcar had been reported either  prior to leaving the depot or during its use that day.

Norris had taken over the tram at around 11.15am at Duke Bar, Burnley before making his way up towards Rosegrove, leaving the Burnley Centre for Harle Syke at 11.55am.

Outside, it had been a cold morning with snow and ice patches forming  on the roads and Norris was aware of the risks posed to the tramcar and  therefore, journeys between the stops had taken a little longer than  normal due to the poor travelling conditions.

Also out that day was 37 year old, Charles Lofthouse,  a lorry driver working on behalf of haulage contractors, Messrs. John  Stanworth and Bros, and he himself had been having some issues with the  icy conditions, also at times being delayed visiting the mills he was  delivering too, such as Spen Brook Mill which was further afield over at  Newchurch-in-Pendle.

Approaching from the direction of Harle Syke, he was  driving a wagon that was carrying a load of cloth weighing roughly 5  tons as he turned off Marsden Road and onto the incline of Briercliffe  Road.  It was just after noon and the area was becoming busy due to some  children from nearby schools making their way to the stops to await the  arrival of the tramcar.

Making its way slowly up Briercliffe Road and towards the junction  leading onto Marsden Road, William Norris slowed the tram down as it  approached what was known as the ‘roll over’.  Coming in the opposite  direction,  Charles Lofthouse was making his way down the incline on the  opposite side of the road.

Knowing how poor the road conditions where, Lofthouse was  intermittently pressing down on the breaks, trying to keep his wagon  from gaining speed, but as the wagon and the tramcar came within a few  feet of each other, the rear of the wagon began to waver.  Panicking,  Lofthouse pressed down harder on the breaks but it was too late.

The wagon began to veer from side-to-side.

Out of control, it collied with the tram, smashing into the cabin  windows on the drivers right hand side.  Glass shattered onto several of  the passengers and a metal side bar buckled with the impact.

Six bundles of cloth where flung from the wagon’s flatbed as the  vehicle shunted forwards several feet before coming to a standstill,  with one front wheel mounting a footpath and the other resting next to  the kerb.

The impact was so strong that it had managed to push the tram backwards which forced it to slowly roll back down the tracks.

Two of the passengers on board where those of Jennie Eastwood and  Gracie Whittaker, both of whom were travelling on the lower deck.   Immediately after the collision, Gracie shouted over to Jennie, “Come  along, Jenny!” but Jennie replied back, “No, I’m frightened!”

Norris then shouted to conductor, William Simpson, to, “Look after that child!”.

Just before 6.30am on Sunday, 29th September 1895, the residents of Shakespeare Street in Padiham were awoken from their early morning slumber by the shouts of "murder!" coming from somewhere on the back streets.

Inside number 24, 41 year old Mary Ann Marsden was  making her way down from her bedroom, dazed and in some considerably  pain, and as she stumbled out onto the cobbled pathway, neighbours, who  had rushed out from their beds to see what the commotion was, froze in  fear at the sight that confronted them.

Covered in blood and holding a hatchet, Mary walked a few steps before  finally succumbing to the shock and obvious pain she was suffering from.

Mary and William Marsden had been married for around 18  years and apart from the last twelve months, where they had been living  together in a relatively happy fashion, they had been separated for the  previous ten years due to an argument attributed to Williams health.

At the age of 19, William suffered from a fall that left him with a  serious head injury which in turn, would lead to a life suffering from  severe depression as well as the odd violent outburst.  Attended by Dr.  Duerdan, he spent his early years living in Great Harwood where he would  eventually meet Mary and they would eventually go on to being married.

Unfortunately, after five years of marriage, Mary and William would  separate and William would go on to live with his sister in Great  Harwood before relocating to Padiham to live with Mr and Mrs Lingard,  partners of Jubilee Mill, where he was employed as a weaver.    Meanwhile, Mary had moved in with her mother, Catherine, who also lived in Padiham.

When Mrs. Lingard passed away several years later, Mary took William  back and both lived together at number 24 Shakespeare Street, only a few  minutes' walk from where he worked at nearby Jubilee Mill.

William was a quiet, inoffensive man and was much respected by all those  he came in contact with.  He was at one time a drummer for the  Salvation Army Brass Band, being one of the last to walk behind them  when participating in a procession.

On Thursday, 26th September 1895, William visited his sister in Great Harwood, but feeling unwell he told her his head was "like a lump of wood!" and that he could never remember things.  He would also tell her, "I would give £1,000 if my head was right."

Acting and sounding strange, as well as looking lost, his sister was  worried about his mental state of health but rather than try and seek  help, William left shortly after to make his way back home.

Prior to this visit, Mary, William and their only son, 16 years old Joseph spent a week in Blackpool on the advice of Dr. Grant, who had been treating William for melancholy for the past 3 weeks.  He thought a break would help William.

But unfortunately, on the 29th September, just one week after their  mini-break, things would take a terrible change for the worse.

“The Burnley Sensation” as it was now becoming known had caused a great stir not only in Burnley but also that of Manchester and  not even the hustle and bustle of daily life could conceal the fact  that something of unusual importance was about to take place, and on  Friday the 6th October 1893, Minshull Police Court in Manchester would be the setting of what was quickly escalating into the crime of the decade.

The public’s appetite for curiosity had been whetted by recent  ‘rumours’ that sensational new evidence had been found that would  incriminate both Ashworth Read and Elizabeth Remington for the willful murder of a child and as people made their way to the  court house, the only topic of conversation on their lips was, where  they innocent or guilty of murder?

Minshull Street Police Station was already packed with groups of  people all eager to hear the lurid details of the case hours before the  trial started and as soon as the doors were opened, the spacious  corridors and staircases leading to the Court were quickly filled and  the limited allocation of seats provided for the public gallery would  soon be occupied.  As the morning advanced, more and more people all  made their way to the court house.  This was a case that no-one wanted  to miss!

Taking to their seats, members of the press where first into the  court but seats at a premium, those unlucky enough to arrive late argued  with officials, with pushing and shoving taking hold as tempers flared.

Next, the police officials involved in the case would make their appearance.  Chief Detective Inspector Caminada flitted in and out of the room, seemingly making sure all of his  members of staff where ready.  Showing an air of authority, he was  described by one journalist as being a pleasant looking dark haired,  bearded man with an open face and intellectual expression

With everyone now in place, the only people next to attend the session where those of Ashworth Read and Elizabeth Remington.

However, Mr. William Cobbett, prosecuting on behalf  of the police would attend and would ask the judge that the case against  Read and Remington may be called in order that he might make an  application for a remand.  At this point, the members of press looked  around, stunned at what they were hearing.  Nothing was known to any of  them and the request for a remand seemed to literally come out of  nowhere.

A hush came over the gallery as the name ‘Read’ was made out.  A few  seconds later and the footsteps of newcomers into the court could be  heard making their way into the dock.

Standing with their heads bent down, Read and Remington appeared to  the wide eyed open spectators all yearning for the details of their  crime to be heard in detail for the first time.

Elizabeth was a well-built, tall looking young woman and it was  clearly obvious to all that she had been crying for some considerable  time.  Each time she wiped away the tears from her face, more appeared  just as quickly.  Her face was slightly obscured by a hat trimmed with  velvet, relieved by a small feather and the upper portion of her body  was covered in a grey looking shawl that covered her neck and jaw line.

Stood next to her was Ashworth Read, dressed in a smart looking brown  suit that gave the impression of a successful business man and an aura  of authority.  His thin, shallow face was partially covered with a long  beard and it seemed that recent events had given him a haggard  appearance.

Accrington during the mid-to-late 1800’s had managed to find itself immune from murder whilst all around them in places such as Haslingden, Blackburn and Burnley had  for some strange reason found themselves to be hotbeds for crimes that many seemed beyond comprehension.

And whilst a serious crime that had resulted in the murder of a little girl named Henrietta Leaver had occurred in 1881, Accrington had been a relatively quiet town in terms of murder.

But this would come to a shuddering halt when, on Tuesday the 18th  September 1894, a tragedy would rock the town and especially the  residents living along Hyndburn Road.

Elizabeth Greenwood, sister-in-law of Mrs. Alice Hannah Farrar of number 43 Hyndburn Road, after having passed by Mrs. Farrar’s house  at around 8.30am, had noticed that the blinds in the windows were still  down, and knowing that the children’s school was some distance away, it  was out of character for the house to seem dormant at that time of  morning.   Elizabeth, curious as to why the house seemed so silent made  her way to the front door but despite knocking several times, she got no  answer.

Having no joy, she made her way to a neighbours house, and upon acquiring a key from a lady  by the name of Mary Elizabeth Jackson,  she opened the front door and along with Mary, they made their way in.   After looking and finding no-one around, both women then made their way  upstairs and to the dreadful scenes from within the front bedroom.

Shocked by what they had found, Elizabeth and Mary ran down the  stairs and out into the street, with Elizabeth shouting, “She has killed  her children!”

James Fell, a labourer from number 47, alarmed by  the loud screaming that was coming from outside, left his house and made  his way down towards number 43.

Nearby, a corporation workman who was making his way along the  thoroughfare also heard the agonizing screams,  and without having to  enter the house, he had a horrible feeling something was seriously  wrong.  He quickly made his way towards Blackburn Road where he met  police sergeant, Robert Bale.

Bale hastily made his way to Hyndburn Road and to number 43 which was  by this time surrounded by a large number of people.  Upon entering the  house and rushing up to the bedrooms, he was confronted with an  unspeakably horrific sight.

Lying on a bed, and at the nearest side to the bedroom door was eight  year old, Esther Hannah Farrar.  Her throat had been cut and it was  obvious she was dead.  Next to her lay two other girls, Elizabeth and  Isabella, aged six and four respectively, also with their throats cut  and with an open razor covered in blood lying next to Isabella.   Luckily, both Elizabeth and Isabella, had survived the attack on them –  just!

At the foot of the bed, Alice Ann Farrar, mother to the girls, was  found to be laying down.  Her clothes covered in blood and she seemed to  have a rope tied tightly around her neck.

On Sunday, 6th August 1893, three brothers who resided in Blackley, a small suburb of Manchester that  has historically been classed as being in Lancashire, set off from  their homes to pick blackberries from nearby Crab Lane.  Their trip  however was cut short when a sudden shower caused them to seek shelter  in an area known as Dark Hole Clough.

Rambling through a plantation, the boys stopped to take cover under  the canopy of trees but one of them, 12 years old Alfred Shorrocks,  seeing a red flower in front of him left his friends to pick it.

Next to the flower and underneath some small shrubs and leaves was a  brown looking parcel.  Excited by his find, he ran back to his two  brothers to tell them of his find.  All three boys then went back to  where the parcel was laying, and with curiosity getting the better of  them, one of them looked around for a stick that he would use to try and  prise it open.

Slowly, the small cap of a child peeked through the small opening of  the parcel.  What they had stumbled upon was that of the body of a fully  clothed baby boy.

50 year old, Ashworth Read, married and with three children, was a well-known and well respected manufacturer and waste dealer from Burnley.   Over the years he had built up several businesses and was so successful  that he could afford to have two houses built on Brookland’s Road,  Burnley.  Not just for himself and his family but also that of his  mother and father.

He would often spend many long hours working into the late evening  and during the day he would spend a lot of his time traversing from  Burnley to Manchester to attend meetings on a regular basis.

As for Elizabeth Remington, little is known but what  we do know is that she had moved from Kirkby Lonsdale, Cumbria where  she was already engaged to a man from Penrith by the name of Albert Barnesley, and she was around 25 years old when she was employed as a domestic servant within the Read’s home in July 1889.

Over the years, it seems Ashworth and Elizabeth had become close in  ways which should never have happened and by the end of April 1893 she  had started to become withdrawn and seemed to be in a distracted state  of mind.

Speaking to her stepmother, Frances Remington on  Tuesday 9th May, Elizabeth said that she had had a row with Mr. Read and  would therefore be going away for a while to which Frances proposed  Morecambe as being the ideal place to visit.

Frances would later go on to say that she remembered seeing Elizabeth  looking rather stoutly, but put this down to her possibly having  ‘dropsy’, a medical condition characterized by the accumulation of  watery fluid in the body, and which also took the life of her father  some years before.  She even went to a chemist on the 6th May for  medication to help her stepdaughter.

And having spoken to Elizabeth on the 9th May, Frances told Elizabeth  that on her return from Morecambe, she was to come back home, to number  8 Townley Street, Burnley Lane where she would look after her.

Two days later, the 11th May, Elizabeth left the Read’s residence.   She didn’t go to Morecambe, instead making her way to Manchester where  she would find lodgings at the Central Temperance Hotel on New Bridge Street.   It was owned by John and Mary King.  She told  the King’s that she had to be confined and that her husband, whilst a  mate of a vessel, had left her.  She also told them that she was in  domestic service for Mrs. Read in Burnley.

On Monday, 11th March 1907, Thomas Dennison was brought before the magistrates at Haslingden after having been charged on suspicion of murdering his wife, Margaret Dennison at some point during the evening of Saturday, 9th March.

Standing before the bench and facing Alderman Hamilton (Chairman) as  well as Messrs. Holt, Law and O.W. Porritt, Thomas showed little  agitation and when asked if he had anything to say, he simply replied,  “She did it herself.  I never touched woman.”

Thomas, aged 49 and Margaret Dennison, aged 56 had only recently  moved into the third floor of 10 Cob Castle, Hutch Bank the month before  on the 2nd February having previously spent time at Hoyle’s lodging  house in Haslingden.   Both had travelled over from the suburban area of  Idle in Bradford, Yorkshire during August of 1906.

On the afternoon of Saturday, 9th March, Thomas, whom had been  employed as a stonemason by the Bury and District Joint Water Board to  work on one of the reservoirs over Haslingden, Grane –  after having arrived back home he gave his wife Margaret, 8 shillings to  help buy groceries.   He then went off to help some other men remove a  hen-coop from an area known as Underbank and relocate it at Hutch Bank, both areas of which were close to where Thomas and Margaret lived.

By 5pm that afternoon, and having done his chores for the day, Thomas  made his way to his local pub which was situated at the end of Cob Castle Road.

The Dyer’s Arms (also known as “the Flip”) was a  small pub that saw plenty of trade by the way of local workers as it was  nicely situated within the middle of what was a heavily saturated area  of textile and cotton mills.  The landlord was also the ninth Mayor of  Haslingden, Robert Taylor.

Thomas spent the next three or so hours drinking and singing, with  one of his favourite songs being, “In days of old, when Knights were  bold” and it wasn’t until just after 7.30pm that Margaret would come  looking for him.

“Is Thomas ‘ere?”  she asked Taylor, landlord, to which he replied, “Yes.”

Noticing how wet she was, as rain had been falling for pretty much  the entirety of the day but had gotten much worse as the evening had  worn on, he asked her if should would like to go into a room, presumably  where there may have been a fire burning and she would have been able  to keep warm.

“Aye, I will stay a minute.” she told Taylor.

Whilst the landlord went to fetch her husband, Margaret sat herself  down and enjoyed a glass of stout which he had already poured for her.

Entering the taproom, Taylor informed Thomas that his wife was  waiting for him in the next room and Thomas replied, saying he would  first drink up his beer and then go.

Shortly after eight o’clock, Thomas and Margaret both left the Dyer’s  Arms and began to make their way up the relatively steep incline that  led to their home on Cob Castle Road.

The story begins during 1866 when a young Miles Weatherhill, a weaver  who lived with his mother and sister on Back Brook Street, Todmorden,  fell in love with Sarah Bell, a cook working for the Reverend Anthony  John Plow at the local vicarage.

A self-educated, well groomed, smart looking man, Miles had also  taken on a teaching role for a local Sunday School which was run by the  Reverend John Plow – and it would seem at this point in his life he had  everything to live for. He had a respected job, was well liked by most  of the people he came into contact with and he had fallen in love.

And whilst the months between 1866 leading up to November of 1867  would be filled with joy and hope for the future, his world would  ultimately come crashing down around him, escalating into violence and  with horrific consequences.

Sarah Elizabeth Bell had moved from York to work as a cook within the  vicarage that was occupied by the Reverend John Plow and his wife,  Harriet. Plow had promised her parents that he would look after Sarah,  as he would with his own children, so when Miles approached him to ask  for permission to court Sarah, Plow told Miles he would speak with his  wife Harriet and to seek her thoughts on the matter.

Miles was an intelligent man and wanted to do things the proper way  and to not go behind the back of Plow by dating Sarah without his  blessing, so as you can imagine, Miles was taken aback when, after  waiting a day or two for Plow’s answer only to be told that he and  Harriet had spoken about the matter and decided that it would be best  for Sarah never to meet with Miles again. He reasoned that not only was  their age an issue – Sarah was just 16 whereas Miles was 21 at the time –  but Plow also stated that he didn’t want a long courtship within his  home.

Stunned by this rejection, Miles went away fuming at the prospect of never being able to see Sarah again.

Meanwhile, Plow made it clear to Sarah that she had a job to do at  the vicarage and that she would not be allowed to meet with Miles ever  again.

At the start of 1876, within the small town of Blackburn, Lancashire –  Emily Mary Holland was just 7 years old when her life was taken away  from her by a local man by the name of WILLIAM FISH, a local barber who  lived on the same street as her and her parents.

Aged just 26, married and having two children of his own, he savagely  took the life of Emily after asking her to do an errand at the  tobacconist near to where they resided.

This crime came only second to that of the infamous Jack the Ripper  murders that came later in 1888 due to it’s barbarity and with a child  being at the center of such a crime, it made news headlines worldwide.

An intensive and at times exhausting police investigation took place  with many homeless people being arrested.  Although evidence against  them extremely poor leading to most, if not all of the men, being  released.

The murder of young Emily, whilst shocking an entire nation, also  became the first to be solved with the use of bloodhounds and it was one  such hound by the name of ‘Morgan’ that helped bring Fish to justice.

After seaching William Fish’ premises on the ground floor, it was when  he was sent upstairs to look for clues that the hound started to bark at  the chimney breast, alerting the police officers who, upon  investigating found the remains of Emily.

William Fish was instantly arrested and taken to Blackburn Town Hall  where he would be charged with the murder of Emily Holland.  Knowing his  time was up and that there was no getting away with the crime, Fish  wrote a statement detailing the exact details of his crime and how he  disposed of the body.

His trial would take place up until August 4th, where, after trying  to plead insanity, the jury found him guilty of wilful murder and the  judge sentanced him to death.

He would be executed the same month, on August 14th, by means of hanging.

It’s true to say that the North West of England and Lancashire in  particular has had its fair share when it comes to days of horror. From  murderous wives to the slaughtering of innocent children – Lancashire  has definitely seen some of the worst atrocities inflicted upon men,  women and children during the 19th Century.

Today’s story is no different, and for this we will be travelling  back to 1893 and into the cotton weaving capital of the world – Burnley.

On Thursday, 23rd March – 50 year old Eli Eastwood spent the day  trying to find new lodgings for himself and his paramour, Elizabeth  Longstaffe; and after speaking to a few people, he finally managed to  convince Joseph Clegg, owner of a number of dwellings in the Burnley  area, to let out number 70 Cog Lane.  This house was situated within a  heavily populated part of town, known as Gannow.

Eli Eastwood was not an easy man to get along with. As an habitual  drinker, he would often find himself worse for wear and during the early  years of their marriage, Eastwood and his wife, Elizabeth, would find  themselves moving up and down the country before finally settling down  in Wood Top, Burnley, sometime in the early part of the 1880s along with  their five children. Together, they had eight children but three had  already married and moved away.

Looking into Eastwood’s past, it seems he was always a man whose rage  would often get the better of him.  During the first week of April 1868  he was summoned into court after assaulting a lady by the name of Nancy  Catlow, with whom he had been living with on and off for 5 months in  Preston.  On the 1st April that year, he barged into her home at Archer  Clough, demanding that she “go with him!” Nancy told him he would be  better off with his wife, which seemed to agitate him to the point he  threw her down onto the floor before throttling her. Standing back up he  kicked her several times in the abdomen making her bleed from the  mouth. In court, he would say he was provoked into doing what he did  because Nancy refused to give him back his clothes.  However, the bench  didn’t see it this way, fining him 10 shillings in costs which had to be  paid in full within 14 days.

But it wasn’t always bad for Eastwood, as he had at some point in his  life managed to start his own profitable business as a hawker, selling  fried fish on the streets around Burnley and from all accounts he was a  savvy business man.

Despite his business doing well, things at home where never right.   His drinking and abusive ways would eventually become too much and when  his wife finally left him, it is thought that he had several hundred  pounds which he would waste by spending the majority of it on drinking.

And as for the separation from his wife, twelve months prior to the  events that would take place in 1893, a massive row between the pair led  to her leaving him, after having been threatened by the use of a  carving knife he picked up during another violent outburst.  Afraid of  what he would do to her, she fled Albany Terrace, where they then lived,  and took her children with her.