I made no remark, and the man was removed to the cells.  Very humanely the chaplain went to the prisoner and endeavoured to bring him to a proper state of mind with regard to his impending fate.

On the day appointed for the execution I received by post a long letter from the clergyman, enclosing another written on prison paper.

The letter was to tell me that for ten days he could make no impression on the condemned man; but on the tenth or twelfth day he expressed his sincere sorrow that he had cursed me for passing on him the sentence he had so well deserved, and his great desire was to make a humble apology to me in person.  He was told that that was impossible, as I could not come to him, nor could he go to me.  Whereupon he begged to be allowed to write this humble apology.  This he was permitted to do, and the letter from the culprit, who was hanged that morning, I was reading at the very moment of his execution.  It contained, I believe, sincere expressions of contrition for the cruel deed he had done, but was mostly taken up with apologies to me for having cursed me after advising him to prepare for the doom that awaited him.  He begged my forgiveness, which, I need not say, I freely gave.

CHAPTER XLVII

A FAREWELL MEMORY OF JACK.

Poor little Jack is dead!

It is a real grief to me.  A more intelligent, faithful, and affectionate creature never had existence, and to him I have been indebted for very many of the happiest hours of my life.

Poor dear little Jack! he lived with me for many years; and at last, I believe, some miscreant poisoned him, for he was taken very ill with symptoms of strychnine, and died in a few hours in the early morning of May 24, 1894.  I was with him when he died.

I never replaced him, and to this hour have never ceased to be sad when I think of the merciless and cruel fate by which the ruffian put an end to his dear little life.

He was buried under some shrubs in Hyde Park, where I hope he sleeps the sleep of good affectionate dogs.

It is ten years ago, and yet there is no abatement of my love for him, hardly any of my sorrow.  He always occupied the best seat in the Sheriff’s carriage on circuit, and looked as though he felt it was his right.  He slept by my side on a little bed of his own.  At Norwich, I think, he made his first appearance in state.  The moment he entered the house he appropriated to himself the chair of state, which had been provided by the local upholsterer for the express use of Queen Alexandra, then Princess of Wales, on her first visit to Norwich to confer honour and happiness on Queen Victoria’s subjects in the eastern counties.