But the parting with his wife and children.  What pen can describe that terrible interview!  They knelt in prayer, their wobegone countenances suffused in tears, and with hands clasped convulsively together.  The scene was too harrowing and sacred for the eye of a stranger.  I rushed from the cell, and buried myself in my lodgings, whence I did not remove till all was over.  Next day James Harvey, a victim of circumstantial evidence, and of a barbarous criminal code, perished on the scaffold.

Three weeks afterwards, the court arrived at a populous city in the west of England.  It had in the interval visited another assize town, and there Judge A ——­ had left three for execution.  At the trials of these men, however, I had not attended.  So shocked had been my feelings with the mournful event which had taken place at ------, that I had gone into Wales for the sake of change of scene.  After roaming about for a fortnight amidst the wild solitudes of Caernarvonshire, I took the stage for the city which I knew the court was to visit, and arrived on the day previous to the opening of the assizes.

“Well, are we to have a heavy calendar?” I inquired next morning of a brother barrister on entering the court.

“Rather light for a March assize,” replied the impatient counsel as he bustled onward.  “There’s Cartwright’s case—­highway robbery—­in which I am for the prosecution.  He’ll swing for it, and perhaps four or five others.”

“A good hanging judge is A ——­,” said the under-sheriff, who at this moment joined us, rubbing his hands, as if pleased with the prospect of a few executions.  “No chance of the prophecy yonder coming to pass I suppose?”

“Not in the least,” replied the bustling counsel.  “He never looked better.  His illness has gone completely off.  And this day’s work will brighten him up.”

Cartwright’s trial came on.  I had never seen the man before, and was not aware that this was the same person whom Harvey had incidentally told me he had discharged for theft; the truth being, that till the last moment of his existence, that unfortunate man had not known how much he had been a sacrifice to this wretch’s malice.

The crime of which the villain now stood accused was that of robbing a farmer of the paltry sum of eight shillings, in the neighborhood of Ilfracombe.  He pleaded not guilty, but put in no defence.  A verdict was recorded against him, and in due form A ——­ sentenced him to be hanged.  An expression of fiendish malignancy gleamed over the haggard features of the felon as he asked leave to address a few words to the court.  It was granted.  Leaning forward, and raising his heavy, scowling eyes to the judge, he thus began:—­“There is something on my mind, my lord—­a dreadful crime—­which, as I am to die for the eight shillings I took from the farmer, I may as well confess.  You may remember Harvey, my lord, whom you hanged the other day at—?”

“What of him, fellow?” replied the judge, his features suddenly flushing crimson.