and she had abandoned herself to the wildest terror and despair.  As soon as she could speak coherently, she implored the governor with frantic earnestness to send for me.  As this was not only quite useless in the opinion of that official, but against the rules, the prisoner’s request was not complied with.  The chaplain, however, thinking it might be as well that I should know of her desire to see me, had of his own accord sent me this note.  He thought that possibly the sheriffs would permit me to have a brief interview with the condemned prisoner in the morning, if I arrived sufficiently early; and although it could avail nothing as regarded her fate in this world, still it might perhaps calm the frightful tumult of emotion by which she was at present tossed and shaken, and enable her to meet the inevitable hour with fortitude and resignation.

It was useless to return to bed after receiving such a communication, and I forthwith dressed myself, determined to sit up and read, if I could, till the hour at which I might hope to be admitted to the jail, should strike.  Slowly and heavily the dark night limped away, and as the first rays of the cold wintry dawn reached the earth, I sallied forth.  A dense, brutal crowd were already assembled in front of the prison, and hundreds of well-dressed sight-seers occupied the opposite windows, morbidly eager for the rising of the curtain upon the mournful tragedy about to be enacted.  I obtained admission without much difficulty, but, till the arrival of the sheriffs, no conference with the condemned prisoners could be possibly permitted.  Those important functionaries happened on this morning to arrive unusually late, and I paced up and down the paved corridor in a fever of impatience and anxiety.  They were at last announced, but before I could, in the hurry and confusion, obtain speech of either of them, the dismal bell tolled out, and I felt with a shudder that it was no longer possible to effect my object.  “Perhaps it is better so,” observed the reverend chaplain, in a whisper.  “She has been more composed for the last two or three hours, and is now, I trust, in a better frame of mind for death.”  I turned, sick at heart, to leave the place, and in my agitation missing the right way, came directly in view of the terrible procession.  Jane Eccles saw me, and a terrific scream, followed by frantic heart-rending appeals to me to save her, burst with convulsive effort from her white quivering lips.  Never will the horror of that moment pass from my remembrance.  I staggered back, as if every spasmodic word struck me like a blow; and then, directed by one of the turnkeys, sped in an opposite direction as fast as my trembling limbs could carry me—­the shrieks of the wretched victim, the tolling of the dreadful bell, and the obscene jeers and mocks of the foul crowd through which I had to force my way, evoking a confused tumult of disgust and horror in my brain, which, if long continued, would have driven me mad.  On reaching home, I was bled freely, and got to bed.  This treatment, I have no doubt, prevented a violent access of fever; for, as it was, several days passed before I could be safely permitted to re-engage in business.