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where the sexton was digging a grave, and throwing up a skull, the doctor took it up and found a rusty headless nail sticking in the temple, which he drew out secretely, and wrapt it up in the corner of his handkerchief. He then demanded of the grave-digger whether he knew whose skull that was. He said it was a man’s who kept a brandy shop; an honest, drunken fellow; who one night having taken two quarts, was found dead in his bed next morning. Had he a wife? Yes. What character does she bear? A very good one: only the neighbours reflect on her because she married the day after her husband was buried. This was enough for the doctor, who, under the pretence of visiting his parishioners, called on her: he asked her several questions, and among others, what sickness her husband died of. She giving him the same account he had before received, he suddenly opened the handkerchief, and cried in an authoritative voice, "Woman do you know this nail?" She was struck with horror at the unexpected demand, instantly owned the fact, was tried, and executed.
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This barbarous massacre, which took place in the reign of William the Third, has, above every other act of his reign, sullied the memory of that otherwise illustrious monarch. That he signed the warrant for this shocking execution is indisputable; as he himself did not deny it, but pretended, in vindication of himself, that he
