instantaneous fall of rain which washed the dying exit of the prisoner from human sight, half drowned the spectators, and added to the gloominess of the scene. John Healey was a m a n of stout build, ruddy complexion, pock-pitted, and dark haired. H e was a native of M a y o (AVest of Ireland), born in 1806, and on the 13th March, 1832, was tried at Sligo for stealing an ass, and, on conviction, was sentenced to seven years' transportation, leaving a wife and child behind. H e was forwarded to N e w South AATales, and arrived in Sydney per the convict ship " Portland " in 1833. THE " PENTONVILLIAN " MURDERER.—IST AUGUST, 1848.
Augustus Dauncey, the young Pentonville "exile," sentenced to death for the murder of a younger companion, lay in the condemned cell. His youth and intelligence, and the cool recklessness of his conduct, attracted a good deal of public attention. T h e prisoner was condemned on the 16th June, and on the 18th July, Dr. Perry (the Anglican Bishop) visited the gaol, where service was performed, and in an interview with the prisoner expressed a few kind words of admonition, but was coolly assured that " he might spare himself the trouble, as he (Dauncey) knew all that before." This was not said in a jaunty or impudent tone, but as if giving expression to what he believed to be the truth. T h e order for the execution was received in Melbourne at 11 a.m. on the 18th July, and the Sheriff (Mr. Alastair M'Kenzie), a timid, well-meaning mite of a Scotchman, proceeded forthwith to communicate the ultimatum of the Executive. Dauncey heard this with the utmost unconcern, and said, " O h , this is only what I expected. I knew very well it would happen; 1 expected to die a fortnight ago. I assure you, sir, I feel both happy and comfortable, and calculate to go to heaven right off, as I a m innocent." T h e Sheriff remonstrated with the prisoner upon such indifference to his terrible position, but Dauncey told him he might m a k e himself easy on that score ; and he would save time and trouble by quietly " shutting up." Hoyvever, he would thank him very m u c h for a bit of tobacco, for it was the only consolation he cared about. This was a quietus for the Sheriff, w h o withdrew rather unceremoniously. Dauncey was m a d e aware that he was to be executed on the ist August, and when a turnkey brought him his dinner shortly after, he carelessly remarked, " All I shall have is thirteen dinners more." T h e next day he said, " T h e dinners are now down to twelve;" and so on at dinner-time every day he noted the gradually numerical diminution. T h e Rev. Mr. Thomson, Episcopalian minister, was in daily attendance at the condemned cell, but his ministrations were useless, for the prisoner was unwilling to speak on the subject of the murder, and whenever that was mooted, he promptly, and indeed pertly, changed the discourse. Singularly enough, Dauncey, whilst in gaol, read regularly from Bible and Prayer-book; and notwithstanding his sang froid by day, he was subject to frequent nocturnalfitsof insomnia, and declared that something was about to catch him. Phantoms of every conceivable shape filled the room, and prominent amongst them yvas the bloody corpse of Lucke. O n one occasion he remarked " that he might blame himself for being hanged, for if he had not stated that he had seen Lucke on the day of the murder, nothing could have happened to him." O n Sunday, before the execution, the Rev. Mr. Thomson preached a " condemned sermon." Dauncey never looked towards the preacher. U p to the day preceding the execution there was no falling off in his appetite, and he consumed not only his ordinary rations, but also some extras supplied through the Rev. M r . Thomson. H e begged the Chaplain to procure him a pair of white trousers and a white shirt, in which to die decently, and his requirements were satisfied. H e declared " that when on the drop he should take good care and let the people know something." But he felt a strong presentiment that he should be reprieved, and the Chaplain found him in a state of mind extremely indisposed to listen to religious consolation. H e told the reverend gentleman point blank that remonstrances were useless, for he was positively certain that a something or other would intervene to stay the arm of the law. During the last night one of the prisoners was posted in the condemned cell, but both sentinel and criminal fell asleep. O n awaking, Dauncey said, " I was never so happy in m y life as this moment, and the reason is, because I a m as innocent as a child unborn of the offence for which m y life is to be forfeited." T o this the sentinel rejoined, " I a m equally innocent of the offence for which I a m punished; and I shall be going out on Thursday." "Ah, but," responded Dauncey, " I shall have the start of you, for I shall be going out to-morroyv morning." Dauncey arose at 6.30 a.m, and was un-ironed at 7. H e then with a vigorous appetite tackled a breakfast, one of the elements
