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to be sure! Ah! little did I once think that ever Tom Bragwell would have turned out a murderer!
I intimated to him that I had already learned part of his history, and wished to be farther informed as to some farther particulars of it from himself. To this request he readily assented; and the details he communicated, were indeed a striking illustration of the progress of vice—of the fatal consequences that result from Idleness and Disobedience to Parents—and that, the way of transgressors is hard.
On the morning of the execution, the sun arose in clouds, and, as if nature herself wished to add to the solemnity of the scene, a gloomy darkness, and unusual stillness in the atmosphere, marked the approach of the hour in which Tom Bragwell was doomed to pay the forfeit of his crimes.
I had taken my station in the window of a friend’s house that overlooked the place of execution, so that I could notice all that passed, without being exposed to the inconvenience of a mob; and here I had not long remained before the gate of death opened, and the mournful procession, in slow and solemn steps, moved forward from the jail to the scaffold—Alas! in what a pitiful plight f appeared poor Bragwell.
How, now, was the crest of the boastful hero fallen!—Unable to stand, he was borne forward between two of the officers of justice, and placed I beneath the halter; but he sunk from their grasp at the instant that a loud peal of thunder shook the heavens; and he may be said to have been literal-
