standing, they seem paralleled by the equality of their sentence.

The life of a man is so infinitely of more value than his beast or his moveable, that whenever I see the sufferings of pinched and hunger-starved wretches under the agonies of an execution, for having robbed perhaps to avoid famishing; I find myself oppressed by a grief, which nothing mitigates but this reflection -that their lives were exposed to such extremities of want and misery, that their death should be a comfort. And yet, the long-protracted gazings, the paleness, the tremblings, and the ghastly distorted faces, of the poor departing strugglers (who die with strong reluctance, and linger and lengthen out their last painful moment), make it evident to the beholders, that, unfriendly as the world was to them, they are not willing to forsake it.

I am convinced that if it were possible to see, on some such plain as that of Salisbury, under one assembled prospect, the whole number of men and women who have been executed for theft only, in all the counties of this kingdom, within the memory of any person of but a moderate advance in years; such a dreadful demonstration of the waste which is made by sweep of the sword of justice, would be a

this

startling inducement to those, whose province it is known to be to weigh with pity and deliberation, whether punishments more adequate, and more politic too, than death, might not easily be appropriated to a number of petty crimes, which ever were, and ever must be, unavoidably frequent in all peopled places; being the necessary consequences, either of the wants, or the depravity, of the lowest part of the human species.

One evening, very lately, all my neighbourhood, in Barbican, were in an uproar on a sudden; and I was disturbed in my meditations by the shrieking of a woman, the mixed cries of children, and a growing hum of concourse, that seemed close under my window.-I threw aside my pipe, and hastening to look out, saw the street entirely filled by a group of dismal faces, that had gathered themselves into a tumult about a house directly opposite, and appeared to be touched, as strongly as common natures are capable, with a mixture of surprise and sorrow. It seems, the husband of a laborious poor creature, who was mistress of this house, had been condemned at the county assizes, in one of the late circuits, for stealing a horse; and a letter had just now been delivered to

his wife, which the criminal himself had written the very morning he was executed.

His relations and acquaintance had depended on a reprieve; for the man was universally beloved among his neighbours; and, though always very poor, and unfortunate in his dealings, had been remarkable for his industry, of a sober disposition, and never known before to have been guilty of the least dishonesty. He had six children alive, and the eldest but eight years old. His mother, who lived in the same little house, had been disabled by sickness for several months past: so that, perceiving it beyond his power to subsist his family any longer, and not daring to stay in town by reason of some debts he had contracted, he went down to try his friends, who lived in good circumstances in the country. But, instead of meeting with assistance, he only spent in this journey all the little he had carried with him; and not being able to support the thoughts of returning without bread to a family in such want of it, he rode away with a horse which he found tied to a gate; and being pursued and overtaken, was tried, condemned, and hanged for it.

This history was loudly given me by the good

women in the street; after which, I had the curiosity to press in among the crowd; and was struck at my first entrance by the most moving scene of sorrow that I ever remember to have met with. The widow had broken open her husband's letter, in transport, concluding that it brought her the confirmation of a reprieve, which a former had given her hopes of. But she was so shocked and overwhelmed by the sudden reverse of passion, that her grief was a kind of madness. She sat on the floor without headclothes, and had an infant cross her knees, that was cry, ing with great impatience for the breast it had been thrown from. Another slept in the cradle, close by a little bed, in which the grandmother sat weeping, bending forward in strong agony, and wringing her hands in silence. The four eldest children were gathered into a knot, and clung about the neck of their miserable mother, stamping, screaming, and kissing her, in a storm of distracted, tenderness!-The poor woman herself was in a condition past describing!-She pressed the letter of her dead husband to her eyes!-her lips!—her bosom!-She raved, and talked, and questioned him as if he had been present!-And, at every little interval, dried her tears with his letter; and cast a look upon the company, so wild, and so full of horror,

that it cannot be conceived but by those who were witnesses of it.

As soon as she saw me there, she stretched out her hand, and made signs that I should read the letter; which I received from her accordingly; and going back to my lodging, with a resolution to send over some fitter person than myself to assist in the distresses of so disconsolate a family, I sat down and took a copy of it, because it moved me exceedingly.

"Dear loving Betty,

"It is now nine o'clock; and I must be fetched out by and by, and go to die before eleven. I shall see my poor Bess no more in this world; but, if we meet one another again in the next, as I hope in God we shall, we may never part afterwards. Methinks, if I could but only once more look upon my good Betty before I die, though it should be but for a minute, and say a kind word to my fatherless children, that must starve now if God do not take care for them, I should go away with a good heart. And yet sometimes I fancy it is better as it is, for it would be sad to die afterwards; and I fear it would make me fainthearted, and I should be wishing that I might live to get you bread and clothes for your precious