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thought they had lost sight of me.—Our brave Captain was on t'other side, with horses ready, and clothes for me.—And here, my boys,—here I am! Moor, Moor, my brave fellow,—I wish only you were in the same scrape, that I might help you out of it.

Spoke like a brute;—a beast that ought to be hang'd!—Egad it was a masterly stroke!

Ay so it was.—Help at a pinch!—A friend in need is a friend indeed, say I;—but you can't judge of it.—No,—unless you had the rope about your neck, and were walking all alive to your grave.—Then those hellish preparations,—and every foot you went, a step nearer that curs'd machine, which met you so in full view,—clear,—damnably illuminated by the rising sun^[1];—then the executioner and his men sneaking behind you,—and that infernal psalm-singing.—Zounds, my ears are ringing with it yet;—and then the croaking of a whole legion of carrion-crows that had been feasting on the precious corruption of my predecessor, that hung there half-rotted away:—But above all, the hellish joy that those rascals