FROM THE "LONDON TIMES"
guard were come. There was some low-voiced talking; then a hush; then a prayer, with a sound of sobbing; presently, footfalls the departure for the gallows; then the child s happy voice: " Don t cry now, mamma, when we ve got papa again, and taking him home."
The door closed ; they were gone. I was ashamed : I was the only friend of the dying man that had no spirit, no courage. I stepped into the room, and said I would be a man and would follow. But we are made as we are made, and we cannot help it. I did not go.
I fidgeted about the room nervously, and presently went to the window, and softly raised it drawn by that dread fascination which the terrible and the awful exert and looked down upon the courtyard. By the garish light of the electric lamps I saw the little group of privileged witnesses, the wife crying on her uncle s breast, the condemned man standing on the scaffold with the halter around his neck, his arms strapped to his body, the black cap on his head, the sheriff at his side with his hand on the drop, the clergyman in front of him with bare head and his book in his hand.
"I am the resurrection and the life "
I turned away. I could not listen; I could not look. I did not know whither to go or what to do. Mechanically, and without knowing it, I put my eye to that strange instrument, and there was Peking and the Czar s procession! The next moment I was leaning out of the window, gasping, suffocating^ trying to speak, but dumb from the very imminence
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