Gradually the group in front of the yard increased into a crowd. As at every quarter of an hour the church bell gave forth its solemn notes they clung closer together, and peered over each other’s shoulders into that black space from which indefinite sounds were raised and which was guarded so vigilantly by its two sentinels. They heard the noise of wheels and cried joyfully―― “It’s coming! it’s coming!” But they became silent as, drawn by three horses, a strange vehicle passed them. It was a large square cart of enormous size, upon four low, broad wheels. It was painted black. It passed slowly up the street, and halted before a small door which opened from the prison into the street. From the interior of the prison sprang three men in their short sleeves. They dragged with them a huge pole, and erected it towards heaven. A low murmur ran through the crowd. This was a portion of the gallows. How strange and absorbing is the interest of every class in all that pertains to death! Many of those assembled round Broxwill Gaol, remained there all night. These were, of course, the “roughs.” But it must not be for a moment supposed that the interest was confined to them. Numbers of persons belonging to the middle and upper classes had engaged seats at windows of those houses commanding a good view of the scaffold. As the night wore on the throng of persons diminished in numbers. There were, however, many around the apparatus of death when the first few streaks of dawn were visible in the horizon. In an hour or so after this people debouched from all quarters of the town, hurrying on towards the fatal spot. As the minutes flew by the multitude increased. The salesmen of hot potatoes, coffee, pies, and other delicacies, were threading their way through the crowd. Some loud-voiced fellows began to cry out the last dying speech and confession of the notorious murderer, Gregson, better known as the Bristol Badger. They recited some doggrel lines as they took their way along, which persons of a powerful imagination might suppose to be the production of the wretched man who was about to die. The windows of the houses commanding a view of the ghastly scene now began to fill with people. In them too, many of the fair sex were to be seen. The crowd before the scaffold became denser――people, as is usual on occasions of this description, push and elbow each other. An English crowd is bound to do this. “Where ye’re shovin’ to?” said a tall youth to a brawny looking man, who to all appearance was a navigator. “Jest keep yer elbows to yerself.” “It aint my fault, yer fool,” said the navigator. “It’s the people behind who’s a pushing.” “Well, then, you’re strong enough, and can keep ’em back if you like.” “Don’t you be so cheeky, young fellow,” returned the other; “you aint everybody.” “Give him a dab in the eye,” said a voice behind. “I shan’t be at all particular about that if he gives me any more of his cheek.”