After sentence the Jacobite officers were heavily ironed, even by day. At night they were fastened to the floor by a staple. Colonel Towneley was speedily interviewed by a ‘good-natured friend,’ who, in the spirit of one of Job’s comforters, remarked: ‘I believe, Sir, you deceived yourself in imagining you should be able to clear up your innocence; ... and that you was not quite right in supposing that you could invalidate the credit of the king’s witnesses.’ Tears for the first and last time came into the colonel’s eyes. Towneley said simply, ‘I never thought it could have come to this.’ The remark may have referred to his weakness rather than to his fate. In the disorderly prison, when hopes of reprieve caused some to sing hysterically, and to drink in much the same spirit, Towneley never lost his grave and becoming dignity. His reserve when he, for an hour, came from his room into the yard was looked upon by the hilarious and untried Jacobite prisoners as insolent contempt. This did not affect the colonel, who communed only with himself, and passed on without remark. ◆[Sidenote: _PAINFUL PARTINGS._]◆ In order, however, that he might die like a gentleman as well as a Christian, a tailor measured him for a suit of black velvet, in which he might appear with dignity on the day of his execution. Young Fletcher never lost his cheerfulness, except, perhaps, when he alluded to his ‘poor mother’ having offered him 1,000_l._ not to join the rebel army. ‘Here I am,’ said the young fellow, ‘for which I have nobody to thank but myself.’ Blood refused to trust, as his friends did, in a reprieve. ‘I can die but once,’ he replied to their remarks; ‘as well now as at any other time. I am ready.’ ‘My father,’ said the valiant barber, Syddal, ‘was put to death for joining the Stuarts in ’15. I am about to follow him for joining them in ’45. I have five children; may none of them fall in a worse cause!’ Two fathers had interviews on the eve of the execution, with their sons. ‘Jemmy Dawson’ and Chadwick had displayed the utmost unobtrusive fortitude. ‘You may put tons of iron on me,’ said the former young captain, when he was being heavily fettered after judgment: ‘it will not in the least damp my resolution.’ Chadwick had manifested a similar spirit; but when the two lads were held for the last time each in his weeping father’s arms, resolution temporarily gave way. The parting scene was of a most painful nature. Poor Syddal, the Jacobite barber, behaved with as much propriety as any of higher rank. Morgan, the lawyer, was irritable, and on the very eve of being hanged quarrelled with the charges made by the prison cook for indifferent fare. [Sidenote: _WITHIN PRISON-WALLS._]