in the world,” he displays his want of accuracy and legal knowledge by praising the directors for having replaced the stolen investments, as they had not yet done, but were bound by law to do. “I deprecate that feeling,” he declaims, “which is artfully and improperly excited in favour of those who have no extraordinary claim to mercy. When monstrous crimes have been committed we have a right to call for judgment on criminals, and to consign them to the fate the law demands. Offences are sometimes brought to light which require the most severe chastisement the law can inflict, and discoveries of such a nature have been made in reference to the unhappy individual to whom I shall more particularly address myself,” etc., etc. Upon the limp, shrinking figure in the large black pew, whose poor throbbing brain is pierced through and through by the barbed words of the holy man, all eyes are turned, save a few blinded with tears, or those wretches of both sexes who testify by sobs and howls that a like fate is their portion. Even in the leathern faces and soulless eyes of the grim turnkeys there glimmers a tiny spark of emotion. It is pleasant to remember that the Rev. Cotton, harmless and worthy gentleman in other respects, received strong censure from those in authority for his eloquence at the expense of Fauntleroy, and was accused of “harrowing the feelings of the prisoner unnecessarily.” Still, it would have been wiser to have attacked the system rather than the man. Less gruesome even than the loathsome chapel is the condemned cell on the fatal night. All day the doomed banker has been calm and resigned, bidding adieu to his brother and his son, and explaining to his solicitors intricate details in the books of the bank. Late in the evening Mr Wontner comes to visit him as usual, and tries to persuade him to take something to eat, but the wretched man protests he ‘loathed food’ For hours he continues to pace the room, leaning on the arm of Mr Springett. Although he declares that he shall never sleep until after that ‘awful moment’ about three o’clock he is induced to lie upon the bed. The clergyman, who leaves the chamber for a few moments, finds him, when he returns, sitting by the fire and greatly terrified. Early in the morning he is able to accept a cup of tea and a biscuit. Before six o’clock Baker has resumed his work of mercy, and a little later conscientious Ordinary Cotton joins the sad company. Neat and precise as ever, the forger has made as careful a toilet as if he was to attend a social gathering, attired in a suit of black, with knee-breeches, silk stockings and dress shoes, and a white handkerchief around his neck. To Mr Baker he gives a few pounds to distribute among the needy people in the prison, and leaves a ring for Mrs Harris, the wife of the turnkey, to whom, and also to her husband, he gives thanks for their kindness.