At parting, it is proper to pay the tribute of history to the memory of Dogherty, the hangman--a functionary who surpassed greatly the common character of his order; and who, while he lived, contrived to evade the detestation of his calling. There was no amateur gaiety in his manner--no harshness in his speech. He accepted office when a prisoner, to enjoy the quiet quarters of the gaol and liberation from ordinary toil: he intended to resign it with his bondage, but the number of candidates for his place, it is said, reconciled his mind to its retention. Not in the spirit of menace, but defensive retort, he would promise those by whom he was jeered, his most delicate attentions in their last emergency. He was always willing to part with his provisions: to divide his sugar and tea with the necessitous, and to perform errands of kindness in their favor. No one could wield the lash with more mercy; and it is said that once, an offender, sentenced to a public flogging, received one stroke at starting, and the cart being driven by an associate, a second at stopping. His predecessor was a different character; and overcome with the misery of his condition, he committed murder, that he might escape from life! Dogherty passed through the town without fear of vengeance; although once, certain soldiers, his countrymen, injured him, and left scars which he carried to the grave. But what character is perfect? He was addicted to intemperance, and commonly spent the day succeeding an execution in drunkenness. The incredulous are assured, that this is not the language of fiction, but the character commonly ascribed in sober earnest to this unfortunate being. The day will come, when the sacrifice of life, made with more hesitation, will cease to be a public spectacle; when, if it is deemed requisite to cut off from the earth the shedder of blood, the dreadful doom will cease to amuse the brutal, or to offer a momentary excitement to the unreflecting. Women will be no longer seen raising their children above the crowd, to enjoy the most humiliating sight that can meet the eyes of mortals. Let no one imagine, that men are effectually intimidated by attending public executions: as the fatal moment draws nigh, crowds are indeed seen rushing towards the spot; but they wear the lineaments of insensibility, intemperance, or habitual crime. It is not the guilt of the sufferer which extinguishes their pity: they would run to witness the murder of a saint. The utility of executions is left to the judgment of statesmen, but it cannot be wrong to detest them.