Towards eight o'clock the crowd had congregated to such an extent, that it moved and undulated like the stormy ocean. And, oh! what characters were collected around that gibbet. Every hideous den, every revolting hole--every abode of vice, squalor, and low debauchery, had vomited forth their horrible population. Women, with young children in their arms,--pickpockets of all ages,--swell-mobsmen,--prostitutes, thieves, and villains of all degrees and descriptions, were gathered there on that fatal morning. And amidst that multitude prevailed mirth, and laughter, and gaiety. Ribald language, obscene jokes, and filthy expressions, were heard around, even to the very foot of the gallows; and even at that early hour intoxication was depicted upon the countenances of several whom the Law had invited thither to derive an example from the tragedy about to be enacted! Example, indeed! Listen to those shouts of laughter: they emanate from a group collected round a pickpocket only twelve years old, who is giving an account of how he robbed an elderly lady on the preceding evening. But, ah! what are those moans, accompanied with horrible oaths and imprecations? Two women fighting: they are tearing each other to pieces--and their husbands are backing them. In another direction, a simple-looking countryman suddenly discovers that his handkerchief and purse are gone. In a moment his hat is knocked over his eyes; and he himself is cuffed, and kicked, and pushed about in a most brutal manner. Near the scaffold the following conversation takes place:-- "I wonder what the man who is going to be hanged is doing at this moment." "It is now half-past seven. He is about now receiving the sacrament." "Well--if I was he, I'd send the old parson to the devil, and pitch into the sheriffs." "Yes--so would I. For my part, I should like to live such a life as Jack Sheppard or Dick Turpin did, even if I did get hanged at last." "There is something noble and exciting in the existence of a highwayman: and then--at last--what admiration on the part of the crowd--what applause when he appears upon the drop!" "Yes. If this fellow Bolter had contented himself with being a burglar, or had only murdered those who resisted him, I should have cheered him heartily;--but to kill his wife--there's something cowardly in that; and so I shall hiss him." "And so shall I." "A quarter to eight! The poor devil's minutes are pretty well numbered." "I wonder what he is about now." "The pinioning will begin directly, I dare say." "That must be the worst part." "Oh! no--not a bit of it. You may depend upon it that he is not half so miserable as we are inclined to think him. A man makes up his mind to die as well as to anything else. But what the devil noise is that?" "Oh! only some fool of a fellow singing a patter song about a man hanging, and imitating all the convulsions of the poor wretch. My eyes! how the people do laugh!" "Five minutes to eight! They won't be long now."