At this moment the bell of Saint Sepulchre's church began to toll the funeral knell--that same bell whose ominous sound had fallen upon the ears of the wretched murderer, when he lay concealed in the vault of the Old House. The laughing--the joking--the singing--and the fighting now suddenly subsided; and every eye was turned towards the scaffold. The most breathless curiosity prevailed. Suddenly the entrance of the debtor's door was darkened by a human form: the executioner hastily ascended the steps, and appeared upon the scaffold. He was followed by the Ordinary in his black gown, walking with slow and measured pace along, and reading the funeral service--while the bell of Saint Sepulchre continued its deep, solemn, and foreboding death-note. The criminal came next. His elbows were bound to his sides, and his wrists fastened together, with thin cord. He had on a decent suit of clothes, supplied by the generosity of Tom the Cracksman; and on his head was a white night-cap. The moment he appeared upon the scaffold, a tremendous shout arose from the thousands and thousands of spectators assembled to witness his punishment. He cast a hurried and anxious glance around him. The large open space opposite the northern wing of Newgate seemed literally paved with human faces, which were continued down the Old Bailey and Giltspur Street, as far as he could see. The houses facing the prison were crammed with life--roof and window. It seemed as if he were posted upon a rock in the midst of an ocean of people. Ten thousand pairs of eyes were concentrated in him. All was animation and interest, as if some grand national spectacle were about to take place. "Hats off!" was the universal cry: the multitudes were determined to lose nothing! The cheapness of an amusement augments the pleasure derived from it. We wonder that the government has never attempted to realise funds by charging a penny a-piece for admission to behold the executions at Newgate. In such a country as England, where even religion is made a compulsory matter of taxation, the dues collected at executions would form a fund calculated to thrive bravely. While the executioner was occupied in fixing the halter round the convict's neck, the Ordinary commenced that portion of the Burial Service, which begins thus:-- "_Man that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down like a flower: he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay._" The executioner having attached the rope, and drawn the nightcap over the criminal's face, disappeared from the scaffold, and went beneath the platform to draw the bolt that sustained the drop. "_In the midst of life we are in death; of whom may we seek for succour, but of thee, O Lord, who_--" Here the drop fell.