One morning there was to be a hanging; and the usual little crowd of witnesses, consisting of the sheriff, the governor, three or four reporters, a magistrate, and a couple of warders, was assembled in the prison.

The condemned man, a brutal ruffian who had been found guilty of murdering a young girl under exceptionally revolting circumstances, was being pinioned by the hangman and his assistant; and my uncle was employing the last few moments at his disposal in trying to break down the sullen indifference the fellow had throughout manifested towards both his crime and his fate.
"My uncle failing to make any impression upon him, the governor ventured to add a few words of exhortation, upon which the man turned fiercely on the whole of them.
"'Go to hell,' he cried, 'with your snivelling jaw.

Who are you, to preach at me?
_You're_ glad enough I'm here--all of you.

Why, I'm the only one of you as ain't going to make a bit over this job.

Where would you all be, I should like to know, you canting swine, if it wasn't for me and my sort?
Why, it's the likes of me as _keeps_ the likes of you,' with which he walked straight to the gallows and told the hangman to 'hurry up' and not keep the gentlemen waiting." "There was some 'grit' in that man," said MacShaughnassy.
"Yes," added Jephson, "and wholesome wit also." MacShaughnassy puffed a mouthful of smoke over a spider which was just about to kill a fly.