et below the wall coping.
These platforms were filled with soldiers, "crouching down," as the
reporters described, "with the muzzles of their rifles just resting on
the top of the wall." The space in the street immediately beneath the
scaffold was railed off by a strong wooden barrier, and outside this
barrier were massed the thousands of police, special constables, and
volunteers.

[Footnote 1: The Manchester papers inform us that the specials were
plentifully fed with hot pork pies and beer _ad libitum_, which seemed
to have a powerful effect in bringing in volunteers from the lower
classes.]

On Friday the doomed men took leave for the last time of the few
relatives allowed to see them. The parting of Larkin and his family
is described as one of the most agonizing scenes ever witnessed. Poor
Allen, although not quite twenty years of age, was engaged to a young
girl whom he loved, and who loved him, most devotedly. She was sternly
refused the sad consolation of bidding him farewell. In the evening
the prisoners occupied themselves for some time in writing letters,
and each of them drew up a "declaration," which they committed to the
chaplain. They then gave not another thought to this world. From that
moment until all was over, their whole thoughts were centred in the
solemn occupation of preparing to meet their Creator. In these last
hours Father Gadd, the prison chaplain, was assisted by the Very
Rev. Canon Cantwell and the Rev. Father Quick, whose attentions were
unremitting to the end. From the first the prisoners exhibited a deep,
fervid religious spirit, which could scarcely have been surpassed
among the earliest Christian martyrs. They received Holy Communion
every alternate morning, and spent the greater part of their time
in spiritual devotion. On Friday evening they were locked up for
the night at the usual hour,--about half-past six o'clock. In their
cells they spent a long interval in prayer and meditation--disturbed
ever and anon, alas! by the shouts of brutal laughter and boisterous
choruses of the mob already assembled outside the prison walls. At
length the fated three sought their dungeon pallets for the last
time. "Strange as it may appear," says one of the Manchester papers
chronicling the execution, "those three men, standing on the brink
of the grave, and about to suffer an ignominious death, _slept
as soundly_ as had been their wont." Very "strange," no doubt, it
appeared to those accustomed t