rs.
Palmley testifying to the general facts of the burglary. Whether Harriet
would have come forward if Jack had appealed to her is not known;
possibly she would have done it for pity's sake; but Jack was too proud
to ask a single favour of a girl who had jilted him; and he let her
alone. The trial was a short one, and the death sentence was passed.

'The day o' young Jack's execution was a cold dusty Saturday in March. He
was so boyish and slim that they were obliged in mercy to hang him in the
heaviest fetters kept in the jail, lest his heft should not break his
neck, and they weighed so upon him that he could hardly drag himself up
to the drop. At that time the gover'ment was not strict about burying
the body of an executed person within the precincts of the prison, and at
the earnest prayer of his poor mother his body was allowed to be brought
home. All the parish waited at their cottage doors in the evening for
its arrival: I remember how, as a very little girl, I stood by my
mother's side. About eight o'clock, as we hearkened on our door-stones
in the cold bright starlight, we could hear the faint crackle of a waggon
from the direction of the turnpike-road. The noise was lost as the
waggon dropped into a hollow, then it was plain again as it lumbered down
the next long incline, and presently it entered Longpuddle. The coffin
was laid in the belfry for the night, and the next day, Sunday, between
the services, we buried him. A funeral sermon was preached the same
afternoon, the text chosen being, "He was the only son of his mother, and
she was a widow." . . . Yes, they were cruel times!

'As for Harriet, she and her lover were married in due time; but by all
account her life was no jocund one. She and her good-man found that they
could not live comfortably at Longpuddle, by reason of her connection
with Jack's misfortunes, and they settled in a distant town, and were no
more heard of by us; Mrs. Palmley, too, found it advisable to join 'em
shortly after. The dark-eyed, gaunt old Mrs. Winter, remembered by the
emigrant gentleman here, was, as you will have foreseen, the Mrs. Winter
of this story; and I can well call to mind how lonely she was, how afraid
the children were of her, and how she kept herself as a stranger among
us, though she lived so long.'

* * * * *

'Longpuddle has had her sad experiences as well as her sunny ones,' said
Mr. Lackland.

'Yes, yes. But I am thankful to say not many li