with a huge
billet which he placed on my music-stand with a face of awe. It was
addressed to me, and in the corner of it was written "Order for
Execution." The official waited to see how I bore it, and seemed rather
surprised that I went on with my fiddling, and smilingly said, "All
right." I knew it was an order from the authorities of Horsemonger Lane
Gaol admitting me to the private execution of Margaret Waters, the
notorious baby-farmer.

If anything is calculated to promote the views of those who advocate the
abolition of capital punishment, it is the fact of a woman meeting her
death at the hands of the common hangman. There is something abhorrent,
especially to the mind of the stronger sex, in the idea of a female
suffering the extreme penalty of the law. On the other hand, the crime
for which Margaret Waters suffered--which is too much a cause celebre to
need recapitulation--is exactly the one that would exile her from the
sympathy of her own sex. Whilst therefore her case left the broad
question much in the same position as before, we are not surprised to
find that strenuous efforts had been made to obtain a commutation of the
sentence. Mr. Gilpin, Mr. Samuel Morley, and Mr. Baines had been
conspicuous for their efforts in the cause of mercy. All, however, had
been to no purpose. Margaret Waters was privately executed within the
walls of Horsemonger Lane Gaol at nine o'clock.

It was a thankless errand that called one from one's bed whilst the moon
was still struggling with the feeble dawn of an October morning, and
through streets already white with the incipient frost of approaching
winter, to see a fellow-creature--and that a woman--thus hurried out of
existence. On arriving at the gloomy prison-house I saw a fringe of
roughs lounging about, anxious to catch a glimpse, if only of the black
flag that should apprize them of the tragedy they were no longer
privileged to witness. Even these, however, did not muster in strong
force until the hour of execution drew near. On knocking at the outer
wicket, the orders of admission were severely scrutinized, and none
allowed to pass except those borne by the representatives of the press,
or persons in some way officially connected with the impending "event."
There was an air of grim "business" about all present, which showed
plainly that none were there from choice, nor any who would not feel
relief when the fearful spectacle was over. After assembling, first of
all