pping talked to each
other very earnestly for some time._ As to the subject of their
discourse she declared she could say nothing, but as they came back to
the chaise, the wagoner said, _You need not be afraid, you will be sure
to get what you want._ To say truth, it was very odd for a single man to
rob a wagon to which so many people belonged, in company with several
other wagons, without any opposition, though it be likewise true that he
did not attempt any of the rest.

Some persons of quality were prevailed on by his earnest solicitations
and the circumstances we have before mentioned to endeavour the
procuring him a pardon, but it was in vain; and it would have certainly
have been much better for the man if he never had any hopes given him,
for though he did not depend as much on promises as men in his miserable
condition frequently do, yet the desire of life, sometimes excited the
hopes of it, and thereby took off his thoughts from more weighty
concerns, or at least made him more languid and confused than otherways
he would have been, for the very day before his death he still
entertained some expectations of mercy.

The evening before he suffered a woman knocked at his chamber door, and
earnestly desired to speak a few words to him. He accordingly came
towards the door and asked her what it was she would have to say to him.
The woman, after expressing much sorrow for his misfortunes, told him
she was desired by a person to whom she had been servant, if the thing
were possible, to learn from his own mouth what he had to say against
the wagoner. Mr. Drury replied that he had never had any thought of
robbing wagons, or any such thing, if the wagoner had not advised and
pressed him to it; so that his blood, the loss of his life, and all he
had in the world lay upon that man. Then shutting the door he returned
to his devotions, and continued to them all the evening and until the
night was considerably spent.

As death drew near it seemed not to affect him so much as might be
expected. On the morning of his execution he appeared not only easy, but
cheerful, attended at the prayers at chapel with much composure, and
went out of Newgate without any sign of fright or disturbance of mind.
On the road to Tyburn he appeared serious but melancholy, spoke a good
deal concerning the errors of his former life, said he had never bees
addicted to drinking, but had conversed too much with bad women, which
had made his wife jealo