He said, he thought there was no justice in taking away other people's
lives, unless it was to save his own, yet no sooner was he taxed about
his own going on the highway than he confessed it, said he knew very
well bills would have been preferred against him at Guildford assizes,
in case he had got off at the King's Bench, but that he did not greatly
value them. Though formerly he had been guilty of some facts in that
way, yet they could not all now be proved, and he should have found it
no difficult matter to have demonstrated his innocence of those then
charged upon him, of which he was not really guilty, but owed his being
thought so to the profligate course of life he had for some time led,
and his aversion to all honest employments.

Bold as the whole gang of these fellows appeared, yet with what
sickness, what with the apprehension of death, they were so terrified
that not one of them but Ansell, _alias_ Philips, was able to stand up,
or speak at the place of execution, many who saw them affirming that
some of them were dead even before they were turned off.

As an appendix to the melancholy history of these seven miserable and
unhappy persons, I will add a letter written at that time by a gentleman
of the county of Essex, to his friend in London, containing a more
particular account of the transactions of these people, than I have seen
anywhere else. Wherefore, without any further preface, I shall leave it
to speak for itself.

A letter to Mr. C. D. in London.

Dear Sir,

Amongst the odd accidents which you know have happened to me in the
course of a very unsettled life, I don't know any which hath been
more extraordinary or surprising than one I met with in going down
to my own house when I left you last in town. You cannot but have
heard of the Waltham Blacks, as they are called, a set of whimsical
merry fellows, that are so mad to run the greatest hazards for the
sake of a haunch of venison, and passing a jolly evening together.

For my part, though the stories told of these people had reached my
ears, yet I confess I took most of them for fables, and I thought
that if there was truth in any of them it was much exaggerated. But
experience (the mistress of fools) has taught me the contrary, by
the adventure I am going to relate to you, which though it ended
well enough at last, I confess at first put me a good deal out of
humour. To begin,