He had nothing to do with the robbery--Phil Maddox was the
man, and he is not Philip Maddox. He said that he never saw me before,
nor do I believe that he ever did. As sure as I shall hang, he is
innocent."

"It was but now, that when appealed to by him, you stated that you had
seen him before."

"So I did, and I told the truth--I had seen him before. I saw him go to
hold the gentleman's horse, but he did not see me. I stole his bundle
and his stick, which he left on the bench, and that's how they were found
in our possession. Now you have the truth, and you may either acknowledge
that there is little justice, by eating your own words, and letting him
free, or you may hang him, rather than acknowledge that you are wrong.
At all events, his blood will now be on your hands, and not mine. If
Phil Maddox had not turned tail, like a coward, I should not have been
here; so I tell the truth to save him who was doing me a kind act, and
to let him swing who left me in the lurch."

The judge desired that this statement might be taken down, that further
inquiry might be made, intimating to the jury, that I should be respited
for the present; but of all this I was ignorant. As there was no placing
confidence in the assertions of such a man as Ogle, it was considered
necessary that he should repeat his assertions at the last hour of his
existence, and the gaoler was ordered not to state what had passed to
me, as he might excite false hopes.

When I recovered from my fit, I found myself in the gaoler's parlour,
and as soon as I was able to walk, I was locked up in a condemned cell.
The execution had been ordered to take place on the Thursday, and I had
two days to prepare. In the meantime, the greatest interest had been
excited with regard to me. My whole appearance so evidently belied the
charge, that everyone was in my favour. Ogle was requestioned, and
immediately gave a clue for the apprehension of Maddox, who, he said,
he hoped would swing by his side.

The gaoler came to me the next day, saying, that some of the magistrates
wished to speak with me; but as I had made up my mind not to reveal my
former life, my only reply was, "That I begged they would allow me to
have my last moments to myself." I recollected Melchior's idea of
destiny, and imagined that he was right. "It was my destiny," thought
I: and I remained in a state of stupor. The fact was, that I was very
ill, my head was heavy, my brain was on fire, and the throb