ttle table at the
altar, with the commandments on the wall above it, scarcely legible
through lack of paint, and dust and damp--so unlike the velvet and
gilding, the marble and wood, of a modern church--are strange and
striking. There is one object, too, which rivets the attention and
fascinates the gaze, and from which we may turn horror-stricken in vain,
for the recollection of it will haunt us, waking and sleeping, for a long
time afterwards. Immediately below the reading-desk, on the floor of the
chapel, and forming the most conspicuous object in its little area, is
_the condemned pew_; a huge black pen, in which the wretched people, who
are singled out for death, are placed on the Sunday preceding their
execution, in sight of all their fellow-prisoners, from many of whom they
may have been separated but a week before, to hear prayers for their own
souls, to join in the responses of their own burial service, and to
listen to an address, warning their recent companions to take example by
their fate, and urging themselves, while there is yet time--nearly
four-and-twenty hours--to 'turn, and flee from the wrath to come!'
Imagine what have been the feelings of the men whom that fearful pew has
enclosed, and of whom, between the gallows and the knife, no mortal
remnant may now remain! Think of the hopeless clinging to life to the
last, and the wild despair, far exceeding in anguish the felon's death
itself, by which they have heard the certainty of their speedy
transmission to another world, with all their crimes upon their heads,
rung into their ears by the officiating clergyman!

At one time--and at no distant period either--the coffins of the men
about to be executed, were placed in that pew, upon the seat by their
side, during the whole service. It may seem incredible, but it is true.
Let us hope that the increased spirit of civilisation and humanity which
abolished this frightful and degrading custom, may extend itself to other
usages equally barbarous; usages which have not even the plea of utility
in their defence, as every year's experience has shown them to be more
and more inefficacious.

Leaving the chapel, descending to the passage so frequently alluded to,
and crossing the yard before noticed as being allotted to prisoners of a
more respectable description than the generality of men confined here,
the visitor arrives at a thick iron gate of great size and strength.
Having been admitted through it by the