indebted for
temporal preservation, as he had before been for spiritual promotion. He
opened the letter, which was addressed to father Michael; and found it
to contain an intimation that William Gamwell was to be hanged on Monday
at Nottingham.

"And I wish," said the abbot, "father Michael were to be hanged with
him: an ungrateful monster, after I had rescued him from the fangs of
civil justice, to reward my lenity by not leaving a bone unbruised among
the holy brotherhood of Rubygill."

Robin Hood extracted from his venison pasty a similar intimation of the
evil destiny of his cousin, whom he determined, if possible, to rescue
from the jaws of Cerberus.

The sheriff of Nottingham, though still sore with his bruises, was so
intent on revenge, that he raised himself from his bed to attend
the execution of William Gamwell. He rode to the august structure of
retributive Themis, as the French call a gallows, in all the pride and
pomp of shrievalty, and with a splendid retinue of well-equipped knaves
and varlets, as our ancestors called honest serving-men.

Young Gamwell was brought forth with his arms pinioned behind him; his
sister Alice and his father, Sir Guy, attending him in disconsolate
mood. He had rejected the confessor provided by the sheriff, and had
insisted on the privilege of choosing his own, whom Little John had
promised to bring. Little John, however, had not made his appearance
when the fatal procession began its march; but when they reached the
place of execution, Little John appeared, accompanied by a ghostly
friar.

"Sheriff," said young Gamwell, "let me not die with my hands pinioned:
give me a sword, and set any odds of your men against me, and let me
die the death of a man, like the descendant of a noble house, which has
never yet been stained with ignominy."

"No, no," said the sheriff; "I have had enough of setting odds against
you. I have sworn you shall be hanged, and hanged you shall be."

"Then God have mercy on me," said young Gamwell; "and now, holy friar,
shrive my sinful soul."

The friar approached.

"Let me see this friar," said the sheriff: "if he be the friar of the
bridge, I had as lief have the devil in Nottingham; but he shall find me
too much for him here."

"The friar of the bridge," said Little John, "as you very well know,
sheriff, was father Michael of Rubygill Abbey, and you may easily see
that this is not the man."

"I see it," said the sheriff; "and God be than