done on the sly, as my mother would never have
consented. "I let the cat out of the bag" somehow, as my mother
gave me a solemn warning that if I went I should get the worst
whipping I ever had in my life.

I brooded on this for some days, and finally decided to go and take
my chances of being found out. So on the day I of course played
hookey, and got to the place early. I climbed up an awning post
nearly opposite the gallows, and sat on the top with some other
adventurous spirits, who, like myself, were hungry for adventure. I
shall not describe what I saw, for my friend, Mr. Higgins, has
already done that. When I got home I paid dearly for my disobedience.
My elder brother happened to have been opposite me, on the other side
of the street. I got my promised whipping, well laid on, and was sent
supperless to bed, feeling very sore. But I was not fated to go
without supper, for, as I lay unrepentant, Amy, my little sister,
crept into the room and brought me part of hers, and, what I more
appreciated then, her sympathy and tears. God bless her! She was
taken from us soon after to a better life.

One afternoon later (I won't be sure of dates), as father and I were
going home, we were arrested by the sweet strains of music, which
proceeded from a band a block away. Father hesitated for an instant,
then started off at a run, calling to me to come on. We were soon
there, and to explain father's strange action in running after a band
of music, I have only to say that the tune was one dear to the hearts
of all Britons, "God Save the Queen," so, could you wonder at his
excitement, as we stood in front of the British Consulate? The reason
of it all was the news received that day of the fall of Sebastopol.
After a few words from the consul we all moved off to the French
Consulate, and here all was repeated, but to the strains of the
Marseillaise hymn. Of course this good news was fully discussed
at home, and some days after it was decided to have the event
celebrated by the British and French residents by a procession and
banquet in a pavilion, with an ox and several sheep roasted whole.
The day arrived, and I, of course, had to go with father in the
procession, carrying a British flag. In the midst of the festivities
a lot of roughs broke into the pavilion, tore down the British and
French flags, and then worked havoc with the pavilion itself. It
was a most disgraceful affair, and would not have occurred, I am
confident, in