y be;
There are tasks I must not shirk,
Duties set for me;
And since nothing idle stands,
I must work with head or hands.

A HUNDRED YEARS AGO.

True Tales of the Year 1805.

VII.--REPTON, THE CONVICT.

It was the last day of the Winter Assize, in the year 1805, and a long
row of prisoners stood in the dock of the court to receive the sentence
of death.

Sixteen men to be hanged! It seems quite incredible now, but a hundred
years ago the death sentence was given indiscriminately for offences of
all sorts, some so trivial as hardly to deserve the name. For instance,
the man of sixty, who stood first in the dock, had snatched a ham from a
shop-door, to take to some starving children at home; and the country
lad of some eighteen years or less, at the other end of the row, had set
fire to a rick--it was an accident, it is true, but a quantity of hay
had been burnt; the jury found him 'guilty,' and he was to be hanged
with the rest.

Poor lad! The judge's words fell on his ear like strokes of a heavy
hammer. Surely they could not be meant for him! It was but a few days
ago that he had been a happy, careless lad, shouting and laughing over a
bonfire in which he and some friends were to roast potatoes. A high wind
got up suddenly, and some sparks from their fire were carried to a
hay-rick at some little distance, and at once there was a blaze!

The other lads slunk away, terrified at the mishap, but this lad, Repton
by name, ran up, and tried to stamp out the flames, and so was taken
'red-handed,' as the angry farmer expressed it, and was there and then
lodged in the county jail.

And now he was to die! He sat in a corner of the dark underground room,
dazed and miserable, whilst the men round him, sentenced like himself,
were talking and laughing, and trying by these means to put away the
thought of their fate. But Repton was stupefied with anguish, till at
last merciful sleep overcame him.

He was roused next morning by the jailor, who said, roughly enough,
'You've escaped the gallows this time, lad. A reprieve has come for
you.'

'Am I free? Can I go home?' asked the lad eagerly, not understanding the
man's words.

The jailor burst out laughing. 'Free! What are you thinking of? Folks
can't burn ricks, and be free. You are to be transported to Botany Bay
for ten years, and then you will be free.'

* * * * *

The six months which Repton had to pass on