he held office on somewhat peculiar
conditions. The law was, we are told, that this functionary was himself
to be a criminal under sentence of death, but whose doom was to be
deferred until the advance of age prevented a continuance of his
usefulness, and then he was to be hanged forthwith. If, it was said, the
town permitted the executioner to die by the ordinary decay of nature,
and not by the process of the cord, it would lose for ever the
distinguished honour of possessing a public hangman. The story of the
last official who held the tenure of his life upon being able to
efficiently despatch his fellows is sufficiently interesting. He was
taken ill, and it was seriously contemplated to make sure of having a
public hangman in the future by seizing the sick man and hanging him.
His friends, hearing of this intention, propped the dying Ketch up in
bed, and he, being by trade a shoemaker, had the tools and materials of
his trade placed before him. He made a pretence of plying his avocation,
and the townsmen, thinking his lease of life was in no danger of a
natural termination, allowed him to lie in peace. He then speedily
passed away quietly in his bed, and the outwitted burghers found
themselves without a hangman, and without hope of a successor.

A good story is told by Mr. Fraser of the last man hanged at Wigtown.
His name was Patrick Clanachan, and he was tried and found guilty of
horse-stealing. His doom was thus pronounced:--"That he be taken on the
31st August, 1709, between the hours of twelve and two in the afternoon,
to the gyppet at Wigtown, and there to hang till he was dead." Clanachan
was carried from the prison to the gallows on a hurdle, and, as the
people were hurrying on past him to witness his execution, he is said to
have remarked, "Tak' yer time, boys, there'll be nae fun till I gang."
We have heard a similar anecdote respecting a criminal in London.

At Wicklow, in the year 1738, a man named George Manley was hanged for
murder, and just before his execution he delivered an address to the
crowd, as follows: "My friends, you assemble to see--what? A man leap
into the abyss of death! Look, and you will see me go with as much
courage as Curtius, when he leaped into the gulf to save his country
from destruction. What will you say of me? You say that no man, without
virtue, can be courageous! You see what I am--I'm a little fellow. What
is the difference between running into a poor man's debt, and by th