AS I slowly mounted the scaffold I looked down over the vast crowd beneath, if I might perhaps see one friendly face. But though I scanned all closely, I saw but an expression of eager, brutal expectation. All eyes were fixed on me, but in not one did I meet a glance of sympathy; their look was as that of a bloodthirsty beast gloating over its victim. I shuddered slightly, and turned my head away. Yet I felt strangely calm and composed. I looked at the headsman with a sort of curiosity and interest; he had not his mask on yet, but his face was as impassive and immovable as though that had been covering it. I marked the axe also. As he saw my glance, he, too, looked down upon it, and patted it with some such pride as a father might feel in his fair-haired child. The axe was bright and gleaming, as though it had never been used; but I detected a small, dark-red spot on one side. He, too, saw it, and calmly rubbed it off with his sleeve.

Far from being terrified, I felt amused at this action so characteristic; it reminded me again of a parent's gayly decking his infant before burying it in the mould. I became gay, and laughed at the conceit. I looked at the crowd for an answering laugh, but heard it not.

I laid my head upon the block. Not even then was I awed by the moment. I felt my pulse. It was beating regularly and firmly. With my hand I held up a lock of hair at the back of my neck, so that the blow might be a clean one; and then I waited.

I had always heard that in the last few moments of a person's life, all the actions, good and bad, of his career rush to his memory. But with me it was not so. I tried to look back over my past life, to recall my boyhood, my college days, and the few preceding years; but instead of that I found myself attempting some jingling nurseryrhyme, and was vexed because there was one note which I could not catch. I thought of the axe, and tried to imagine the blood spurting out over it. But I discovered that I was endeavoring to pun upon the word. I was feeling particularly well pleased with "reaction," when my thoughts took another turn, and I began to wonder why it was that I was able to think at all. Or was it that this small power of speculation still clung to the head, even when severed from the trunk; that the ghosts, as it were, of former senses, loath to depart, still hovered about me? And it diverted me that the faculty for punning should of all be the most tenacious. I felt a new ambition, - to retain my faculties as long as possible. I determined that by mere force of will I would prevent them from leaving me.

My position was uncomfortable. My arm ached from holding up the lock of hair. I moved slightly. Then I grew impatient. I arose and stretched myself, as though I had just awaked from a deep sleep. I descended from the platform. The people made way for me as I passed. I was not decided what to do. I felt provoked that I had been kept so long. I walked slowly on, past my familiar haunts. Some children that were playing in the street turned at hearing my step. On seeing me they screamed and rushed away. I was grieved, for I had before been a favorite with children. My experiences have made me look gloomy, thought I. A dog that was gnawing a bone, as I came near, tore howling down the street.

At length I came near the house. I knocked. No one answered, and I turned the handle and entered. The door of the room was open, and within she was sitting, reading intently. I did not interrupt her, but leaned with folded arms against the door and watched her. From my position I could see merely her side face. The clock on the mantelpiece struck the hour, but she stirred not. I wished to see the book she was reading. I speculated as to what it was. I felt that I must see her face, must see the book. I made a movement to change my position. She must have heard me, for she started, looked up; then with a cry of "Horrors!" she fell forward fainting upon the floor. I turned my back and - smiled.