On the night before the execution, Mr. Hamilton continued in prayer with the wretched prisoner up to a late hour, and he repeatedly expressed himself perfectly resigned and ready at any moment to meet his fate.
On Saturday, at about half-past eleven o’clock, Mr. Blackburn was called from his cell, and, the necessary arrangements having been made, he was conducted to the scaffold supported by Mr. Hamilton. He walked with a firm, unhesitating step, and perfectly erect. It was a quarter before twelve o’clock when the procession arrived upon the platform. The prisoner immediately kneeled down upon a stool provided for the occasion, with his face averted from the numerous spectators, who were assembled to witness this sad and melancholy spectacle.
The reverend gentleman who had with so much zeal and unwearied assiduity attended him in prison, to speak to him the words of peace, did not shrink from the painful task of accompanying him through this last painful stage of his earthly pilgrimage; placing himself near the prisoner, he in a low tone of voice asked him some questions relative to the state of his mind with respect to his approaching change, and particularly with respect to his entire dependence on the mercy of God through the merits and mediation of the Messiah.—To these inquiries he replied, “I have no other, I wish no other trust.” Mr. Hamilton now inquired if it was his wish that he should pray with him, and he eagerly replied, “If your feelings on this occasion are not too much agitated, I shall be greatly obliged.” Kneeling down close to the prisoner, who kept his eyes closed during the whole of this sad solemnity, he then offered up a prayer at once solemn and tender, and adapted equally to the former character and present situation of the humble penitent before him. Mr. Blackburn appeared deeply to feel and fervently to join in this last act of devotion, and when the minister came to that comprehensive model of devotion, the Lord’s Prayer, the prisoner accompanied him in an audible voice.
When Mr. Hamilton rose up from prayer, he took Mr. Blackburn by the hand, and having commended him to the mercy and protection of the Almighty, took a sad adieu of him, conjuring him that when he suffered death, and was entering eternity, he should aim at no higher strain than this, “God be merciful to me a sinner.” The poor sufferer grasped his hand, and appeared reluctant to part; and in a voice rendered tremulous by emotion, said, “May God Almighty bless and protect you.” It now only remained for the executioner to perform his part in the heart-rending ceremony. Mr. Blackburn was assisted to rise, but it was evident that the powerful emotion of his mind had impaired his strength, and the under jailor supported him in his arms until the fatal cord was placed round his neck, and properly adjusted. At this awful moment he ejaculated, “O Lord God Almighty, have mercy upon me, and preserve my soul alive.” These were the last words he was heard to utter, as the drop instantly fell.
It is painful to add that the noose of the cord had, by some means or other, slipped from its proper situation, and he appeared much convulsed. After he had been suspended about two minutes, the executioner endeavoured to replace the cord in its original situation; and though he succeeded in this attempt, it seemed to harrow up the feelings of every person present, and produced a stronger sensation of distress than any part of this mournful ceremony. In about six or seven minutes from the falling of the drop, the unfortunate man appeared insensible of further suffering. The body, after remaining suspended the usual time, was put into a coffin, and delivered to his friends. His remains were interred at an early hour on Monday, at Rothwell, a village near Leeds.
JEREMIAH GRANT
EXECUTED FOR BURGLARY.
THE exploits of this celebrated Irish freebooter gained for him a notoriety almost equal to that of his successor Captain Rody. Grant was the son of a poor peasant in the Queen’s County, and early evinced a predilection for a life of idleness. His progress in literature amounted to what his countryman shot at, “nothing at all;” but his fertile genius obviated his misfortune in being supremely ignorant of reading and writing, and his daring spirit triumphed over all minor obstacles. Having reached the age of nineteen his “public life” began, for at that time he commenced his depredations upon his fellow-countrymen in the capacity of a highwayman, and his daring, and the fame of his exploits, in the course of the ensuing two years gained him so much celebrity among others of the same character, that at twenty-one he was chosen “captain” of a select band of “gentlemen” who “followed the road.”
His depredations for several years were confined to his native county, and there his improvident liberality secured him the esteem and blessings of the lower orders, while the terror of his name and the dread of his