My ancestor, only just awake, rubbed his eyes and imagined that he was really and truly called away to execution, and that his last hour had come.
The executioner, seeing that he hesitated, added: "If you want to witness the cunning of my hand, now's your time."
My relation gave a sigh of relief when he began to recollect that his own head was quite safe, and that he was only called to witness the execution of another man.
"But I can't go; I have sprained my ankle," pleaded the Englishman.
"Oh, I don't intend to walk myself," replied the executioner. "I have my horse and cart ready, and can give you a lift."
"Oh, if that's the case," said the student, "I shall be glad to go, as I wish to meet my friends in the township."
"Come on, then," and the headsman assisted the Englishman into the cart.
As they were about starting, a little red-haired ruffian of about ten, stout and well-built, and bearing a striking likeness to our host, appeared on the threshold.
"Papa, you'll bring me home a football, won't you?" said the youth.
"Ay, my boy, that will I, a good sized one," answered his father.