Amongst the other objects that attracted Jamie's notice in this imposing scene, was a man holding a white horse, and standing a little way aloof from the crowd. The animal was an ordinary cart-horse, and the person who held it seemed to be a carter by profession. The situation of both seemed an odd and unsuitable one, considering attendant circumstances; and they, of course, attracted some notice, and excited some curiosity; the more so that the man looked as if he and his horse had some business there, and waiting for something or other. Jamie, among the rest, was struck with these indications, and, making up to the man, bluntly but civilly said—
"What are ye gaun to be aboot wi' the horse here, frien?"
"A job I dinna like verra weel," replied the man, whose face was pale, and lips white, with some strong internal feeling.
"What sort o' a job may that be?" inquired Jamie, his curiosity still further excited by this answer.
"If ye wait a while, ye'll see," replied the person addressed, in a manner that intimated a desire to hold no further communication on the subject. Jamie took the hint, and walked off. In less than quarter-of-an-hour after, the dense mass of human beings that surrounded the gibbet seemed all at once struck with some new and strong feeling of excitement. A suppressed cry or exclamation rolled over that immense sea of heads; and the apathy which prevailed before was exchanged for a feeling of intense eagerness and restless curiosity. The first act of the tragedy had commenced; and it was the intelligence of this that was now working its way through the crowd, and producing the excitement alluded to. Conscious, with others, that the appalling proceedings of the occasion had opened, Jamie rushed towards the iron railings which enclosed a narrow paved way that ran round three sides of the jail, and there saw a scene more horrible than anything that even his own fertile imagination could have conceived. This was a hurdle, a machine somewhat resembling a Kamtschatkan sledge, raised slightly at either end, and to which was yoked the identical white horse, held by the head by the identical person, who had attracted Jamie's notice a short while before. Within this hurdle was seated, at one end, the executioner, with a broad, bright, short-handled axe resting on his shoulder; and opposite to him, in the other end, sat a quiet, composed-looking old man, of about sixty or sixty-five years of age. This was Swan, the unhappy man who was to suffer. In a second or two, the sledge moved on towards the scaffold; and in a second or two more Swan appeared upon the fatal platform. He was perfectly calm and collected throughout the whole of this trying scene, as was made sufficiently evident by his turning round to the executioner, and saying, with perfect composure, and an air of unconcerted simplicity, "Tammas, did ye ever see sic a crowd?" In a short time after, the miserable man was thrown off; and when he had hung about a quarter-of-an-hour or twenty minutes, three town-officers were seen to mount the scaffold and approach the body, which they immediately proceeded to lower—a ghastly spectacle, as they had to shoulder, handle, and support the corpse in the hideous operation. That operation performed, the body was placed in a position for decapitation, when suddenly another personage appeared on the scaffold. His step was quick and hurried. He wore a mask on his face, and was wrapped up in a loose black gown, which entirely concealed his person. On ascending the platform, this appalling personage, without looking to the right or left, quickly passed his hand round or over the neck of the dead man, as if to ascertain the proper place to strike. This done, he, with the same expedition, raised the axe, and at one blow severed the head from the body, and instantly thereafter glided from the scaffold, as mysteriously and rapidly as he had ascended it; the whole being the work of not more, perhaps, than a minute.
All this, then, Jamie Murdieston saw, and it struck him with horror. But will the reader believe that it should have been the means of getting him into another of his lying predicaments? All will think, we daresay, that it should have had a very opposite effect, and have rather laid than aroused the fibbing spirit that was within him. But, verily, such was not the case.
On the evening of the same day, Jamie betook himself to a coffee-room, to spend an hour, which he found hanging heavy on his hands, in taking a peep of the papers, and listening to the varied and desultory conversations which are usually to be heard in such places of resort. Being of a social and communicative disposition, Jamie soon began to take a share in the general talk. This talk, for the most part, as might be expected, bore reference to the recent execution, and to the popular movements out of which it had arisen.
"I'll tell you what it is," said Jamie, who was at this particular moment pretty considerably muzzed—"I'll tell ye what it is," he said, addressing two men who sat opposite him, and with whom he had got into familiar conversation—"the government had better no try ony mair o' thae tricks" (meaning executions for political offences), "or they'll maybe get their kail through the reek. There's mair mischief brewin in the country than they're aware o'."
"Faith, it's just as ye say, frien," said one of the persons spoken to. "There is some wark gaun on that'll bother the big-wigs at Lunnun, when the proper time comes. But we're no just ripe yet. Onything doin amang the Friends in your pairt o' the country?"
"We're gettin on cannily, but surely," replied Jamie, with a significant look to the querist. Then, with a wink, pregnant with mysterious intelligence—"I ken twa or three things aboot thae matters that haena been cried at the cross."