64 THE HISTORY OF THE DORCHESTER GALLOWS. 



But by this time the efforts of men like Fielding and 

 Romilly to obtain more wise and humane treatment of 

 criminals were beginning to tell, and though death sentences 

 were passed according to law, they were not always carried 

 out. In the large scrap-book volume belonging to this 

 Museum library there are several specimens of the broadsheets 

 printed and sold in the streets after executions at the beginning 

 of the last century. These are usually headed with a coarse 

 woodcut of the typical gibbet, and the felon hanging, and 

 generally give an account of his offences and of his last moments 

 These specimens date from 1819 to 1833. They record deaths 

 for burglaries and arson. The so-called " new drop," which 

 was in use for some fifty years seems to have been arranged over 

 the stout low archway which formed the entrance into the 

 prison from North-square, the predecessor of one lately 

 removed. Some still living remember the body of the last 

 criminal executed there, hanging on the skyline, a woman, 

 Martha Brown, who had murdered her husband. 



Then the scene was shifted to a spot within the walls of 

 the prison, overlooking and within sight of the meadows by 

 the river. Many can still tell of the thousands that used to 

 gather below the gaol at the " Hang Fairs." By daybreak 

 the best places were taken, and the waiting time was spent in 

 drinking, fiddling, and dancing. The time, it is said, of the 

 executions in early days determined by the arrival of the coach 

 from London, which might possibly bear a reprieve at the 

 last moment. The " Royal Mail " coach was timed to arrive 

 at the King's Arms at 9.30 a.m., after 13J hours run from 

 London, via Salisbury. In Cutler's " Original Notes of Dor- 

 chester " the story is told of a poor fellow who declined to 

 halt at the Bell Inn for a parting glass with the constables ; 

 listening to his earnest request, they hastened their business, 

 and turned him off just as the postmaster came shouting up 

 the hill bearing a delayed reprieve. They cut the rope in a 

 moment and fetched a surgeon. He could only shake his 

 head and announce " Too late." " Sarved him right," cried 

 the indignant beer swillers standing around, " he should 



