A WARNING.

Wairarapa Standard, Volume 6, Issue 506, 25 November 1876, Page 2

A WARNING.

The following remarkable episode in the life of Sir Edwin Nepean, Under-Secretary of State, is from an article on " Warning! " in the Australasian:— Sir Evan Nepean was, about the beginning of the present oentury, Under-Secretary of State for the Home Department His private residence being near to Buckingham gate, at the extremity of Bird Walk, in Si James's Park, he was wont, after looking op his papers Ac,, for the day, to Walk home through the Park. Being provided with a private latchkey for both his official room and his own house, he had a delight (not altogether uncommon) in slipping out and reappearing, I so that underlings cculd scarcely- predicate' when he might be expected. One m<M sun. mer evening he quitted his office as usual, gained his quiet home, dined alone, temperately (of that he professed himself quite sure) and, after a tranquil hour of light reading, retired leisurely to rest. He awoke restless and fevered," too dull for wakefulness—too quick for slumber.'' The moon shone clear and silvery through the window, the sky was cloudless, the atmosphere bahnyand tilisWo Sleep was impossible, and cigars not then in vogue. Sir Evan rose, dressed, and eeM*. descended, hoping that sleep might be wooed by toe tranquility of the scene and. the purity of the night. As he walked on, asudden impulse seised him to enter his official zoom at Whitehall. Hut private key soon admitted him. Opening his desk a bulky object methis hand. A light (horresoo retateas) j was laboriously extracted by a flint and fleej (Oh blessed be the inventor of wax matches) The bulky object was.a pardon, a Boyal fjart, don, under theOreat Seal, granted to a man actually at the moment under »entence*of death, and which pardon, Sir Evan had all along firmly believed to have left in town fee day before. The man was to be hanged at 8 o'clock that morning. And here was hi* pardon. Sir Evan roused np a trusty messenger, ordered a swift horse at any expense, wrote official open note and memos., and entreating every reader thereof to aid and to further the work of justice.

Off galloped the messenger with an ample promised reward. Picture, if yon can, the agony of Sir E.’a suspense. The distance was considerable. Five minutes, nay leas, might tom the scale. On, on, rode the messenger. Speed, speed! The noble animal seemed almost inspired with sympathy; hot, alas! that very sympathy but led to exhaustion. The shrewd messenger rang the bell of a well-known sporting nobleman, forced and bribed his way upstairs, told his story, showed his credentials, Ac. The noblemen descended with his visitor to the stables, tended the weary horse, and proceeded to select a choice old hnnter from his ample stud, while the messenger hastily snatched a glass or rather a beaker of wine. It is morning. Sweetly breaks the son tnrongh the cooling dews, and shines on the prison bars. The sheriff enters. The warrant is read, the irons knocked off. Slowly the prisoner enters the cart. The chaplain is by his side, the crowd rapidly collecting. The offices of the ctraroh have hem gone through. The hangman prepares his ghastly work, humanely drawing the cap over the face. The sonorous voice of the now begins, “In the midst of life,”d». Already the silk is in the hud of the reverend divine. Hark I—what noise is that? A fight?— No. The crowd sways to and fro, undulating like to the waves at an approaching storm. “ Stop 1” A man on horseback cleaves thcr dense throng. He waves above his head a parchment. It is “ the pardon, the pard ,” The cap is withdrawn. The cords are loosened. The man has But joy never kills, and greater Jot *>>«.« that of the criminal was that of Sir Evan Nepean, when a post chaise and four reeking horses drove up to Whitehall. Mod-bespattered, exhausted and drowsy, the King’s messenger yas the harbinger of joy. He had saved the life of the pardoned man, and the heart of Sir Evan Nepean mart have risen to hit M«lnw in spontaneous thanksgiving.