relish for scenes of blood and cruelty.

It happened that I had occasion to call on one of those "Criminal
Curiosity Hunters" lately. He received me with extreme urbanity, and
pointing to an old-fashioned-looking arm-chair, requested me to be
seated.--I did so.

"I suppose, sir," said he, with an air of suppressed triumph, "that you
have no idea that you are now sitting in a remarkable chair?"

I assured him I was totally unconscious of the fact.

"I can tell you, then," he replied, "that it was in that chair Fauntleroy,
the banker, who was hanged for forgery, was sitting when he was arrested."

"Indeed!"

"Fact, sir! I gave ten guineas for it. I thought also to have obtained the
night-cap in which he slept the night before his execution, but another
collector was beforehand with me, and bribed the turnkey to steal it for
him."

"I had no idea there could be any competition for such an article," I
observed.

"Ah! sir," said he, with a deep sigh, "you don't know the value of these
interesting relics. I have been for upwards of thirty years a collector of
them, and I have now as pretty a museum of Criminal Curiosities as you
could desire to see."