"And I say so, too," exclaimed Smallbairn boldly. "But I do not say the same," continued Arnold. What, sir, you a military man, and not run some hazard for your friend?" "I say, try escape before sentence; because after that he will be more strictly guarded than he can be now. Does that satisfy you?" "It does, it does," cried Smallbairn. "I thought you were of the right sort. But what strange man was that, Mr. Hamilton, who spoke so freely?" "His name is Cook," replied Henry; "he is a shoemaker." 66 "Can he be trusted?" asked Arnold. "Most thoroughly; I shall go for him, if you wish it he lives hard by." "Do, by all means," said the young officer eagerly. "And now, sir," turning to Smallbairn, "while Mr. Hamilton is away for our warlike adviser, could you contrive to get rid of your friend? He has a dangerous custom of thinking aloud; and in an enterprise such as this, an open ear and a shut mouth are indispensably necessary." "I can easily manage him," answered the schoolmaster. "In Heaven's name be explicit!" exclaimed Henry passionately. "Well, you see," began Character, “as I am a man of a few words, and prefer doing to bletherin', I had no patience wi' yon creatur, Taylor, who A bundle of Henry Hamilton's obsolete law-hasna the soul o' a rabbit; and as little had I wi' papers lay upon a table; and thither Shovel in- John Cawmil, altho' I believe John has the root vited his principal. o' the matter in him, as I weel ken', for he was awfu' kind to my auld mither when she was on her death-bed. Now guess what I did whaun I left you! I said that I knew better and could do mair than the haill tribe put thegither, and I have done it." "Ye see those papers, Mr. Armstrong; just look over them and try if you can find anything that bears on the case of our young friend. If you do, here is pen and ink, note down whatever strikes you as important." "Out with it-what have you done?" cried the officer in turn. "Hurry no man's cattle," replied the Character. "While you fiddle away here, and jabber to each other, I do the thing." 66 'Well, but what is the thing?" asked Smallbairn for the third time. "I have been in the jail, and given him a file to help off with his fetters, and told him the shortest road out." Poker sat down with alacrity, and in five minutes was profoundly buried amongst the documents, and, of course, became unconscious of all that was passing around. The muniments amongst which he groped contained as much information regarding the subject in hand as the inscriptions on the obelisks at Thebes: but the end was gained, and that was enough. Let no smile be raised at the expense of poor Poker for the deception thus practised on him. Boswell, who professed to be a wiser man, was treated after a similar fashion as his simple countryman. When sailing amongst the Hebrides, a storm arose, and the friend of Paoli was interfering with the sails with an expertness that threatened to create mischief. ON leaving the small band of united friends at "Here, you!" roared a sailor, "hold on by this Mrs. Porter's, Samuel Cook returned to his own rope till I tell you to hoist the sail." The bio-place of business and plied his vocation with more grapher of Johnson took hold of the rope, but it was a rigid one; and he held on in momentary expectation of the desired signal, which of course was never given; and thus the "land-lubber" was kept out of harm's way. CHAPTER XXVIII. energy than usual. By the time that St. Giles and the Tron had tolled the curfew knell, Character had, as he said, "broken the neck of the evening's work." Having closed his shop, he walked to the household apartments behind, which "He has the truest heart that ever beat," whis-owned the sway of his spouse; and this being pered Smallbairn; "but he is getting more and more absent every day." Henry returned with the intelligence that Character Cook could not be found; but the trio had not been above a quarter of an hour engaged in deliberation ere the man of leather entered-a triumphant leer being decidedly prominent on his sallow face. "I knew ye would send for me; but hark, brother ; is the coast clear?" contrary to our friend's usual practice, it being his wont to perambulate the streets for an hour, and then to wind up the day at a meeting, public or private, or indulge in temperate libation at Johnny Dowie's, Babie, his gentle wife, was astonished at the extraordinary fit of domesticity which had taken possession of her loving husband. Lassie," said Character to a carroty-headed girl, who acted as a species of day-governess to Mrs. Cook, "go over to Dowie's and get two bottles of strong ale, and two pipes and tobacco. | look? If ye had had some wives, or if ye come And, Babie, have ye plenty o' bread and cheese to need a second wife, ye'll ken better aboot it." in the house?" And "Away, red head!" shouted Character. the damsel, who lingered in expectation of a scene connubial, was obliged to disappear at the peremptory order of her master, and her mistress's lord. "What's to be done, Sam?" asked Mrs. Cook, speaking mildly, as wives always do when thunder loses its influence. Sam, as if oppressed with the weight of some great train of cogitation, either heard her not, or heard her as if he heard her not; either course being more than enough to stir the emotional part of his wife's nature, and so, without deigning to make any further remark in the hearing of ears that were shut to the voice of her charming, she left the little parlour and took refuge amongst the children in the kitchen, taking care, however, to slap the door after her with tremendous fury, and thereby causing a reverberation which would have made Character start to some purpose had he not been prepared, from long experience, as to the exact kind of demonstration which Mrs. Cook would resort to on such an occasion. Character deliberately drew the cork of one of the bottles, and, filling a glass, presented it to his disconsolate spouse. "Drink my health, Babie," said Character solemnly; "ye dinna ken hoo lang ye may ha'e me." "Na, if that be it," replied Babie, "I'll no refuse." And she took a modest sip, and returned the glass to her husband, who cultivated a more profound acquaintance with the contents. 66 Babie," resumed Character, "I am this nicht to do that which may bring me to the block, the scaffold, Botany Bay, one or other. Marvel not, then, if I refused to hear your woman's cleck at such a time." "Lord's sake, what are ye to do?" "Mortal ears may not hear. Babie, the time o' your widowhood draws nigh, and ye may again be free." "But can you no tell me what it is ?” "No; if I tell you, are you no art and part, conjunctly and severally, as Taylor says? But if I don't tell you, then ye ken naething aboot it, and nobody can bring ye in. Sae content ye, Babie, and seek that sleep which I have no expectation of getting this blessed nicht." Babie called her reasoning powers into operation. She had tried all legitimate means, foul and fair, to unravel the mystery, and stratagem was now her last resource. Babie, therefore, simulated the part of a dutiful mate and prepared herself for slumber, resolved that at the first susThe Abigail with the sanguinary locks came picious noise she should start from her couch and back with the viands and placed them before Cha- reconnoitre the "coming man" either at his entry racter. The children were undressed, purified, and or his exit. Having cast the eye maternal on her put to rest, with the amount of kicking and squalling" pretty dams," who were strewn about the floor usual in Mrs. Cook's and many other domestic in all directions, she calmly stretched her fair perestablishments. Mrs. Cook herself became ready son in the attitude of slumber. The monotonous for repose; but still there sat Character looking into a well-replenished fire, with the ale, pipes, and other etceteras, all untouched. No visitor had yet made his appearance; but it was evident to the curious lady that although ten o'clock had now been added to the record of departed time, the unknown was still expected. Who can it be? Mentally she ran over every conceivable person, but ended the catalogue without fixing on any satisfactory individual. "Babie," said Character graciously, "it's time ye were in yer bed, my woman!" 66 That's to say, in ither words, ye want me oot o' the gait." Weel, lass, I've seen ye mak' waur guesses." "It's a shame and a disgrace," exclaimed Barbara, reddening, "for ony man to keep secrets frae his wife. It may do for a while; but a man aye gangs to ruin that hides things frae them that's near and dear to him-but it will come oot some day. I'm a vera ill-used woman. There's you stop oot ilka nicht, and ye negleck your buzness, and ye gang till Johnnie Dowie's, and there's ye brocht in that lassie, Buchanan, wi' the haill town at your heels; but did I ever say a word to you, or misca' you, or gi'e you a wrang tick of the German clock at the further end of the room whisked her more rapidly into the arms of Morpheus than a watcher should have permitted; but the leaden god had not altogether overpowered her, when the door cautiously opened, and, with the smallest possible opening of one eyelid, Barbara noted the approach of her husband. "Is he going to murder me?" thought the wife. A second glance showed that he was weaponless. "Oh, he is only going to see if I am asleep, but I'll cheat him." Placidly did Babie compose her every feature, in expectation of a rigid scrutiny, but Character merely walked up to the clock, and having satisfied himself as to the progress of the enemy, Time, he cautiously went out on tiptoe, very likely contenting himself with the slightest glance at the prostrate form of his partner in life. Babie was indignant at the failure of her expectation, and after thinking over and over again as to what all this should mean, she actually, in spite of herself, fell into a profound sleep Awake, Barbara! there is something ringing in your ears! When philosophers awake from & "Open the door, Babie-there's a woman!" "Whaur ha'e ye been ?" dream they pinch themselves in order to distinguish | to his ain door? I'se warrant ye've been knockin' between the real and the ideal. (6 Cogito, ergo down some man i' the Vennel, as ye did last time sum," says Descartes. "I feel, therefore I am ye was oot wi' that printer man. For shame!-a awake," says the self-inquisitive torturing psycholo- man like you, wi' a sma' family, and sic an affecgist. Babie knew not of this test for dreamers, but tionate wife." she felt herself cold on partially rising up, and concluded from this that she was in the land of consciousness and not in the region of visions. Could she believe her ears? There was some one singing, and the voice was that of a female. Sweetly, plaintively, nay sadly did that voice sing; but the wife was dead to every other consideration except that the sounds proceeded from the larynx feminine. She listened, and the words were "My love's in Germanie Send him hame, send him hame. No response. Babie opened the door, and there was Character "shivering like an aspen-leaf in May." 66 Is the lassie here, Babie ?" 'No-she began singing, and I was feared at her and gaed oot to look for you, and whaun I come back she was awa.” I doot she's crazy-she'll dee wi' cauld some nicht." Character stirred up the fire, added some fresh fuel to it, and having replenished his inner man with the ale on the table, he stretched himself on "Send you hame" echoed Babie, "I'll do three chairs and fell fast asleep. that wi' a vengeance!" And forthwith she marched direct to the scene of action, her thirst for vengeance being insatiable on discovering the sex of her husband's visitor. The low unearthly tone in which the couplet was sung changed the ire of Babie into compassion. Character was nowhere to be seen, and the mystery was as impenetrable as ever. "Puir thing, she's oot o' her mind-what need I be angry at her?" cogitated the compassionate Mrs. Cook. She laid her hand kindly on the shoulder of the unhappy girl, but she only answered by an hysterical laugh. "This is awful! Surely Sam is aboot the door," and, hastily robing herself, Babie stole cautiously out, in order to catch, if possible, a glimpse of her truant spouse. She walked up and down for a few minutes but without being able to distinguish in the darkness any figure save that of a semirecumbent member of the town-guard, and, returning to her own home, she found that her late guest had disappeared. "This kind o' wark is terrible eerie," ejaculated Mrs. Cook, "but I'll bar the door, and I'll mak him gi'e an account o' himsel afore I open it." And so the dame went to bed de novo. Babie watched these different movements in silence; and having witnessed the catastrophe, she held up her hands in utter astonishment. "Weel, the likes o' this! He lies doon as coolly wi' him yet. I canna gang to my bed a third as if naething had happened! But I'll be upsides time I'll jist get things ready." Character's head and slipped a pillow underneath She was a kind soul, Babie; she gently lifted it, and went silently about her household arrangements in order that his sleep might not be disturbed. "It's mair than he deserves," she muttered, "but oh, thae men are queer creaturs!" Babie, how many such kind offices are rendered by you and your sex, and how ill are they requited! In due season Character awoke from his slumber, like a giant refreshed with wine, and having arranged his professional operations for the day, he proceeded to the jail. On arriving there he found Lieutenant Arnold and Florence engaged in altercation with the seneschal at the outer door. "She tried to rhuns away in the night times, and she can let no phody's in without te order o' te bailies and te provosts-och, and that she cannot !" "Harkye, Mac Figh, ye must let me in," said Character boldly. "She's not sho shures aboot that." "What, you rascal, and me has a contrak wi' the toon cooncil for the shoon o' the prisoners? I daur you, sir, to keep me oot! I'll go this moment to Shon Dhu and report you!" The Celtic door-keeper was overawed by the tone of authority assumed by Character Cook, and admitted him within the precincts of the Heart of Mid-Lothian, but he resolutely refused permission to the other two applicants, and they had Grey dawn began to hover over the muddy to turn back in order to obtain the necessary pavements of the High-street when Babie recog-written license from the civic dignitaries. Chanised the authoritative knock of Character. "Wha's there?" "Me, of course!" growled Character. "Open the door; this is no a morning for a Christian to be standing in the cauld air." "An' is this an hour for a Christian to be comin' racter Cook went through the cells making all kinds of make-believe inquiries into the pedal garniture of the prisoners; but he was afraid to enter the one allotted to Norman Hamilton, being duly alive to the danger of his being suspected of having had any share in the attempted escape of the preceding evening. The delay that thus took place prevented him from seeking admission to Hamilton's cell until Lieutenant Arnold and Florence had had time to obtain the necessary authority from the magistrates, and the whole three were about to enter when a keeper accosted them and informed the party that they must be examined previous to entering, in order that no tools or implements might be conveyed to the prisoner. Florence had to submit to the indignity of being scrutinised by a female convict, while Arnold and Cook underwent a more rigid search at the hands of the turnkey. The dim light that fell through the ponderous grating at the top of the cell revealed the now wasted, care-worn, and prematurely old-looking form and features of the ill-fated captive. He was heavily-nay, cruelly ironed; and when he rose to receive his cousin, of whose intended visit he had been apprised, the weight of the manacles, coupled with the weakness of his exhausted frame, prevented him from fulfilling his intention, and he fell down like a helpless child. Florence clasped him passionately in her arms, but utterance was for a long time denied to either. Arnold and Cook remained in a remote corner, in order to allow all the liberty in their power for free intercourse between the cousins; but the hearts of both were too full for words, and they continued to sob and embrace each other with all the agony and fervour that real grief, dead to every other thought and feeling, will always be found to revel in. itself seems against me, and I can do nought but yield to a terrible destiny. Why should compassion have led me to leave the regiment? Why should poverty have so clung to me as to make me the easy dupe of the lowest vagabonds? Why should every friend be absent when I stood so much in need of counsel ? Why should my very flinging away of those accursed notes be the chief proof against me? Why thus entangled, snared, and circumvented by the web of fate that, hedged in on all sides, I seemed to have no other course open to me, except to pursue the very one which is to engulf me in destruction? Even last night, when this kind fellow furnished me with the means of cutting off my fetters, I was caught in the very act of dropping from a window-ther three minutes, and I had been clear off; but these insignificant minutes were denied me, and here 1 now am, bound hand and foot worse than ever I was, and so situated that further attempt at escape is impossible. No, no, Florence, leave me to my doom; it may not be averted. Forget that I ever lived, but yet think of me sometimes as one who, however much he may have in his end degraded the name he bore, was yet more sinned against than sinning.' "You shall not, must not incur this terrible penalty, Norman; or, if you do, I will die with you!" Norman gently disentangled himself from the convulsive grasp of the fainting and wretched girl, and handed her to the protection of Arnold. "This is too much for her, Arnold; she must not come here again. Her generous, kind heart is like to burst, and another such interview might kill her. Take her away to purer air than this den affords, and she will recover. I should not have spoken so seriously to her; you may be able to soothe her, whilst my distraction is such that I cannot dare to think calmly about anything." Arnold having departed with Florence, Cook was left alone with the prisoner. "He's a terrible fellow for the women!" whispered Character. "There's Maggie Buchanan, the dochter o' the publican fellow in Leith, who is the head witness against him-the buffer that I should say sae-weel, this Maggie, captain, she was the bonniest lassie that ye wad see atween this and North Berwick: and she's gaen clean oot o' her judgment aboot this business. She comes up frae Leith ilka nicht, I weel believe, and sits on the cauld pavement till the mornin' comes in, jist that she may see the place whaur he is confined in. I saw her on the curb-stane this mornin' at ane o'clock, and I took her into my ain house, that she micht warm hersel', and afore I could get back again she was off-clean gane. Wae's me! a poor demented cratur', getting nae sleep a' nicht, and then gaen down to Leith without her supper! Wae's me, but the love o' woman is a powerful thing! And so is the hate o' woman; for there is an auld besom that I am sure is ane o' the noteforging tribe hersel', she has on the ither hando' sich an ill wind to him that she wad hirple a hunder miles to see him on the scaffold." "It's a terrible pity that ye didna escape, sir," said Character," I sat up waiting you the haill nicht; and I had claes ready for you to change; and I had a place ready for you to hide in, among my leather, where ye micht ha'e lain for days and no' a soul in a' Edinburgh ever thocht o' seeking you." Thanks, thanks, inany thanks, my good friend! But it's all over now, and I must make up my mind for the worst." Nay, never despair, sir; ye've yet the chance the trial." "That is very small, from all that I can hear." "Then," replied Cook determinedly, "when the warst comes to the warst, we'll make anither bold stroke. Where did ye put the file ?" "I dropped it outside." "That's unfortunate," was Character's despairing reply. "When the worst comes to the worst"-said Hamilton in a reflecting tone. "Aye, when it does, you'll see that I'll make a desperate attempt." "But if it fails?" suggested the less sanguine captive. Then," answered Character dubiously, "things, I suppose, must tak' their course." 66 No, there is one thing could be done," answered Norman with earnestness, "and I mention it thus early that you, or some of my other friends, may help me in time.” "What is it you mean?" "I cannot die like a felon. If nothing short of my life will satisfy them, they shall have it; but I would not that they should have it in their own way. God gave life, they are to take it from me; and surely, if I am forced to give it up, the precise way of yielding it may be left to myself. Do you understand me?" he added in a terrible whisper. "No." "I cannot speak more plainly. Arnold will take up my meaning more readily, and I shall speak to him." "I'll do as much for you as Arnold, or any man alive; only don't speak in blind parables. Tell me in plain words what you want." "I shudder to tell you in plain words; but, mark me! I would not die a public death. When all hope is gone, when the gallows is prepared and ready, and every possible door of escape closed, I should like to have it in my power to anticipate my doom by "You don't mean poison?" exclaimed Character with horror; for, to him, the canon 'gainst selfslaughter was so pointed by the Eternal as to defy all violation, except in the case of the most degraded and desperate of the species. The turnkey entered, and the conversation ended, Character being for the first time in his life annoyed by a question of casuistry. CHAPTER XXIX. THE COUNSEL. the Scotch courts, without even being rewarded by a seat on the northern bench. During the brief incumbency for two periods of the Whigs, in the beginning of the century, he officiated as lord advocate; but this was his highest public reward, and he retired into private life before age called on him to court repose, disappointed apparently that that good fortune which had befallen his younger brother had so tardily followed in his own wake. Harry Erskine was, at the time referred to in our story, in the prime of manhood. The advocates had made him their chief, business was flowing in upon him, and, happy in himself, he was the cause of happiness in others. In addition to legal acumen (which was higher than Mr. Joseph Taylor rated it) he was an energetic, ready and dexterous pleader. He was witty to exuberance; and whether in practising at the bar, or promenading in the Parliament House, or joining in the festive circle, the sarcasms and badinage of Harry Erskine were ever sparkling forth. Keen, yet polished-piquant, yet without personality, his sallies pleased all and rarely offended the few. The Whigs loved him, and the Tories feared, respected, and sometimes admired him; while the people at large idolised him for his comprehensive and well-known benevolence and humanity. Harry Erskine sat in his library, the personification of an able and accomplished man. His face beamed with intelligence, the lustrous dark eye betokening mental power and brilliancy, while the mouth and lips, slightly parted, indicated amiability of temperament, combined with no inconsiderable sprinkling of that boldness allied to recklessness which in the olden time led to chivalry, but which in our own more peaceful days finds vent in verbal sally and repartee. The hair, according to the fashion of the time, was powdered; his wristfrills and laced cravat were scrupulously adjusted, and the carefully brushed cocked hat lay beside him ready for open-air service. His figure, demeanour, and costume, all stamped him as the gentleman, and not the mere black-letter lawyer - of rejoinders or replies, Long bills and answers stuffed with lies. As already stated, the counsel fixed on for the defence of Norman Hamilton was the Honourable Henry Erskine, or Harry Erskine, as he was more familiarly called. This learned gentleman was, in his day, the pride and ornament of the Scottish bar. His mother, a widowed countess, was left with four sons, and stern necessity required that the Mr. Joseph Taylor was announced. Mr. Joseph, younger ones should be the architects of their own like many other dull, plodding men, could not unfortunes. The eldest inherited the title, and the derstand how imagination and legal knowledge slender patrimony attached to it, while Henry was could go together; and therefore, knowing the called to the Scotch bar, and Thomas entered the large play of fancy possessed by Erskine, he long navy as a midshipman. Henry rose steadily in previously had set him down as a superficial lawhis profession until he became "dean of faculty," yer-one who might do very well to harangue a that is, chairman of his order. Tom threatened jury on any popular point, but utterly inadequate to be the "scapegrace" of the family; he left the to convince the judges on any profound legal technavy for the army, married and had a large family, nicality. Erskine, on the other hand, regarded while yet a captain, and, to the grief of his mother, Taylor as a stiff, cunning, mechanical, wheedling he suddenly left the army for the English bar. agent of the old school, on whom he hesitated not No folly could, under the circumstances, be re-occasionally to let loose his shafts; a pastime garded as more flagrant, but the end fully justified the bold experiment. He made a hit in his very first case, and was at once recognised as the first forensic speaker of his time; and ultimately he became Chancellor of England. His brother Henry was doomed to toil in the narrow field of which, from Mr. Joseph's stolidity, he could do with perfect impunity. Joseph gave the dean no briefs, except when obliged to do so by the testamentary documents of his clients, and then he secretly groaned at the folly of the faculty in placing such a mad-cap at the head of the profes |
