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"Tis said that words and signs have power
O'er sprites in planetary hour;
But scarce I praise their venturous part,
Who tamper with such dangerous art.

Lay of the Last Minstrel.










A man that apprehends death to be no more dreadful but as a drunken sleep; careless, reckless, and fearless of what's past, present, or to come; insensible of mortality, and desperately mortal.

Measure for Measure,

GLOSSIN had made careful minutes of the information derived from these examinations. They threw little light upon the story, so far as he understood its purport; but the better informed reader has received, through means of this investigation, an account of Brown's proceedings, between the moment when we left him upon his road to Kippletringan, and the time when, stung by jealousy, he so rashly and unhappily presented himself before Julia Mannering, and well nigh brought to a fatal termi nation the quarrel which his appearance occasioned,

Glossin rode slowly back to Ellangowan, pondering on what he had heard, and more convinced that the active and successful prosecution of this mysteri:

ous business was an opportunity of ingratiating himself with Hazlewood and Mannering, to be on no account neglected. Perhaps, also, he felt his professional acuteness interested in bringing it to a suc.. cessful close. It was, therefore, with great pleasure that on his return to his house from Kippletringan, he heard his servants announce hastily, that MacGuffog, the thief-taker, and twa or three concurrents, had a man in hands in the kitchen waiting for his honour.'

He instantly jumped from horseback, and hastened into the house. Send my clerk here directly, ye'll find him copying the survey of the estate in the little green parlour. Set things to rights in my study, and wheel the great leather chair up to the writing-table-set a stool for Mr. Scrow. Scrow, (to the clerk, as he entered the presence chamber,) hand down Sir George Mackenzie on Crimes; open it at the section Vis Publica et Privata, and fold down a leaf at the passage "anent the bearing of unlawful weapons,' Now lend me a hand off with my muckle coat, and hang it up in the lobby, and bid them bring up the prisoner-I trow I will sort him—but stay, first send up Mac-Guffog. Now, Mac-Guffog, where did ye find this chield?'

Mac-Guffog, a stout bandy legged fellow, with a neck like a bull, a face like a fire-brand, and a most portentous squint of the left eye, began, after various contortions by way of courtesy to the Justice, to tell his story,eking it out by sundry sly nods and knowing winks, which appeared to bespeak an intimate correspondence of ideas between the narrator and his principal auditor. Your honour sees I went down to yon place that your honour spoke of, that's kept by her that your honour kens of, by the sea-side. So, says she, what are you wanting here? ye'll be come wi' a broom in your pocket frae Ellangowan? So, says I, deel a broom will come frae there awa',


ye ken, says I, his honour Ellangowan himsell in former times

• Well, well, no occasion to be particular, tell the essentials.'

* Weel, so we sat niffering about some brandy that I said I wanted, till he came in.'

• Who?

'He! pointing with his thumb inverted to the kitchen, where the prisoner was in custody, 'So he had his griego wrapped close round him, and I judged he was not dry-handed so I thought it was best to speak proper, and so he believed I was a Manks man, and I kept aye between him and her, for fear she had whistled, And then we began to drink about, and then I betted he would not drink out a quartern of Hollands, without drawing breath and then he tried it—and just then Slounging Jock and Dick Spur'em came in, and we clinked the darbies on him, took him quiet as a lamband now he's had his bit sleep out, and is as fresh as a May gowan, to answer what your

honour likes to spier, This narrative, delivered with a derful quantity of gesture and grimace, received at the conclusion the thanks and praises which the narrator expected.

Had he no arms?' asked the Justice. 'Ay, ay, they are never without barkers and slashers.'

Any papers?' said Glossin. “This bundle,' de: livering a dirty pocket-book.

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