were very just to lay you beside him," he said, "but the blood of a
base pick-thank shall never mix on my father's dirk, with that of a
brave man."

As he spoke, he threw the fatal weapon into the blazing turf-fire.

"There," he said, "take me who likes--and let fire cleanse blood if it
can."

The pause still continuing, Robin Oig asked for a peace-officer, and a
constable having stepped out, he surrendered himself.

"A bloody night's work you have made of it," said the constable.

"Your own fault," said the Highlander. "Had you kept his hands off me
twa hours since, he would have been now as well and merry as he was twa
minutes since."

"It must be sorely answered," said the peace-officer.

"Never you mind that--death pays all debts; it will pay that too."

The constable, with assistance, procured horses to guard the prisoner to
Carlisle, to abide his doom at the next assizes. While the escort was
preparing, the prisoner, before he was carried from the fatal apartment,
desired to look at the dead body, which had been deposited upon the
large table, (at the head of which Harry Wakefield had just presided)
until the surgeons should examine the wound. The face of the corpse was
decently covered with a napkin. Robin Oig removed the cloth, and gazed
on the lifeless visage. While those present expected that the wound,
which had so lately flooded the apartment with gore, would send forth
fresh streams at the touch of the homicide, Robin Oig replaced the
covering, with the brief exclamation, "He was a pretty man!"

My story is nearly ended. The unfortunate Highlander stood his trial at
Carlisle. I was myself present. The facts of the case were proved in the
manner I have related them; and whatever might be at first the prejudice
of the audience against a crime so un-English as that of assassination
from revenge, yet when the national prejudices of the prisoner had been
explained, which made him consider himself as stained with indelible
dishonour, the generosity of the English audience was inclined to regard
his crime as the aberration of a false idea of honour, rather than as
flowing from a heart naturally savage, or habitually vicious. I shall
never forget the charge of the venerable judge to the jury.

"We have had," he said, "in the previous part of our duty, (alluding to
some former trials,) to discuss crimes which infer disgust and
abhorrence, while they call down the well-merited vengeance of the law.
It is n