ho so little need
of a banker as he? all he has to apprehend is a check--all he has to
draw is a trigger. As to the women, they dote upon him: not even your
red-coat is so successful. Look at a highwayman mounted on his flying
steed, with his pistols in his holsters, and his mask upon his face.
What can be a more gallant sight? The clatter of his horse's heels is
like music to his ear--he is in full quest--he shouts to the fugitive
horseman to stay--the other flies all the faster--what chase can be half
so exciting as that? Suppose he overtakes his prey, which ten to one he
will, how readily his summons to deliver is obeyed! how satisfactory is
the appropriation of a lusty purse or corpulent pocket-book!--getting
the brush is nothing to it. How tranquilly he departs, takes off his hat
to his accommodating acquaintance, wishes him a pleasant journey, and
disappears across the heath! England, sir, has reason to be proud of her
highwaymen. They are peculiar to her clime, and are as much before the
brigand of Italy, the contrabandist of Spain, or the cut-purse of
France--as her sailors are before all the rest of the world. The day
will never come, I hope, when we shall degenerate into the footpad, and
lose our _Night Errantry_. Even the French borrow from us--they have
only one highwayman of eminence, and he learnt and practised his art in
England."

"And who was he, may I ask?" said Coates.

"Claude Du-Val," replied Jack; "and though a Frenchman, he was a deuced
fine fellow in his day--quite a tip-top macaroni--he could skip and
twirl like a figurant, warble like an opera-singer, and play the
flageolet better than any man of his day--he always carried a lute in
his pocket, along with his snappers. And then his dress--it was quite
beautiful to see how smartly he was rigg'd out, all velvet and lace; and
even with his vizard on his face, the ladies used to cry out to see him.
Then he took a purse with the air and grace of a receiver-general. All
the women adored him--and that, bless their pretty faces! was the best
proof of his gentility. I wish he'd not been a Mounseer. The women
never mistake. _They_ can always discover the true gentlemen, and they
were all, of every degree, from the countess to the kitchen-maid, over
head and ears in love with him."

"But he was taken, I suppose?" asked Coates.

"Ay," responded Jack, "the women were his undoing, as they've been many
a brave fellow's before, and will be again." Touched