rame. He singled out the person who threw it,
and dashed through the crowd--never once losing sight of him until he
had him firmly in his grasp. A struggle ensued, and Jones threw his
opponent with great force on the ground. Loud threats, and angry
imprecations followed; and "Villain!--Murderer!" burst from a hundred
tongues. Ten or a dozen men sprang forward upon him at once; but he
started back and eluded their grasp.

"Stand back!" he cried in a loud voice. "I shall strike the first man to
the earth who dares to lay a finger on me!"

For a moment his pursuers were awed; but only for a moment. Two or three
hands were in an instant at his throat, and a violent struggle and
altercation ensued.

"Villain!--villain!" cried one man, older than the rest, "ye hae killed
ane o' the sweetest bairns that ever drew breath. It was an evil hour
when ye took up your abode in this village!"

"Hold off, old man!" exclaimed Jones; "why do you persecute me so?"

Groans and yells followed.

"I swear before God," he continued, shaking himself free, "that I am
innocent of this crime!"

The crowd, however, were not to be deterred from giving vent to their
rage; and matters might have proceeded to an alarming height, had not
Mr. Manners, the parish minister, who chanced to be passing at the time,
interfered in his behalf. The old man pushed his way through the crowd,
and taking Jones by the arm, succeeded in dragging him away. They
proceeded in the direction of the manse; but, as the mob still followed,
Mr. Manners did not think it safe to leave him. He accordingly took him
in along with him; and, closing the garden gate, exhorted the crowd to
return peaceably to their homes.

For a few moments, some shouting and noise were heard; but they died
away by degrees, and Jones and his protector stood alone in the quiet
and secluded garden. The former grasped Mr. Manners by the hand, and
thanked him cordially.

"Sir," he said, "I have been sorely abused. An unhappy suspicion has
clung to my name; but innocent I declare I am, although suffering the
worst consequences of guilt. All men have some sins to weep for; but, as
I shall answer to my Maker, I swear that I am as innocent of the great
crime laid to my charge as the unborn child is."

Mr. Manners was a kind-hearted man. He was struck with the
earnestness--the quiet and subdued fervour with which Jones addressed
him--and, taking him kindly by the hand--

"Young man," he said, "I am