to illuminate his worn features. Years of
suffering had he undergone, and there was now little more than skin and
bone of him left to undergo more.

"Let me hae a turn at the crack noo," he said, coming forward to a part
of the foul miry dungeon where a crowd of male and female prisoners were
endeavouring to inhale a little fresh air through a crevice in the wall.
"I'm fit to choke for want o' a breath o' caller air."

As he spoke a groan from a dark corner attracted his attention. At once
forgetting his own distress, he went to the place and discovered one of
the prisoners, a young man, with his head pillowed on a stone, and mire
some inches deep for his bed.

"Eh, Sandy, are ye sae far gane?" asked Black, kneeling beside him in
tender sympathy.

"Oh, Andry, man--for a breath o' fresh air before I dee!"

"Here! ane o' ye," cried Black, "help me to carry Sandy to the crack.
Wae's me, man," he added in a lower voice, "I could hae carried you ye
wi' my pirlie ance, but I'm little stronger than a bairn noo."

Sandy was borne to the other side of the dungeon, and his head put close
to the crevice, through which he could see the white ripples on the
summer sea far below.

A deep inspiration seemed for a moment to give new life--then a
prolonged sigh, and the freed happy soul swept from the dungeons of
earth to the realms of celestial, light and liberty.

"He's breathin' the air o' Paradise noo," said Black, as he assisted to
remove the dead man from the opening which the living were so eager to
reach.

"Ye was up in the ither dungeon last night," he said, turning to the man
who had aided him; "what was a' the groans an' cries aboot?"

"Torturin' the puir lads that tried to escape," answered the man with a
dark frown.

"Hm! I thoucht as muckle. They were gey hard on them, I dar'say?"

"They were that! Ye see, the disease that's broke oot amang them--
whatever it is--made some o' them sae desprit that they got through the
wundy that looks to the sea an' creepit alang the precipice. It was a
daft-like thing to try in the daylight; but certain death would hae been
their lot, I suspec', if they had ventured on a precipice like that i'
the dark. Some women washin' doon below saw them and gied the alarm.
The gairds cam', the hue and cry was raised, the yetts were shut and
fifteen were catched an' brought back--but twenty-five got away. My
heart is wae for the fifteen. They were laid on their backs on benches;