venerable magistrate who had been trying
"cases" for the greater part of a long life. "Why, it leaves us nothin'
wotiver to do! Even a p'leeceman might manage it! The thief has gone
an' took up hisself, tried an' condemned hisself without a jury,
pronounced sentance on hisself without a judge, an' all but hanged
hisself without Jack Ketch, so there's nothin' for you an' me to do but
go an' bury our thumpin' sticks, as Red Injins bury the war-hatchet,
retire to our wigwams, an' smoke the pipe of peace."

"Wery good; let's go an' do it, then," returned Bob, curtly.

As it is not a matter of particular interest how the boys reduced this
figurative intention to practice, we will leave them, and follow Dick
Martin for a few minutes.

His way led him past the "Blue Boar," which at that moment, however,
proved to be no temptation to him. He paused to listen. Sounds of
revelry issued from its door, and the voice of Joe Stubley was heard
singing with tremendous energy--"Britons, never, never, never, shall be
slaves," although he and all his companions were at that very moment
thoroughly--in one or two cases almost hopelessly--enslaved to the most
terrible tyrant that has ever crushed the human race!

Dick went on, and did not pause till he reached his sister's house. By
that time the family party had broken up, but a solitary candle in the
attic window showed that old Granny Martin was still on her watch-tower.

"Is that you, Dick?" said his sister, opening to his tap, and letting
him in; but there was nothing of welcome or pleasure in the widow's
tone.

The fisherman did not expect a warm welcome. He knew that he did not
deserve it, but he cared not, for the visit was to his mother. Gliding
to her side, he went down on his knees, and laid his rugged head on her
lap. Granny did not seem taken by surprise. She laid her withered hand
on the head, and said: "Bless you, my boy! I knew you would come,
sooner or later; praise be to His blessed name."

We will not detail what passed between the mother and son on that
occasion, but the concluding sentence of the old woman was significant:
"He can't be long of coming _now_, Dick, for the promises are all
fulfilled at last, and I'm ready."

She turned her head slowly again in the old direction, where, across the
river and the sands, she could watch the moonbeams glittering on the
solemn sea.

Three days later, and the skipper of the _Sunbeam_ received a telegram
tel