y met a crowd, who were hurrying a man to prison. The
good-hearted Sir Christopher stopped: "Who is that poor fellow?" said
he.

"It is the celebrated" (in England all criminals are celebrated.
Thurtell was a hero, Thistlewood a patriot, and Fauntleroy was
discovered to be exactly like Buonaparte!) "it is the celebrated robber,
John Jefferies, who broke into Mrs. Wilson's house, and cut the throats
of herself and her husband, wounded the maid-servant, and split the
child's skull with the poker." Clarence pressed forward: "I have seen
that man before," thought he. He looked again, and recognized the face
of the robber who had escaped from Talbot's house on the eventful night
which had made Clarence's fortune. It was a strongly-marked and rather
handsome countenance, which would not be easily forgotten; and a single
circumstance of excitement will stamp features on the memory as deeply
as the commonplace intercourse of years.

"John Jefferies!" exclaimed the baronet; "let us come away."

"Linden," continued Sir Christopher, "that fellow was my servant once.
He robbed me to some considerable extent. I caught him. He appealed to
my heart; and you know, my dear fellow, that was irresistible, so I let
him off. Who could have thought he would have turned out so?" And the
baronet proceeded to eulogize his own good-nature, by which it is just
necessary to remark that one miscreant had been saved for a few years
from transportation, in order to rob and murder ad libitum, and, having
fulfilled the office of a common pest, to suffer on the gallows at last.
What a fine thing it is to have a good heart! Both our gentlemen now
sank into a revery, from which they were awakened, at the entrance of
the park, by a young man in rags who, with a piteous tone, supplicated
charity. Clarence, who, to his honour be it spoken, spent an allotted
and considerable part of his income in judicious and laborious
benevolence, had read a little of political morals, then beginning to be
understood, and walked on. The good-hearted baronet put his hand in his
pocket, and gave the beggar half a guinea, by which a young, strong man,
who had only just commenced the trade, was confirmed in his imposition
for the rest of his life; and, instead of the useful support, became the
pernicious incumbrance of society.

Sir Christopher had now recovered his spirits. "What's like a good
action?" said he to Clarence, with a swelling breast.

The park was crowded to