was thankful for the interest be seemed to take in my case. The judge then told me, I thought more gravely than he had spoken before- That it was time for me to speak in my defence, if I had any thing to say.' I had nothing to say. I thought one moment to drop down upon my knees, and beg for mercy; but, again-I thought it would only make me look ridiculous; and I only answered as well as I could-That I would not trouble the court with any defence. Upon this, the judge turned round, with a more serious air still, to the jury, who stood up all to listen to him as he spoke. And I listened too-or tried to listen attentively-as hard as I could; and yet-with all I could do—I could not keep my thoughts from wandering! For the sight of the court all so orderly, and regular, and composed, and formal, and well satisfied-spectators and all-while I was running on with the speed of wheels upon smooth soil downhill, to destructionseemed as if the whole trial were a dream, and not a thing in earnest! The barristers sat round the table, silent, but utterly unconcerned, and two were looking over their briefs, and another was reading a newspaper; and the spectators in the galleries looked on and listened as pleasantly, as though it were a matter not of death going on, but of pastime or amusement; and one very fat man, who seemed to be the clerk of the court, stopped his writing when the judge began, but leaned back in his chair, with his hands in his breeches' pockets, except once or twice that he took a snuff; and not one living soul seemed to take notice they did not seem to know the fact that there was a poor, desperate, helpless creature-whose days were fast running out-whose hours of life were even with the last grains in the bottom of the sand-glass-among them! I lost the whole of the judge's charge-thinking of I know not what-in a sort of dream-unable to steady my mind to any thing, and only biting the stalk of a piece of rosemary that lay by me. But I heard the low, distinct whisper of the foreman of the jury, as he brought in the verdict- GUILTY,'-and the last words of the judge, saying that I should be hanged by the neck until I was dead;' and bidding me 'prepare myself for the next life, for that my crime was one that admitted of no mercy in this.' The gaoler then, who had stood close by me all the while, put his hand quickly upon my shoulder, in an under voice, telling me, to 'Come along!' Going down the hall steps, two other officers met me;

and, placing me between them, without saying a word, hurried me across the yard in the direction back to the prison. As the door of the court closed behind us, I saw the judge fold up his papers, and the jury being sworn in the next case. Two other culprits were brought up out of the dock; and the crier called out for- The prosecutor and witnesses against James Hawkins, and Joseph Sanderson, for burglary!'

"I had no friends, if any in such a case could have been of use to me-no relatives but two; by whom-I could not complain of them-I was at once disowned.-There was but one person then in all the world that seemed to belong to me; and that one was Elizabeth Clare! And, when I thought of her, the idea of all that was to happen to myself was forgotten-I covered my face with my hands, and cast myself on the ground; and I wept, for I was in despera tion.-She had gone wild as soon as she had heard the news of my apprehensionnever thought of herself, but confessed her acquaintance with me. The result was, she was dismissed from her employmentand it was her only means of livelihood.

"She had been every where-to my master-to the judge that tried me-to the magistrates-to the sheriffs-to the alder men-she had made her way even to the secretary of state! My heart did misgive me at the thought of death; but, in despite of myself, I forgot fear when I missed her usual time of coming, and gathered from the people about me how she was employed. I had no thought about the success or failure of her attempt. All my thoughts were-that she was a young girl, and beautiful-hardly in her senses, and quite unprotected-without money to help, or a friend to advise her-pleading to strangers

humbling herself perhaps to menials, who would think her very despair and helpless condition, a challenge to infamy and insult. Well, it mattered little! The thing was no worse, because I was alive to see and suffer from it. Two days more, and all would be over; the demons that fed on human wretchedness would have their prey. She would be homeless-pennyless-friendless-she would have been the companion of a forger and a felon; it needed no witchcraft to guess the termination.--

"We hear curiously, and read every day, of the visits of friends and relatives to wretched criminals condemned to die. Those who read and hear of these things the most curiously, have little impression

of the sadness of the reality. It was six days after my first apprehension, when Elizabeth Clare came, for the last time, to visit me in prison! In only these short six days her beauty, health, strength-all were gone; years upon years of toil and sickness could not have left a more wornout wreck. Death-as plainly as ever death spoke-sat in her countenance-she was broken-hearted. When she came, I

had not seen her for two days. I could not speak, and there was an officer of the prison with us too: I was the property of the law now; and my mother, if she had lived, could not have blest, or wept for me, without a third person, and that a stranger, being present. I sat down by her on my bedstead, which was the only place to sit on in my cell, and wrapped her shawl close round her, for it was very cold weather, and I was allowed no fire; and we sat so for almost an hour without exchanging a word.

"She was got away, on the pretence that she might make one more effort to save me, with a promise that she should return again at night. The master was an elderly man, who had daughters of his own; and he promised-for he saw I knew how the matter was-to see Elizabeth safe through the crowd of wretches among whom she must pass to quit the prison. She went, and I knew that she was going for ever. As she turned back to speak as the door was closing, I knew that I had seen her for the last time. The door of my cell closed. We were to meet no more on earth. I fell upon my knees-I clasped my hands-my tears burst out afresh-and I called on God to bless her.".

The mental and bodily sufferings of the condemned man in his cell, his waking dreams, and his dead sleep till the morning of execution, though of intense interest in the narrative, are omitted here that the reader may at once accompany the criminal to the place of execution

"I remember beginning to move forward through the long arched passages which led from the press-room to the scaffold. I saw the lamps that were still burning-for the daylight never entered here: I heard the quick tolling of the bell, and the deep voice of the chaplain reading as he walked before us—

'I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, shall live. And

though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God!'

"It was the funeral service-the order for the grave-the office for those that were senseless and dead-over us, the quick and the living

-

"I felt once more-and saw! I felt the transition from these dim, close, hot, lamplighted subterranean passages, to the open platform and steps at the foot of the scaffold, and to day. I saw the immense crowd blackening the whole area of the street below me. The windows of the shops and houses opposite, to the fourth story, choked with gazers. I saw St, Sepulchre's church through the yellow fog in the distance, and heard the pealing of its bell. I recollect the cloudy, misty morning; the wet that lay upon the scaffold-the huge dark mass of building, the prison itself, that rose beside, and seemed to cast a shadow over us-the cold, fresh breeze, that, as I emerged from it, broke upon my face. I see it all now-the whole horrible landscape is before me. The scaffold-the rain-the faces of the multitude-the people clinging to the house-tops -the smoke that beat heavily downwards from the chimneys-the waggons filled with women, staring in the inn-yards oppositethe hoarse low roar that ran through the gathered crowd as we appeared. I never saw so many objects at once so plainly and distinctly in all my life as at that one glance; but it lasted only for an instant.

"From that look, and from that instant, all that followed is a blank

To what accident the narrator owes his existence is of little consequence, compared with the moral to be derived from the sad story." The words are soon spoken, and the act is soon done, which dooms a wretched creature to an untimely death; but bitter are the pangs-and the sufferings of the body are among the least of them-that he must go through before he arrives at it!"

In the narrative there is more than seems to be expressed. By all who advocate or oppose capital punishment-by every being with a human heart, and reasoning powers

it should be read complete in the pages of "Blackwood,"

in the habit of composing and singing to the accompaniment of his own music. Poor Willie! may he live long and live happy. When he dies many a tear will fall from eyes that seldom weep, and hearts that know little of the more refined sensations of our nature will heave a sigh. Willie will die, but not his fame will die. many of those humorous provincial songs,

In

with which Newcastle abounds more than

any other town I am acquainted with the very airs as well as the words of which possess a kind of local nationality-"Blind Willie" is the theme. These songs are the admiration of all who know how to appreciate genuine humour; several of them have been sung for years, and I venture to prophecy, will be sung by future generations.

Among the characters who have noticed "Willie " may be mentioned the present

duke of Northumberland, sir Matthew White Ridley, the late Stephen Kemble, Esq. and the admirable comedian Matthews. Sir Matthew White Ridley is a most particular favourite with "Willie," and it is no uncommon occurrence to hear Willie, as he paces along the streets of Newcastle,muttering to himself "Sir Maffa! sir Maffa! canny sir Maffa! God bless sir

Maffa!"

One of Willie's greatest peculiarities is thus alluded to by Mr. Sykes :-" He has

travelled the streets of Newcastle time out of mind without a covering upon his head. Several attempts have been made, by presenting him with a hat, to induce him to wear one, but after having suffered it for a day or two it is thrown aside, and the minstrel again becomes uncovered, preferring the exposure of his pate to the pelting of the pitiless storm.'" The likeness that accompanies this notice is from a large quarto engraving, published at Newcastle, and will doubtless be acceptable to numerous readers of that populous district wherein blind Willie is so popular.

1822.

Man tally-ho; Miss piano;

Wife silk and satin; Boy Greek and Latin; And rents will be netted. And you'll all be Gazetted

Girl to the sow;

Boy to the mow;

your

The Times.

G.*

'A REVERIE.

For the Table Book.

On a cool delightful evening which succeeded one of the scorching days of last summer, I sallied forth for a walk in the neighbourhood of the city of Chance led me along a path usually much frequented, which was then covered thick with the accumulated dust of a long drought; it bore the impression of a thousand busy feet, of every variety of form and size; from the first steps of the infant, whose nurse had allowed it to toddle his little journey to the outstretched arms of her who was almost seated to receive him, to the hobnailed slouch of the carter, whose dangling lash and dusty jacket annoyed the well-dressed throng. But three pair of footsteps, which were so perfect that they could not long have preceded my own, more than all, attracted my attention; those on the left certainly bore the impress of the delicately formed foot of a female; the middle ones were shaped by the ample square-toed, gouty shoe of a senior; and those on the right were as certainly placed there by the Wellington boot of some dandy; they were extravagantly right and middle of the foot did not tread on earth. left, the heel was small and high, for the

My imagination was instantly at work, to tenant these "leathern conveniences;" the last-mentioned I felt so certain were

inhabited by an officer of the lancers, or an hussar who had witnessed Waterloo's bloody fight, that I could almost hear the tinkle of his military spur. I pictured him young, tall, handsome, with black mustachios, dark eyes, and, as the poet says,

"His nose was large with curved line,
Which some men call the aquiline,
And some do say the Romans bore

Such noses 'fore them to the war."

The strides were not so long as a tall man would make, but this I accounted for by supposing they were accommodated to the hobbling gait of the venerable gentleman in the centre, who I imagined" of the old school," and to wear one of those few self-important wigs, which remain in this our day of sandy scratches. As these powdered coverings never look well without a three cocked hat, I had e'en placed one upon it, and almost edged it with gold lace, which, however, would not do - it had rather too much of by-gone days:-to my " mind's eye" he was clothed in a snuffcoloured suit, and one of his feet, which

was not too gouty to admit of a leather shoe, had upon it a large silver buckle. My "high fancy" formed the lady a charm ing creature, sufficiently en bon point, with an exceedingly genteel figure; not such as two parallel lines would describe, but rather broad on the shoulders, gently tapering to the waist, then gradually increasing in a delicately flowing outline, such as the "statue that enchants the world" would exhibit, if animated and clothed in the present fashionable dress; her voice, of course, was delightful, and the mild expression of her face to be remembered through life it could not be forgotten; in short, she was as Sterne says, "all that the heart wishes or the eye looks for in woman." My reverie had now arrived at its height, my canvass was full, my picture complete, and I was enjoying the last delicate touches of creative fancy, when a sudden turn in the road placed before me three persons, who, on a moment's reflection, I felt constrained to acknowledge as the authors of the footsteps which had led me into such a pleasing delusion; but no more like the trio of my imagination, than "Hyperion to a satyr!" The dandy had red hair, the lady a red nose, and the middle man was a gouty sugar-baker; all very good sort of people, no doubt, except that they overthrew my aerial castle. I instantly retraced my steps, and was foolish enough to be sulky, nay, a very "anatomie of melancholy;" till a draught of "Burton's" liquid amber at supper made me friends with the world again-

HIGHLAND TRADITION.

MACGREGOR.

ETA.

About the middle of the sixteenth century, the eldest son of Lamond, of Cowel, in Argyleshire, was hunting the red deer in Glenfine. At the same time the only son of Macgregor, of Glenstrae, the chief of that once powerful clan, was on a similar excursion in the same place, which was the boundary between the extensive territories of these two great families. Young Lamond had pierced a prime hart with an arrow; and the noble animal, galled by the shaft, which stuck in the wound, plunged into the river, and bent his course into Macgregor's country. He was followed by Lamond, who outran all his companions. It unfortunately fell out, that a hart had been wounded by the young Macgregor at the same time, among his own hills. The

two deer crossed each other in their flight, and the first that fell was claimed by both the hunters. The youths, flushed by the ardour of the chase, and totally unknown to each other, hotly disputed. They were armed, as was the fashion of those days, and fought, and the young Macgregor fell. Lamond cut his way through the attendants, but was keenly pursued. Having wonderful fleetness of foot, he made his way forward; and ignorant of the country and of the people, and almost exhausted with thirst, hunger, anguish, and fatigue, rushed into the house of Macgregor of Glenstrae, on whose mercy he threw himself, telling him that he had slain a man. Macgregor received him, and had given him refreshment, when the pursuers arrived, and told the unfortunate man the woful, tale-that his son had fallen-his only child-the last of his ancient race-the hope of his life-the stay of his age. The old man was at this period left surrounded by enemies crafty and powerful-he, friendless and alone. The youth was possessed of every virtue that a father's heart could wish; his destroyer was now in his hands; but he had pledged his promise for his safety, and that pledge must be redeemed, It required all the power and influence of the aged chief to restrain the fury of his people from slaying young Lamond at the moment; and even that influence, great as it was, could only protect him, on an assurance that on the next morning his life should be solemnly sacrificed for their beloved Gregor.

In the middle of the night, Macgregor led Lamond forth by the hand, and, aware of his danger, himself accompanied him to the shore of Lochfine, where he procured a boat, made Lamond enter it, and ordered the boatmen to convey him safely across the loch into his own country. "I have now performed my promise," said the old man," and henceforth I am your enemybeware the revenge of a father for his only son!"

Before this fatal event occurred, the persecution against the unfortunate Macgregors had commenced, and this sad accident did not contribute to diminish it. The old laird of Glenstrae struggled hard to maintain his estate and his independence, but his enemies prevailed against him. The conduct of young Lamond was grateful and noble. When he succeeded to the ample possessions of his ancestors, he beseeched old Macgregor to take refuge under his roof. There the aged chief was treated as a father, and ended his days.