notice, and twisted his gray moustache and knit his brow against the sunny casement as if he had been the host, and the earl, a poor cousin, come to speak for a post in Holyrood. At last there was a long pause. The old man drew on his gloves, and smoothed the feather of his hat; and Lord John looked out of the window, and round the chamber for some circumstance of remark, till he was at his wits' end. He was on the point of inquiring for the health of the Lady Marischalle, who had been happy under the blue stone in Dumfermline choir for three years, when suddenly the old earl started up, and bowing an abrupt apology, craved "the favour of a privy word" with his host. The countess rose to leave the room, but the marischal hastily put on his hat."Hey! na lady!” said he, “ye'll no avoid the chamber for an old man; and if my good lord will give me a turn in the sunshine, I will hold him but short hinderance of your fair presence." The lady would still have retired, but the knight would not suffer it; and taking Lord John by the sleeve, he made his salutations and hastened to the door. Lord Moray led the way up the narrow turnpike' till they came out on the bartizan. The marischal stopped and paused till he closed the door, and took two turns on the terrace before he spoke. At last-"Sir Earl," said he, "here is the most distasteful errand that ever knight rode on to another-and he a new married lord-but I am a blunt man, and as ye wit well, more used to handle the cross of my sword than my ladies culing sticks; wherefore I will speak shortly, and you shall have the less doubt." "Whatever you say must be welcome," replied the earl, with a bow. "Nay, that shall it not," said the old man; "but certainly I must say it, though it was to the king's grace in Holyrood-ye know the knight of Eaglestour, and his brother, Sir James." Lord John stopped suddenly. "Yes! -What of them?" said he. "Some days since," continued the marischal," the first came to my house, of Inverurie and charged-and made oath-by Holy St. John!-I know not how to tell it to a knight's face!" and he turned away and struck his glove on the bartizan. "Nay, sir! say on!" said Lord John. The marischal paused a moment.— "By my father's soul!" said he, "it is a felon thing for one knight to tell to another; but so I crave your grace as I believe it not-he hath chargedcharged the noble lady, your countess, for the death of his brother!" Lord Moray started round, and laid his hand on his sword; but he immediately checked. "Sir Earl," said he, "you do your office; but he that spoke that lie shall die, though he were King James in Holyrood!" The old marischal laid his hand on his arm-" Soft, noble knight!" said he. The challenger avers but one proof-to the which I give no credence; and if this, as I doubt not, shall failthe pursuit is void. I discharge it without hearing, and shall inhibit all men to speak of it but as they shall answer with a sharp lance.” "And what is this?" said Lord Moray. "Sir William hath made oath, that his brother died of poison in a certain condiment prepared by order of or with the knowledge of the countess; and he saith, that the remanent of the dish shall be found in a black armoire in the lady's privy closet." "Follow me!" said the earl; and turning suddenly to the stair, hastily descended, and brought the marischal into a small apartment. He advanced eagerly to a high ebony cabinet which stood in a recess, and tried the door, but it was fast. "Lend me your dagger, my lord," said he, " we will not spare for marring the lock!" The old knight presented his aunelace in silence, and Lord Moray eagerly wrenching open the door, stood fixed with horror. The very plate of apricots of which Sir James had eaten, stood on the first shelf! The two earls stood without speaking. At length-"It must yet be proven, said the marischal; there is many a young lady shall have condiment in her closet that never mixed poison. Will you please let some eat of it, my lord?” The earl hastily took the spoon, and A fan, in the inventory of the royal wardrobe of Scotland occurs, sax litel culing fannis of litel wandis.—Inventories of the Royal Wardrobe and Jewel-house, p. 241. was lifting the preserve to his lips, when the marischal stopped his hand. “Nay!” said he, “that shall not be— try it on whom you will-a dog-a cat -any thing that you list." Lord John frowned sternly on the old man. "Sir Earl!" said he, " you already prejudge her-but no force, it shall be as you will." He took the salver from the armoire, and desiring the marischal to follow, led him into an adjoining room, where a beautiful white greyhound lay asleep at the foot of his master's bed. "There is one would eat death out of my hand," said Lord Moray, and he called " Math! Math!"* The noble dog started up, and raised his ears and bounded forward to his master. The earl patted his sleek ears, and offered him the platter; but he turned away his head.—“No doubt!" said the marischal, "I thought not of this -but, truly, there is no greyhound that ever I saw that should eat condiment of apple." The knight patted the head of the dog "Hey! good Math!" said he, eat-eat-wilt thou not eat for me and thy lady!" The dog felt the conserve and drooped his ears, and looked wistfully to his master." Nay, eat! sirrah! eat!" exclaimed the earl, stamping with his foot. The gentle dog turned to the plate, and slowly advanced his long white sleek nose, and champed the red conserve, though his lips turned up till they showed the white teeth, and his very whiskers stood an end with disgust. "There!-good noble Math!" said the earl, patting his head as he withdrew the empty platter; "and now, sir earl-when nothing comes of this as surely nothing shall-I claim a fair field and short day, as certainly as I shall do battle upon Knight Douglass, for a false mansworn traitor against knighthood and all ladies!" As the marischal was about to reply -the greyhound, which had stood leaning his head against his masters' knee, while he smoothed his velvet ears, suddenly started, stared wildly against the light, and chattered with his teeth, drivelled at the mouth, and trembled in every limb. 'Holy saints!-What is this!" exclaimed the marischal. Sir John turned white as clay, and threw the dish out of his hand. "Math! Math! Math!" he cried; but the dog did not turn nor move his eyes, and stood staring and shuddering, till, suddenly, he gave a sharp strange yelp, sprung from the floor and fell as if shot through with an arrow. For some moments he lay like dead; but by degrees his rigid limbs began to move, till they became fearfully convulsed; his eyes glared as if they would have started from his head, and for several minutes he continued a short, sharp, barking cry; and all his limbs moved with the rapidity of an animal in full speed. The earl gazed upon him, till at last the motion ceased: his eyes closed gradually, and as his master stooped towards him, he strove to lick his hand and crawl towards him. As Sir James bent over him, he laid his head on his arm, and turned up his gray eyes to his face till the lids fell, and they grew dim, and wan, and cold, and fixed in the glassy glaze of death. Lord John laid his passive head on the floor, and, for a moment, the knights looked on him without a word. The marischal was the first who spoke :-" Sir Earl," said he, "I must do my office-will it please you let the countess be called?" Lord Moray started suddenly from his gaze-"I claim the appeal to God † she shall abide battle!" said he. "I may not deny it," replied the marischal;" and upon your knightly cognizance I will take the assurance of your bodily word for her appearing in the court of arms at Edinburgh on St. Michael's day. I will then hear the appeal and set the day, and you shall find a champion." The earl smiled terribly, and his cheek came white as his collar-" Yes," said he, "we shall find a champion !" The marischal received his hand in silence, and as lord John led him down A name for a greyhound, and is said to have been that of King Richard II.'s dog, charged with having given such an instance of infidelity when Henry of Bolingbroke visited his master to announce his deposition. The truth is, the dog happened to be well acquainted with the Duke of Hereford, who was an old courtier, and merely testified his welcome to an acquaintance. †The military ordeal, or camp fight. the stair, stopped suddenly on the first landing-" I pray you to excuse me to your lady," said he, "but I should be ill to see her, and must take horse in haste." "Nay," said lord Moray, "it shall not be said that you passed through my hall without breaking bread or tasting wine." But the earl would not wait, and immediately calling for his attendants, mounted his horse and rode hastily towards Forres. Lord Moray gazed after him for some moments without moving, but suddenly he turned and called for Norman Leslie, his favourite esquire. While the pages hastened to seek him he paced slowly through the hall, and as soon as the esquire appeared drew him hastily into one of the deep windows; "You must take horse to-day for Paris," said he; "I am to do mortal battle for my lady in a cause of life and death, and I trust it to you to purvey me the surest Milan arming-suit which may be bought with money. My counterpane is Sir William Douglass, and if a lady's life and felon foeman may set jeopardy on a lance, there never was more cause for good hand and sure arming-I will say no more-and if thou and I meet well on St. Michael's morrow I will make thee as glad knight as ever braced red spur on his heel." The esquire made zealous assurance of his service, and after long and minute instruction, the earl dismissed him to prepare for his journey. Norman hastened out in search of his valet and yeoman, and before noon his mails were braced, his leave taken, and followed by his two attendants, and a sumpter horse, he was far upon the road to Elgin. He rested that night at Huntly, and continued his journey with such short halts and long stages, that on the third day, before evening, he had discharged his errand with Geoffry le Lombard, his lord's merchant, eaten a brace of pullets, and drunk a quart of sack at the Sun in the Cannongate, and was again cantering upon the road towards Berwick. The evening was beginning to close as he came out on the broad dim waste of Whinny Muir, and as the light failed he checked his horse and called up the peasant whom he had hired for a guide. "Are you truly sure of the road?" "Then shall there be little safety when thou canst not see thy horses ears from a horn-coot," said the esquire ; "but get on before, if thou canst not wind the track like a bracket, thou art as good as d-d, for I warn thee I shall break thy head.” The man spurred forward, and the rest falling into a single file followed his dark shadow as it wound before them among the dusk knolls and ferny hollows. It was not long before the light closed upon them, and they continued to track the guide rather by the tramp of his horse than any sight of his shape. The night was profoundly dark and still, the long limber fern stood motionless on the knolls, and the black impenetrable veil of sky slept with the deep breathless calm which often precedes a storm. They had ridden above two hours when the guide stopped suddenly and glanced upwards-but not a star was visible, and he peered eagerly down upon the moss, though he could scarce see the shoulder of his horse. "Hey! hast thou lost it ?" cried the esquire, riding up. "Weel then, I could na say!" replied the hind. "The fiend ring thy false snout with a swine routle! thou pudding-questing cur!" cried the esquire, "what will we do now?" "It's my thinking ye'll just tak a green broom bush to ye'r host for this night," replied the peasant. "The devil d―n thy host!" exclaimed Norman, "and here shall we lose six hours or more of good riding!" "It's no just that," said the clown, "for ye wad na be riding, suppose ye was in Jock Hosteller's daiz bed but an' ye'd no mind to wink a wee under a thorn, or sic like, yonder's twa capons, and paistie, and a gallon o' wine and ale in the hanaper!" "And as much fire and water in yonder cloud," cried the esquire, "as would give thee light and cool thy scut if thou wert a jack mawking in March, or supping in the black pit where thou wilt sup, though it should not be to-night." The guide glanced to the sky"Weel there is that!" said he, "an' it come down." "Come down!" cried Norman, "to be sure it will! as sure as ever thou REMARKS ON THE EXTRAORDINARY TRIAL OF EUGENE ARAM.‡ to "THE annals of criminal jurisprudence," as the celebrated Edmund Burke has well remarked, " exhibit human nature in a variety of positions, at once the most striking, interesting, and affecting. They present tragedies of real life, often heightened in their effect by the grossness of the injustice, and the malignity of the prejudices which accompanied them. At the same time, real culprits, as original characters, stand forward on the canvass of humanity as prominent objects for our special study.' The truth of this observation was never better exemplified than in the case of EUGENE ARAM. The trial and execution of this extraordinary man presents one of those "tragedies of real life which Mr. Burke alludes; and presents it, too, in a manner so interesting, and under circumstances so remarkable, as to claim a much stronger and more reflective share of the public attention than it has ever yet received. Having been recently made the subject of a novel which deservedly obtains from the known talents and reputation of its author, a very extensive circulation, the trial and execution of Eugene Aram, becomes more peculiarly an object of interest. Our criminal laws are unhappily so lavish of life, and consign the accused to the hands of the hangman with such careless and offhand decision, that his execution is very far from being, at any time, a sure criterion of his guilt. There is no advocate at all familiar with the proceedings of our criminal courts that will not readily subscribe to this truth. But it necessarily happens that the persons whose fate it is to be involved in accusations which expose them to capital punishment, are of that class in society who are without aid, without influence, and without friends. They are of that class least protected by the laws, because those who make the laws have no interest in protecting them. An exalted offender finds enough ready to purge him from iniquity by bearing testimony to his unimpeached character, and the opprobrium is without difficulty made to fall on him who has dared to bring forward the unwarranted and unwarrantable accusation. No pains are spared to bring up exculpatory evidence; all the resources of influence are called in aid, all the artifices which can serve to baffle the law are resorted to; and it is rare indeed that the means resorted to are not successful. But when a capital offence is imputed to one in low station, a charge occupying half an hour in the detail, is followed but too often with a verdict of five minutes deliberation, that condemns him to lose his life; and he dies solemnly declaring his innocence: but he is executed, is cut down, and is neither cared for nor heard of more. All this is deeply to be deplored, but who is there to deplore it? Who but a lawyer can judge whether there was legal evidence sufficient for conviction? And what lawyer cares whether there was or was not? It may, and does occupy the serious thoughts of humane and thinking men; but what does that avail? It is true that by the efforts of such men an individual unjustly condemned, has now and then been rescued from death. By a perseverance which nothing could relax, and by a steadfastness of purpose not to be put aside, such persons have in some few instances surmounted all the diffi Friar Rush's lantern is a familiar name for Will-o'-the-whisp. + Hag, an old broken peat-moss, and the heaps among the holes. This remarkable trial, all former editions of it being out of print, has been, within these few weeks, republished by John Hearne, 81, Strand, from the Annual Register. It is much to be wished that a still more full and detailed account of it could be procured. culties which oppose themselves to the success of such an application. But does such an interference happen in one case in a hundred? And how often has it happened that in the case of an innocent person, the representation of his innocence has come too late, and that before his pardon could be sent, his body has been dissected! This is no conjectural statement; neither is it magnified; the facts are but too numerous which justify it. With respect to EUGENE ARAM, had the circumstances of his case obtained that fulness of legal inquiry which they most amply deserved, a verdict of guilty could never have been pronounced against him. A charge of murder standing more completely unsupported by conclusive proof can hardly be imagined. There is not evidence of guilt sufficient to carry conviction to the mind of any man competent to sit upon a jury of life or death. His trial took place in June, 1758, at Knaresborough, in the county of York, and, therefore, as we may well suppose, before a country jury, utterly unacquainted with those rules which should govern the reception of evidence, and wholly unexercised in those habits of judicial examination which fit the mind to draw a satisfactory and sound conclusion from the evidence placed before it. Eugene Aram was a man of a retired, philosophic, and reflective cast of mind, very rarely found among the humbler classes of society. His skill in acquiring languages was remarkable, and his acquirements were industriously applied to the most useful purposes of literature. All the pursuits of his life were of a studious character, and his station in life was fitted to them. This man it was that was suddenly apprehended in a school at Lynn, in Norfolk, of which he was usher, on a charge of having, fifteen years before, when residing as a schoolmaster at Knaresborough, murdered a man of the name of Daniel Clark, and whose skeleton was alleged to have been then recently discovered in St. Robert's Cave. Now here was at the outset wherewithal to stagger the belief of any man called to sit in judgment upon such an accusation. That an individual upon whose character and conduct while living fifteen years before in the public capacity of a schoolmaster, report had cast no stain, should have been so steeped in infamy as to be not only an accomplice in robbery, but familiar with that worst and most atrocious of all crimes, the crime of murder, is something so wide of all conception, that nothing but proof the most conclusive could make it credible. Then we have this same individual, of known studious and quiet habits, living-for the fifteen years before he is thus apprehended-in a school at Lynn in Norfolk, in the quality of usher, with a character and conduct equally irreproachable! Was it ever before known in the world that a robber and a murderer was personified in an example such as this? In a novel, indeed, where it is considered as no fault that a character startles our reason, if it does but take a strong hold on the imagination, a personage of this description may pass off without criticism. But in real life, such a being is so wholly out of the circle of matter of fact, as never to have come within any man's knowledge. In dealing with the common mass of mankind, we not only never find such a being, but we never expect to find him. In a teacher of a school, in a man placed in a station that keeps the eye of the world always more or less upon him, the thing is next to impossible; so impossible, that that evidence must be clear and certain beyond all human doubt, that could bring us to believe in its exist ence. Let us now examine a little into the particulars which are given to the public as authentic in relation to the case of Eugene Aram. We are told-" Daniel Clark, the deceased, had been newly married, and under the colour of having received a good fortune with his wife, entered into a confederacy with Aram, and Houseman a flax-dresser, to defraud several persons of great quantities of plate and goods, which Clark was to borrow from his friends and acquaintance, to make a first appearance in the marriage state. This Clark effectually did, and borrowed goods of great value, such as linen and woollen-drapery goods, besides three silver tankards, four silver mugs, one silver milk-pot, one ring set with an emerald, and two brilliant diamonds, |