mined. Habituated, however, by his office, to overawe the rabble of the city, Porteous could not suspect them of an attempt so audacious as to storm a strong and defensible prison; and, despising the advice by which he might have been saved, he spent the afternoon of the eventful day in giving an entertainment to some friends who visited him in jail, several of whom, by the indulgence of the Captain of the Tolbooth, with whom he had an old intimacy, arising from their official connection, were even permitted to remain to supper with him, though contrary to the rules of the jail. It was, therefore, in the hour of unalloyed mirth, when this unfortunate wretch was "full of bread," hot with wine, and high in mistimed and illgrounded confidence, and, alas! with all his sins full blown, when the first distant shouts of the rioters mingled with the song of merriment and intemperance. The hurried call of the jailor to the guests, requiring them instantly to depart, and his yet more hasty intimation that a dreadful and determined mob had possessed themselves of the city gates and guard-house, were the first explanation of these fearful clamours. Porteous might, however, have eluded the fury from which the force of authority could not protect him, had he thought of slipping on some disguise, and leaving the prison along with his guests. It is probable that the jailor might have connived at his escape, or even that, in the hurry of this alarming contingency, he might not have observed it. But Porteous and his friends alike wanted presence of mind to suggest or execute such a plan of escape. The former hastily fled from a place where their own safety seemed compromised, and the latter, in a state resembling stupefaction, awaited in his apartment the termination of the enterprise of the rioters. The cessation of the clang of the instruments with which they had at first attempted to force the door, gave him momentary relief. The flattering hopes, that the military had marched into the city, either from the Castle or from the suburbs, and that the rioters were intimidated and dispersing, were soon destroyed by the broad and glaring light of the flames, which, illuminating through the grated window every corner of his apartment, plainly shewed that the mob, determined on their fatal purpose, had adopted a means of forcing entrance equally desperate and certain. The sudden glare of light suggested to the stupified and astonished object of popular hatred the possibility of concealment or escape. To rush to the chimney, to ascend it at the risk of suffocation, were the only means which seem to have occurred to him; but his progress was speedily stopped by one of those iron gratings, which are, for the sake of security, usually placed across the vents of buildings designed for imprisonment. The bars, how ever, which impeded his farther progress, served to support him in the situation which he had gained, and he seized them with the tenacious grasp of one who esteemed himself clinging to his last hope of existence. The lurid light, which had filled the apartment, lowered and died away; the sound of shouts was heard within the walls, and on the narrow and winding stair, which, cased within one of the turrets, gave access to the upper apartments of the prison. The huzza of the rioters was answered by a shout wild and desperate as their own, the namely, of the imprisoned felons, who, expecting be liberated in the general confusion, welcomed mob as their deliverers. By some of these apartment of Porteous was pointed out to his e mies. The obstacle of the lock and bolts was s overcome, and from his hiding-place the unfortun man heard his enemies search every corner of apartment, with oaths and maledictions, which wo but shock the reader if we recorded them, but wh served to prove, could it have admitted of dou the settled purpose of soul with which they sou his destruction. A place of concealment so obvious to suspici and scrutiny as that which Porteous had chos could not long screen him from detection. He dragged from his lurking-place, with a violen which seemed to argue an intention to put him death on the spot. More than one weapon directed towards him, when one of the rioters, same whose female disguise had been particula noticed by Butler, interfered in an authoritati tone. "Are ye mad?" he said, or would execute an act of justice as if it were a crime a a cruelty This sacrifice will lose half its savo if we do not offer it at the very horns of t altar. We will have him die where a murder should die, on the common gibbet - We will ha him die where he spilled the blood of so mai innocents!" 66 A loud shout of applause followed the propos and the cry, "To the gallows with the murdere To the Grassmarket with him!" echoed on a hands. "Let no man hurt him," continued the speake "let him make his peace with God, if he can; will not kill both his soul and body." "What time did he give better folk for prepari their account?" answered several voices. "L us mete to him with the same measure he measur to them." But the opinion of the spokesman better suit the temper of those he addressed, a temper rath stubborn than impetuous, sedate though ferocion and desirous of colouring their cruel and reven ful action with a show of justice and moderation. For an instant this man quitted the prison whom he consigned to a selected guard, with structions to permit him to give his money a property to whomsoever he pleased. A pers confined in the jail for debt received this last depo from the trembling hand of the victim, who was the same time permitted to make some other br arrangements to meet his approaching fate. felons, and all others who wished to leave the ja were now at full liberty to do so; not that th liberation made any part of the settled purpose the rioters, but it followed as almost a necessa consequence of forcing the jail doors. With w cries of jubilee they joined the mob, or disappear among the narrow lanes to seek out the hidd receptacles of vice and infamy, where they w accustomed to lurk and conceal themselves fr justice. Two persons, a man about fifty years old, an girl about eighteen, were all who continued wit the fatal walls, excepting two or three debtors, w probably saw no advantage in attempting th escape. The persons we have mentioned remai in the strong-room of the prison, now deserted 1 1 all hers. One of their late companions in misforthe called out to the man to make his escape, in de tone of an acquaintance. "Rin for it, Ratcliffe -the road's clear." "It may be sae, Willie," answered Ratcliffe, composedly," but I have taen a fancy to leave aff trade, and set up for an honest man." "Stay there, and be hanged, then, for a donnard suld devil!" said the other, and ran down the prison-stair. The person in female attire whom we have distinguished as one of the most active rioters, was about the same time at the ear of the young woman. *Flee, Effe, flee !" was all he had time to whisper. She turned towards him an eye of mingled fear, afection, and upbraiding, all contending with a sort of stapified surprise. He again repeated, "Flee, Efe, Bee, for the sake of all that's good and dear to you." Again she gazed on him, but was unable answer. A loud noise was now heard, and the name of Madge Wildfire was repeatedly called from the bottom of the staircase. "I am corning, I am coming," said the person who answered to that appellative; and then reiterating hastily, "For God's sake-for your own sake -for my sake, flee, or they'll take your life!" he left the strong-room. The girl gazed after him for a moment, and then, faintly muttering, "Better tyne life, since tint is rade fame," she sunk her head upon her hand, and remained, seemingly, unconscious as a statue, of the 1 noise and tumult which passed around her. That tumult was now transferred from the inside to the outside of the Tolbooth. The mob had brought their destined victim forth, and were about to conduct him to the common place of execution, which they had fixed as the scene of his death. The leader, whom they distinguished by the name of Madge Wildfire, had been summoned to assist at the procession by the impatient shouts of his confederates "I will ensure you five hundred pounds," said the unhappy man, grasping Wildfire's hand,- -"five bandred pounds for to save my life." The other answered in the same under-tone, and returning his grasp with one equally convulsive, Five hundred-weight of coined gold should not Save you. Remember Wilson !" A deep pause of a minute ensued, when Wildfire added, in a more composed tone, "Make your pase with Heaven. -- Where is the clergyman ?" Batler, who, in great terror and anxiety, had e detained within a few yards of the Tolbooth dour, to wait the event of the search after Porteous, wa now brought forward, and commanded to walk Ly the prisoner's side, and to prepare him for immediate death. His answer was a supplication that the rioters would consider what they did. "You are neither judges nor jury," said he. "You cannot have, by the laws of God or man, power to take away the life of a human creature, however deserving he may be of death. If it is murder even a lawful magistrate to execute an offender other wine than in the place, time, and manner which the judges' sentence prescribes, what must it be in you, who have no warrant for interference but your own wills? In the name of Him who is all mercy, shew mercy to this unhappy man, and do not dip your hands in his blood, nor rush into the very erme which you are desirous of avenging !" "Cut your sermon short-you are not in your pulpit," answered one of the rioters. 66 "If we hear more of your clavers," said another, we are like to hang you up beside him." "Peace-hush!" said Wildfire. "Do the good man no harm-he discharges his conscience, and I like him the better." He then addressed Butler. "Now, sir, we have patiently heard you, and we just wish you to understand, in the way of answer, that you may as well argue to the ashler-work and iron-stanchels of the Tolbooth, as think to change our purpose Blood must have blood. We have sworn to each other by the deepest oaths ever were pledged, that Porteous shall die the death he deserves so richly; therefore, speak no more to us, but prepare him for death as well as the briefness of his change will permit." They had suffered the unfortunate Porteous to put on his night-gown and slippers, as he had thrown off his coat and shoes, in order to facilitate his attempted escape up the chimney. In this garb he was now mounted on the Eands of two of the rioters, clasped together, so as to form what is called in Scotland, "The King's Cushion." Butler was placed close to his side, and repeatedly urged to perform a duty always the most painful which can be imposed on a clergyman deserving of the name, and now rendered more so by the peculiar and horrid circumstances of the criminal's case. Porteous at first uttered some supplications for mercy, but when he found that there was no chance that these would be attended to, his military education, and the natural stubbornness of his disposition, combined to support his spirits. "Are you prepared for this dreadful end?" said Butler, in a faltering voice. "O turn to Him, in whose eyes time and space have no existence, and to whom a few minutes are as a lifetime, and a lifetime as a minute." "I believe I know what you would say," answered Porteous sullenly. "I was bred a soldier; if they will murder me without time, let my sins as well as my blood lie at their door." "Who was it," said the stern voice of Wildfire, "that said to Wilson at this very spot, when he could not pray, owing to the galling agony of his fetters, that his pains would soon be over?-I say to you to take your own tale home; and if you cannot profit by the good man's lessons, blame not them that are still more merciful to you than you were to others." The procession now moved forward with a slow and determined pace. It was enlightened by many blazing links and torches; for the actors of this work were so far from affecting any secrecy on the occasion, that they seemed even to court observation. Their principal leaders kept close to the person of the prisoner, whose pallid yet stubborn features were seen distinctly by the torch-light, as his person was raised considerably above the concourse which thronged around him. Those who bore swords, muskets, and battle-axes, marched on each side, as if forming a regular guard to the procession. The windows, as they went along, were filled with the inhabitants, whose slumbers had been broken by this unusual disturbance. Some of the spectators muttered accents of encouragement; but in general they were so much appalled by a sight so strange and audacious, that they looked on with a sort of stupified astonishment. No one offered, by act or word, the slightest interruption. The rioters, on their part, continued to act with the same air of deliberate confidence and security which had marked all their proceedings. When the object of their resentment dropped one of his slippers, they stopped, sought for it, and replaced it upon his foot with great deliberation.' As they descended the Bow towards the fatal spot where they designed to complete their purpose, it was suggested that there should be a rope kept in readiness. For this purpose the booth of a man who dealt in cordage was forced open, a coil of rope fit for their purpose was selected to serve as a halter, and the dealer next morning found that a guinea had been left on his counter in exchange; so anxious were the perpetrators of this daring action to shew that they meditated not the slightest wrong or infraction of law, excepting so far as Porteous was himself concerned. Leading, or carrying along with them, in this determined and regular manner, the object of their vengeance, they at length reached the place of common execution, the scene of his crime, and destined spot of his sufferings. Several of the rioters, (if they should not rather be described as conspirators) endeavoured to remove the stone which filled up the socket in which the end of the fatal tree was sunk when it was erected for its fatal purpose; others sought for the means of constructing a temporary gibbet, the place in which the gallows itself was deposited being reported too secure to be forced, without much loss of time. Butler endeavoured to avail himself of the delay afforded by these circumstances, to turn the people from their desperate design. "For God's sake," he exclaimed, "remember it is the image of your Creator which you are about to deface in the person of this unfortunate man! Wretched as he is, and wicked as he may be, he has a share in every promise of Scripture, and you cannot destroy him in impenitence without blotting his name from the Book of Life-Do not destroy soul and body; give time for preparation." "What time had they," returned a stern voice, "whom he murdered on this very spot?- The laws both of God and man call for his death." "But what, my friends," insisted Butler, with a generous disregard to his own safety--"what hath constituted you his judges?" son; "We are not his judges," replied the same per"he has been already judged and condemned by lawful authority. We are those whom Heaven, and our righteous anger, have stirred up to execute judgment, when a corrupt government would have protected a murderer." "I am none," said the unfortunate Porteous; "that which you charge upon me fell out in selfdefence, in the lawful exercise of my duty." "Away with him -away with him!" was the general cry. "Why do you trifle away time in making a gallows? that dyester's pole is good, enough for the homicide." The unhappy man was forced to his fate with remorseless rapidity. Butler, separated from him 1 This little incident, characteristic of the extreme composure of this extraordinary mob, was witnessed by a lady, who, disturbed, like others, from her slumbers, had gone to the window. It was told to the author by the lady's daughter. by the press, escaped the last horrors of his stru gles. Unnoticed by those who had hitherto detaine him as a prisoner, he fled from the fatal spot, wit out much caring in what direction his course la A loud shout proclaimed the stern delight wi which the agents of this deed regarded its con pletion. Butler, then, at the opening into the lo street called the Cowgate, cast back a terrifi glance, and, by the red and dusky light of t torches, he could discern a figure wavering ar struggling as it hung suspended above the heads the multitude, and could even observe men striki at it with their Lochaber-axes and partizans. T sight was of a nature to double his horror, and add wings to his flight. The street down which the fugitive ran, opens one of the eastern ports or gates of the city. Butk did not stop till he reached it, but found it sti shut. He waited nearly an hour, walking up an down in inexpressible perturbation of mind. A length he ventured to call out, and rouse the atter tion of the terrified keepers of the gate, who no found themselves at liberty to resume their offic without interruption. Butler requested them open the gate. They hesitated. He told them h name and occupation. "He is a preacher," said one; "I have hear him preach in Haddo's-hole." "A fine preaching has he been at the night, said another; "but maybe least said is sune: mended." Opening then the wicket of the main-gate, th keepers suffered Butler to depart, who hastene to carry his horror and fear beyond the walls Edinburgh. His first purpose was, instantly to tak the road homeward; but other fears and care connected with the news he had learned in the remarkable day, induced him to linger in the neigh bourhood of Edinburgh until daybreak. More tha one group of persons passed him as he was whilein away the hours of darkness that yet remained whom, from the stifled tones of their discourse, th unwonted hour when they travelled, and the hast pace at which they walked, he conjectured to hav been engaged in the late fatal transaction. Certain it was, that the sudden and total di persion of the rioters, when their vindictive purpos was accomplished, seemed not the least remarkab feature of this singular affair. In general, wha ever may be the impelling motive by which a mo is at first raised, the attainment of their object ha usually been only found to lead the way to farthe excesses. But not so in the present case. The seemed completely satiated with the vengeance the had prosecuted with such stanch and sagacio activity. When they were fully satisfied that li had abandoned their victim, they dispersed in ever direction, throwing down the weapons which the had only assumed to enable them to carry throug their purpose. At daybreak there remained n the least token of the events of the night, exceptin the corpse of Porteous, which still hung suspende in the place where he had suffered, and the arms various kinds which the rioters had taken from th city guard-house, which were found scattered abou the streets as they had thrown them from the hands, when the purpose for which they had seize them was accomplished. The ordinary magistrates of the city resume their power, not without trembling at the la ce of the fragility of its tenure. To march into the city, and commence a severe inquiry the transactions of the preceding night, were te first marks of returning energy which they disayed But these events had been conducted on * secure and well-calculated a plan of safety and ry, that there was little or nothing learned to Eght upon the authors or principal actors in & scheme so audacious. An express was despatched Lan with the tidings, where they excited great gation and surprise in the council of regency, particularly in the bosom of Queen Caroline, sidered her own authority as exposed to empt by the success of this singular conspiracy. Mary was spoke of for some time save the meavengeance which should be taken, not only a the actors of this tragedy, so soon as they should le covered, but upon the magistrates who had dered it to take place, and upon the city which ad been the scene where it was exhibited. On casion, it is still recorded in popular tradition, that her Majesty, in the height of her displeasure, the celebrated John, Duke of Argyle, that, wer than submit to such an insult, she would e Scotland a hunting-field. "In that case, Madam," answered that high-spirited nobleman, with a profound bow, "I will take leave of your May, and go down to my own country to get hounds ready." The import of the reply had more than met the ar; and as most of the Scottish nobility and gentry seemed actuated by the same national spirit, the real displeasure was necessarily checked in midFoury, and milder courses were recommended and adopted, to some of which we may hereafter have occasion to advert If I were to choose a spot from which the rising wetting sun could be seen to the greatest possible advantage, it would be that wild path winding and the foot of the high belt of semi-circular ks, called Salisbury Crags, and marking the e of the steep descent which slopes down into theglen on the south-eastern side of the city of dburgh. The prospect, in its general outline, nds a close-built, high-piled city, stretching fout beneath in a form, which, to a romantic agination, may be supposed to represent that of dragon; now, a noble arm of the sea, with its Fick, isles, distant shores, and boundary of moun; and now, a fair and fertile champaign country, ared with hill, dale, and rock, and skirted by the presque ridge of the Pentland Mountains. But path gently circles around the base of the the prospect, composed as it is of these enchantand sublime objects, changes at every step, and prets them blended with, or divided from, each , in every possible variety which can gratify the eye and the imagination. When a piece of scenery so beautiful, yet so varied,- -so exciting by its intricacy, and yet so sublime,-is lighted up by the tints of morning or of evening, and displays all that variety of shadowy depth, exchanged with partial brilliancy, which gives character even to the tamest of landscapes, the effect approaches near to enchantment. This path used to be my favourite evening and morning resort, when engaged with a favourite author, or new subject of study. It is, I am informed, now become totally impassable; a circumstance which, if true, reflects little credit on the taste of the Good Town or its leaders.' It was from this fascinating path-the scene to me of so much delicious musing, when life was young and promised to be happy, that I have been unable to pass it over without an episodical description-it was, I say, from this romantic path that Butler saw the morning arise the day after the murder of Porteous. It was possible for him with ease to have found a much shorter road to the house to which he was directing his course, and, in fact, that which he chose was extremely circuitous. But to compose his own spirits, as well as to while away the time, until a proper hour for visiting the family without surprise or disturbance, he was induced to extend his circuit by the foot of the rocks, and to linger upon his way until the morning should be considerably advanced. While, now standing with his arms across, and waiting the slow progress of the sun above the horizon, now sitting upon one of the numerous fragments which storms had detached from the rocks above him, he is meditating, alternately, upon the horrible catastrophe which he had witnessed, and upon the melancholy, and to him most interesting, news which he had learned at Saddletree's, we will give the reader to understand who Butler was, and how his fate was connected with that of Effie Deans, the unfortunate handmaiden of the careful Mrs Saddletree. Reuben Butler was of English extraction, though born in Scotland. His grandfather was a trooper in Monk's army, and one of the party of dismounted dragoons which formed the forlorn_hope at the storming of Dundee in 1651. Stephen Butler (called, from his talents in reading and expounding, Scripture Stephen, and Bible Butler) was a stanch Independent, and received in its fullest comprehension the promise that the saints should inherit the earth. As hard knocks were what had chiefly fallen to his share hitherto in the division of this common property, he lost not the opportunity which the storm and plunder of a commercial place afforded him, to appropriate as large a share of the better things of this world as he could possibly compass. It would seem that he had succeeded indifferently well, for his exterior circumstances appeared, in consequence of this event, to have been much mended. The troop to which he belonged was quartered at the village of Dalkeith, as forming the body guard of Monk, who, in the capacity of general for the Commonwealth, resided in the neighbouring castle. When, on the eve of the Restoration, the general commenced his march from Scotland, a measure 1 A beautiful and solid pathway has, within a few years, been formed around these romantic rocks; and the author has the Note D. Memorial concerning the Murder of Captain pleasure to think, that the passage in the text gave rise to the undertaking. pregnant with such important consequences, he new-modelled his troops, and more especially those immediately about his person, in order that they might consist entirely of individuals devoted to himself. On this occasion Scripture Stephen was weighed in the balance, and found wanting. It was supposed he felt no call to any expedition which might endanger the reign of the military sainthood, and that he did not consider himself as free in conscience to join with any party which might be likely ultimately to acknowledge the interest of Charles Stewart, the son of "the last man," as Charles I. was familiarly and irreverently termed by them in their common discourse, as well as in their more elaborate predications and harangues. As the time did not admit of cashiering such dissidents, Stephen Butler was only advised in a friendly way to give up his horse and accoutrements to one of Middleton's old troopers, who possessed an accommodating conscience of a military stamp, and which squared itself chiefly upon those of the Colonel and paymaster. As this hint came recommended by a certain sum of arrears presently payable, Stephen had carnal wisdom enough to embrace the proposal, and with great indifference saw his old corps depart for Coldstream, on their route for the south, to establish the tottering government of England on a new basis. The zone of the ex-trooper, to use Horace's phrase, was weighty enough to purchase a cottage and two or three fields, (still known by the name of Beersheba,) within about a Scottish mile of Dalkeith; and there did Stephen establish himself with a youthful helpmate, chosen out of the said village, whose disposition to a comfortable settlement on this side of the grave reconciled her to the gruff manners, serious temper, and weather-beaten features of the martial enthusiast. Stephen did not long survive the falling on "evil days and evil tongues," of which Milton, in the same predicament, so mournfully complains. At his death his consort remained an early widow, with a male child of three years old, which, in the sobriety wherewith it demeaned itself, in the old-fashioned and even grim cast of its features, and in its sententious mode of expressing itself, would sufficiently have vindicated the honour of the widow of Beersheba, had any one thought proper to challenge the babe's descent from Bible Butler. Butler's principles had not descended to his family, or extended themselves among his neighbours. The air of Scotland was alien to the growth of independency, however favourable to fanaticism under other colours. But, nevertheless, they were not forgotten; and a certain neighbouring Laird, who piqued himself upon the loyalty of his principles "in the worst of times," (though I never heard they exposed him to more peril than that of a broken head, or a night's lodging in the main guard, when wine and cavalierism predominated in his upper story,) had found it a convenient thing to rake up all matter of accusation against the deceased Stephen. In this enumeration his religious principles made no small figure, as, indeed, they must have seemed of the most exaggerated enormity to one whose own were so small and so faintly traced, as to be well-nigh imperceptible. In these circumstances, poor widow Butler was supplied with her full proportion of fines for non-conformity, and all the other oppressions of the time, until Beersheba was fairly wrenched out of her hands, and bec the property of the Laird who had so wantonly it had hitherto appeared, persecuted this poor lorn woman. When his purpose was fairly achie he shewed some remorse or moderation, or w ever the reader may please to term it, in permit her to occupy her husband's cottage, and cultiv on no very heavy terms, a croft of land adjac Her son, Benjamin, in the meanwhile, grew man's estate, and, moved by that impulse wh makes men seek marriage, even when its end only be the perpetuation of misery, he wedded: brought a wife, and, eventually, a son, Reuben share the poverty of Beersheba. The Laird of Dumbiedikes had hitherto b moderate in his exactions, perhaps because he ashamed to tax too highly the miserable means support which remained to the widow Butler. when a stout active young fellow appeared as labourer of the croft in question, Dumbiedikes be to think so broad a pair of shoulders might bear additional burden. He regulated, indeed, his 1 nagement of his dependents (who fortunately w but few in number) much upon the principle of carters whom he observed loading their carts : neighbouring coal-hill, and who never failed to an additional brace of hundred weights on th burden, so soon as by any means they had e passed a new horse of somewhat superior stren to that which had broken down the day bef However reasonable this practice appeared to Laird of Dumbiedikes, he ought to have obser that it may be overdone, and that it infers, matter of course, the destruction and loss of b horse, cart, and loading. Even so it befell w the additional "prestations" came to be deman of Benjamin Butler. A man of few words, and ideas, but attached to Beersheba with a feeling that which a vegetable entertains to the spot which it chances to be planted, he neither ren strated with the Laird, nor endeavoured to es from him, but toiling night and day to accomp the terms of his task-master, fell into a buri fever and died. His wife did not long survive h and as if it had been the fate of this family to be orphans, our Reuben Butler was, about the 1704-5, left in the same circumstances in which father had been placed, and under the same g dianship, being that of his grandmother, the wi of Monk's old trooper. The same prospect of misery hung over the of another tenant of this hard-hearted lord of soil. This was a tough true-blue Presbyterian, c Deans, who, though most obnoxious to the Lair account of principles in church and state, contr to maintain his ground upon the estate by res payment of mail-duties, kain, arriage, carriage multure, lock, gowpen, and knaveship, and al various exactions now commuted for money, summed up in the emphatic word RENT. years 1700 and 1701, long remembered in Sco for dearth and general distress, subdued the heart of the agricultural whig. Citations by ground officer, decreets of the Baron Court, se trations, poindings of outside and inside plenis flew about his ears as fast as ever the tory b whistled around those of the Covenanters at land, Bothwell Brigg, or Airsmoss. Struggle I See Note E. Dumbierikes. Bu |