clean out of the game; they didn't even have a chance to draw cards; kind o' knocked the little parson all of a heap, didn't it? Well, a good square meal will do him good, and I guess the racket won't do any of us harm. Good-night, I've got to run up to Brunton's cabin. I promised to bring his young kid some Christmas things, and I don't want to disappoint the little devil. Merry Christmas to you; God bless you all. Good-night," and before we could stop him he was off. It was snowing very hard, the wind blew a gale, and the night promised to be the coldest of the year; the mercury was falling fast. We lingered a few minutes, chatting around the fireplace, and then tumbled into our beds, to dream of old times when we were happy boys, long, long ago.

down with bundles or baskets. The the ante that time, raised the other crowd judge led the procession, a big turkey swung jauntily over his right shoulder, two bundles of celery springing from his overcoat pockets. Plunging along through the drifts of snow almost to the shoulder, we at last reached the parson's cabin. The judge knocked; we saw the light move inside, and then the door was cautiously opened and the little preacher stood before us. Seeing a crowd of men, he started to close the door, but the judge stepped forward saying, "Parson, we just dropped down to wish you a merry Christmas; we don't mean any harm; it's Billy Woods and his crowd from the Caribou House." A moment later we were all gathered in the kitchen, the only room large enough to hold our party. Our burdens were deposited on the table; they made quite an imposing pile. When we had all taken our places in front of the parson, the judge, his face wreathed in smiles, stepped forward, and, taking him by the hand, said: "Parson, we ain't exactly your kind, we don't shine much in religious circles, but we are men with eyes that see and hearts that feel, and we love you; we may not be qualified to give an opinion on you as a preacher, but you bet we miners know a man when we see one. And we know you have been doing a heap of good work among the boys here in camp, so we thought we would drop in and thank you, and wish you a merry Christmas, you and your wife and little child. That's about it, boys, ain't it?"

"That's it," we all answered.

The poor little parson tried to speak, but something seemed to rise in his throat, his eyes wandered from face to face, then filled with tears; he tried once more to speak but could not; grasping the judge's hand and murmuring, "God bless you, boys!" he dropped his head on the judge's shoulder and cried just like a child; kindness was so new, so strange to him; it all came too suddenly. But in a moment he gathered himself together and thanked us each, thanked us in a way we never shall forget. We left him then, a far different man from the one who had sadly turned out the light and left the church an hour before. I was the last of the party to leave the house. A door was half open and I saw into one of the bedrooms; a woman was on her knees, a little child stood up in bed, looking with dancing eyes through a mass of yellow hair at the loaded table in the kitchen. Boys," said the judge, as we gathered round our fire a few moments later, "boys, I think we raised

66

Christmas morning dawned bright and clear the storm had worn itself out during the night-not a cloud was to be seen; on every side the new-fallen snow lifted its pure, white face, as if to receive the great message of the day from the heaven bending above.

We had gathered in the dining-room and were waiting for the judge; we had decorated his armchair with flowers, brought all the way from Denver; our little presents were piled by his plate; we waited half an hour, but no judge appeared, and reluctantly we sat down to breakfast without him, expecting to see his jolly face enter the room every mo ment. An hour passed, still no sign of the judge we began to fear he was ill. While we were talking, Brunton, who lived on the cliff at the back of the judge's house, came in. "Boys, have you seen the judge this morning? He promised my kid he'd bring him some Christmas things last night, but he didn't show up. I stopped at the judge's cabin on my way down, but I could get no answer. You are sure he isn't somewhere about?"

In a moment we had thrown on our heavy coats and were hurrying up the mountain to the judge's cabin; we knocked

there was no answer; we pushed open the door - the light was burning brightly -the fire was out, the cabin cold and deserted, the judge's bed untouched. Quick as possible, our hearts beating fast, we ran along the narrow path leading from the judge's cabin to Brunton's house, the path we knew the judge must have taken after leaving us last night. A hundred yards beyond we came to the cliff, the most dangerous part of the way; here the path ran on the very edge of the rock and there

of July Porteous was arraigned, on a was Duncan Forbes of Culloden, and the charge of murder, before the High Court of Justiciary, the supreme criminal tribunal in Scotland. The charge against him was twofold: first, causing the men under his command to fire upon the crowd, and secondly, firing with his own hand and killing one of the crowd, a man named Charles Husband. His defence was that he had neither ordered his men to fire, nor fired himself, but had merely threatened the people when they became unruly. Twentyeight witnesses were examined for the prosecution, merchants of the city, professional men, servants, and young men of fashion, who had witnessed the scene from the windows of the lofty tenements of the Grassmarket, at that time an aristocratic quarter of Edinburgh. The effect of this evidence was to prove that Porteous had urged his men to fire. "Fire, and be damned to you," were the words which several witnesses swore they had heard him use. There was also strong evidence to the effect that he had snatched a firelock from one of the guard and discharged it at Husband. The testimony of the witnesses for the defence, sixteen in number, was mainly that they had not heard any orders to fire, and had not seen Porteous himself discharge a musket. The jury brought in a verdict of guilty, and Porteous was sentenced to be hanged on Wednesday, the 8th of September.

The sentence was heard with immense satisfaction in Edinburgh, for the citizens regarded Porteous simply as a brutal murderer. But he was advised to appeal to Queen Caroline, who, owing to the king's absence on the Continent, represented the crown at this time. The petition which Porteous addressed to her Majesty might have been disregarded, but it was backed up by another and more influential application for mercy. It is perhaps unnecessary to mention that, in 1736, Walpole was struggling against that powerful combination which, a few years later, succeeded in driving him from office; but the events which led to the respite of Porteous, as disclosed in the official papers in the Record Office, can hardly be understood without some explanation of the position of the ministry in Scotland. The chief adviser of Walpole regarding Scottish affairs was Archibald Campbell, Earl of Ilay and brother of John, Duke of Argyle and Greenwich. Andrew Fletcher of Milton, the lord justice clerk of Scotland, an acute lawyer and an able politician, acted as the confidential correspondent of Lord Ilay. The lord advocate

solicitor general was Charles Erskine of Tinwald. These four politicians practically controlled the administration of Scotland. But they had to contend against a vigorous opposition, especially from the Scottish peers, which had been growing in strength ever since the generai election of 1734. In that year, at the election of the sixteen representative peers, a riot had been expected, and a regiment of soldiers was drawn up in the courtyard of Holyrood Palace, to the great indignation of the opposition candidates, who protested that an attempt was being made to intimidate them by military force. The ministerial candidates were all chosen, but months after, when Parliament met, the feeling was as bitter as ever, and long debates took place regarding illegal methods which were said to have been employed at the election. "The eyes of all England," says Tindal, “and, indeed, of a great part of Europe, were now fixed upon the proceedings of the House of Peers with regard to the election of the Scotch peers." These debates came to nothing, but the influence of the government was from that time so much weakened in Scotland that, though anxious to support the authority of the law by saving Porteous, whose offence they regarded as merely an excess of zeal in the performance of his duty, the ministers were afraid to grant the prayer of his petition. Another petition was therefore prepared at the same time, which the ministry privately agreed to support, on condition that the opposition as well as the friends of the government should sign it. This condition, which was kept as a profound secret at the time, was insisted on lest the opposition should make political capital out of the reprieve of Porteous, which, it was well known, would be highly unpopular in Scotland. Signatures were, therefore, eagerly canvassed for, and the petition bears the names of about fifty persons of high social position, of whom no less than fifteen were peers.

Owing, probably, to the time which had been occupied in obtaining signatures, it was not until the 25th of August that the petitions were finally sent up to London. On that day, the lord justice clerk writes to the Duke of Newcastle: "At the desire of persons of quality and distinction, I have taken the liberty of troubling your Grace with the enclosed petition to her Majesty, in favor of John Porteous, now under sentence of death, together with a petition from himself to the queen, and it

is their request your Grace may present | was enacted is well known. Every trav them to her Majesty as soon as may be eller who has visited the ancient capital of convenient, because the 8th of September Scotland will remember the long, steep is the day fixed for the execution." Sir thoroughfare which ascends from the Walter Scott, with the genuine instinct of Palace of Holyrood to the Castle Hill. a great master in the art of writing fiction, In 1736 the part of that picturesque street has described, in the fourth chapter of which lay next to the palace was known as the "Heart of Midlothian," how a crowd the suburb of Canongate, at the western assembled at the place of execution "pre- termination of which stood a massive pared to enjoy the scene of retaliation in gateway called the Netherbow Port. Betriumph, silent and decent, though stern yond this gateway the city began, and the and relentless," and how, when the hour thoroughfare was known as the High for punishing the criminal had passed, Street. In the centre of the High Street, "the news, which the magistrates had and at the north-west corner of the Church almost hesitated to communicate to them, of Saint Giles, which still remains, stood was at length announced, and spread the Tolbooth, the gaol in which Porteous among the spectators with a rapidity like was confined. Beyond the Tolbooth, and lightning. A reprieve from the secretary sloping upwards towards the Castle, was of state's office, under the hand of his the Lawnmarket, from which a short, Grace the Duke of Newcastle, had arrived, steep street, the Westbow, led down into intimating the pleasure of Queen Caroline the Grassmarket, where the execution of (regent of the kingdom during the absence Wilson had taken place, and where the of George II. on the Continent) that the City Guard, under command of Porteous, execution of the sentence of death pro- had fired upon the crowd. nounced against John Porteous, late Captain-Lieutenant of the City Guard of Edinburgh, present prisoner in the Tolbooth of that city, be respited for six weeks from the time appointed for his execution." But, in point of fact, the announcement was not made so suddenly, nor delayed until the last moment. The fact that a respite had been granted was communicated to the magistrates of Edinburgh on the 3rd of September; and on the following day it was rumored in the city that the mob had resolved to set fire to the prison on the evening of the 8th, if the sentence against Porteous was not duly carried out. This," says the compiler of the "Narrative" in the Record Office, "was carefully inquired into by the magistrates; but they could not discover any foundation for the report." It also appears that Lord Justice Clerk Fletcher did not anticipate any disturbance on account of the mercy shown to Porteous; for on the same day he writes to the Duke of Newcastle: "This act of her Majesty's royal mercy, and as it points to further, meets with almost a general approbation, especially among those of the higher rank and greatest distinction. And the few who grumble are only of the meaner sort, or such as either have confined ways of thinking, or such as seem determined to complain whatever happens." But there can be little doubt that, during the next few days, a band of determined men were quietly but busily preparing for the tragedy which afterwards took place.

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The scene on which the Porteous Riot

On the evening of Tuesday, the 7th of September, the magistrates, who appear to have been enjoying themselves at a convivial gathering, were informed that a few boys were beating a drum in the Grassmarket. This news reached them, according to the "Narrative," from which the following details are taken, at 9.45. At six minutes to ten (the writer is very precise in giving the time) they sent an order to the captain of the guard to have his men under arms at once. But, "just before the clock struck ten,” a mob drove the guard from the guard-room, seized ninety firelocks, and several axes, and proceeded to occupy the gates of the city. At the Netherbow Port, which separated the city from the Canongate, they placed a strong party. A regiment of infantry, the Welsh Fusileers, was at this time sta tioned in the Canongate, under command of General Moyle; and the magistrates were anxious to obtain their assistance. Mr. Lindsay, member of Parliament for the city, undertook to carry a message to the troops, and, by taking a circuitous rout, managed to find his way to the officer's quarters, which he did not reach, however, until 10.45. Moyle had already heard of the riot, and had his men assembled under arms; but when Lindsay, who he afterwards hinted was not quite sober, made his appearance, the general raised a difficulty. As the gates of the city were locked, he "refused," says the "Narrative," to allow any man to march without a warrant from the lord justice clerk, or a lord of justiciary, who happened then to

his tortures, at the same time cutting him over the head, and burning his foot that had the shoe off with a torch. Thus they used him three times, so that he was near expiring when they hung him up the last time."

be all out of town." This hesitation and loss of time, as will afterwards appear, in all probability cost Porteous his life. In a letter to the Duke of Newcastle, written two days later, Moyle says that he was in bed, at a quarter past ten, when one of his officers came to him and said he heard It was at a quarter to twelve o'clock, acthat there was a great disturbance in the cording to the " Narrative," that the execucity. He at once ordered the regiment to tion, or rather murder, took place. When be roused, and while he was dressing all was over "several attempts," says this Lindsay arrived. After explaining that account, "were made to take down the he did not choose to force the gates with- body, but the mob beat every one who out a warrant, he goes on to say: "Know-made such a proposal, till about daybreak ing that the justice clerk lived but two a few members of the Council, and some miles out of the town, I desired Mr. neighbors, got the body taken down and Lindsay to write immediately to him for laid it in the Greyfriars Church." his directions what he would have the troops do, and sent the letter by my own servant, who galloped all the way. My Lord being in bed, he got no answer from him till nearly one of the clock. The letter was directed to Mr. Lindsay, so I never saw the answer, and long before it came the poor man was hanged by the mob. By what I since hear he was executed before Mr. Lindsay came to my house, for they got him out of prison a little after ten."

It is almost certain that if General Moyle had made up his mind to act without a written warrant, and had, as soon as he received the message from the magistrates, forced his way into the city, the mob would not have succeeded in their object. The request for assistance reached him at about a quarter to eleven. His men were ready. He was quite mistaken in supposing that Porteous was "got out of prison a little after ten." The mob was then engaged in driving away the magistrates, and in attempting to break into the prison with sledge-hammers and axes, and it was some time before the door was set on fire. It was only a few hundred yards from the Canongate to the scene of the riot, and an hour at least passed before an entrance was effected into the Tolbooth. There can therefore be little doubt that, even allowing for some delay at the Netherbow Port, the troops could have passed up the High Street and reached the Tolbooth in time to prevent the tragedy, which, as we have

In the mean time the mob was attacking the Tolbooth. The magistrates attempted to disperse the rioters, who, having provided themselves with ammunition by breaking open the shop "of one Alexander Dunning," threatened to fire, and drove away both the magistrates and the City Guard. The assault on the prison continued for an hour before the door, which was at last destroyed by fire, was broken in. Porteous was speedily found, and hurried up the Lawnmarket, and down by the Westbow into the Grassmarket. The justice clerk, writing to the Duke of New-seen, was not completed till nearly midcastle, describes the scene "of that unheard of cruel action, so far as I have yet been able to discover." All was hurry and confusion as the wretched victim was dragged to his doom. "On his way he lost one of his shoes, which they would not suffer him to put on." He was loaded with curses and abuse until the spot was reached where he had, nearly five months before, committed the rash act for which he was now to suffer. There he was hanged with every species of cruelty. "He humbly implored," says the justice clerk, "time to make a short prayer, which they refused; and on lifting up his hands, one of them struck him over the arm with a Lochaber axe and broke his arm. And they hung him up; and, after he had hung about four minutes, they cut him down in order to augment his terrors and increase

night — that is, about an hour and a half after the general received the message from the magistrates. But it was perhaps natural that an English officer, with the knowledge that he might have, if bloodshed ensued, to stand his trial, like Por teous, before a jury of Edinburgh citizens, should hesitate to act without a regular warrant from some civil authority.

When morning came all was quiet. The dead body of Porteous, discolored by blows, and with the neck and one arm broken, lay in the ancient church of the Greyfriars. The weapons which the rioters had used lay scattered along the West bow and the Grassmarket, and at the Tolbooth the charred and battered door. way alone showed that another had been added to the long roll of violent deeds which its venerable walls had witnessed.