The Heart of Mid-Lothian

coarse blue upper stockings, called boot-hose because supplying the place of boots, and a slouched hat. He only wanted a loaded whip under his arm and a spur upon one heel, to complete the dress of the character he seemed to represent.

'Your name is James Ratcliffe?' said the magistrate.

'Ay—always wi' your honour's leave.'

'That is to say, you could find me another name if I did not like that one?'

'Twenty to pick and choose upon, always with your honour's leave,' resumed the respondent.

'But James Ratcliffe is your present name?—what is your trade?'

'I canna just say, distinctly, that I have what ye wad ca' preceesely a trade.'

'But,' repeated the magistrate, 'what are your means of living—your occupation?'

'Hout tout—your honour, wi' your leave, kens that as weel as I do,' replied the examined.

'No matter, I want to hear you describe it,' said the examinant.

'Me describe!—and to your honour!—far be it from Jemmie Ratcliffe,' responded the prisoner.

'Come, sir, no trifling—I insist on an answer.'

'Weel, sir,' replied the declarant, 'I maun make a clean breast, for ye see, wi' your leave, I am looking for favour—Describe my occupation, quo' ye?—troth it will be ill to do that, in a feasible way, in a place like this—but what is't again that the aught command says?'

'Thou shalt not steal,' answered the magistrate.

'Are you sure o' that?' replied the accused.—'Troth, then, my occupation, and that command, are sair at odds, for I read it, thou shalt steal; and that makes an unco difference, though there's but a wee bit word left out.'

'To cut the matter short, Ratcliffe, you have been a most notorious thief,' said the examinant.

'I believe Highlands and Lowlands ken that, sir, forby England and Holland,' replied Ratcliffe, with the greatest composure and effrontery.

'And what d'ye think the end of your calling will be?' said the magistrate.

'I could have gien a braw guess yesterday—but I dinna ken sae weel the day,' answered the prisoner.

'And what would you have said would have been your end, had you been asked the question yesterday?'

'Just the gallows,' replied Ratcliffe, with the same composure.

'You are a daring rascal, sir,' said the magistrate; 'and how dare you hope times are mended with you to- day?'

'Dear, your honour,' answered Ratcliffe, 'there's muckle difference between lying in prison under sentence of death, and staying there of ane's ain proper accord, when it would have cost a man naething to get up and rin awa—what was to hinder me from stepping out quietly, when the rabble walked awa wi' Jock Porteous yestreen?—and does your honour really think I staid on purpose to be hanged?'

'I do not know what you may have proposed to yourself; but I know,' said the magistrate, 'what the law proposes for you, and that is, to hang you next Wednesday eight days.'

'Na, na, your honour,' said Ratcliffe firmly, 'craving your honour's pardon, I'll ne'er believe that till I see it. I have kend the law this mony a year, and mony a thrawart job I hae had wi' her first and last; but the auld jaud is no sae ill as that comes to—I aye fand her bark waur than her bite.'

'And if you do not expect the gallows, to which you are condemned (for the fourth time to my knowledge), may I beg the favour to know,' said the magistrate, 'what it is you do expect, in consideration of your not having taken your flight with the rest of the jail-birds, which I will admit was a line of conduct little to have been expected?'

'I would never have thought for a moment of staying in that auld gousty toom house,' answered Ratcliffe, 'but that use and wont had just gien me a fancy to the place, and I'm just expecting a bit post in't.'

'A post!' exclaimed the magistrate; 'a whipping-post, I suppose, you mean?'

'Na, na, sir, I had nae thoughts o' a whuppin-post. After having been four times doomed to hang by the neck till I was dead, I think I am far beyond being whuppit.'

'Then, in Heaven's name, what did you expect?'

'Just the post of under-turnkey, for I understand there's a vacancy,' said the prisoner; 'I wadna think of asking the lockman's[H] place ower his head; it wadna suit me sae weel as ither folk, for I never could put a beast out o' the way, much less deal wi' a man.'

'That's something in your favour,' said the magistrate, making exactly the inference to which Ratcliffe was desirous to lead him, though he mantled his art with an affectation of oddity.

'But,' continued the magistrate, 'how do you think you can be trusted with a charge in the prison, when you have broken at your own hand half the jails in Scotland?'

'Wi' your honour's leave,' said Ratcliffe, 'if I kend sae weel how to wun out mysell, it's like I wad be a' the better a hand to keep other folk in. I think they wad ken their business weel that held me in when I wanted to be out, or wan out when I wanted to hand them in.'

The remark seemed to strike the magistrate, but he made no further immediate observation, only desired Ratcliffe to be removed.

When this daring and yet sly freebooter was out of hearing, the magistrate asked the city clerk, 'what he thought of the fellow's assurance?'

'It's no for me to say, sir,' replied the clerk; 'but if James Ratcliffe be inclined to turn to good, there is not a man e'er came within the ports of the burgh could be of sae muckle use to the Good Town in the thief and lock-up line of business. I'll speak to Mr. Sharpitlaw about him.'

Upon Ratcliffe's retreat, Butler was placed at the table for examination. The magistrate conducted his inquiry civilly, but yet in a manner which gave him to understand that he laboured under strong suspicion. With a frankness which at once became his calling and character, Butler avowed his involuntary presence at the murder of Porteous, and, at the request of the magistrate, entered into a minute detail of the circumstances which attended that unhappy affair. All the particulars, such as we have narrated, were taken minutely down by the clerk from Butler's dictation.

When the narrative was concluded, the cross-examination commenced, which it is a painful task even for the most candid witness to undergo, since a story, especially if connected with agitating and alarming incidents, can scarce be so clearly and distinctly told, but that some ambiguity and doubt may be thrown upon it by a string of successive and minute interrogatories.

The magistrate commenced by observing, that Butler had said his object was to return to the village of Libberton, but that he was interrupted by the mob at the West Port. 'Is the West Port your usual way of leaving town when you go to Libberton?' said the magistrate, with a sneer.

'No, certainly,' answered Butler, with the haste of a man anxious to vindicate the accuracy of his evidence; 'but I chanced to be nearer that port than any other, and the hour of shutting the gates was on the point of striking.'

'That was unlucky,' said the magistrate, drily. 'Pray, being, as you say, under coercion and fear of the lawless multitude, and compelled to accompany them through scenes disagreeable to all men of humanity, and more especially irreconcilable to the profession of a minister, did you not attempt to struggle, resist, or escape from their violence?'

Butler replied, 'that their numbers prevented him from attempting resistance, and their vigilance from effecting his escape.'

'That was unlucky,' again repeated the magistrate, in the same dry inacquiescent tone of voice and manner. He proceeded with decency and politeness, but with a stiffness which argued his continued suspicion, to ask many questions concerning the behaviour of the mob, the manners and dress of the ringleaders; and when he conceived that the caution of Butler, if he was deceiving him, must be lulled asleep, the magistrate suddenly and artfully returned to former parts of his declaration, and required a new recapitulation of the circumstances, to the minutest and most trivial point, which attended each part of the melancholy scene. No confusion or contradiction, however, occurred, that could countenance the suspicion which he seemed to have adopted against Butler. At length the train of his interrogatories reached Madge Wildfire, at whose name the magistrate and town-clerk exchanged significant glances. If the fate of the Good Town had depended on her careful magistrate's knowing the features and dress of this personage, his inquiries could not have been more particular. But Butler could say