hen my faculties returned, it was the grey of the morning. We were
entering the town of Dumfries; I in the cart, and the murdered body by
my side. I was lodged in the jail--a criminal already condemned in the
eyes of my fellow-men. Even the felons and debtors in prison avoided my
society. At my examination before the sheriff, I trembled at the array
of circumstantial evidence that was brought against me. My own relation
admitted that he had seen us together at his shop-door. The young woman
had gone from thence to her brother's, and staid only a short
time--telling them she was on her way to Edinburgh, and was to meet a
young man, who was to accompany her there. She had been seen by the two
men lingering upon the Moffat road, near the planting, a short time
before, with the same bundle in her hand that I had said was mine when
they saw me in the public-house with it in my possession. They had
thought it strange, but paid no attention until the body of the young
woman was discovered in the wood a few hours after, and still warm. I
had been pursued, and the property proved to belong to the victim of my
cruelty. My terror at being apprehended, and my refusal to touch the
dead body, all militated against me. I was fully committed as the
murderer, without hope of escape, innocent as I was of the crime. To
this damning evidence, all I had to advance was my unheeded assertion of
my innocence.

"From the beginning of May until the month of September I lay in jail--a
stranger to comfort of any kind. Every anguish was mine, except remorse.
I was looked upon by all, except my parents, as the most hardened
villain on earth. No one doubted my guilt, except my parents; and it was
only their parental feelings that made them doubt and pray that, if
innocent, the really guilty might be discovered. I will not attempt to
describe the scenes between me and my parents. They both wished that the
grave might hide their shame before the fatal day of the execution of
their son; for all chance of proving my innocence seemed out of the
question. The worthy minister that visited the jail firmly believed in
my guilt; to all my solemn asseverations of innocence, he only replied
by holding forth on the dangers of hardened crime, with earnest
exhortations for me to confess and make atonement as far as was in my
power. He would for hours lay before me the horrors of appearing before
my Maker with a lie in my mouth. My pride was wounded by the good man's