e, peaceably
yield himself up to "underlie the law," in a reliance on the friendly
disposition of Cromwell towards the fugitive, which, it was not doubted,
would be exerted in behalf of his servant. Such proceeding, it was
thought too, would bring Lord Rae's case sooner to issue; and be, with
regard to the law, as it were, throwing a bone in the dog's way to
arrest his attention, and interrupt his pursuit of the original and more
important object of his vengeance.

On delivering himself up, M'Kay was immediately placed in confinement,
and shortly after brought to trial, for aiding and abetting in the
escape of a State prisoner. The trial was a very brief one; for the
facts were easily established, and sentence was about to be passed on
the prisoner, when a stir suddenly arose at the court door. The
presiding judge paused; the stir increased. In the next instant it was
hushed; and in that instant Cromwell entered the court. On advancing a
pace or two within the apartment, he took off his hat, bowed
respectfully to the judges, and proceeding onwards, finally ascended the
bench and took his seat beside them.

When a man feels himself master, he need be under no great ceremony;
neither need he trouble himself much about forms or rules which regulate
the conduct of inferiors. Cromwell, on this occasion, got up in a few
minutes after he had taken his place, and delivered to the court a long,
and, after his usual fashion, obscure and unconnected oration in favour
of the prisoner at the bar. The chief ground, however, on which he
rested his defence and exculpation of M'Kay, was the fidelity to his
master, which the crime with which he was charge implied, and the worse
effect to the cause of morality than good to the political interests of
the State, which the infliction of any punishment in such case would
produce. "If," concluded Cromwell, "fidelity to a master is to be
punished as a crime, where shall we look for honest servants?"

The reasoning of Cromwell, even had it been less cogent than it was,
could not be but convincin to those who knew of and dreaded his power.
He was listened to with the most profound attention, and the justness
of his arguments and force of his eloquence acknowledged by the
acquittal of the prisoner.

As M'Kay rose from his seat at the bar to leave the court, Cromwell eyed
him attentively for some seconds, and, struck with his prodigious size
and fierce aspect, whispered to one of the judges nea