"No," said the other, "he and the Rapparee will stretch the same rope."

"The Rapparee! faith, sir, hell have worse company."

"What do you mean, sirra?"

"Why, Sir Robert Whitecraft, sir; he always had gallows written in his
face; but, upon my soul, he'll soon have it about his neck, please God."

"Faith, I'm afraid you are not far from the truth, Cummiskey," replied
his master; "however, I am going to make arrangements with him, to see
what can be done for the unfortunate man."

"If you'll take my advice, sir, you'll have nothing to do with him. Keep
your hand out o' the pot; there's no man can skim boiling lead with his
hand and not burn his fingers--but a tinker."

"Don't be saucy, you old dog; but ride on, for I must put Black Tom to
his speed."

On arriving at the prison, the squire found Sir Robert pent up in a
miserable cell, with a table screwed to the floor, a pallet bed, and
a deal form. Perhaps his comfort might have been improved through
the medium of his purse, were it not that the Prison Board had held a
meeting that very day, subsequent to his committal, in which, with some
dissentients, they considered it their duty to warn the jailer against
granting him any indulgence beyond what he was entitled to as a felon,
and this under pain of their earnest displeasure.

When the squire entered he found the melancholy baronet and
priest-hunter sitting upon the hard form, his head hanging down upon his
breast, or, indeed, we might say much farther; for, in consequence of
the almost unnatural length of his neck, it appeared on that occasion to
be growing out of the middle of his body, or of that fleshless vertebral
column which passed for one.

"Well, baronet," exclaimed Folliard pretty loudly, "here's an exchange!
from the altar to the halter; from the matrimonial noose to honest Jack
Ketch's--and a devilish good escape it would be to many unfortunate
wretches in this same world."

"Oh, Mr. Folliard," said the baronet, "is not this miserable? What will
become of me?"

"Now, I tell you what, Whitecraft, I am come to speak to you upon your
position; but before I go farther, let me say a word or two to make you
repent, if possible, for what you have done to others."

"For what I have done, Mr. Folliard! why should I not repent, when I
find I am to be hanged for it?"

"Oh, hanged you will be, there is no doubt of that; but now consider a
little; here you are with a brown loaf, and--is that water in t