aracter of a true, gallant, and undaunted hero, at
the expense of worlds, and who thought every calamity nominal but a
stain upon his honour. How atrociously absurd to suppose any motive
capable of inducing such a man to play the part of a lurking assassin?
How unfeeling to oblige him to defend himself from such an imputation?
Did any man, and, least of all, a man of the purest honour, ever pass in
a moment, from a life unstained by a single act of injury, to the
consummation of human depravity?

"When the decision of the magistrates was declared, a general murmur of
applause and involuntary transport burst forth from every one present.
It was at first low, and gradually became louder. As it was the
expression of rapturous delight, and an emotion disinterested and
divine, so there was an indescribable something in the very sound, that
carried it home to the heart, and convinced every spectator that there
was no merely personal pleasure which ever existed, that would not be
foolish and feeble in the comparison. Every one strove who should most
express his esteem of the amiable accused. Mr. Falkland was no sooner
withdrawn than the gentlemen present determined to give a still further
sanction to the business, by their congratulations. They immediately
named a deputation to wait upon him for that purpose. Every one
concurred to assist the general sentiment. It was a sort of sympathetic
feeling that took hold upon all ranks and degrees. The multitude
received him with huzzas, they took his horses from his carriage,
dragged him along in triumph, and attended him many miles on his return
to his own habitation. It seemed as if a public examination upon a
criminal charge, which had hitherto been considered in every event as a
brand of disgrace, was converted, in the present instance, into an
occasion of enthusiastic adoration and unexampled honour.

"Nothing could reach the heart of Mr. Falkland. He was not insensible to
the general kindness and exertions; but it was too evident that the
melancholy that had taken hold of his mind was invincible.

"It was only a few weeks after this memorable scene that the real
murderer was discovered. Every part of this story was extraordinary. The
real murderer was Hawkins. He was found with his son, under a feigned
name, at a village about thirty miles distant, in want of all the
necessaries of life. He had lived there, from the period of his flight,
in so private a manner, that all the en