ain entrance into the Abbey. Round
this the party collected: a hamper of smuggled claret, which they had
fortunately intercepted on its road from the abbey, was unpacked: wine
and the genial warmth of the fire disposed all present except the
prisoner to mirth and festivity; and not one soul but seemed to regard
it as a point of conscience to reward their fatigue and celebrate their
success by getting royally intoxicated.

"Why so downcast, my lad?" said one of the constables to Bertram; "in
my youth I was as near to the gallows as you; and yet you see I am now
virtuous; and a man of credit in the state."

"Aye, Sampson," said Kilmary, "unless you're much belied, you got your
reprieve just as you were going to be turned off."

"And you, Kilmary, got yours something later: for I've often heard that
you were cut down after hanging some five minutes or so. This was in
Wicklow, gentlemen: and being in time of rebellion there was so much
business that they were often obliged to employ dilettanti artists in
hanging: and now and then there was not time to go through the work
properly.--But, as I was saying, courage my young lad. Were I in your
place, I would bless my stars that I had fallen into the company of
honest men, and got rid of such rascally friends as yours, that run
away at the pinch. You see by this that no dependance can be placed
upon such villains, and that virtue only can be relied on. Oh! I could
preach finely to you, my boy: but where's the use of it? If you're
hanged, you'll not want it: and, if you're not hanged, you'll forget
it."

Bertram meantime had for a moment withdrawn his attention from the
unpleasant circumstances of his own situation to the striking features
of the scene before him. In the back ground lay Snowdon bending into a
vast semicircus, and absorbing into its gigantic shadows the minor
hills which lay round its base: all were melted into perfect unity: and
from the height of its main range the whole seemed within a quarter of
a mile from the spot which he himself occupied. Between this and the
abbey lay a level lawn, chequered with moonlight and the mighty shadows
of Snowdon. Of the abbey itself many parts appeared in the distance;
sullen recesses which were suddenly and partially revealed by the
fluctuating glare of the fire; aerial windows through which the sky
gleamed in splendour, unless when it was obscured for a moment by the
clouds which sailed across; pinnacles and crosses of su