from a demon, and clasping his hands together above his head, while his whole face was distorted by ungovernable passion, he shouted out in a terrible voice, —« Villain! monster! parricide! man!—may the blood and the curse of a murdered uncle, of one who adopted, fed, and nurtured thee in his bosom, fall upon thy head, and wither up thy heart! May thy hopes be blasted in this world! and in the next, may fires unquenchable-—— })

Overcome by the paroxysm of his wrath, he could not complete the malediction. His usually wan complexion was suffused and sanguine, the veins swelled, perspiration trickled from his forehead, his blood-shot eyes seemed starting from their sockets, the horrible grinding of his teeth became audible as he gnashed them together, his body writhed as if the mighty convulsion within would rend it asunder, and then every limb becoming suddenly rigid, he fell backwards in a fit. By order of the judge, he was removed from the court, his wife accompanying him and promptly performing such melancholy offices as the occasion required, by loosening his bands, applying volatile salts to his nose, and giving proper directions to the bewildered officers of the court.

Apparently unaffected by the catastrophe he had occasioned, Mark Walton gave the most conclusive testimony of his uncle's guilt and identity, winding up his testimony by something like an apology, in which he attempted to disguise his hideous ingratitude and treacherous violation of every claim of consanguinity,

under the flimsy veil of fealty to the King and duty to the public.

At the conclusion of his deposition, Mrs Walton returned into the court, her countenance a little saddened, but still collected and undismayed.

"Who is of counsel for the prisoner?» inquired the judge.

« I am, my Lord," replied Mrs Walton. «I was his counsellor and adviser in the offence; I will be his defender in his trial; I would willingly be a sharer in his punishment. I have but a few words to say, and I hope therefore to stand excused if I enter into a short detail of our private history. I am the sister of the late sovereign of these realms, his Highness the Lord. Protector of England, Scotland, and Ireland, and the dominions and territories thereunto belonging.»

« Woman! woman!» cried the judge, angrily, « we know of no such person here. If you speak of the late execrable usurper, Oliver Cromwell, call him by his name.">

"My Lord, my Lord," calmly resumed Mrs Walton —« names are of little import. You may, with a worse than cannibal rage, dig up and insult the remains of that man before whom, when alive, you cowered in the very dust. You may nail up that head upon Westminster Hall, whose bold and bright intellect exalted England to the very pinnacle of renown, and controlled the destinies of Europe. But you cannot tear him down from the illustrious niche he occupies in the temple of history; you cannot untomb him from the

imperishable monument he has built for himself by his own great and valorous exploits. My husband was entrusted by him with an almost unlimited power and authority; how he exercised it let those attest who were subject to his sway. But though we were connected with the Protector by every tie of blood and interest, we were no parties to his usurpation; we had not assisted him to depose an hereditary tyrant, in order to set up a despot whose title was his sword. Deeming that this noble nation was never meant to be the patrimony of a family, but was fully capable of governing itself, we were the staunch advocates of a republic; and no sooner had we ascertained the real views of the Protector than we severed ourselves from his communion, gave up all our appointments, abandoned power and sway, and retired into the obscurity of private life."

"You should have done that before the murder of the King,« observed the judge; « you would then have had public opinion with you.”

<< Public opinion!» exclaimed Mrs Walton, with a slight expression of contempt. << The wind is not more uncertain. In our last place of concealment, my unfortunate husband gazed every day upon a picture representing the murder of William the First of Holland, who was slain in the most cowardly manner by a sordid and bigoted assassin. This man did the Spanish nation, which had instigated him to the deed, celebrate and canonize as a martyr, while his family was ennobled and enriched. Charles the First was tried by a public,

legal, solemn tribunal, and the seventy or eighty judges who condemned him are execrated, hunted down, and exterminated like wild beasts.-Such is public opinion: This fleeting breath may perhaps be in favour of the restored Government,-yet what has it effected? This great and godly nation, so lately the terror of its enemies, rendered contemptible and effeminate by profane debaucheries, and given over to the dominion of harlots, profligates, and drunkards, is become the scorn of Europe, is invaded and insulted by the weakest of its foes, its ships burnt in their harbours, its people put to flight and shame, its very capital threatened; while an outraged Deity, in manifestation of his wrath, has devastated the land with pestilence, and destroyed its metropolis by fire.»

« Hold thy audacious tongue!» cried the judge<< and rail not thus against the government of his most sacred Majesty. All that you have said is quite irrelevant. Do you deny the prisoner's guilt?"

Yes, my lord; but I admit the act of which he stands arraigned, for Valentine Walton never meant to quit the earth with a lie in his mouth.»

« Woman! how dare you trifle with the court?» cried the judge. « As you admit the act I will proceed to charge the jury, and you may bring forward the prisoner that he may hear his sentence.>>

1 All the parties implicated in the King's trial chose to overlook the defective constitution of the court, which rendered their sentence as illegal and arbitrary, as any of the violent acts with which the King was charged.

My lord," said Mrs Walton, in a more solemn tone of voice-« it is out of my power to produce him; he has escaped!»

«How!-what mean you?-Escaped!» exclaimed his lordship, starting up in great agitation. « Mr Sheriff and officers of the court, look to it at your cost! Lieges! I charge you all in the King's name to be aiding and abetting! Send to the Horse Guards for assistance! Raise a hue and cry."

« Compose yourself, my lord," resumed Mrs Walton - he is beyond your jurisdiction. He has removed his cause into a higher court, whence not all the kings of the earth, nor all their guards, nor all the armies in the world, can summon him to appear before you. He is dead!"

<< Dead!" exclaimed the judge, with a look of incredulity-«< this is some plot or device to defraud the scaffold of its due. Look to him, officers, instantly, and let me hear the truth." Two or three officials of the court having now confirmed that the prisoner was dead, his lordship exclaimed, in a loud and angry voice -<< Insolent and unfeeling woman! how have you dared to waste the time of the court, how have you had the heart to plead his cause when you knew your husband to be a corpse?»

<< Because I wished to vindicate his memory-because I rejoiced that he had escaped from his miseries-that his mind was severed from the tenement of clay by which it was broken and shattered-that he had avoid ed a public ignominious death. That is no decease which promises to give me back the husband of my