to the choice, because of the Scotchman's skill in broiling.

But MacGrawler, like Brutus, concealed a scheming heart under a stolid
guise. The apprehension of the noted Lovett had become a matter of
serious desire; the police was no longer to be bribed, nay, they were now
eager to bribe. MacGrawler had watched his time, sold his chief, and was
now on the road to Reading to meet and to guide to the cavern Mr. Nabbem
of Bow Street and four of his attendants.

Having thus, as rapidly as we were able, traced the causes which brought
so startlingly before your notice the most incomparable of critics, we
now, reader, return to our robbers.

"Hist, Lovett!" said Tomlinson, half asleep, "methought I heard something
in the outer cave."

"It is the Scot, I suppose," answered Clifford: "you saw, of course, to
the door?"

"To be sure!" muttered Tomlinson, and in two minutes more he was asleep.

Not so Clifford: many and anxious thoughts kept him waking. At one
while, when he anticipated the opening to a new career, somewhat of the
stirring and high spirit which still moved amidst the guilty and confused
habits of his mind made his pulse feverish and his limbs restless; at
another time, an agonizing remembrance,--the remembrance of Lucy in all
her charms, her beauty, her love, her tender and innocent heart,--Lucy
all perfect, and lost to him forever,--banished every other reflection,
and only left him the sick sensation of despondency and despair. "What
avails my struggle for a better name?" he thought. "Whatever my future