"WE shall be too late, I fear,” said my friend George Seymour, as he hur ried me into a hackney-coach; and stepping in himself, bade the man drive with all the speed he could, to the Old Bailey.

"What makes you feel such an interest in the fate of this assassin, this James Morley?" I asked.

"I know something of the man," replied Seymour, "and have heard circumstances mentioned respecting the murder for which he is to be tried, that lead me to expect an extraordinary scene."

We soon reached Newgate; and making our way through the crowd to the door of the Court, Seymour inquired of the janitor, as he slipped a crown into his hand, "whether the trial had begun ?"

"What trial?" said the man, putting the money into his pocket.

"James Morley's," replied Seymour. "Oh no," rejoined the fellow, shaking his head, and opening the door at the same moment. But we had scarcely entered, when tapping me on the shoulder he added, "You have not heard what has happened?"

"What is it?" I exclaimed. "That there man Morley shot himself last night; but there's a wery nice case of bigamy just begun ; an elderly gentleman as has married seven wives, and they are all in Court; that's him in black, with powder and a pig-tail.”

"His pig-tail be," Seymour was going to say. He was stopped by the door-keeper, who observed drily, "he would be fined five shillings more if he swore in Court."

"This is really mortifying," said I, as we descended the steps into what is called the press-yard.

We were neither of us disposed to remain, and hear the "soft impeachment" against the elderly, pig-tailed, powdered gentleman in black, who had provided himself with a set of wives; like a case of patent razors→→→→ one for each day in the week.

"Murder and suicide!" exclaimed Seymour, half aloud; and pausing for a moment, undetermined whether he VOL. XXV.

would return home, or make further enquiries at the prison.

"I expected it would be so," said a gentlemanly-looking man, somewhat advanced in years. He had the appearance of a retired officer, and was standing close by Seymour.

"You knew him, then ?" replied Seymour, turning quickly round.

"Almost from his cradle," answered the stranger-" for he hardly stood higher than my knee, the first time I patted his little curly head; and I can scarcely be said to have lost sight of him since."

"I knew him a little," observed Seymour. "He was one of those men of whom you could not know any thing, without a strong desire to know

more.

"I think I have had the pleasure of meeting you, Mr Seymour, once, if not twice, at Morley's, before he removed from Finchley.'

"You have the advantage of me," replied Seymour, evidently surprised, and, as I thought, a little vexed, at this recognition.

"My name is Captain Shackerly," said the stranger.

"Shackerly-Shackerly," repeated Seymour, "I certainly remember that name-but I declare, upon my honour, I cannot recollect the particular occa sion."

"Perhaps I can recall one circumstance to your memory; the day Mor ley's uncle died."

"Enough," interrupted Seymour, shaking his head, "I do remember that day."

"I was there," added Shackerly, "when Morley's servant brought him the intelligence."

"Captain Shackerly," said Seymour, taking him by the hand, "I am happy to renew my acquaintance with you.'

Shackerly bowed. We walked out of the press-yard; and sauntered along the Old Bailey till we reached Ludgate Hill. Of all places (Thames Street alone excepted) this perhaps, is the very last which any one ever would select for continuing a quiet

2 N

conversation. The day was too early (scarcely half-past ten) to permit of the usual alternative-an adjournment to the nearest tavern or coffee-house; so we turned, retraced our steps, and found ourselves once more opposite the gloomy entrance to Newgate. "How did he destroy himself?" said Seymour.

"A pistol," replied Shackerly; "he sent the ball right through his heart." "Good God!" exclaimed Seymour, "what a close to the life of such a man!"

"But how did he obtain possession of the pistol?" said I; "it argues great remissness in those who were about him."

"Oh," replied Shackerly, significantly, "he had more than one friend who would do that office for him, and provide the means of keeping their secrets. He was busily engaged in writing the greater part of the day, preparing, as it was supposed, for his defence; but it appeared, after his death, that his object was, to leave behind him-what shall I call it ?-not a confession-nor a modern reminiscence but a rapid sketch of those circum stances of his life from which he deduced its last melancholy act."

"It should seem," said Seymour, "that you have seen this writing."

"I have," replied Captain Shackerly, "for Morley had appointed me to visit him in the evening, but when I reached the prison, the fatal deed was consummated. I saw him, as he lay a bleeding corpse, near the table, on which were several sheets of paper, containing what I have mentioned. They were written in a firm hand, and signed with his name, only a moment, I should imagine, before he shot himself."

"Would it be possible to obtain a sight of this document?" said Seymour. "I should think so," answered Shackerly; "not immediately, but after the inquest has been held upon the body, which is summoned for twelve o'clock."

"Where shall I have the pleasure of meeting you, two or three hours hence?" said Seymour. "I am exceedingly desirous of perusing what Morley wrote; and by your interference, perhaps, my desire can be accomplished."

"I shall attend the inquest," replied Captain Shackerly, "which will be

held in the prison; and if you return by two o'clock, I can almost undertake to promise you shall not be disappointed."

Seymour readily assured him he would be punctual, and they parted for the present.

"You must go with me," said he, as we walked along Holborn. "This Morley was no common man; and though he has descended to the grave, stained with the double crime of murder and of suicide, if what he has left behind him be a faithful record of his life, he has bequeathed a rich legacy to the world. I cannot now tell you how I became acquainted with him, some six or seven years since; I only know, I look back upon the event as upon one of those occurrences by which men compute the date of other things, subsequent or antecedent: they stand out like towering rocks, in the tide of a quiet man's life, which he sees through all its after windings.

I required no great persuasion to accede to Seymour's proposal; for he had himself sufficiently raised my cu riosity, independently of what had fallen from Captain Shackerly. Be fore the clock struck two, therefore, we presented ourselves at the doors of Newgate, where we found Shackerly waiting.

"I have succeeded," said he, “in obtaining possession of the papers; but must return them to-night. Whi ther shall we repair to read them ?”

"Let it be some retired place," observed Seymour. "What think you of Canonbury House," said I, "where we can take an early dinner, and be free from intrusion?"

"With all my heart," said Shackerly. Seymour signified his consent; and we were soon on our way to that rural manufactory of cockney relaxations, in a hackney-coach drawn by two anatomies, whose progress was so humane, that any old woman who was knocked down by one of the front wheels, opposite the Angel at Islington, had time to get up again, before the hind wheel overtook her.

As we rolled thus leisurely along, Shackerly informed us that the verdict of the jury, upon the wretched Morley, was felo-de-se; and that he was to be carted into a hole that night, at twelve o'clock, at the end of the Old Bailey, where the four roads, or rather streets, meet.

"It is a barbarous relic of former ages," observed Seymour, "thus to stigmatize suicide. It punishes the innocent and the living, not the guilty and the dead. Human penalties ought not to stretch beyond the grave. Whatever may be the crime of the self-murderer, it is an account which can only be settled between him and his Creator. He is a link which has dropped out of the social chain; and no man who has overcome all the other natural and moral checks which might be expected to restrain him, will ever be turned aside from his fearful purpose by the mere consideration of indignities offered to his body after death. The revolting ceremony fails, therefore, even as a preventive."

We were not more than two hours

"JAMES MORLEY,

"And to this, it has come at last! Thus I read myself described in every newspaper! Thus I am designated, by every tongue that speaks of me! And many are those who have already made the appointment to be up be times, and go to Morley's execution! The execution of Morley, the murderer! Yes-it would become me well, to let the hangman play the dog with me; a rude rabble gather round my scaffold; and a heartless world amuse itself, an hour perhaps, with the Newgate history of my words, my conduct, nay, my very looks, from my first moment in a condemned cell, to my last, under the gibbet! It is not death I fear: but what I do fear, worse than ten thousand deaths, and what I have no spirit in me to sustain, is, the malefactor-exhibition of myself. These hands bound with cords-these arms ignominiously fastened-a vile halter round my neck-and the leading forth to public execution! Oh! these preparations, and these adjuncts are dreadful! I look into myself, and find I have less fortitude to go through such a scene, than I should have resolution to escape it, (if only that escape were left me,) by dashing out my brains against the walls of my prison.

travelling from Smithfield to Canonbury House; (the distance itself not being more than two miles, even by hackney-coach mensuration, which always gives much better measure than the mile-stones ;) and when we arrived, it was agreed, with true English solicitude for that physical laboratory, the stomach, to dine first. We ac cordingly did so; and afterwards, while we sipped our wine, Captain Shackerly read what follows, from the posthumous papers of his friend Morley. A slight shudder crept through my veins, as he drew them from his pocket; for I thought of the wretched being who had written what they contained, though I knew him not; and I saw they were stained in several places with his blood.

THE MURDERER !

"Why then, should I undergo the mockery of trial? Why stand at the bar of justice, to hear myself arraigned-to endure the public gaze-listen to well-turned periods of trite horror at my crime-and hear others tell, how I perpetrated it? And when twelve men shall gravely pronounce I am a murderer, to receive judicial sentence, with a solemn exhortation to prepare for a felon's death; and the orthodox appendage, that if I am duly penitent, for the remaining sixty hours I am permitted to breathe, my soul may find heaven, while the surgeons are scraping my bones, to make a skeleton for their museum of curiosities.

"Yet, even to this ordeal would I submit, were it thus only the world could learn by what a chain of circumstances I became a murderer. But it is not so: for that which living ears might have listened to in my defence, living eyes can read after my death.

"I was the youngest child of three; but before I had attained my tenth year, I was an only one. I had always been the favourite of both my parents, and now I was their idol. They hung upon my existence, as a shipwrecked mariner clings to the last floating fragment of the gallant bark that bore

him; they lived, but while they held by me, in the rough tossings of the ocean of life. I was not slow to discover my value in their estimation, or to exercise, in its fullest extent, the capricious tyranny of conscious power. Almost the earliest impression which my ripening mind received, was a regal immunity from error-I could do

no wrong.

"There was no deficiency of moral training, either by precept or example. The stream of virtuous admonition was poured, in a full tide, over my heart; but it was left to stagnate. The model of virtuous conduct was held before my eyes in every action of my parents; but I was absolved from the duty of imitation. What was the consequence? I imperceptibly created within myself an arbitrary standard of right and wrong; my moral vision became habitually distorted: I had one code of ethics for the world, and another for myself; words changed their meaning, according as they were to express my own actions, or those of others. I was taught to know, but not required to practise, the obligations of social life; and I rioted in all the excesses, ran through all the transgressions, which mere boyhood could commit, with a prodigal, but warranted reliance upon parental indulgence. Oh God! what an after life of guilt and sorrow I should have been spared, if authority, hand in hand with wholesome discipline, had frowned upon my first offences !

"As my passions grew stronger, they took a wider range, and rapidly outstripped my years. An almost unlimited command of money placed at my disposal the means of gratifying every inclination, by giving me the power to put meaner instruments in motion; those sordid pandars to vice, who make smooth the paths of sin for the privilege of dipping into an heir's purse. I had three or four of these pioneers in my pay by the time I was sixteen; but though I knew the rumour of my youthful licentiousness sometimes reached my father's ears, I never saw displeasure darken his brow towards me, nor heard the language of reproof from his lips. They are the weeds of a rich soil,' he would say, which a little culture will soon eradicate.' It is true, the more degrading of my follies were unknown to him.

"My education was not neglected.

I had a thirst for knowledge; and, amid all the dissipation into which I plunged, I willingly and eagerly devoted much of my time to study. Masters of every kind were provided for me; but they were strictly prohibited from exercising any control. It so chanced, I needed none; I engaged in the acquisition of learning with the free grace of a volunteer, and I believe my preceptors were not reluctant to claim me as their pupil. Alas! the only use I have ever made of what I acquired, has been to gild my vices when acted, or refine upon the manner of acting them while in contemplation.

"I look back, at this moment, to the period of my life I am describing, as prosperous men recall the day-spring of their fortunes. They, from the proud eminence on which they stand, trace, step by step, in retrospective view, the paths by which they ascended; and I, looking through the dark vista of my by-gone years, behold the fatal series of crimes and follies that stained their progress, stretching to my boyhood. The gay and frolic irregularities, as they were gently termed, of that untamed age, were the turbid source of the waters of misery in which I am now engulphed. I was a lawless planet, running at will; and the orbit I described laid waste more than one fair region of peace and happiness.

"My father had a brother, his elder by many years; a man of stern and rigid character, as I then considered him; but, as I would now call him, of upright, firm, and honourable principle. He loved my father, but did not love his weakness; and the display of it, in his indul gence towards me, was the cause of many a serious, if not sometimes angry, debate between them. Well do I remember (for it rankled like poison in my swelling heart) a declaration he once made in my presence. It was a fine autumnal evening, and he was seated with my father and mother in a balcony, which opened from the library-window upon a spacious lawn. I entered the room, and advanced towards them, unconscious, of course, that their conversation had been about me; but my uncle looking at me with a severe expression of countenance, and at the same time addressing his brother, exclaimed, Well, James, neither you nor I may live to

see it; but if the grace of God, or his own better reflection, as he grows older, do not work a change in this young squire, a duel, Jack Ketch, or a razor, will work his exit some day or other.'

"My father smiled-I saw my mother wipe away a tear-at that moment I could have struck my uncle dead. I muttered a few words-I knew not what, and left the room. Boy as I was, (for I had barely completed my seventeenth year,) I felt all the vindictive passions of manhood kindling within me. It seemed as if a sentence had been passed upon me, the more terrible, because a secret voice whispered to me, it was prophetic! That impression never forsook me! It grew with my growth; it pursued me through life; it almost gave a colour to my after-years. If I could have opened the volume of futurity, and read the page, blotted with the record of what I was to become, it could hardly have bound me in the fetters of my destiny more certainly, than did this ill-omened prediction of my uncle.

"I questioned my father haughtily, a few days afterwards, as to the reasons of his brother for thus speak ing of me; and I even dared to insinuate, that, had he felt what a father should, he would have resented the indignity. He answered me (I write it with shame and contrition) most mildly, most affectionately. The gentle being-I see him now, as he tenderly took my hand-apologised to -me-to me! who ought to have stood trembling in his presence! I followed up my blow. With cold, but subtle malignity, I played off my revenge towards my uncle, through the idolatry of my father's love towards myself. I barbarously gave him a choice of misery; for I disdainfully replied, that he must henceforth determine, whether he would lose a brother or a son, as I had determined to remain no longer under his roof, unless I had the assurance that I should never again see my uncle there. He looked at me. My God! what a look it was! so full of meek sorrow and appalling obedience! Without uttering a word, he sat down to his writing-table. The tears fell upon his paper; but they did not blot out a few bitter words addressed to his brother, which severed for ever in this world two noble hearts; cast, indeed, in different

moulds, but which kindred blood had cemented, in the close bonds of fraternal love, for more than forty years. "This was my first revenge. But was I satisfied? No!

"It was only a few months afterwards, that chance threw in my way a daughter of my uncle's. I met her at the house of a common friend, who knew and deplored the unhappy schism which prevailed between the two brothers. He was equally attached to both, and I believe pleased himself with the idea, that an occasional intercourse between the younger branches of the families, might, some day or other, bring about a reconciliation between the heads. My cousin Harriet was a year older than myself. She was in her nineteenth, I in my eighteenth year. I loved her. Yes; the first feeling that glowed within my bosom was that of love. She was beautiful-fascinating-accomplished

amiable-and I loved her. It was not long before I was satisfied I had kindled a reciprocal passion in her breast. The mute eloquence of her look and manner was only the harbinger of that same thrilling eloquence, which fell from her tongue when I won the declaration of her affection.

"Her father knew we met at this friend's house; but whether he was told, or whether he penetrated, the secret of our attachment, I never learned. I only know, that, at the very moment when separation was madness, his mandate went forth, prohibiting all farther intercourse between us, and that it was obeyed. Not by me; for I was incapable of submission but by my gentle Harriet, who thought herself incapable of disobeying. We met no more where we had been wont to meet; and my young heart's spring of happiness seemed for ever withered.

"But here again, I began to reflect, my path was crossed-my hopes were blighted-by my uncle. I heard, too, that his tongue had been free with my name; that the blistering censure of his austere virtue had fallen upon my actions. I writhed under the contumely. My wounded spirit was insatiate for vengeance. I meditated, deeply, how I could inflict it, so as to strike the blow where he was most vulnerable. I did not brood long over my dark purpose. The love I still bore his daughter, was now mingled