little matters, in which we grieve to relate, that though his intentions were excellent, his success was so ill as thoroughly to enrage his employers: nay, they were about at one time, when they wanted to propitiate justice, to hand him over to the secular power, when Clifford interposed in his behalf. From a robber, the sage dwindled into a drudge; menial offices (the robbers, the lying rascals, declared that such offices were best fitted to the genius of his country!) succeeded to noble exploits, and the worst of robbers became the best of cooks. How vain is all wisdom, but that of long experience! Though Clifford was a sensible and keen man,—though he knew our sage to be a knave, he never dreamt he could be a traitor. He thought him too indolent to be malicious, and, short-sighted humanity! too silly to be dangerous. He trusted the sage with the secret of the cavern; and Augustus, who was a bit of an epicure, submitted, though forebodingly, to the choice, because of the Scotchman's skill in broiling.
But Mac Grawler, like Brutus, concealed a scheming heart, under a stolid guise; the apprehension of the noted Lovett had become a matter
