Her story, so far as it was ever known, bore that she had been early left an orphan, with the charge of a younger sister, named _Tibby_, (Isabella,) whom she endeavoured to maintain and educate by her own exertions. It will not be easy to conceive her feelings when her sister was apprehended on a charge of child-murder, and herself called on as a principal witness against her. The counsel for the prisoner told Helen, that if she could declare that her sister had made any preparation, however slight, or had communicated any notice of her situation, such a statement would save her sister’s life. But, from the very first, this high-souled woman determined against such a perjury, and avowed her resolution to give evidence according to her conscience. Isabella was of course found guilty and condemned; and, in removing her from the bar, she was heard to say to her sister, “Oh, Nelly! ye’ve been the cause of my death!” Helen Walker, however, was as remarkable for her dauntless perseverance in a good cause as for her fortitude in resisting the temptations of a bad one. She immediately procured a petition to be drawn up, stating the peculiar circumstances of the case, and that very night of her sister’s condemnation set out from Dumfries for London. She travelled on foot, and was neither possessed of introduction nor recommendation. She presented herself in her tartan plaid and country attire before John Duke of Argyll, after having watched three days at his door, just as he was stepping into his carriage, and delivered her petition. Herself and her story interested him so much, that he immediately procured the pardon she solicited, which was forwarded to Dumfries, and Helen returned on foot, having performed her meritorious journey in the course of a few weeks. After her liberation, Isabella was married to the father of her child, and retired to some distance in the north of England, where Helen used occasionally to visit her. Helen Walker, whom every one will be ready to acknowledge as the _Original_ of Jeanie Deans, died in the spring of 1787; and her remains lie in the Churchyard of Irongray, without a stone to mark the place where they are deposited. PATRICK WALKER. The objurgatory exhortation which David Deans delivers to his daughters, on suddenly overhearing the word “_dance_” pronounced in their conversation, will be remembered by our readers. He there “blesses God, (with that singular worthy, Patrick Walker the packman at Bristo-port,) that ordered his lot in his dancing days, so that fear of his head and throat, cauld and hunger, wetness and weariness, stopped the lightness of his head and the wantonness of his feet.” Almost the whole of David’s speech is to be found at the 59th page of Patrick Walker’s “Life of Cameron,” with much more curious matter.