Sentence was not pronounced till the 27th. The doomed man was brought from the Tower heavily ironed. The cruelty excited sympathy, but the Lord Chief Justice said he could not interfere. It was not lawful for a man to be ironed when on his trial, but this trial was over, and Mr. Layer was legally in chains. Pity, however, prevailed, and the prisoner was relieved of the burthen while he pleaded ably but vainly in arrest of judgment. He made no craven cry for mercy promising abundant loyalty in return, but he did not affect to look with indifference on death, and he certainly hoped that his life might be spared. Pratt, in passing sentence, smote Layer’s counsel as well as their client. ‘Your Counsel,’ he said, ‘have been permitted to say whatever they thought proper for your service; and I heartily wish I could say they had not exceeded, that they had not taken a greater liberty than they ought to have done.’ After this philippic, Pratt pointed out the happiness of England in possessing such a church, such a constitution, such laws, such lords and commons, and such a king and royal family. Not to enthusiastically worship these blessings was, in his eyes, inexplicable folly. To attempt to overthrow any of them was a criminal madness worthy of death; and he who had so dared must now die. Layer was accordingly condemned to be hanged, drawn, and quartered. ‘I will dare,’ said he, ‘to die like a gentleman and a Christian.’ Whereupon, he was again ironed, hurried into a coach, and driven off to the Tower. [Sidenote: _THE JACOBITES IN MOURNING._] There was another Jacobite ‘wanted’ by the Government. This was Carte, the Nonjuror. The Government thought it worth while to offer a thousand pounds for the apprehension of this obnoxious clergyman, but as in the proclamation to that effect, he was described in exactly opposite terms to those by which he could possibly be recognised, Carte got off to France, where he lived under the name of Phillips, till in the next reign Queen Caroline kindly obtained permission for the Jacobite scholar to return to England. In the Mall, and at other public places, the authorised watchers of suspected persons were surprised to find several of the latter, in mourning. This was accounted for, when it was known that Princess Sobieska, the mother of her whom the Jacobites acknowledged as the true Queen of England,――the wife of the Chevalier――was dead. ‘Chevalier!’ said an enthusiastic handmaid to a distiller in Fleet Street, ‘I wish all the hairs on my head were so many dragoons, to fight for the Chevalier!’ That night she lay in Bridewell, and a day or two after, the poor handmaid was whipped,――into a more determined Jacobite than ever!