her ingenuity in words, seized him by the collar, and tugged so manfully that he was nearly strangled. At one moment the voice of a sturdy ostler got ascendancy over the noise:--"Whaur are ye gaun, man? or whaur can ye gang to? Hell's ower gude for ye. The very deevils, for fear o' mischief, wadna daur to let ye in; and as for heaven, that's entirely oot o' the question." Others, who wanted to drive matters to extremity, pretended to take his part, and urged him on. The old spirit came again, and he called out, "to come on, and give him fair play;" but this was a spurt, for despair was extending over him her dark wings, and so crucified was he, that he started, took his bundle, determined to "let the mob tak their will o' him"--a resolution in which he was checked by a medical man. The innkeeper, Mr Fraser, in the meantime, apprehensive for the safety of his premises, was anxious to eject his dangerous customer. The entire town was, in short, so completely convulsed that it was impossible to tell what would happen next, and, after deliberation, the magistrates, who had a very onerous duty to perform, hit upon an expedient for getting quit of him, which, though successfully executed, had ten chances to one against it. Betwixt two and three, a chaise and pair were brought to the door of the King's Arms, a trunk buckled on, and a great fuss made; and while these means were employed as a decoy-duck, another chaise was got ready almost at the bottom of the back entry, and completely excluded from the view of the mob. The next step was to clear the room, and, after this, to get Hare to clamber, or, rather, jump out of the window of his prison, and crouch, cat-like, along the wall facing the stables. The task was well executed: the moment he got to the bottom and sprang into the chaise, the doors were closed and the whip cracked. Never before did a chaise rattle so furiously along the streets of Dumfries. To pass Mr Rankin's and round the corner of Richardson's brewery occupied only moments; but here the turn was taken so sharply that the chaise ran for a time on two side wheels. Had it upset, Hare was doomed; but the driver recovered the position of the coach, and away again at even a more rapid rate. The mob by this time had become suspicious of a manoeuvre, and, as the driver had a considerable round to make, they rushed in a twinkling and in prodigious masses to intercept him at the middle of the sands. A rush down Bank Street like the letting out of waters, and from the opposite side of the river, numbers, suspecting the cause, hurried with such fury over the old bridge that the driver seemed destined to be outflanked and surrounded; nor could he have avoided this had it not been for the mettle of his horses and the willing arm that urged them on. Once again his charge is saved from instant death.