“How, then, can the electors discover the real characters of those for whom they are required to vote?” demanded Mary Monson, smiling; “or get just ideas of the measures they are to support or to oppose?” “Half the time they do neither. It exceeds all our present means, at least, to diffuse sufficient information for _that_. The consequence is, that appearances and assertions are made to take the place of facts. The mental food of the bulk of this nation is an opinion simulated by the artful to answer their own purposes. But the power of the masses is getting to be very formidable—more formidable in a way never contemplated by those who formed the institutions, than in any way that was foreseen. Among other things, they begin to hold the administration of justice in the hollow of their hands.” “I am not to be tried by the masses, I trust. If so, my fate would be very hard, I fear, judging from what I hear in my little excursions in the neighbourhood.” “Excursions, Miss Monson!” repeated the astonished Dunscomb. “Excursions, sir; I make one for the benefit of air and exercise, every favourable night, at this fine season of the year. Surely you would not have me cooped up here in a gaol, without the relief of a little fresh air?” “With the knowledge and concurrence of the sheriff, or that of his wife?” “Perhaps not strictly with those of either; though I suspect good Mrs. Gott has an inkling of my movements. It would be too hard to deny myself air and exercise, both of which are very necessary to my health, because I am charged with these horrid crimes.” Dunscomb passed a hand over his brow, as if he desired to clear his mental vision by friction of the physical, and, for a moment, sat absolutely lost in wonder. He scarce knew whether he was or was not dreaming. “And you have actually been outside of these walls, Miss Monson!” he exclaimed, at length. “Twenty times, at least. Why should I stay within them, when the means of quitting them are always in my power?” As Mary Monson said this, she showed her counsel a set of keys that corresponded closely with those which good Mrs. Gott was in the habit of using whenever she came to open the door of that particular gallery. A quiet smile betrayed how little the prisoner fancied there was anything remarkable in all this. “Are you aware, Miss Monson, it is felony to assist a prisoner to escape?” “So they tell me, Mr. Dunscomb; but as I have not escaped, or made any attempt to escape, and have returned regularly and in good season to my gaol, no one can be harmed for what I have done. Such, at least, is the opinion of Mr. Timms.”