The kind inquiry was never answered. Joson appeared to collapse at the very sight of my face, and submitted to be led away without a murmur. Poulson would have had some difficulty in proving his innocence, had not the lame man made a clean breast of it, and pleaded guilty with a view to shortening his own sentence. For a long time there was one whistler less in the streets, and the organ-grinder’s motto ever after was, “Save me from my friends!” THE BERWICK BURR. The first time my attention was directed to Will Smeaton, was by a telegram from a Border town which described his appearance, and stated—a little late, however—that he had escaped in the direction of Edinburgh. The message called for Smeaton’s arrest on suspicion of a very deliberate attempt at murder, the victim being a sweetheart, named Jessie Aimers. The full particulars followed the telegram, and they seemed to leave little doubt of Smeaton’s guilt. Jessie Aimers was a girl of superior education, a teacher in the town, and greatly beloved by all. She and Smeaton had been brought up at the same school, but with very different results—for he became a kind of coarse dare-devil, a brass-finisher by trade, with a strong inclination for salmon poaching; while Jessie grew up refined, modest, and gentle. What possible bond of love could exist between two such natures? is the question which naturally rises to one’s lips; yet, with that tantalising contrariety which humanity seems to revel in, the answer was only, that such love did exist, and in no common degree of strength. The question was asked and echoed by all the townsfolk, and debated and wondered over, but the only decision was that Jessie Aimers was foolish to lavish her love on such a worthless object, and very much to be pitied on that account. Simple, short-sighted townsfolk! Jessie’s love was her life, her breath, the very pulse of her heart. To give up that would have been simply to lie down in the grave. The circumstances under which the attempt at murder was said to have been made were these:—Jessie Aimers had left her home about dusk on a fine October evening to meet her lover, who was positively forbidden her father’s house. They had met at some appointed spot, and were seen about an hour later wandering slowly up by the river side. Smeaton appeared to be in a bad temper, for he was talking loudly and hotly. Jessie was answering gently and pleadingly. It was then quite dark, but they were readily recognised by their voices. Further up the river, and but a short time after, a great scream was heard, and very soon Smeaton was seen returning along the path alone, in great haste, and so intent on his own thoughts that he passed an intimate acquaintance close enough to brush his sleeve, silent as a ghost. Smeaton had gone straight home, but stayed there only long enough to get some money and his watch, and then made his way to the railway station and took a ticket for Edinburgh.