The _Edinburgh Evening Courant_ of 2nd October, 1788, voices the popular sentiment of the time as follows:--“Thus ended the life of William Brodie, whose conduct, when we consider his situation in life, is equally singular and contradictory. By the low and vicious connections he formed he had everything to lose--he could gain little even if successful; for, from the moment he embarked in the enterprises of his desperate associates, his property, his life, was at their mercy. Indeed, his crimes appear to be rather the result of infatuation than depravity; and he seemed to be more attracted by the dexterity of thieving than the profit arising from it. To excel in the performance of some paltry legerdemain or slight-of-hand tricks, to be able to converse in the cant or flash language of thieves, or to chant with spirit a song from the ‘Beggar’s Opera,’ was to him the highest ambition. Those who knew him best agree that his [Illustration: Deacon Brodie. (_After Kay._)] disposition was friendly and generous, and that he had infinitely more of the dupe than the knave in his composition; and was, indeed, admirably fitted for designing and wicked men to work upon.” The Deacon, even in his own day, did not lack apologists. And though there may be some diversity of opinion regarding the precise shade which that unhappy gentleman had stained a character in other respects not without redeeming traits, there can be none as to the monstrous injustice of the penalty exacted by the law for his offence. In these more merciful times, when conscientious juries hesitate to convict the guilty upon a capital charge, and rather than deliver a fellow-being to an irrevocable doom will sometimes evade responsibility by the _via media_ of “not proven,” it is difficult to realise the callous indifference to human life for which our criminal code was formerly notorious. At that period a man might, literally, as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb; and that the Deacon should suffer a punishment so disproportionate to his deserts would, however repugnant to modern feeling, seem natural enough to his stoical contemporaries. * * * * * In explanation of the singular degree of coolness exhibited to the last by Deacon Brodie, a curious story became current. Much anxiety had undoubtedly been shown both by himself and others that his body might not be detained in prison, but should be delivered to his friends so soon as the execution had taken place. With this view the Deacon, on the forenoon of the fatal day, addressed to the Lord Provost the following remarkable letter:-- “Edinburgh Tolbooth, “Oct. 1, 1788, Eleven o’clock. “My Lord,