good humour; and this nice piece of flattery in some measure effected its object. The stranger replied to it by a gracious cachinnation on his part, and calling Nicodeinus a fool, bade him proceed with his work, an injunction to which the latter was not slow in attending. Again he commenced operations, and with such determined energy, that the wiry beard rasped and grated against the razor, till it set his teeth on edge to hear it.

The devil!' exclaimed Nicodemus. Just so replied the stranger.

Nicodemus thought this a very odd reply; indeed, he did not know exactly what to make of it; but he shaved away with might and main notwithstanding. The clock chimed three quarters.

'I shall be too late!' he mentally exclaimed, and made a desperate cut at the obstinate beard, when the blade was forced back by the resistance offered to it, cutting the operator's fingers to the very bone. 'Lord have mercy on me!' ejaculated the barber.

'Don't swear, man,' said the stranger, hastily, with a most sinister frown, or rather scowl, his bushy brows contracting so as almost to veil his eyes, don't swear, man; I'll not allow it in my presence.'

'I beg ten thousand pardons,' said the barber; but really—'

Lather away, fool!' roared the stranger, stamping vehemently with his club-feet.

It was plain that the stranger was a hasty gentleman, and one who in his wrathful mood might do mischief. Nicodemus, therefore, did not venture a reply, but assiduously applied himself to his wearisome and, as it well-nigh seemed, hopeless task of rasping away at the refractory beard. The clock struck ten.

"Too late, by Heavens!' muttered Nicodemus, forgetting at the moment all prudential considerations.

The stranger said nothing, but gave him a look that indeed rendered all words superfluous. It made his teeth chatter, and his knees tremble, and caused him to resume his work more earnestly than ever. One quarter-two quarters-three quarters-and the long grisly chin was still little more than half shaven. The perspiration trickled down the barber's face as much from exertion as from the agony of his impatience. There must surely, he thought, be some trick, some juggling in all this; for mere mortal hair never could have resisted the razor's edge in such a fashion. Or the stranger was the. No; he would not pronounce the word even to himself. Such an idea was too ridiculous; and yet he could not help looking down very suspiciously at the club-feet. Rapid as the glance was, it did not escape the notice of the stranger.

'Handsome legs, are they not?' said he, stretching them out, as if to invite a more close inspection. Had they, indeed, been modelled after the Belvidere Apollo, he could not have regarded them with greater complacency.

Handsome feet, are they not?' he repeated, in the happiest tone of self-satisfaction.

Very,' replied the barber, scarcely knowing what he said, in answer to such an awkward question.

Ho! ho! ho!' laughed the stranger; 'you're a man of taste, I find-ho! ho! ho! But shave on-shave on, my fine fellow; it's getting late.

'You need not tell me that,' cried Nicodemus, again carried away

by his impatience, for just then the clock struck eleven,-' you need not tell me that!

Certainly not,' replied the stranger, mildly. You seem to have a tolerably long pair of ears on your head; and, as they are not particularly ornamental, it is but fair to suppose they may be useful. Of course you heard the clock from St. Giles's steeple.'

Nicodemus was half mad with vexation, and no doubt his wrath would have boiled over in words, had it not been considerably cooled and qualified by fear. Still he could not control the irritation that tingled in his fingers; and making a last desperate sweep at the remaining portion of beard, it yielded to the steel, crackling and sparkling like an electric ball. Between joy at his accomplished task, and anger at the lateness of the hour, he tore the napkin from the stranger's neck, and fell to snapping his fingers, dancing about at the same time, as if possessed by the spirit of St. Vitus.

What am I to pay?' asked the stranger, as if quite insensible to the agitation of poor Nicodemus,

Not a penny-not a farthing,' exclaimed the latter. 'Only leave my shop, or let me leave it. Death and the Devil! will you stand out of my way.'

Very good,' said the stranger, quietly taking a pinch of snuff, and placing himself in the doorway, so as effectually to prevent his host's

egress.

'Curses!' exclaimed the barber.

'As many as you like,' said the stranger. Go on. wonderfully.'

I like you

And I wish you at the devil!' shouted the infuriated barber. 'No, you don't,' was the cool reply.

'May I be dd, then!' cried Nicodemus.

'Humph!' exclaimed the stranger; 'there's no need of putting it on that footing either, seeing the trifling matter you allude to was settled long ago. But I see you are one of the right sort, and I'll help you

to your wishes.'

Jack Ketch, after all!' exclaimed the barber: 'I have been thinking so this half hour. My dear, good, invaluable friend!-to think that I should ever have the honour of seeing so great a man in my poor domicile !-seated in my own arm-chair!-my towel about his throat! -my hand upon his nose! Nicodemus! Nicodemus! little did the mother who bore you dream of your living to such an hour!'

'Calm your transports,' said the stranger, with one of his singular smiles. I am not exactly he whom you take me for.'

Not Jack Ketch ?' sighed the barber, his under-jaw dropping considerably-' you are not Jack Ketch ?'

'Don't let that disturb you,' said the stranger. You will soon see enough of him, I promise you.'

The barber's jaw resumed its natural position, and his face became radiant with smiles.

'But let us cut the matter short, for the hour wears late,' continued his visitor.

It does indeed!' groaned Nicodemus, his thoughts reverting to Newgate, and the small chance that now remained to him of getting a convenient place for the morrow.

'Never mind; I will take you into Newgate-into Courvoisier's very cell; and I promise you the very best place upon the scaffold.'

These last words were again accompanied by one of the stranger's peculiar leers; but the delighted barber only ejaculated in his transport, Good Heavens!' Hereupon the former stamped with his clubfeet till the dust flew up, exclaiming, 'Have I not told you of this before? Swear again, and that instant I quit your house.'

'A thousand pardons,' cried the barber; but will you indeed be so kind as to help me to a place on the scaffold?'

'I have helped many a man before now to as high a place,' replied the stranger.

'Have you, indeed? Well, I shall always remember the obligation.'

'I have no doubt you will,' said the stranger, and again he gave one of his singular smiles,-ay, to the last moment of your life, I'll be sworn for you. But put on your wife's cloak, and—'

'Excuse me,' interrupted Nicodemus, with unusual vivacity, 'not my wife's cloak, but mine, except in the morning.'

No matter; wrap the old blanket about you, and follow me; the night is waning rapidly.'

for

Nicodemus did as he was directed, and forthwith the two singular companions threaded their way to Newgate, where door after door opened as if by magic at the stranger's knock, till, at length, they found themselves in the very cell of the murderer. But what was the barber's surprise when he discovered in Courvoisier the exact similitude of his own form and figure, as he had often seen them reflected in the glass. Scarcely could he credit the testimony of his senses:-a resemblance of this kind seemed to go beyond all the bounds of possibility. He had little time, however, to dwell upon such feelings; they were quickly swallowed up in the revelations that now took place; for his companion had the singular faculty of drawing from the culprit a confession far beyond what judge and jury had been able to extract, even with the priest to back them. To this tremendous tale of guilt, our barber listened with breathless attention, till his blood ran cold, and the hair stood erect upon his head. The cell seemed to grow colder, the dull light got dimmer, and the bell of St. Sepulchre's tolled out yet more hollowly, while the murderer narrated how he had stolen to his victim's couch,-how for a moment-only for a moment-he had hesitated to do the deed, and had palled in resolution; how, when he struck the first ineffectual blow, the wounded man struggled and prayed for life; how, when the victim rolled at his feet a lifeless corpse, the whole room suddenly appeared to be in flames-the flames of hell,-while all manner of strange and fearful shapes flitted about him, and his hearing was stunned by wild cries and uncouth laughter, and sounds that did not belong to earth, and then, again, how the mere howling of a watch-dog, by the very alarm his voice inspired, had at once restored him to his self-possession. Nicodemus felt relieved when the noise of unbarring bolts announced that the jailer was at hand to warn them of it being time to quit the prison.

'Now, gentlemen!' exclaimed the jailer, as he entered, followed for greater security by a stout, grim-looking satellite, I dare not let you stay any longer.'

No reply was made; but the stranger and Courvoisier rose to leave the dungeon, arm in arm, much to the surprise of Nicodemus, who was about to follow them, when he was stopped by the heavy hand of the chief Cerberus.

'Where are you going to, my fine fellow?' growled the man of many keys.

Where?' repeated the barber, somewhat disconcerted by this sudden check upon his free will; 'why, home, if you have no objection.' 'Ho ho ho shouted the jailers in unison, while the stranger sighed out compassionately, in his blandest tones, poor fellow! poor fellow!'

Why, you surely don't mean to keep me here all night?' cried Nicodemus.

'Of course not,' said Cerberus; 'not by no manner of means; only stand back, will you, and let the gentlemen pass, or I shall be obligated to make you, and I shall not like that either. I'm too tender-hearted, as everybody says who knows anything of Jem Ward.' During this self-eulogium of the susceptible jailer, Nicodemus glanced uneasily from one to the other, in the hope of discovering the latent joke, but not a smile could he detect on any of their faces. At once the idea struck him that, from the peculiar semblance of the murderer to himself, there had been some mistaking of persons, under which impression he hastily exclaimed, Good heavens! gentlemen, you surely do not mistake me-me, the barber of Beaulieu,-for the unfortunate Courvoisier, though I must confess the extraordinary likeness.'

'Very like indeed,' cried the jailers, with a grim smile.

Nicodemus was confounded, as well he might be, though by no means inclined to give up his own identity. He turned imploringly to the stranger, 'But you, my good friend, surely you must know me, since it's little more than an hour or so that I shaved you, when you promised to get me a good place at the hanging.'

This last notion seemed to tickle the fancy of both jailers. They actually relaxed into a loud laugh,-a most unusual sound in the cells and passages of Newgate.

'A good place at the hanging?' repeated the chief Cerberus, when the transient fit had passed away,-'a good place at the hanging! may take your bible oath of that-the very best-and no mistake.'

you

Poor wretch!' said the stranger; he has gone mad from sheer fright and agony, and now fancies himself some other person.' 'Why surely I am the barber of Beaulieu,' half muttered Nicodemus to himself, with some incipient misgivings as to his actual identity. I wish I had a glass to see myself.'

Come along! come along!' cried Cerberus; 'he'll be quiet enough when he's alone, I warrant you, and if he is not, it's no great matter; his nonsense won't do no harm to nobody.'

'Stop a moment, if you please,' said the stranger compassionately; 'it may, perhaps, soothe his frenzy, and make him better able to at tend his religious duties, if I gratify him in this trifling matter. Look here, my poor fellow,' he continued, holding up a small pocket-mirror, -look here, and know yourself.'

Nicodemus started back aghast. The mirror reflected not his face, as he had known it for many years in his diurnal shavings and washings, but presented a lank, cadaverous visage, of a foreign mould, and a huge head covered with long, black hair, that shone as if it had been steeped in oil. Anything more at variance with his previous ideas of himself could not well have been imagined. Was he mad? or only drunk? or did he dream? His brain went round, whirring and whizz

ing, like a mill in a high wind; and, before he could recover himself, so as to collect his ideas, and give them words, they had all gone. He was alone! alone in the condemned cell! that fearful spot, where so many before him had passed through the horrors of their last night! In the frenzy of the moment he shrieked aloud, begging and cursing by turns, but not a step sounded along the vaulted passages, and, when his voice ceased from pure exhaustion, the gloomy silence of the prison seemed to settle down more deep and full of awe than ever.

In the transient calm of mind that now ensued, he endeavoured to account for his situation, to reason with himself upon the facts about him, and extort the truth from them. That he was no longer himself in outward semblance was too plain for doubt, and yet the idea of his inward identity was not the weaker from this conviction. He was conscious of the same thoughts, the same recollections, that for years had occupied him; and, therefore, he not unreasonably argued, he must be the same man, in spite of any outward appearances to the contrary. But, how was he to bring over others to his opinion? how was he to make the world believe a story which he scarcely could believe himself? No; he must die upon the scaffold, innocent as he was, by the hands of the common hangman, amidst the execrations of thousands, who would rejoice at the death of the supposed murderer. For the first time in his life he began to think it was a very cruel curiosity that led people to run after the execution of a fellow-creature. As a corollary to this very natural idea, his conscience twitted him with his own appetite for such exhibitions. Of course he could not deny it; and the inward monster growing more violent the more he was listened to, at last suggested that the present mysterious change, with all its unpleasant accompaniments, past and prospective, was no more than a fitting retribution for the offence.

But poor Nicodemus, though considerably beaten down by these inward prickings and objurgations, was not the more reconciled to the idea of being the chief performer in the morning's spectacle. On the contrary, he dwelt on the image of the gallows, till the cold sweat of agony ran down his brow, and the teeth chattered in his head, as if under the influence of a bitter frost. Then came the fever-fit of terror; his tongue was scorched till he felt as if a hot cinder were rolling in his mouth, his brain seemed literally on fire, and in the intenseness of his agony he made sundry efforts to smash his skull against the walls, though from want of sufficient courage to do the deed effectually, he reaped only pain and bruises from his desperate mood."

At length the morning broke, and found him still a watcher; not a single wink of sleep had closed his eyes the whole of this long and fearful night. Then came the visit of the minister-the summons to the chamber where his hands and arms were to be pinioned, the first shock of the bell that solemnly tolled out the funeral of the living man, the march in grand procession through dreary passages, where daylight and lamplight faintly struggled with the darkness, the unbarring of gate after gate, which, when they once closed behind him, would never again open to him in this life,-and, sad close of all! the scaffold, with its fearful appendages, and the crowd of spectators below, eager as he himself had been for the cruel exhibition. And now the cap was drawn over his face; the noose was fastened under his ear; Jack Ketch, as if in mockery of his odious office, had actually shaken hands with him, the same fingers which had tied the rope, and