had previously tampered with, miss fire. The
murderers kill the Captain; but, having done
this, appear inclined to behave very handsomely
to the Dumb Guide, for, instead of despatching
him on the spot, they retire to opposite corners,
and commence a series of gesticulations highly
valuable as callisthenic exercises, but liable to
the objection of involving a great loss of time
and opportunity. While they are thus engaged,
the Dumb Guide retires up the stage, and,
happening to look behind a large stone cross,
suddenly discovers a couple of serviceable swords
of the kind called " combats." This is one of
those touches of nature which carry an audience
by storm. The swords having thus turned up
in the nick of time, a thrilling combat of three
comes off without further delay. It is a
beautiful combat. The Dumb Guide, with one of the
opportunely discovered swords in each hand,
tackles both his enemies at once, and accommodates
them with every kind of up stroke and
down stroke, of over stroke and under stroke,
and all sorts of fancy strokes, keeping time to
the music all the while. Such an honourable
combat, too: when anybody gets out of breath
the others leave off, and wait till he has got his
wind before they set to work again. The combat
went on so long, and the audience approved
of it so highly, that your Eye-witness began to
think that this drama was not only to "abound"
in thrilling combats, but was going to be a thrilling
combat altogether, when a discovery was
made by Messrs. Marcel and Gerrole that the
military was approaching in the distance. This
circumstance altered the posture of affairs, and
caused these two gentlemen to decamp very
promptly, so it happened that the Dumb Guide
was left on the stage alone with the remains,
and in this position was discovered by the military.
"The military" consisted of two boys and
a girl, but such is the force of allegiance in the
Dumb Guide, that when this small force
(selected, apparently, from a large one, if one might
judge from the diversity of its uniforms) charged
him with the murder of the Captain, he gave in
at once, and suffered himself to be led away, like
a lamb, to the hall of justice.

The hall of justice is a small apartment enough,
with two arm-chairs placed sideways to the
audience, and in front of one of them a small desk
with hangings to conceal its legs, which are
probably of deal. There is no one on the
stage when this scene is discovered, which
makes its awfulness the more impressive. In
course of time, however, an elderly gentleman
in a black coat and the late Captain's
Hessians (which, alas! he will want no longer),
enters, and is immediately recognisable as the
principal moral neighbour who appeared at the
beginning of the drama, and who was then, or
appearances did him great injustice, to a certain
extent under the influence of cordial waters.
This gentleman, who has not lost the vitreous
eye or the vacillating roll which characterised
him earlier in the evening, takes the stage once
or twice, advances to the foot-lights, and looks
as if he were going to say something, but after
certain workings of the under jaw which are
unproductive of sound, thinks better of it, and
retires to one of the arm-chairs, into which he
sinks rather heavily, but with great majesty
notwithstanding. This achievement is followed
by the entry of a very tall young man indeed in
a very short clergyman's gown, who skims across
the stage in so rapid a manner as to suggest that
he is ashamed of his legs, which, indeed, are
calculated to cover him with confusion; he gets
them, however, promptly under the hangings of
the desk, and breathes once more. It is evident
that these are the two judges who are to try the
prisoner, and as it is also obvious that they either
don't know their dialogue, or have got no
dialogue to know, it is quite a relief when the
military bring in the prisoner through the folding-
doors in the flat, and when other myrmidons
of justice enter, escorting the fainting Adelle,
there seems a reasonable prospect of a
commencement of the proceedings.

The proceedings, then, are opened by the
young Justice with the disheartening legs, who
charges Michel with the murder of the Deputy-
Lieutenant. It might be expected that the military
would now come forward as witnesses, but
they remain speechless, and the young Justice
gives their evidence for them. This is the case
for the prosecution, and, as there is no counsel
on either side, it is uncommonly soon over. So
is the speech of the unfortunate Adelle, who in
vain endeavours to show that her own personal
conviction of the prisoner's innocence is sufficient
ground for his discharge. There remains,
then, but one more chance for the unfortunate
Michel: his own defence, which is to be conducted
in dumb show.

The once-moral-neighbour-now-Justice-of-the-
Peace gives the signal to begin, and the dumb
man goes at it with a will. It is quite certain
that when the dumb man softly strides across the
justice-hall (which is soon done), and, rising on
his toes, looks up to heaven, then strides back
again and points down to the ground, and,
subsequently advancing into the middle of the stage,
kneels on one knee and smites his breast—it is
quite certain, we say, that it would never occur
to the reader to explain these phenomena in the
following manner:

"It will be obvious," says the Irish J.P.—
"it will be obvious to all persons of ordinary
intelligence and perspicuitee, that the meaning of
the prisoner in this inthroductory portion of his
evidence is as follows: he says that 'twas about
the evening toime, when a streenger, arroiving
in the village, demanded some person to act as a
gyuide in conveying him across the adjeecent
mountains. Prisoner, am I jostified in thus
interprating your signs?"

The dumb man, laying his hand upon Ins
heart, smiles a smile for which alone he ought
to be ordered for immediate execution. The
J.P. turns with mingled exultation and drowsiness
to his colleague, the young man with the
discouraging legs and the short gown, who now
takes no part in the proceedings beyond
insanely fiddling with a pen, and says, " I was