in his defence, was ingenious and romantic.
He produced a certificated extract
of birth and baptism from the parish
register of a small market-town in a remote
part of Wales; and called as evidence an old
man and woman, who had kept the only inn in
the place. They declared that in such a year,
corresponding with the date of the extract,
a lady and gentleman, unaccompanied by
any servants, arrived at the Golden Lion.
They were evidently rich, and belonged to
what the old man called Real Quality. The
lady was confined of a son a few days after her
arrival; and the child was baptised Andrew,
and registered as the child of Thomas and
Mary Rutherford. When the lady was
sufficiently recovered, they departed, taking
with them a Welsh nurse for the baby. The
nurse returned in a few weeks, saying that
the lady and gentleman were gone abroad,
taking the child with them; but she
showed a great reserve and unwillingness
to speak of the matter. This young woman
died shortly afterwards. There was great
difficulty in taking the evidence of these
old people, who were very deaf, and spoke
only Welsh. The Major then declared
that he lived with his parents both in
America and also in France, until he entered
the East India Company's service at the age
of nineteen; but that portion of his narrative
was contradictory and confused. The beginning
of his career in the Indian army was also
obscure. He could call no witnesses who knew
anything about him until many years
subsequently—until, indeed, the year after George
had made his escape—and then he was not
an officer, but a private soldier. That point
made against him. The very next year he
was in another regiment as Lieutenant
Rutherford, with papers and certificates of
service, with the sabre-cut upon his head,
the mark of which was visible enough, and
also of the other wounds which actually
were upon his person. From this point his
case was clear; he distinguished himself in
various engagements; displayed not only
courage, but high military talent; and how,
asked he, was it possible that an escaped
convict, a man of no education, should
suddenly find himself endowed with military
knowledge sufficient to fill a highly responsible
position? Bravery, may be innate, but
military skill and knowledge must be
acquired. This was well put, and evidently had
great effect upon the whole court. I confess I
was not much struck. I recollected George's
military tastes, and had my own notions of his
natural tact and cleverness, which I kept to
myself. He pointed out that the persons who
spoke so confidently to his identity with
George Marston, the poacher, had not seen him
for many years; the principal witness against
him was a returned convict—a man of
notoriously bad character—and who owned to
having an enmity against the individual for
whom he had the misfortune to be mistaken.

The whole defence was eloquent and elaborate
—too elaborate and too ingenious. The
judge, in summing up, pulled it all to pieces;
dwelling particularly on the fact, that the
accused could give no account of the most
important events that had happened in his
family. He knew evidently nothing of either
France or America. His experiences in
India were contradictory and confused, up to
the year following that in which he was
accused of making his escape from
transportation. All this, and a great deal more
that I cannot now remember, the judge
brought out. The defence was not coherent;
and the jury, without retiring, returned a
verdict of guilty; but strongly recommended
the prisoner to mercy.

The Major heard the verdict with haughty
indifference; and, on being asked in the usual
form, why sentence should not be pronounced
against him, replied; "Because I am not
the man who has incurred the penalty."  He
uttered these words in a ringing, sonorous
voice; and this simple affirmation took more
effect than all his defence put together.

The judge passed sentence, and he was
removed from the dock. The interest
excited by his case was intense; petitions and
memorials on his behalf were got up all over
the country, and backed by highly influential
persons. What effect they might have had
it is hard to say; but they were rendered
superfluous by the fact that the Major
effected his own escape in a masterly fashion
unparalleled in the annals of prison-breaking.
I was not surprised. I had heard him say,
that the prison was not built that could keep
him inside if he chose to go out. He got
clear off, and reached the continent in safety.
He was afterwards joined by his wife.
They are both still alive. Government
declined to confiscate his property: the son
inherited it. I was made trustee and
guardian, and have administered the affairs
ever since.

CHIP.
MILLIONAIRES AND MEASURES.

IN the article on Decimal Money,* French
millionnaires are spoken of as the accumulators
of a million francs. But the doubting
query has been put:  Is it certain that
millionnaire means the possessor of a million
francs, or forty thousand pounds of capital?
because some imagine that a million francs
a-year is meant.  Millionnaires are men such
as Lafitte was, in eighteen thirty,—at
the head of the money-market. For
instance, in the comedy of Les Trois Quarters,
a man of moderate wealth looks out
for a wife, upon equal terms, amongst the
bourgeoisie. But some ships which had
been given up as lost came into port; his
pecuniary pretensions are therefore higher,
*See page 349 of the present volume.