gow that night, with the intimation that it would be found for signature in the Tron, on Monday morning; and perfectly sensible of the arduous work now swelling upon our hands, we hastened to the dwelling-house of our old worthy master, situated in one of the three first solitary houses then built in Bath Street,—it still forms No. 81 of that now great and beautiful street,—and, without telling him anything whatever of the business on which we had now ventured to embark, we simply and respectfully took the liberty of asking him for leave of absence from the office on Monday, and till the end of that week. "Certainly, certainly, take a tumbler if you like, and go away."

We took no tumbler, but went rejoicingly to our lodgings; got up and dressed on Sunday morning, and went to hear, as we always did, one of the sermons of Dr. Chalmers. We were somewhat amused, and chuckled in our sleeves that morning, as we beheld many of the most respectable citizens, going and returning from church, reading our effusions, as displayed on the front of that printed Address, conspicuously posted on the leading streets of Glasgow. Our cheeks sometimes flushed, and at other times we were almost confounded at some of the observations made upon the printed Address in our own hearing. Yet it gladdened our hearts to notice, that almost every respectable married lady of the city, who, with their pretty daughters, condescended, con amore, to stop and read the Address, regarded it apparently with some satisfaction; but there were others of the opposite grade, who damned it unsparingly; and, more than that, we soon learned that the Magistrates, on the afternoon of Sunday, assembled to deliberate about it—resulting in an order by them to the

Police instantly to tear it down in every place where they saw it placarded, and with a resolution amongst themselves, but which we did not know till afterwards, that they would meet again early on Monday morning, to try and discover "the wicked and damnable authors of that infamous Address." Those were their words.

To our own quiet beds we went, right early, that Sunday evening, hoping to get up refreshed for the work before us on Monday morning; but we tossed to and fro till broad day-light, meditating on the fate of that Address, signed, or not to be signed, in the City of Glasgow. And thus we were literally periling our own fate "Upon the hazard of a die."

No sooner were the doors of the old Tron Kirk Sessionhouse opened, at six o'clock on Monday morning, than hundreds of the citizens were seen already waiting, and pressing forward to sign the Address. This was, indeed, something like marrow to our young bones. One of the first who cordially saluted us that memorable morning, was Mr. Adam Ferrie, a venerable citizen, who was scowled at and tormented by some of his own friends, for his liberal principles, and, on that account, he soon afterwards left the city and settled in Canada, where he became a leading Member of the Honourable Legislative Assembly. He was He was one of the champions about the great Harvie Dyke Cause, involving the liberties of the Banks of the Clyde, some of the papers concerning which are in our possession; and we had the pleasure of a visit from him on his casual return to Glasgow, a few years ago, at the great age of 90 years, hale and hearty. Stark, the printer, who published the Address, was persecuted in so many ways for doing so, that he deemed it neces

sary to retire also to Canada, where, we are happy to say, he made a comfortable independence.

Some of the above details, though apparently trifling, will show the importance of what follows. It had been arranged on Saturday night, that three of us, afterwards y'clept "the conspirators," viz., Kay, Scott, and Mackenzie, should faithfully meet, as early as seven o'clock on Monday morning in the Tron, where John, the beadle, was to be in attendance with a plentiful supply of pens, ink, and paper, for the business of the address. Our faithful friend, M'Neil, afterwards the great rising advocate at the Scottish Bar, had gone out to Hillend, near Airdrie, the seat of Walter Logan, Esq, of Fingalton, father of the celebrated Miss Logan, acknowledged on all hands to be the greatest beauty of the day that shone in Scotland. She was then courted by Lord John Campbell, afterwards Duke of Argyle, father of the present Duke; and he agreed, there can be no doubt, to marry her, but he resiled for some reason or other, and married Miss Glassell of Long Niddry. For this breach of promise, and in order to quash proceedings at law, it was understood that Lord John paid down out of Miss Glassell's portion, and with her consent, £10,000, with the stipulation of a farther sum of £10,000, if he succeeded to the dukedom of Argyle, which he did in 1839. Whenever Miss Logan appeared in the old magnificent Theatre-Royal, then in Queen Street, the audience rose, and the house rang with plaudits in her praises. On one occasion, we remember of seeing her when the dramatis personæ consisted of John Kemble, the elder Kean, Mrs. Siddons, Mrs. Glover, John Young, Charles Yates, &c., actors, perhaps, never surpassed before or since, upon the British stage. We believe Miss Logan afterwards married a dis

tinguished officer, and went to Bath, where she died. This brings us back for a moment to Mr. Alexander M'Neil. He faithfully promised that he would return from Mr. Logan's at Hillend, by the Prince Regent Coach from Edinburgh, and join us in the Session-house on Monday, to see how the address was getting on, and take his share of superintending the subscriptions, &c., &c.

Between the hours of ten and eleven o'clock of that to us memorable morning, who should appear in the Tron Session-house, but two notable officers, perfectly known through all the city, for they were prominent characters of their day, viz., Mr. Alexander Calder, Sheriff-officer, and Mr. Alexander Taylor, Town-officer, dressed in their red coats and official costume, and with trusty batons, or cudgels in their hands. Pressing through the crowd, and getting near to the table of the Session-house on which the address lay, they demanded to know in the name of the Sheriff, Lord Provost, and Magistrates, who it was that dared to publish such a diabolical Address, and to superintend it in that place? We at first gently chatted with them in reply; but this would not do. Calder, the Sheriff-officer, began rudely to lift the Address, obviously with the intent of taking it away. "Stop, sir," we energetically told him; "you have no right to touch the Address." "Oh very well," says his coadjutor, the Townofficer, “You, now taking charge of this Seditious and Treasonable document, are hereby summoned and required to go with us instantly, to attend a meeting of the Magistrates, and to answer to them for your conduct. The Magistrates are assembled, and sitting now, in the chambers of Messrs. James and Robert Watson, bankers, in the Old Post-office Court. So, come away with us in custody this moment."

On this we are sorry to remark, our friends Kay and Scott at once bolted. We were left alone, as we may say, in our glory, either to fly also, or attend that meeting; or allow those officers to smother, burke, or destroy that Address on which our whole hearts had been so eagerly engaged. Fortitude of some kind or another at once induced us to go away in custody of the officers to face the Magistrates. Indeed, we had no other alternative, without bringing cowardice or disgrace upon ourselves. The astonished crowd flocking around the Session-house, and perceiving this extraordinary intervention of the Magistrates, looked unutterable things at each other, but they cheered us pretty heartily as they heard us telling John, the Beadle, to stand true. Forward, therefore, we went to the sanctum sanctorum of the Magistrates, with some palpitation we do confess, but supported with a strong sense of public and private rectitude, and that always gives one some courage, even in times of the greatest peril.

Present at this scene:-Gilbert Watson, Esq., acting Chief Magistrate of Glasgow; Daniel Hamilton, Esq., Sheriff-Substitute; Archibald Lawson, Esq., Magistrate; Stewart Smith, Esq., Magistrate; Ebenezer Richardson, Esq., Magistrate; James Cleland, Esq., City Chamberlain; Andrew Simpson, Esq., Procurator-Fiscal. A pretty formidable array, certainly, on one side; but not a soul was present to give us the least aid in our now deserted and apparently forlorn condition in that crisis.

Examined and interrogated by the Fiscal, after taking down name and designation, and all about it, &c., &c. Where do you reside, sir?—I reside in the house of Mrs. Cumming, widow of the Relief minister of Errol, No. 37 Glassford Street, next door with Bailie William