“15.  In criminals of blood, if the fact be evident, severity is justice.

“16.  To abhor all private solicitations, of what kind soever, and by whomsoever, in matters depending.

“17.  To charge my servants—­1.  Not to interpose in any matter whatsoever; 2.  Not to take more than their known fees; 3.  Not to give any undue precedence to causes; 4.  Not to recommend counsel.

“18.  To be short and sparing at meals, that I may be the fitter for business.”

Under the influence of resolutions like these, the conduct of Hale on the bench appears to have been almost irreproachable.

Ibidem.

* * * * *

THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.

* * * * *

DRYBURGH ABBEY.

  ’Twas morn—­but not the ray which falls the summer boughs among,
  When beauty walks in gladness forth, with all her light and song;
  ’Twas morn—­but mist and cloud hung deep upon the lonely vale,
  And shadows, like the wings of death, were out upon the gale.

  For He whose spirit woke the dust of nations into life—­
  That o’er the waste and barren earth spread flowers and fruitage rife—­
  Whose genius, like the sun, illumed the mighty realms of mind—­
  Had fled for ever from the fame, love, friendship of mankind!

  To wear a wreath in glory wrought his spirit swept afar,
  Beyond the soaring wing of thought, the light of moon or star;
  To drink immortal waters, free from every taint of earth—­
  To breathe before the shrine of life, the source whence worlds had birth!

  There was wailing on the early breeze, and darkness in the sky,
  When, with sable plume, and cloak, and pall, a funeral train swept by;
  Methought—­St. Mary, shield us well!—­that other forms moved there,
  Than those of mortal brotherhood, the noble, young, and fair!

  Was it a dream?—­how oft, in sleep, we ask, “Can this be true?”
  Whilst warm imagination paints her marvels to our view;—­
  Earth’s glory seems a tarnish’d crown to that which we behold,
  When dreams enchant our sight with things whose meanest garb is gold!

  Was it a dream?—­methought the “dauntless Harold” passed me by—­
  The proud “Fitz-James,” with martial step, and dark, intrepid eye;
  That “Marmion’s” haughty crest was there, a mourner for his sake;
  And she, the bold, the beautiful, sweet “Lady of the Lake.”

  The “Minstrel,” whose last lay was o’er, whose broken harp lay low,
  And with him glorious “Waverley,” with glance and step of wo;
  And “Stuart’s” voice rose there, as when, ’midst fate’s disastrous war,
  He led the wild, ambitious, proud, and brave “Ich Ian Vohr.”

  Next, marvelling at his sable suit, the “Dominie” stalk’d past,
  With “Bertram,” “Julia” by his side, whose tears were flowing fast;
  “Guy Mannering,” too, moved there, o’erpowered by that afflicting sight;
  And “Merrilies,” as when she wept on Ellangowan’s height.