CHAPTER XXXIII.
'T is true his nature may with faults abound; But who will cavil when the heart is sound ?--STEPHEN MONTAGUE.
Dum vitant stulti vitia, in contraria currant.-HORACE.
["The foolish while avoiding vice run into the opposite extremes."] The next day Sir Christopher Findlater called on Clarence.

"Let us lounge in the park," said he.
"With pleasure," replied Clarence; and into the park they lounged.
By the way they met a crowd, who were hurrying a man to prison.

The good-hearted Sir Christopher stopped: "Who is that poor fellow ?" said he.
"It is the celebrated" (in England all criminals are celebrated.
Thurtell was a hero, Thistlewood a patriot, and Fauntleroy was discovered to be exactly like Buonaparte!) "it is the celebrated robber, John Jefferies, who broke into Mrs.Wilson's house, and cut the throats of herself and her husband, wounded the maid-servant, and split the child's skull with the poker." Clarence pressed forward: "I have seen that man before," thought he.

He looked again, and recognized the face of the robber who had escaped from Talbot's house on the eventful night which had made Clarence's fortune.

It was a strongly-marked and rather handsome countenance, which would not be easily forgotten; and a single circumstance of excitement will stamp features on the memory as deeply as the commonplace intercourse of years.
"John Jefferies!" exclaimed the baronet; "let us come away." "Linden," continued Sir Christopher, "that fellow was my servant once.
He robbed me to some considerable extent.