player yourself; all is fancy and frolic with you."
"I have often thought so myself," said Bucklaw. "I believe it would be safer than acting with you in The Fatal Conspiracy.—But away, play your own part, and look after the horses like a groom as you are.—A play-actor! a stage player! that would have deserved a stab, but that Craigengelt's a coward—And yet I should like the profession well enough—Stay—let me see—ay—I would come out in Alexander—
'Thus from the grave I rise to save my love,
Draw all your swords, and quick as lightning move;
When I rush on, sure none will dare to stay,
'Tis love commands, and glory leads the way.'"
As with a voice of thunder, and his hand upon his sword, Bucklaw repeated the ranting couplets of poor Lee, Craigengelt re-entered with a face of alarm.
"We are undone, Bucklaw! the Master's led horse has cast himself over his halter in the stable, and is dead lame—his
