Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 57, No. 355, May 1845. Various

eyes – how came the salt-water here? Hold hard, old boy, – no snivelling!" and he drew the back of his hand across his eyes, as if he was parting from a messmate upon the eve of execution.

      "This is intolerable!" I cried. "Get out, sir, or I shall throw you over the window!"

      "Like to see you try it," said Cutts with a Coriolanus air of defiance. I had just enough command over myself to see that a row with the Saxon was worse than useless, as it would effectually destroy my last remaining chance. I therefore changed my plans.

      "Mark me, sir. I am going to ring the bell for the waiters, and if you don't choose to relieve me of your presence at once, they shall have my orders to carry you down stairs. Will you go, sir? No! then take the consequences;" and I rang the bell like a demoniac.

      The music stopped in the room below. Cutts, drunk as he was, observed the circumstance; and no sooner were steps heard upon the stairs, in obedience to the tocsin, than he took his departure with the candle. I lay down again till the tumult should subside, when I intended to apprise Mackinnon of the present state of matters.

      My appeal to the bell, which was a vigorous one, had produced a marked effect. Several of the company had come to the door of the ball-room, in order to learn the true nature of the alarm; and Cutts on his descent was assailed by vehement enquiries.

      "Oh, don't ask me – don't ask me!" said the villain, wringing his hands like a male Antigone. "My poor friend! he's just going! Oh, gentlemen, is there no medical man here to save him?"

      "Doctor Morgan! Doctor Morgan!" shouted twenty voices.

      "Bless my soul, what's the matter here?" said the doctor, emerging from the ball-room. "Any body taken suddenly ill, eh?"

      "Oh, my poor friend!" groaned the traitor.

      "Mercy on me! is it so bad as that?" said the Doctor, "I must see him immediately. My dear sir, what is the matter with your friend?"

      "His head, sir – his head!" said Cutts with a sob – "he is quite mad at the present moment. If you go up-stairs to No. 3, you'll find him biting the bed-posts!"