him　opened　the　massy　doors；　and　Haggart　was　free　with　a　reward　set　upon
  his　head。　　The　shock　of　the　enterprise　restored　his　magnanimity。　　Never
  did　he　display　a　finer　bravery　than　in　this　spirited　race　for　his　life；　and
  though　three　counties　were　aroused　he　doubled　and　ducked　to　such
  purpose　that　he　outstripped　John　Richardson　himself　with　all　his
  bloodhounds；　and　two　days　later　marched　into　Carlisle　disguised　in　the
  stolen　rags　of　a　potato…bogle。
  During　the　few　months　that　remained　to　him　of　life　he　embarked　upon
  a　veritable　Odyssey：　he　scoured　Scotland　from　the　Border　to　St。　Andrews；
  and　finally　contrived　a　journey　oversea　to　Ireland；　where　he　made　the
  name　of　Daniel　O'Brien　a　terror　to　well…doers。　　Insolent　and　careless；　he
  lurched　from　prison　to　prison；　now　it　was　Armagh　that　held　him；　now
  Downpatrick；　until　at　last　he　was　thrust　on　a　general　charge　of
  vagabondage　and　ill…company　into　Kilmainham；　which　has　since
  harboured　many　a　less　valiant　adventurer　than　David　Haggart。　　Here　the
  culminating　disgrace　overtook　him：　he　was　detected　in　the　prison　yard　by
  his　ancient　enemy；　John　Richardson；　of　Dumfries；　who　dragged　him　back
  to　Scotland　heavily　shackled　and　charged　with　murder。　　So　nimble　had　he
  proved　himself　in　extrication；　that　his　captors　secured　him　with　pitiless
  severity；　round　his　waist　he　carried　an　iron　belt；　whereto　were　padlocked
  the　chains；　clanking　at　his　wrists　and　ankles。　　Thus　tortured　and　helpless；
  he　was　fed　‘like　a　sucking　turkey　in　Bedlam'；　but　his　sorrows　vanished；
  and　his　dying　courage　revived　at　sight　of　the　torchlight　procession；　which
  set　forth　from　Dumfries　to　greet　his　return。
  His　coach　was　hustled　by　a　mob；　thousands　strong；　eager　to　catch　sight
  of　Haggart　the　Murderer；　and　though　the　spot　where　he　slew　Morrin　was
  like　fire　beneath　his　passing　feet；　he　carried　to　his　cell　a　heart　and　a　brain
  aflame　with　gratified　vanity。　　His　guilt　being　patent；　reprieve　was　as
  hopeless　as　acquittal；　and　after　the　assured　condemnation　he　spent　his　last
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  few　days　with　what　profit　he　might　in　religious　and　literary　exercises。　　He
  composed　a　memoir；　which　is　a　model　of　its　kind；　so　diligently　did　he
  make　his　soul；　that　he　could　appear　on　the　scaffold　in　a　chastened　spirit　of
  prayerful　gratitude；　and；　being　an　eminent　scoundrel；　he　seemed　a　proper
  subject　for　the　ministrations　of　Mr。　George　Combe。　　‘That　is　the　one
  thing　I　did　not　know　before；'　he　confessed　with　an　engaging　modesty；
  when　his　bumps　were　squeezed；　and　yet　he　was　more　than　a　match　for　the
  amiable　phrenologist；　whose　ignorance　of　mankind　persuaded　him　to
  believe　that　an　illiterate　felon　could　know　himself　and　analyse　his
  character。
  His　character　escaped　his　critics　as　it　escaped　himself。　　Time　was
  when　George　Borrow；　that　other　picaroon；　surprised　the　youthful　David；
  thinking　of　Willie　Wallace　upon　the　Castle　Rock；　and　Lavengro's　romantic
  memory　transformed　the　raw…boned　pickpocket　into　a　monumental　hero；
  who　lacked　nothing　save　a　vast　theatre　to　produce　a　vast　effect。　　He　was　a
  Tamerlane；　robbed　of　his　opportunity；　a　valiant　warrior；　who　looked　in
  vain　for　a　battlefield；　a　marauder　who　climbed　the　scaffold　not　for　the
  magnitude；　but　for　the　littleness　of　his　sins。　　Thus　Borrow；　in　complete
  misunderstanding　of　the　rascal's　qualities。
  Now；　Haggart's　ambition　was　as　circumscribed　as　his　ability。　　He　died；
  as　he　was　born；　an　expert　cly…faker；　whose　achievements　in　sleight　of　hand
  are　as　yet　unparalleled。　　Had　the　world　been　one　vast　breast　pocket　his
  fish…hook　fingers　would　have　turned　it　inside　out。　　But　it　was　not　his　to
  mount　a　throne；　or　overthrow　a　dynasty。　　‘My　forks；'　he　boasted；　‘are
  equally　long；　and　they　never　fail　me。'　　That　is　at　once　the　reason　and　the
  justification　of　his　triumph。　　Born　with　a　consummate　artistry　tingling　at
  his　finger…tips；　how　should　he　escape　the　compulsion　of　a　glorious　destiny？
  Without　fumbling　or　failure　he　discovered　the　single　craft　for　which
  fortune　had　framed　him；　and　he　pursued　it　with　a　courage　and　an　industry
  which　gave　him　not　a　kingdom；　but　fame　and　booty；　exceeding　even　his
  greedy　aspiration。　　No　Tamerlane　he；　questing　for　a　continent；　but　David
  Haggart；　the　man　with　the　long　forks；　happy　if　he　snatched　his　neighbour's
  purse。
  Before　all　things　he　respected　the　profession　which　his　left　hand　made
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  inevitable；　and　which　he　pursued　with　unconquerable　pride。　　Nor　in　his
  inspired　youth　was　plunder　his　sole　ambition：　he　cultivated　the　garden　of
  his　style　with　the　natural　zeal　of　the　artist；　he　frowned　upon　the　bungler
  with　a　lofty　contempt。　　His　materials　were　simplicity　itself：　his　forks；
  which　were　always　with　him；　and　another's　well…filled　pocket；　since；
  sensible　of　danger；　he　cared　not　to　risk　his　neck　for　a　purse　that　did　not
  contain　so　much　as　would　‘sweeten　a　grawler。'　　At　its　best；　his　method
  was　always　wittythat　is　the　single　word　which　will　characterise　itwitty
  as　a　piece　of　Heine's　prose；　and　as　dangerous。　　He　would　run　over　a　man's
  pockets　while　he　spoke　with　him；　returning　what　he　chose　to　discard
  without　the　lightest　breath　of　suspicion。　　‘A　good　workman；'　his
  contemporaries　called　him；　and　they　thought　it　a　shame　for　him　to　be　idle。
  Moreover；　he　did　not　blunder　unconsciously　upon　his　triumph；　he　tackled
  the　trade　in　so　fine　a　spirit　of　analysis　that　he　might　have　been　the　very
  Aristotle　of　his　science。　　‘The　keek…cloy；'　he　wrote；　in　his　hints　to　young
  sportsmen；　‘is　easily　picked。　　If　the　notes　are　in　the　long　fold　just　tip　them
  the　forks；　but　if　there　is　a　purse　or　open　money　in　the　case；　you　must　link
  it。'　　The　breast…pocket；　on　the　other　hand；　is　a　severer　test。　　‘Picking　the
  suck　is　sometimes　a　kittle　job；'　again　the　philosopher　speaks。　　‘If　the　coat
  is　buttoned　it　must　be　opened　by　slipping　past。　　Then　bring　the　lil　down
  between　the　flap　of　the　coat　and　the　body；　keeping　your　spare　arm　across
  your　man's　breast；　and　so　slip　it　to　a　comrade；　then　abuse　the　fellow　for
  jostling　you。'
  Not　only　did　he　master　the　tradition　of　thievery；　he　vaunted　his
  originality　with　the　familiar　complacence　of　the　scoundrel。　　Forgetting
  that　it　was　by　burglary　that　he　was　undone；　he　explains　for　his　public
  glorification　that　he　was　wont　to　enter　the　houses　of　Leith　by　forcing　the
  small　window　above　the　outer　door。　　This　artifice；　his　vanity　grumbles；　is
  now　common；　but　he　would　have　all　the　world　understand　that　it　was　his
  own　invention；　and　he　murmurs　with　the　pedantry　of　the　convicted
  criminal　that　it　is　now　set　forth　for　the　better　protection　of　honest　citizens。
  No　less　admirable　in　his　own　eyes　was　that　other　artifice　which　induced
  him　to　conceal　such　notes　as　he　managed　to　filch　in　the　collar　of　his　coat。
  Thus　he　eluded　the　vigilance　of　the　police；　which　searched　its　prey　in
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  those　days　with　a　sorry　lack　of　cunning。　　In　truth；　Haggart's　wits　were　as
  nimble　as　his　fingers；　and　he　seldom　failed　to　render　a　profitable　account
  of　his　talents。　　He　beguiled　one　of　his　sojourns　in　gaol　by　manufacturing
  tinder　wherewith　to　light　the　prisoners'　pipes；　and　it　is　not　astonishing　that
  he　won　a　general　popularity。　　In　Ireland；　when　the　constables　would　take
  him　for　a　Scot；　he　answered　in　high　Tipperary；　and　saved　his　skin　for　a
  while　by　a　brogue　which　would　not　have　shamed　a　modern　patriot。　　But
  quick　as　were　his　wits；　his　vanity　always　outstripped　them；　and　no　hero
  ever　bragged　of　his　achievements　with　a　louder　effrontery。
  Now　all　you　ramblers　in　mourning　go；　　　　　　For　the　prince　of
  ramblers　is　lying　low；　　　　　　And　all　you　maidens　that　love　the　game；
  Put　on　your　mourning　veils　again。
  Thus　he　celebrated　his　downfall　in　a　ballad　that　has　the　true　Newgate
  ring；　and　verily　in　his　own　eyes　he　was　a　hero　who　carried　to　the　scaffold　a
  dauntless　spirit　unstained　by　treachery。
  He　believed　himself　an　adept　in　all　the　arts；　as　a　squire　of　dames　he
  held　himself　peerless；　and　he　assured　the　ineffable　Combe；　who　recorded
  his　flippant　utterance　with　a　credulous　respect；　that　he　had　sacrificed
  hecatombs　of　innocent　virgins　to　his　importunate　lust。　　Prose　and　verse
  trickled　with　equal　facility　from　his　pen；　and　his　biography　is　a
  masterpiece。　　Written　in　the　pedlar's　French　as　it　was　misspoken　in　the
  hells　of　Edinburgh；　it　is　a　narrative　of　uncommon　simplicity　and　directness；
  marred　now　and　again　by　such　superfluous　reflections　as　are　the　natural
  result　of　thievish　sentimentality。　　He　tells　his　tale　without　paraphrase　or
  adornment；　and　the　worthy　Writer　to　the　Signet；　who　prepared　the　work
  for　the　Press；　would　have　asked　three　times　the　space　to　record　one…half
  the　adv