Lord, man, he sent Tam Hudson,* the keeper, and sicken a day as we had wi' the fumarts and the tods, and sicken a blythe gaedown as we had again e'en! Faith, that was a night!"

"I suppose game is very plenty with you!"

"Plenty, man! I believe there's mair hares than sheep on my farm; and for the moor-fowl, or the grey-fowl, they lie as thick as doos in a dooket. Did ye ever shoot a blackcock, man?"

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Really I had never even the pleasure to see one, except in the museum at Keswick."

"There now-I could guess that by your Southland tongue. It's very odd of these English folk that come here, how few of them has seen a black-cock! I'll tell you what-ye seem to be an honest lad, and if you'll call on me on Dandie Dinmont - at Charlies-hope-ye shall see a black-cock, and shoot a black-cock, and eat a blackcock too, man.

"Why, the proof of the matter is the eating, to be sure, sir; and I shall be happy, if I can find time, to accept your invitation."

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Time, man? what ails ye to gae hame wi' me the now? How d'ye travel?"

"On foot, sir; and if that handsome pony be yours, I should find it impossible to keep up with you."

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No, unless ye can walk up to fourteen mile an hour. But ye can come ower the night as far as Riccarton, where there is a public- or if ye like to stop at Jockey Grieve's at the Heuch, they would be blythe to see ye, and I am just gaun to stop and drink a dram at the door wi' him, and I would tell him you're coming up; - or stay-Gudewife, could ye lend this gentleman the gudeman's galloway, and I'll send it ower the Waste in the morning wi' the callant?"

The galloway was turned out upon the fell, and was swear to catch."Aweel, aweel, there's nae help for't,

* The real name of this veteran sportsman is now restored.

Sicken, such. Fumarts, polecats (foul martin). Blythe, merry. Gaedown, bout. Doos, pigeons. Dooket, dove-cote. What ails ye? why should not you? Heuch, dell. Fell, hill. Swear, difficult,

but come up the morn at ony rate. -And now, gudewife, I maun ride, to get to the Liddel or it be dark, for your Waste has but a kittle character, ye ken yoursell."

"Hout fie, Mr. Dinmont, that's no like you, to gie the country an ill name. — I wot, there has been nane stirred in the Waste since Sawney Culloch, the travelling-merchant, that Rowley Overdees and Jock Penny suffered for at Carlisle twa years since. There's no ane in Bewcastle would do the like o' that now we be a' true folk now."

"Ay, Tib, that will be when the deil's blind, and his een's no sair yet. But hear ye, gudewife, I have been through maist feck o' Galloway and Dumfries-shire, and I have been round by Carlisle, and I was at the Staneshiebank fair the day, and I would like ill to be rubbit sae near hame so I'll take the gate."

"Hae ye been in Dumfries and Galloway?" said the old dame who sat smoking by the fire-side, and who had not yet spoken a word.

"Troth have I, gudewife, and a weary round I've had o't."

"Then ye'll maybe ken a place they ca' Ellangowan?" "Ellangowan, that was Mr. Bertram's? I ken the place weel eneugh. The Laird died about a fortnight since, as I heard."

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Died!" said the old woman, dropping her pipe, and rising and coming forward upon the floor-"died!-are you sure of that?"

"Troth am I," said Dinmont, "for it made nae sma' noise in the country-side. He died just at the roup of, the stocking and furniture; it stoppit the roup, and mony folk were disappointed. They said he was the last of an auld family too, and mony were sorry - for gude blude's scarcer in Scotland than it has been."

"Dead!" replied the old woman, whom our readers have already recognised as their acquaintance, Meg Merrilies "dead! that quits a' scores. And did you say he died

without an heir?"

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Ay, did he, gudewife, and the estate's sell'd by the

Kittle, slippery. Hout, tut. Stirred, troubled. Een's, eyes. Feck, part. Rubbit, robbed. Take the gate, move on.

same token; for they said, they couldna have sell'd it, if there had been an heir-male."

"Sell'd!" echoed the gipsy, with something like a scream; "and wha durst buy Ellangowan that was not of Bertram's blude? - and wha could tell whether the bonny knave-bairn may not come back to claim his ain? -wha durst buy the estate and the castle of Ellangowan?"

“Troth, gudewife, just ane o' thae writer chields that buys a' thing-they ca' him Glossin, I think.”

"Glossin! Gibbie Glossin! that I have carried in my creels a hundred times, for his mother wasna muckle better than mysell-he to presume to buy the barony of Ellangowan! Gude be wi' us-it is an awfu' warld! I wished him ill—but no sic a downfa' as a' that neither: wae's me! wae's me to think o't!"-She remained a moment silent, but still opposing with her hand the farmer's retreat, who, betwixt every question, was about to turn his back, but good-humouredly stopped on observing the deep interest his answers appeared to excite.

"It will be seen and heard of-earth and sea will not hold their peace langer! Can ye say if the same man be now the Sheriff of the county that has been sae for some years past?"

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Na, he's got some other berth in Edinburgh, they say -but gude day, gudewife, I maun ride."-She followed him to his horse, and, while he drew the girths of his saddle, adjusted the walise, and put on the bridle, still plied him with questions concerning Mr. Bertram's death, and the fate of his daughter; on which, however, she could obtain little information from the honest farmer.

"Did ye ever see a place they ca' Derncleugh, about a mile frae the Place of Ellangowan?"

"I wot weel have I, gudewife, a wild-looking den it is, wi' a whin auld wa's o' shealings yonder. I saw it when I gaed ower the ground wi' ane that wanted to take the farm.'

"It was a blyth bit ance!" said Meg, speaking to herself. "Did ye notice if there was an auld saugh tree that's

Writer chields, Scotch lawyers. Creels, baskets for the back. Muckle, much. Wae's me, woe is me. Shealings, cottages. Saugh, willow.

maist blawn down, but yet its roots are in the earth, and it hangs ower the bit burn?-mony a day hae I wrought my stocking, and sat on my sunkie under that saugh.'

"Hout, deil's i' the wife, wi' her saughs, and her sunkies, and Ellangowans. Godsake, woman, let me away; there's saxpence t'ye to buy half-a-mutchkin, instead of clavering about thae auld warld stories."

"Thanks to ye, gudeman—and now ye hae answered a' my questions and never speired wherefore I asked them, I'll gie you a bit canny advice, and ye maunna speir what for neither. Tib Mumps will be out wi' the stirrup-dram in a gliffing; she'll ask ye whether ye gang ower Willie's brae, or through Conscowthart-moss; tell her ony ane ye like, but be sure" (speaking low and emphatically) "to tak the ane ye dinna tell her." The farmer laughed and promised, and the gipsy retreated.

"Will you take her advice?" said Brown, who had been an attentive listener to this conversation.

"That will I no-the randy quean! Na, I had far rather Tib Mumps kenn'd which way I was gaun than her -though Tib's no muckle to lippen to neither, and I would advise ye on no account to stay in the house a' night."

In a moment after, Tib, the landlady, appeared with her stirrup-cup, which was taken off. She then, as Meg had predicted, inquired whether he went the hill or the moss road. He answered, the latter; and, having bid Brown good-by, and again told him, "he depended on seeing him at Charlies-hope, the morn at latest," he rode off at a round pace.

Bit burn, little river. Sunkie, stool. Clavering, gossiping. Speired, inquired. clivity. Moss, bog or place where peat is quean, worthless woman. Lippen, trust.

Mutchkin, Scotch pint measure. Gliffing, an instant. Brae, defound. Dinna, do not. Randy

CHAPTER TWENTY-THIRD.

Gallows and knock are too powerful on the highway.
WINTER'S TALE.

THE hint of the hospitable farmer was not lost on Brown. But, while he paid his reckoning, he could not avoid repeatedly fixing his eyes on Meg Merrilies. She was, in all respects, the same witch-like figure as when we first introduced her at Ellangowan-Place. Time had grizzled her raven locks, and added wrinkles to her wild features, but her height remained erect, and her activity was unimpaired. It was remarked of this woman, as of others of the same description, that a life of action, though not of labour, gave her the perfect command of her limbs and figure, so that the attitudes into which she most naturally threw herself, were free, unconstrained, and picturesque. At present, she stood by the window of the cottage, her person drawn up so as to show to full advantage her masculine stature, and her head somewhat thrown back, that the large bonnet, with which her face was shrouded, might not interrupt her steady gaze at Brown. At every gesture he made, and every tone he uttered, she seemed to give an almost imperceptible start. On his part, he was surprised to find that he could not look upon this singular figure without some emotion. "Have I dreamed of such a figure?" he said to himself, "or does this wild and singular-looking woman recall to my recollection some of the strange figures I have seen in our Indian pagodas?"

While he embarrassed himself with these discussions, and the hostess was engaged in rummaging out silver in change of half-a-guinea, the gipsy suddenly made two strides, and seized Brown's hand. He expected, of course, a display of her skill in palmistry, but she seemed agitated by other feelings.

Pagoda, a temple in China and East Indies. Palmistry, telling fortunes by lines in the hands.