"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?"

"Na, he's got some other birth 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 wheen 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 blythe bit ance!" said Meg, speaking to herself "Did ye notice if there was an auld saugh tree that 's 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 o' clavering about ť the 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.

the randy quean!

"That will I no Na, I had far rather Tib Mumps kenned 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.

CHAPTER XXIII.

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.

"Tell me," she said, "tell me, in the name of God, young man, what is your name, and whence you came?"

"My name is Brown, mother, and I come from the East Indies."

"From the East Indies!" dropping his hand with a sigh; "it cannot be then I am such an auld fool, that every thing I look on seems the thing I want maist to see. But the East Indies! that cannot be Weel, be what ye will, ye hae a face and a tongue that puts me in mind of auld times. Good day - make haste on your road, and if ye see ony of our folk, meddle not and make not, and they 'll do you nae harm.”

,

Brown, who had by this time received his change, put a shilling into her hand, bade his hostess farewell, and, taking the route which the farmer had gone before, walked briskly on, with the advantage of being guided by the fresh hoof-prints of his horse. Meg Merrilies looked after him for some time, and then muttered to herself, "I maun see that lad again — and I maun gang back to Ellangowan too. The Laird's dead-aweel, death pays a' scores he was a kind man ance. The Sheriff's flitted, and I can keep canny in the bush so there's no muckle hazard

o' scouring the cramp-ring.* - I would like to see bonny Ellangowan again or I die."

Brown, meanwhile, proceeded northward at a round pace along the moorish tract called the Waste of Cumberland. He passed a solitary house, towards which the horseman who preceded him had apparently turned up, for his horse's tread was evident in that direction. A little farther, he seemed to have returned again into the road. Mr. Dinmont had probably made a visit there either of business or pleasure—I wish, thought Brown, the good farmer had staid till I came up; I should not have been sorry to ask him a few questions about the road, which seems to grow wilder and wilder.

In truth, nature, as if she had designed this tract of country to be the barrier between two hostile nations, has stamped upon it a character of wildness and desolation. The hills are neither high nor rocky, but the land is all heath and morass; the huts poor and mean, and at a great distance from each other. Immediately around them there is generally some little attempt at cultivation; but a half-bred foal or two, straggling about with shackles on their hind legs, to save the trouble of enclosures, intimate the farmer's chief resource to be the breeding of horses. The people, too, are of a ruder and more inhospitable class than are elsewhere to be found in Cumberland, arising partly from their own habits, partly from their intermixture with vagrants and criminals, who make this wild country a refuge from justice. So much were the men of these districts in early times the objects of suspicion and dislike to their more polished neighbours, that there was, and perhaps still exists, a by-law of the corporation of Newcastle, prohibiting any freeman of that city to take for apprentice a native of certain of these dales. It is pithily said, "Give a dog an ill name and hang him;” and it may be added, if you give a man, or race of men, an ill name, they are very likely to do something that deserves hanging. Of this Brown had heard something, and suspected more, from the discourse between the landlady, Dinmont, and the gipsy; but he was naturally of a

*To scour the cramp-ring, is said metaphorically, for being thrown into fetters, or, generally, into prison.

fearless disposition, had nothing about him that could tempt the spoiler, and trusted to get through the Waste with day-light. In this last particular, however, he was likely to be disappointed. The way proved longer than he had anticipated, and the horizon began to grow gloomy, just as he entered upon an extensive mo

rass.

Choosing his steps with care and deliberation, the young officer proceeded along a path that sometimes sunk between two broken black banks of moss earth, sometimes crossed narrow but deep ravines filled with a consistence between mud and water, and sometimes along heaps of gravel and stones, which had been swept together when some torrent or water-spout from the neighbouring hills overflowed the marshy ground below. He began to ponder how a horseman could make his way through such broken ground; the traces of hoofs, however, were still visible; he even thought he heard their sound at some distance, and, convinced that Mr. Dinmont's progress through the morass must be still slower than his own, he resolved to push on, in hopes to overtake him, and have the benefit of his knowledge of the country. At this moment his little terrier sprung forward, barking most furiously.

In a

Brown quickened his pace, and, attaining the summit of a small rising ground, saw the subject of the dog's alarm. hollow about a gunshot below him, a man, whom he easily recognized to be Dinmont, was engaged with two others in a desperate struggle. He was dismounted, and defending himself as he best could with the but of his heavy whip. Our traveller hastened on to his assistance; but, ere he could get up, a stroke had levelled the farmer with the earth, and one of the robbers, improving his victory, struck him some merciless blows on the head. The other villain, hastening to meet Brown, called to his companion to come along, "for that one's content," meaning, probably, past resistance or complaint. One ruffian was armed with a cutlass, the other with a bludgeon; but as the road was pretty narrow, bar fire-arms, thought Brown, and I may manage them well enough. They met accordingly, with the most murderous threats on the part of the ruffians. They soon found, how