" Fiend save the company! Sing hey trix, Trim go trix, Under the greenwood tree. >> By my hand, friend Woodcock," said the page,« though I know you for a hardy gospeller, that fear neither saint nor devil, yet, if I were you, I would not sing your profane songs in this valley of Glendearg, considering what has happened here before our time. »>< « A straw for your wandering spirits,» said Adam Woodcock; « I mind them no more than an earn cares for a string of wild geese- they have all fled since the pulpits were filled with honest men, and the people's ears with sound doctrine. Nay, I have a touch at them in my ballad, an I had but had the good luck to have it sung to end;" and again he set off in the same key. « « From haunted spring and grassy ring, Troop goblin, elf, and fairy; And the kelpie must flit from the black bog-pit, To Limbo-lake, Their way they take; With scarce the pith to flee. Sing hey trix, Trim go trix, Under the greenwood tree. >> I think," he added, « that could Sir Halbert's patience have stretched till we came that length, he would have had a hearty laugh, and that is what he seldom enjoys. >> « If it be all true that men tell of his early life," said Roland, «< he has less right to laugh at goblins " than most men.» "Ay, if it be all true,» answered Adam Wood cock; « but who can insure us of that? Moreover, these were but tales the monks used to gull us simple laymen withal; they knew that fairies and hobgoblins brought aves and paternosters into repute; but now, we have given up worship of images in wood and stone, methinks it were no time to be afraid of bubbles in the water, or shadows in the air.» « But,» said Roland Græme, « as the Catholics say they do not worship wood or stone, but only as emblems of the holy saints, and not as things holy in themselves» << Pshaw ! pshaw!» answered the falconer; a rush for their prating. They told us another story when these baptized idols of theirs brought pike-staves and sandalled shoon from all the four winds, and whillied the old women out of their corn and their candle-ends, and their butter, bacon, wool, and cheese, and when not so much as a grey groat escaped tything. >> Roland Græme had been long taught, by necessity, to consider his form of religion as a profound secret, and to say nothing whatsoever in its defence when assailed, lest he should draw on himself the suspicion of belonging to the unpopular and exploded church. He therefore suffered Adam Woodcock to triumph without farther opposition, marvelling in his own mind whether any of the goblins, formerly such active agents, would avenge his rude raillery before they left the valley of Glendearg. But no such consequences followed. They passed the night quietly in a cottage in the glen, and the next day resumed their route to Edinburgh. CHAPTER II. Edina! Scotia's darling seat, All hail thy palaces and towers,. BURNS. THIS, then, is Edinburgh?" said the youth, as the fellow-travellers arrived at one of the heights to the southward, which commanded a view of the great northern capital—« This is that Edinburgh of which we have heard so much." « Even so," said the falconer; « yonder stands Auld Reekie - you may see the smoke hover over her at twenty miles distance, as the gosshawk hangs over a plump of young wild-ducks -ay, yonder is the heart of Scotland, and each throb that she gives is felt from the edge of Solway to Duncan's-bay-head. See, yonder is the old castle; and see to the right, on yon rising ground, that is the Castle of Craigmillar, which I have known a merry place in my time." « Was it not there," said the page in a low voice, « that the Queen held her court?»> & Ay, ay," replied the falconer, «Queen she was then, though you must not call her so now -well, they may say what they will-many a true heart will be sad for Mary Stuart, e'en if all be true men say of her; for look you, Master Roland-she was the loveliest creature to look upon that I ever saw with eye, and no lady in the land liked better the fair flight of a falcon. I was at the great match on Roslin-moor betwixt Bothwell—he was a black sight to her that Bothwell--and the Baron of Roslin, who could judge a hawk's flight as well as any man in Scotland— a butt of Rhenish and a ring of gold was the wager, and it was flown as fairly for as ever was red gold and bright wine. And to see her there on her white palfrey, that flew as if it scorned to touch more than the heather blossom; and to hear her voice, as clear and sweet as the mavis's whistle, mix among our jolly whooping and whistling, and to mark all the nobles dashing round her; happiest he who got a word or look-tearing through moss and hagg, and venturing neck and limb to gain the praise of a bold rider, and the blink of a bonnie Queen's bright eye-she will see little hawking where she lies now - ay, ay, pomp and pleasure pass away as speedily as the wap of a falcon's wing." « And where is this poor Queen now confined?" said Roland Græme, interested in the. fate of a woman, whose beauty and grace had made so strong an impression even on the |