and that the vessel was disabled. It was not in the power of the man-of-war's men for some time to profit by the circumstance, owing to their having kept too much in shore for doubling the headland. After two tacks, they accomplished this, and observed the chase on fire, and apparently deserted. The fire having reached some casks of spirits, which were placed on the deck, with other combustibles, probably on purpose, burnt with such fury, that no boats durst approach the vessel, especially as her shotted guns were discharging, one after another, by the heat. The captain had no doubt whatever that the crew had set the vessel on fire, and escaped in their boats. After watching the conflagration till the ship blew up, his Majesty's sloop, the Shark, stood towards the Isle of Man, with the purpose of intercepting the retreat of the smugglers, who, though they might conceal themselves in the woods for a day or two, would probably take the first opportunity of endeavoring to make for this asylum. But they never saw more of them than is above narrated. Such was the account given by William Pritchard, master and commander of his Majesty's sloop of war Shark, who concluded by regretting deeply that he had not had the happiness to fall in with the scoundrels, who had had the impudence to fire on his Majesty's flag, and with an assurance, that, should he meet Mr. Dirk Hatteraick in any future cruise, he would not fail to. bring him into port under his stern, to answer whatever might be alleged against him. As, therefore, it seemed tolerably certain that the men on board the lugger had escaped, the death of Kennedy, if he fell in with them in the woods, when irritated by the loss of their vessel, and by the share he had in it, was easily to be accounted for. And it was not improbable, that to such brutal tempers, rendered desperate by their own circumstances, even the murder of the child, against whose father, as having become suddenly active in the prosecution of smugglers, Hatteraick was known to have uttered deep threats, would not appear a very heinous crime. Against this hypothesis it was urged, that a crew of fifteen or twenty men could not have lain hidden upon the coast when so close a search took place immediately after the destruction of their vessel; or, at least, that if they had hid themselves in the woods, their boats must have been seen on the beach;-that in such precarious circumstances, and when all retreat must have seemed difficult, if not impossible, it was not to be thought that they would have all united to commit a useless murder, for the mere sake of revenge. Those who held this opinion supposed, either that the boats of the lugger had stood out to sea without being observed by those who were intent upon gazing at the burning vessel, and so gained safe distance before the sloop got round the headland; or else, that, the boats being staved or destroyed by the fire of the shot during the chase, the crew had obstinately determined to perish with the vessel. What gave some counte nance to this suppose 1 act of desperation was, that neither Dirk Hatteraick nor any of his sailors, al: well-known men in the fair-trade, were again seen upon that coast, or heard of in the Isle of Man, where strict inquiry was made. On the other hand, only one dead body, apparently that of a seaman killed by a cannon-shot, drifted ashore, So all that could be done was to register the name, description, and appearance of the individ uals belonging to the ship's company, and offer a reward for the apprehension of them, or any one of them; extending also to any person, not the actual murderer, who should give evidence tending to convict those who had murdered Francis Kennedy. Another opinion, which was also plausibly supported, went to charge this horrid crime upor the late tenants of Derncleugh. They were known to have resented highly the conduct of the Laird of Ellangowan towards them, and to have used threatening expressions, which every one supposed them capable of carrying into effect. The kidnapping the child was a crime much more consistent with their habits than with those of smug glers, and his temporary guardian might have fallen in an attempt to protect him. Besides, it was remembered that Kennedy had been an active agent, two or three days before, in the forcible expulsion of these people from Derncleugh, and that harsh and menacing language had been exchanged between him and some of the Egyptian patriarchs on that memorable occasion. The Sheriff received also the depositions of the unfortunate father and his servant, concerning what had passed at their meeting the caravan of gipsies, as they left the estate of Ellangowan. The speech of Meg Merrilies seemed particularly suspicious. There was, as the magistrate observed in the law language, damnum minatum-a damage, or evil turn, threatened, and malum secutum -an evil of the very kind predicted, shortly afterwards following. A young woman, who had been gathering nuts in Warroch wood upon the fatal day, was also strongly of opinion, though she de. clined to make positive oath, that she had seen Meg Merrilies, at least a woman of her remarkable size and appearance, start suddenly out of a thicket she said she had called to her by name, but, as the figure turned from her, and made no answer, she was uncertain if it were the gipsy or her wraith, and was afraid to go nearer to one who was always reckoned, in the vulgar phrase, no canny. This vague story received some corroboration from the circumstance of a fire being that evening found in the gipsy's deserted cottage. To this fact Ellangowan and his gardener bore evidence. Yet it seemed extravagant to suppose, that, had tnis woman been accessory to such a dreadful crime, she would have returned that very evening on which it was committed, to the place of all others, where she was most likely to be sought after. Meg Merrilies was, however, apprehended and examined. She denied strongly having been ei ther at Derneleugh or in the wood of Warroch upon the day of Kennedy's death; and several of her tribe made oath in her behalf, that she had never quitted their encampment, which was in a glen, about ten miles distant from Ellangowan. Their oaths were indeed little to be trusted to;-but what other evidence could be had in the circumstances? There was one remarkable fact, and only one, which arose from her examination. Her arm appeared to be slightly wounded by the cut of a sharp weapon, and was tied up with a handkerchief of Harry Bertram's. But the chief of the horde acknowledged he had "corrected her" that day with his whinger-she herself, and others, gave the same account of her hurt; and for the handkerchief, the quantity of linen stolen from Ellangowan during the last months of their residence on the estate, easily accounted for it, without charging Meg with a more heinous crime. It was observed, upon her examination, that she treated the questions respecting the death of Kennedy, or "the ganger," as she called him, with indifference; but expressed great and emphatic scorn and indignation at being supposed capable of injuring little Harry Bertram. She was long confined in gaol under the hope that something might yet be discovered to throw light upon this dark and bloody transaction. Nothing, however, occurred; and Meg was at length liberated, but under sentence of banishment from the county as a vagrant, common thief, and disorderly person. No traces of the body could ever be discovered; and, at length, the story, after making much noise, was gradually given up as altogether inexplicable, and only perpetuated by the name of "The Gauger's Loup," which was generally bestowed on the cliff from which the unfortunate man had fallen or been precipitated. CHAPTER XI. Eater Time, as Chorus. I-that please some, try all; both joy and terror To use my wings. Impute it not a crime O'er sixteen years, and leave the growth untried WINTER'S TALE. OUR narration is now about to make a large stride, and omit a space of nearly seventeen years; during which nothing occurred of any particular consequence with respect to the story we have undertaken to tell. The gap is a wide one; yet if the reader's experience in life enables him to look back on so many years, the spaco will scarce appear longer in his recollection than the time consumed in turning these pages. a small but comfortable inn, kept by Mrs. MacCandlish in that village. The conversation which passed among them will save me the trouble of telling the few events occurring during this chasm in our history, with which it is necessary that the reader should be acquainted. Mrs. Mac-Candlish, throned in a comfortable easy chair lined with black leather, was regaling herself, and a neighboring gossip or two, with a cup of genuine tea, and at the same time keeping a sharp eye upon her domestics, as they went and came in prosecution of their various duties and commissions. The clerk and precentor of the parish enjoyed at a little distance his Saturday night's pipe, and aided its bland fumigation by an occasional sip of brandy and water. Deacon Bearcliff, a man of great importance in the village, combined the indulgence of both parties--he had his pipe and tea-cup, the latter being laced with a little spirits. One or two clowns sat at some distance, drinking their two-penny ale. "Are ye sure the parlor's ready for them, and the fire burning clear, and the chimney no smoking?" said the hostess to a chambermaid. She was answered in the affirmative.-" Ane wadna be uncivil to them, especially in their distress," said she, turning to the Deacon. "Assuredly not, Mrs. Mac-Candlish; assuredly not. I am sure ony sma' thing they might want frae my shop, under seven, or eight, or ten pounds, I would book them as readily for it as the first in the country.-Do they come in the auld chaise? "for "I dare say no," said the precentor; Miss Bertram comes on the white pony ilka day to the kirk-and a constant kirk-keeper she isand it's a pleasure to hear her singing the psalms, winsome young thing." "Ay, and the young Laird of Hazlewood rides hame half the road wi' her after sermon," said one of the gossips in company: "I wonder how auld Hazlewood likes that." "I kenna how he may like it now," answered another of the tea-drinkers; "but the day has been when Ellangowan wad hae liked as little to see his daughter taking up with their son.' "Ay, has been," answered the first, with somewhat of emphasis. "I am sure, neighbor Ovens," said the hostess, "the Hazlewoods of Hazlewood, though they are a very gude auld family in the county, never thought, till within these twa score o' years, of evening themselves till the Ellangowans.-Wow, woman, the Bertrams of Ellangowan are the auld Dingawaies lang syne--there is a sang about ane o' them marrying a daughter of the King of Man; it begins, Blythe Bertram's ta'en him ower the faem, To wed a wife and bring her hame It was, then, in the month of November, about seventeen years after the catastrophe I daur say Mr. Skreigh can sing us the ballant.' related in the last chapter, that, during a cold and stormy night, a social group had closed round the kitchen fire of the Gordon Arms at Kippletringan, Gude wife," said Skreigh, gathering up his mouth, and sipping his tiff of brandy punch with great solemnity, "our talents were gien as to other use than to sing daft auld sangs sae near the Sabbath-day." "Hout fie, Mr. Skreigh; I'se warrant I hae heard you sing a blythe sang on Saturday at e'en before now. But as for the chaise, Deacon, it hasna been out of the coach-house since Mrs. Bertram died, that's sixteen or seventeen years sin syne. Jock Jabos is away wi' a chaise of mine for them;-I wonder he's no come back. It's pit mirk-but there's no an ill turn on the road but twa, and the brigg ower Warroch burn is safe eneugh, if he haud to the right side. But then there's Heavieside-brae, that's just a murder for post-cattle-but Jock kens the road brawly." A loud rapping was heard at the door. "That's no them. I didna hear the wheels.Grizzel. ye limmer, gang to the door." weel in the warld as they have been; but we're a' subject to ups and downs in this life, as your honor must needs ken-but is not the tobacco-reek disagreeable to your honor ? " "By no means, ma'am; I am an old campaigner, and perfectly used to it.-Will you permit me to make some inquiries about a family in this neighborhood?" The sound of wheels was now heard, and the landlady hurried to the door to receive her expect ed guests; but returned in an instant, followed by the postilion.-"No, they canna come at no rate the Laird's sae ill." "But God help them!" said the landlady "the morn's the term-the very last day they car bide in the house-a' thing's to be roupit." "Weel, but they can come at no rate, I tell yo "It's a single gentleman," whined out Grizzel; -Mr. Bertram canna be moved." 'maun I take him into the parlor ?" "Foul be in your feet, then; it'll be some English rider. Coming without a servant at this time o'night!-Has the ostler ta'en the horse? -Ye may light a spunk o' fire in the red room." "I wish, ma'am," said the traveller, entering the kitchen, "you would give me leave to warm myself here, for the night is very cold." His appearance, voice, and manner, produced an instantaneous effect in his favor. He was a handsome, tall, thin figure, dressed in black, as appeared when he laid aside his riding-coat; his age might be between forty and fifty; his cast of features grave and interesting, and his air somewhat military. Every point of his appearance and address bespoke the gentleman. Long habit had given Mrs. Mac-Candlish an acute tact in ascertaining the quality of her visitors, and proportioning her reception accordingly: To every guest the appropriate speech was made, Respectful, easy, pleasant, or polite "Your honor's servant!-Mister Smith, good-night." On the present occasion, she was low in her curtsey, and profuse in her apologies. The stranger begged his horse might be attended to-she went out herself to school the ostler. "There was never a prettier bit o' horse-flesh in the stable o' the Gordon Arms," said the man; which information increased the landlady's respect for the rider. Finding, on her return, that the stranger declined to go into another apart ment, (which indeed, she allowed, would be but cold and smoky till the fire bleezed up), she installed her guest hospitably by the fire-side, and offered what refreshment her house afforded. "A cup of your tea, ma'am, if you will favor me." Mrs. Mac-Candlish bustled about, reinforced her teapot with hyson, and proceeded in her duties with her best grace. "We have a very nice parlor, sir, and every thing very agreeable for gentlefolks; but it's bespoke the night for a gentleman and his daughter, that are going to leave this part of the country-ane of my chaises is gane for them, and will be back forthwith. They're no sae "What Mr. Bertram?" said the stranger; not Mr. Bertram of Ellangowan, I hope?" "Just e'en that same, sir; and if ye be a friend o' his, ye have come at a time when he's sail bested." "I have been abroad for many years;-is his health so much deranged?" "Ay, and his affairs an a'," said the Deacon; "the creditors have entered into possession o' the estate, and it's for sale; and some that made the maist by him-I name nae names, but Mrs. Mac Candlish kens wha I mean "-(the landlady shook her head significantly)-" they're sairest on him e'en now. I have a sma' matter due mysell, but I would rather have lost it than gane to turn the auld man out of his house, and him just dying." "Ay, but," said the parish clerk, "Factor Glossin wants to get rid of the auld Laird, and drive on the sale, for fear the heir-male should cast up upon them; for I have heard say, if there was an heir-male, they couldna sell the estate for auld Ellangowan's debt." "He had a son born a good many years ago," said the stranger; "he is dead, I suppose ? " "Nae man can say for that," answered the clerk, mysteriously. "Dead!" said the Deacon; "I'se warrant him dead lang syne; he hasna been heard o' these twenty years or thereby." "I wot weel it's no twenty years," said the landlady; "it's no abune seventeen at the outside in this very month; it made an unco noise ower a' this country-the bairn disappeared the very day that Supervisor Kennedy cam by his end.-If ye kenn'd this country lang syne, your honor wad maybe ken Frank Kennedy the Supervisor. He was a heartsome pleasant man, and company for the best gentlemen in the county, and muckle mirth he's made in this house. I was young then, sir, and newly married to Bailie Mac-Candlish, that's dead and gone-(a sigh-and muckle fun I've had wi' the Supervisor. He was a daft dog.-O, an he could hae hauden aff the smugglers a bit! but he was aye venturesome.- And so ye see, sir, there was a king's sloop down in Wigton bay, and Frank Kennedy, he behoved to have her un to chase Dirk Hatteraick's lugger-ye 1 mind Pirk Hatteraick, Deacon? I dare say ye may have dealt wi' him-(the Deacon gave a sort of acquiescent nod and humph). He was a darling chield, and he fought his ship till she blew up like peelings of ingans; and Frank Kennedy he had been the first man to board, and he was flung like a quarter of a mile off, and fell into the water below the rock at Warroch Point, that they ca' the Gauger's Loup to this day." his legs, and his arms were bare, although it was winter time o' the year, and he had a grey beard three-quarters lang. Weel, he was admitted; and when the lady was delivered, he craved to know the very moment of the hour of the birth, and he went out and consulted the stars. And when he came back, he tell'd the Laird, that the Evil One would have power over the knave-bairn that was that night born, and he charged him that the babe should be bred up in the ways of piety, and "And Mr. Bertram's child," said the stranger, that he should aye hae a godly minister at his 'what is all this to him?" "Ou, sir, the bairn aye held an unca wark wi' he Supervisor; and it was generally thought he went on board the vessel alang wi' him, as bairns are aye forward to be in mischief." "No, no," said the Deacon, "ye're clean out here, Luckie-for the young Laird was stown away by a randy gipsy woman they ca'd Meg Merrilies, I mind her looks weel,-in revenge for Ellangowan having gar'd her be drumm'd through Kippletringan for stealing a silver spoon." "If ye'll forgie me, Deacon," said the precenLor, "ye're e'en as far wrang as the gudewife." "And what is your edition of the story, sir?" said the stranger, turning to him with interest. "That's maybe no sae canny to tell," said the precentor, with solemnity. Upon being urged, however, to speak out, he preluded with two or three large puffs of tobaccosmoke, and out of the cloudy sanctuary which these whiffs formed around him, delivered the following legend, having cleared his voice with one or two hems, and imitating, as near as he could, the eloquence which weekly thundered over his head from the pulpit. "What we are now to deliver, my brethren, hem-hem,-I mean, my good friends,-was not done in a corner, and may serve as an answer to witch-advocates, atheists, and misbelievers of all kinds. Ye must know that the worshipful Laird of Ellangowan was not so preceese as he might have been in clearing his land of witches, (concerning whom it is said Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,) nor of those who had familiar spirits, and consulted with divination, and sorcery, and lots, which is the fashion with the Egyptians, as they ca' themsells, and other unhappy bodies, in this our country. And the Laird was three years married without having a family-and he was sac left to himsell, that it was thought he held ower muckle troking and communin' wi' that Meg Merrilies, wha was the maist notorious witch in a' Galloway and Dumfries-shire baith." 66 elbow, to pray wi the bairn and for him. And the aged man vanished away, and no man of this country ever saw mair o' him." "Now, that will not pass," said the postilion, who, at a respectful distance, was listening to the conversation, "begging Mr. Skreigh's and the company's pardon,-there was no sae mony hairs on the warlock's face as there's on LetterGae's* ain at this moment; and he had as gude a pair o' boots as a man need streik on his legs, and gloves too;-and I should understand boots by this time, I think." "Whisht, Jock," said the landlady. "Ay? and what do ye ken o' the matter, friend Jabos?" said the precentor, contemptuously. "No muckle, to be sure, Mr. Skreigh-only that I lived within a penny-stane cast o' the head o' the avenue at Ellangowan, when a man cam' jingling to our door that night the young Laird was born, and my mother sent me, that was a hafflin callant, to show the stranger the gate to the Place, which, if he had been sic a warlock, he might hae kenn'd himsell, ane wad think-and he was young, well-faured, weel-dressed lad, like an Englishman. And I tell you he had as gude a hat, and boots, and gloves, as ony gentlemen need to have. To be sure he did gie an awsome glance up at the auld castle-and there was some spae-wark gaed on-I aye heard that; but as for his vanishing, I held the stirrup mysell when he gaed away, and he gied me a round half-crownhe was riding on a haick they ca'd Souple Samit belanged to the George at Dumfries-it was a blood-bay beast, very ill o' the spavin-I hae seen the beast baith before and since." "Aweel, aweel, Jock," answered Mr. Skreigh, with a tone of mild solemnity, "our accounts differ in no material particulars; but I had no knowledge that ye had seen the man.—So ye see, my friends, that this soothsayer having prognosticated evil to the boy, his father engaged a godly minister to be with him morn and night." "Ay, that was him they ca'd Dominie Sampson," said the postilion. "He's but a dumb dog that," observed the Deacon; "I have heard that he never could preach five words of a sermon endlang, for as lang as he has been licensed." "Aweel, I wot there's something in that," said Mrs. Mac-Candlish; “I've kenn'd him order her twa glasses o' brandy in this very house." Aweel, gudewife, then the less I lee.-Sae the lady was wi' bairn at last, and in the night when she should have been delivered, there comes to the door of the ha' house-the Place of Ellangowan as they ca'd-an ancient man, strangely habited. and asked for quarters. His head, and Gae of haly rhyme." "Weel, but," said the precentor, waving his hand, as if eager to retrieve the command of the *The precentor is called by Allan Ramsay,-"The Lotter discourse, "he waited on the young Laird by night and day. Now it chanced, when the Bairn was near five years auld, that the Laird had a sight of his errors, and determined to put these Egyptians aff his ground; and he caused them to remove; and that Frank Kennedy, that was a rough swearing fellow, he was sent to turn them off. And he cursed and damned at them, and they swure at him; and that Meg Merrilies, that was the maist powerful with the Enemy of Mankind, she as gude as said she would have him, body and soul, before three days were ower his head. And I have it from a sure hand, and that's ane wha saw it, and that's John Wilson that was the Laird's groom, that Meg appeared to the Laird as he was riding hame from Singleside, over Gib-bie's-know, and threatened him wi' what she wad do to his family; but whether it was Meg, or something waur in her likeness, for it seemed bigger than ony mortal creature, John could not say." "Aweel," said the postilion, "It might be sae-I cannot say against it, for I was not in the country at the time; but John Wilson was a blustering kind of chield, without the heart of a sprug." "And what was the end of all this?" said the stranger, with some impatience. "Ou, the event and upshot of it was, sir," said the precentor, "that while they were all looking on, beholding a king's ship chase a smuggler, this Kennedy suddenly brake away frae them, without ony reason that could be descried -ropes nor tows wad not hae held him-and made for the wood of Warroch as fast as his beast could carry him; and by the way he met the young Laird and his governor, and he snatched up the bairn, and swure, if he was bewitched, the bairn should have the same luck as him; and the minister followed as fast as he could, and almaist as fast as them, for he was wonderfully swift of foot-and he saw Meg the witch, or her master in her similitude, rise suddenly out of the ground, and claught the bairn suddenly out of the gauger's arms-and then he rampauged and drew his sword-for ye ken a fie man and a cusser fearsna the deil." "I believe that's very true," said the postillion. "So, sir, she grippit him, and clodded him like a stane from the sling ower the craigs of Warroch-head, where he was found that evening --but what became of the babe, frankly I cannot say. But he that was minister here then, that's now in a better place, had an opinion that the bairn was only conveyed to Fairy-land for a season." The stranger had smiled slightly at some parts of this recital, but ere he could answer, the clatter ' of a horse's hoofs was heard, and a smart servant, handsomely dressed, with a cockade in his hat, bustled into the kitchen, with "Make a little room, good people; " when, observing the stranger, be descended at once into the modest and civil domestic, his hat sunk down by his side, and he put a letter into his master's hands. "The family at Ellangowan, sir, are in great distress, and unable to receive any visits." "I know it," replied his master.-"And now, madam, if you will have the goodness to allow ms to occupy the parlor you mentioned, as you are disappointed of your guests" "Certainly, sir," said Mrs. Mac-Candlish, and hastened to light the way with all the imperative bustle which an active landlady loves to display on such occasions. "Young man," said the Deacon to the servant, filling a glass, "ye'll no be the waur o' this, after your ride." "Not a feather, sir,-thank ye-your very good health, sir." "And wha may your master be, friend?" "What, the gentleman that was here?-that's the famous Colonel Mannering, sir, from the East Indies." 66 66 'What, him we read of in the newspapers?" 'Ay, Ay, just the same. It was he relieved Cuddieburn, and defended Chingalore, and defeated the great Mahratta Chief, Ram Jolli Bundleman-I was with him in most of his campaigns." "Lord save us," said the landlady, "I must go see what he would have for supper-that I should set him down here!" "O, he likes that all the better, mother;-you never saw a plainer creature in your life than our old Colonel; and yet he has a spice of the devil in him too." The rest of the evening's conversation below stairs tending little to edification, we shall, with the reader's leave, step up to the parlor. CHAPTER XII. -that's man's idoi BEN JONSON. THE Colonel was walking pensively up and down the parlor, when the officious landlady reentered to take his commands. Having given them in the manner he thought would be most acceptable "for the good of the house," he begged to detain her a moment. "I think," he said, "madam, if I understood the good people right, Mr. Bertram lost his son in his fifth year?" "O, ay, sir, there's nae doubt o' that, though there are mony idle clashes about the way and manner; for its an auld story now, and everybody tells it, as we were doing, their ain way by the ingleside. But lost the bairn was in his fifth year, as your honor says, Colonel; and the news being rashly tell'd to the leddy, then great with child, cost her her life that samyn night-and the Laird |