'Why, ay, ma'am," answered Ewart; "they call the brig so at Dunkirk, sure enough; but along shore here, they call her the Jumping Jenny."

"You brought over the holy Father Buonaventure, did you not?"

"

Ay, ay, madam, I have brought over enough of them black cattle," answered Nanty.

'Fie! fie! friend," said Miss Arthuret; "it is a pity that the saints should commit these good men to a heretic's care."

"Why, no more they would, ma'am," answered Nanty, "could they find a Papist lubber that knew the coast as I do; then I am trusty as steel to owners, and always look after cargo-live lumber, or dead flesh, or spirits, all is one to me; and your Catholics have such d-d large hoods, with pardon, ma'am, that they can sometimes hide two faces under them. But here is a gentleman dying, with letters about him from the Laird of Summertrees to the Laird of the Lochs, as they call him, along Solway, and every minute he lies here is a nail in his coffin.'

"

Saint Mary! what shall we do?" said Miss Arthuret; we must admit him, I think, at all risks. You, Richard Gardener, help one of these men to carry the gentleman up to the Place; and you, Selby, see him lodged at the end of the long gallery.-You are a heretic, Captain, but I think you are trusty, and I know you have been trusted; but if you are imposing on me

"Not I, madam-I never attempt to impose on ladies of your experience-my practice that way has been all among the young ones.-Come, cheerly, Mr. Fairfordyou will be taken good care of-try to walk.'

"

Alan did so; and, refreshed by his halt, declared himself able to walk to the house with the sole assistance of the gardener.

'Why, that's hearty. Thank thee, Dick, for lending

him thine arm,"-and Nanty slipped into his hand the guinea he had promised.-"Farewell, then, Mr. Fairford, and farewell, Madam Arthuret, for I have been too long here."

So saying, he and his two companions threw themselves on horseback, and went off at a gallop. Yet even above the clatter of their hoofs did the incorrigible Nanty hollow out the old ballad

A lovely lass to a friar came,

To confession a-morning early ;-
"In what, my dear, are you to blame?
Come tell me most sincerely?"
"Alas! my fault I dare not name-

But my lad he loved me dearly."

"Holy Virgin!" exclaimed Miss Seraphina, as the unhallowed sounds reached her ears; "what profane heathens be these men, and what frights and pinches we be put to among them! The saints be good to us, what a night has this been !--the like never seen at Fairladies. -Help me to make fast the gate, Richard, and thou shalt come down again to wait on it, lest there come more unwelcome visitors-Not that you are unwelcome, young gentleman, for it is sufficient that you need such assistance as we can give you, to make you welcome to Fairladies-only, another time would have done as well-but, hem! I daresay it is all for the best. The avenue is none of the smoothest, sir, look to your feet. Richard Gardener should have had it mown and levelled, but he was obliged to go on a pilgrimage to Saint Winifred's Well, in Wales."-(Here Dick gave a short dry cough, which, as if he had found it betrayed some internal feeling, a little at variance with what the lady said, he converted into a muttered Sancta Winifreda, ora pro nobis. Miss Arthuret, meantime, proceeded)— We never interfere with our servants' vows or pen

ances, Master Fairford-I know a very worthy father of your name, perhaps a relation-I say, we never interfere with our servants' vows. Our Lady forbid they should not know some difference between our service and a heretic's.-Take care, sir, you will fall if you have not a care. Alas! by night and day there are many stumbling-blocks in our paths!"

With more talk to the same purpose, all of which tended to show a charitable and somewhat silly woman, with a strong inclination to her superstitious devotion, Miss Arthuret entertained her new guest, as, stumbling at every obstacle which the devotion of his guide, Richard, had left in the path, he at last, by ascending some stone steps decorated on the side with griffins, or some such heraldic anomalies, attained a terrace extending in front of the Place of Fairladies; an oldfashioned gentleman's house of some consequence, with its range of notched gable-ends aud narrow windows, relieved by here and there an old turret about the size of a pepper-box. The door was locked, during the brief absence of the mistress; a dim light glimmered through the sashed door of the hall, which opened beneath a huge stone porch, loaded with jessamine and other creepers. All the windows were dark as pitch. Miss Arthuret tapped at the door. "Sister, sister Angelica."

"Who is there?" was answered from within; "is it you, sister Seraphina?"

'Yes, yes, undo the door; do you not know my voice?"

"No doubt, sister," said Angelica, undoing bolt and bar; "but you know our charge, and the enemy is watchful to surprise us-incedit sicut leo vorans, saith the breviary.-Whom have you brought here? O sister, what have you done?"

"It is a young man," said Seraphina, hastening to

interrupt her sister's remonstrance, "a relation, I believe, of our worthy Father Fairford; left at the gate by the captain of that blessed vessel the Sainte Genevievealmost dead-and charged with despatches to

"

She lowered her voice as she mumbled over the last words.

Nay, then, there is no help," said Angelica; "but it is unlucky.'

"

During this dialogue between the vestals of Fairladies, Dick Gardener deposited his burden in a chair, where the young lady, after a moment of hesitation, expressing a becoming reluctance to touch the hand of a stranger, put her finger and thumb upon Fairford's wrist, and counted his pulse.

"There is fever here, sister," she said; "Richard must call Ambrose, and we must send some of the febrifuge."

Ambrose arrived presently, a plausible and respectable-looking old servant, bred in the family, and who had risen from rank to rank in the Arthuret service, till he was become half-physician, half-almoner, half-butler, and entire governor; that is, when the Father Confessor, who frequently eased him of the toils of government, chanced to be abroad. Under the direction, and with the assistance of this venerable personage, the unlucky Alan Fairford was conveyed to a decent apartment at the end of a long gallery, and, to his inexpressible relief, consigned to a comfortable bed. He did not attempt to resist the prescription of Mr. Ambrose, who not only presented him with the proposed draught, but proceeded so far as to take a considerable quantity of blood from him, by which last operation he probably did his patient much service.

CHAP. XVI.

Narrative of Alan Fairford, continued.

N the next morning, when Fairford awoke, after no very refreshing slumbers, in which were

mingled many wild dreams of his father, and of Darsie Latimer,—of the damsel in the green mantle, and the vestals of Fairladies,-of drinking small beer with Nanty Ewart, and being immersed in the Solway with the Jumping Jenny,-he found himself in no condition to dispute the order of Mr. Ambrose, that he should keep his bed, from which, indeed, he could not have raised himself without assistance. He became sensible that his anxiety, and his constant efforts for some days past, had been too much for his health, and that, whatever might be his impatience, he could not proceed in his undertaking until his strength was re-established.

In the meanwhile, no better quarters could have been found for an invalid. The attendants spoke under their breath, and moved only on tiptoe-nothing was done unless par ordonnance du médecin-Esculapius reigned paramount in the premises at Fairladies. Once a-day, the ladies came in great state to wait upon him, and inquire after his health, and it was then that Alan's natural civility, and the thankfulness which he expressed for their timely and charitable assistance, raised him considerably in their esteem. He was on the third day removed to a better apartment than that in which he had been at first accommodated. When he was permitted to drink a glass of wine, it was of the first quality; one of those curious old-fashioned cobwebbed bottles being produced on the occasion, which are only to be found in the crypts of old country seats, where they may have lurked undisturbed for more than half-acentury.