rage upset the spinning-wheel; and fell back into her seat. If Bertram had at first felt compassion on witnessing the expressions of her grief and the anguish of her expectation, this feeling was soon put to flight by the frantic explosion of anger which followed. So great was his consternation that he resolved to attempt escaping unob. served from the cottage; and he first hoped to recover his full selfpossession when he should find himself at liberty and in the open air. With this intention, it may be readily imagined how much his consternation was increased on finding himself unable to stir either hand or foot. His head even moved with difficulty: and it seemed as though no faculty had been left unaffected but that of eye-sight, which served but to torment him by bringing before him this scene of terror. He could almost have wished to exchange his present situation for his recent exposure to the fury of the elements. He attempted to sleep; but found himself unable; and after the lapse of two long hours he heard a knocking at the door.' pp. 16-21.

Bertram is summoned by the old hag as soon as he is somewhat recovered, to take his passage in a vessel commandedby a French captain. He had no choice; he had fallen into rough hands, (the hut was the rendezvous of smugglers,) and he embarks on board a large twelve-oared boat heavily laden. Bertram, after a long pedestrian journey among the mountains, is conducted to a Welsh inn by a mysterious stranger, who afterwards turns out to be a personage of considerable importance in the agencies of this tale. This Edward Nicholas is a man of ruined fortunes, who was then endeavouring to conceal himself from pursuit on a charge of high-treason, the Author having, with no small degree of extravagance, made him one of the Cato-street conspirators!! Much of the interest of the story turns upon the faithful and not unrequited attachment of this unhappy desperado to the beautiful niece of Sir Morgan Walladmor, who resided at his paternal castle of that name. The festival of St. David's day, in which the baronet and that young lady are conspicuous actors, is described with an obvious affectation of Sir Walter Scott's manner. Proceeding homeward after the day's festivities, Miss Walladmor's life is endangered, the horses of her carriage having been affrighted by the fire-works and huzzas which closed the day. She is rescued by her lover.

• Previously irritated, and now alarmed beyond measure by the fireworks the huzzas-and the flashing lights, the horses became ungovernable; the contagion of panic spread; all were plunging and kicking at once: the splinter-bar was smashed to atoms; and, the crowd of by-standers being confused by the darkness and the uncertain light, before any one could lay hands upon them-the horses had lurched to one side and placed the carriage at the very edge of the road fenced off only by a slender wooden railing of two feet

high from a precipice of forty feet, which just at this place overhung the river. At this instant a man, muffled up in a dark cloak, whom Bertram, whilst talking with the landlord, had repeatedly observed walking about the carriage and looking anxiously to the windows, sprang with the speed of lightning to the leader's heads-and held them forcibly until others followed his example, and seized the heads of the wheel-horses. But all the horses continuing still to tremble with that sort of trepidating and trampling motion which announces a speedy relapse into the paroxysm of fury,-the man who held the leaders drew a cutlass from beneath his cloak; and, tossing it to a sailor-like man who stood near him, bade him instantly cut the traces: not a moment was to be lost; for the hind wheels were already backing obliquely against the rails; the slight wood work was heard crashing; and a few inches more of retrograde motion would send the whole equipage over the precipice. The sailor however had a sailor's agility, and cut away as if he had been cutting at a boarding netting. Ten seconds sufficed to disengage the carriage from the horses; and at the same instant a body of men seizing the hind wheels rolled the carriage forward from the dark precipitous edge over which it already hung in tottering suspense. A burst of joyous exultation rose from the crowd; for Miss Walladmor was universally beloved-as much on her own account, as from the local attachment to her name and family. Whilst the danger lasted she had sate still and composed in the carriage; when it was over she first felt a little agitated; and the loud testimonies of affectionate congratulation made her more so. She bent forward however to the window, and commanded herself sufficiently to thank them all in a low but very audible and emphatic tone. The sweetness of her low and melancholy voice trembling with emotion, and her pensive beauty which was at this moment powerfully revealed by the torch-light, charmed the rudest man in the crowd: all was hushed while she spoke; and the next moment an answer rose from the whole assemblage of people in clamorous expressions of attachment to the young lady of Walladmor.

Bertram had been a silent observer of all; he still kept his eye on the man in the cloak; and he observed, that as soon as the attention of the crowd was withdrawn from the carriage this man again approached it. Miss Walladmor had also observed him; and, being well aware that it was chiefly to the man in the cloak that she was indebted for her safety, she was anxious for an opportunity of thanking him separately. For this purpose she leaned forward as he approached, and was going to have spoke: but suddenly the stranger unmuffled his head; the light of the lamp fell upon his features, and disclosed the countenance of a young man-apparently about twentyfour years old; a countenance which at this moment appeared to Bertram eminently noble and dignified, and strongly reminded him of the fine profile which he had seen in the gallery of the inn. It was a countenance that to Miss Walladmor was known too well for her peace: this was evident from all that followed. She uttered a sudden shriek on seeing him; the noise of the crowd overpowered

it, but Bertram was near and heard it; then sank back for a moment; then again leaned forward, and turned deadly pale: then seemed to recover herself, and burst into tears-large tears which glittered in the lamp-light: and at last fixing her eyes upon the stranger-and seeing that he stood checked and agitated by the uncertain meaning of her manner,-in a moment, and in a rapture of tenderness that asked no counsel of fears or selfish scruples, or of any thing on this earth but her own woman's heart, she stretched out her hand to him, and, through her streaming tears, smiled upon him with innocent love. She had no voice to thank him as her deliverer; nor did she at this moment think of him as such; for her heart had gone back to times in which she needed no ties of gratitude (or believed that she needed none) to justify her attachment. On the other hand, the stranger likewise uttered not a word. He, who would have died a thousand times to have saved a hair of her head from suffering injury, had not thought of his recent service as of any thing that could entitle him to a moment's favour; and, when he actually beheld the smile of her angelic countenance, and found her hand within his own, he held it at first as one who knew not that he held it: for a little space his thoughts seemed to wander; he looked upwards as if in deep perplexity; and Bertram observed a slight convulsive movement about his lips. But suddenly he recovered himself; pressed the hand which he held with a look of unutterable fervour to his heart; kissed it with an anguish of love, deep-endless-despairing: and, as he resigned it, offered a letter which Miss Walladmor immediately accepted without hesitation: and then, without hazarding another look, he disappeared hastily in the darkness.'

We must not omit a Meg Merrilies' scene. Bertram, on his way to visit the ruins of Ap Gauvon, a place which tradition and legend had peopled with horrors of every description, had to pass by a stone-gallows, which, according to mine host, who directed him how to find the road, had been built by Edw. I. to hang the Welsh harpers on, and upon which, in the landlord's own time, many a fine lad has taken his last look of daylight: and there,' said he, you'll meet with an old body amongst these hills, that has the heart-ache when she looks 'that way.'

Looking round for some person of whom he could inquire the road, he saw or fancied that he saw-a human figure near the gallows; and, going a little nearer he clearly distinguished a woman sitting at its foot. He paused a little while to watch her. Sometimes she muttered to herself, and seemed as if lost in thought: sometimes she roused herself up suddenly, and sang in a wild and boisterous tone of gaiety; but it easily appeared that there was no joy in her gaiety: for the tone of exultation soon passed into something like a ferocious expression of vengeance. Then, after a time, she would suddenly pause and laugh; but in the next moment would seem to recover the main recollection that haunted her; and falling back as into the key

note of her distress, would suddenly burst into tears. Bertram saw enough to convince him that the poor creature's wits were unsettled; and from the words of one of the fragments which she sang, a suspicion flashed upon his mind that it could be no other than his hostess in the wild cottage; though how, or on what errand, come over to this neighbourhood-he was at a loss to guess. To satisfy him. self on all these points if possible, he moved nearer and accosted her: "A cold evening, good mother, for one so old as you to be sitting out in the open air."

"Yes, Sir," she answered, without expressing any surprise at his sudden interruption; "yes, Sir, it's a cold evening; but I am waiting for a young lad that was to meet me here."

' Bertram now saw that his conjecture was right; it was indeed his aged and mysterious hostess: but, before he could speak, she seemed to have forgotten that he was present-and sang in an under tone: They hung him high aboon the rest,

He was sae trim a boy;

Thair dyed the youth whom I lov'd best

-My winsome Gilderoy.

""A young man you were expecting to meet you?" said Bertram. "Yes, Sir, a young man :" and then, holding up her apron to her face as if ashamed, she added" he was a sweetheart of mine, Sir." But in a moment, as if recollecting herself, she cried out" No, no, no: I'll tell you the whole truth: he was my son, my love, my darling and they took him, Sir, they hanged him here. And, if you'll believe my word, Sir-they wouldn't let his old mother kiss his bonny lips before he died. Well, well! let's have nothing but peace and quietness. All's to be right at last. There's more of us, I believe, that won't die in our beds. But don't say I told you."

"My good old hostess, can you shew me the road to Griffith ap Gauvon?"

"Ap Gauvon, is it? Aye, aye: there's one of them: he'll never die in his bed, rest you sure of that. Never you trouble your head about him: I've settled all that: and Edward Nicholas will be hanged at this gallows, if my name's Gillie Godber."

"But, Mrs. Godber, don't you remember me? I was two nights at your cottage; and I'm now going to the Abbey of Ap Gauvon where I hope to meet one that I may perhaps be of some service to."

"Don't think it: there's nobody can ever be of service to Edward Nicholas. He's to be hanged, I tell you, and nobody must save him. I have heard it sworn to. You'll say that I am but a weak old woman. But you would not think now what a voice I have: for all it trembles voice can be heard when it curses from Anglesea to Walladmor. Not all the waves of the sea can cry it down."

so, my

"But why must Edward Nicholas be hanged?"

“Oh, my sly Sir, you would know my secret-would you? You're a lawyer, I believe, But stay--I'll tell you why he must be hanged;" and here she raised her withered then becoming visible in the dusk. constellation brighter than the rest,

arm to the stars which were just Pointing with her forefinger to a she said.

"There was a vow made when he was born; and it's written amongst the stars. And there's not a letter in that book that can ever be blotted out. I can read what's written there. Do you think that nobody's bairns must be hanged but mine?"

"But who then was it, my good Mrs. Godber, that hanged your son?"

"Who should it be but the old master of Walladmor? He knows by this time what it is to have the heart-ache. Oh! kite, he tore my lamb from me. But, hark in your ear-Sir Lawyer! I visited his nest, old ravening kite! High as it was in the air, I crept up to his nest: I did I did!" And here she clapt her hands, and expressed a frantic exultation: but, in a moment after, she groaned and sate down; and, covering her face with her hands, she burst into tears; and soon appeared to have sunk into thought, and to be unconscious of Bertram's presence.'

The smugglers occupied a subterraneous vault of the Abbey, and the captain of the band was Edward Nicholas. Bertram accidentally falls into this worshipful society. A singular recognition takes place, for Nicholas was the very person who had contested the possession of the cask with Bertram.

"Have you forgotten, then, that poor wretch in the tumult of the waves, to whom, when he was in his agony, thou, Bertram, didst resign thy own security-and didst descend into the perilous and rocking waters? Deeply, oh deeply, I am in thy debt; far more deeply I would be, when I ask for favours such as this."

Is it possible? Are you he? But now I recollect your forehead was then hidden by streaming hair; convulsive spasms played about your lips; and your face was disguised by a long beard."

But

f am he; and but for thee should now lie in the bowels of a shark, or spitted upon some rock at the bottom of the ocean. come, my young friend, come into the open air; for in this vault I feel the air too close and confined."

A spirited description ensues of the picturesque and sublime site of the Abbey.

"This is Griffith ap Gauvon, of which I lately spoke to you."

All words, as Bertram felt, would fail to express the strength of his emotions; language would but have violated the solemnity of the thoughts which rivetted his gaze to the scene before him. He was silent therefore; and, in a few moments, his companion resumed:

"Here, Bertram, do I often stand on the giddy precipice; and I look down upon the dread tranquillity of the spectacle; and then often I feel as though I wanted no friend; as though nature, the mighty mother, were a sufficient friend that fulfilled all my wishesa friend far better and wiser than any which the false world can offer. But, Bertram, come a little further!"

He led him, sideways, from that part of the building out of which they had issued by the little portal about one hundred yards further.