of Charles II. The scene opens with a description of a popular assembly of the period, brought together for the purpose of mustering the military vassals of the crown, and afterwards shooting at the popinjay, a custom, we believe, which. is still kept up in Ayrshire, and we may add, in several parts of the continent. The reluctance of the Presbyterians to appear at these musters gave rise to a ludicrous incident. Lady Margaret Bellenden, a personage of great dignity and cavalierism, is, by the recusancy of her ploughman to bear arms, compelled to fill up her feudal ranks by the admission of a half-witted boy entitled Goose Gibbie, who, arrayed in the panoply of a man-at-arms of the day, is led forth under the banners of her valiant butler, John Gudyill. But mark the consequences.

"No sooner had the horses struck a canter than Gibbie's jack-boots, which the poor boy's legs were incapable of steadying, began to play alternately against the horse's flanks, and being armed with long-rowelled spurs, overcame the patience of the animal, which bounced and plunged, while poor Gibbie's entreaties for aid never reached the ears of the too-heedless butler, being drowned partly in the concave of the steel cap in which his head was immersed, and partly in the martial tune of the gallant Græmes, which Mr Gudyill whistled with all his power of lungs.

"The upshot was, that the steed speedily took the matter into his own hands, and having gambolled hither and thither to the great amusement of all the spectators. set off at full speed towards the huge family-coach already described. Gibbie's pike, escaping from its sling, had fallen to a level direction across his hands, which, I grieve to say, were seeking dishonourable safety in as strong a grasp of the mane as their muscles could manage. His casque. too. had slipped completely over his face, so that he saw as little in front as he did in rear. Indeed, if he could, it would have availed him little in the circumstances; for his horse, as if in league with the disaffected, ran full tilt towards the solemn

equipage of the duke, which the projecting lance threatened to perforate from window to window, at the risk of transfixing as many in its passage as the celebrated thrust of Orlando, which, according to the Italian epic poet, broached as many Moors as a Frenchman spits frogs.

"On beholding the bent of this misdirected career, a panic shout of mingled terror and wrath was set up by the whole equipage, insides and outsides, at once, which had the blessed effect of averting the threatened misfortune. The capricious horse of Goose Gibbie was terrified by the noise, and stumbling as he turned short round, kicked and plunged violently so soon as he recovered. The jack-boots, the original cause of the disaster, maintaining the reputation they had acquired when worn by better cavaliers, answered every plunge by a fresh prick of the spurs, and, by their ponderous weight, kept their place in the stirrups. Not so Goose Gibbie, who was fairly spurned out of those wide and ponderous greaves, and precipitated over the horse's head, to the infinite amusement of all the spectators. His lance and helmet had forsaken him in his fall, and for the completion of his disgrace, Lady Margaret Bellenden, not perfectly aware that it was one of her warriors who was furnishing so much entertainment, came up in time to see her diminutive man-at-arms stripped of his lion's hide, of the buff coat, that is, in which he was muffled."—Vol. ii. pp. 61-64.

Upon this ludicrous incident turns the fate, as we shall presently see, of the principal personages of the drama. These are Edith Bellenden, the grand daughter and heiress of Lady Margaret, and a youth of the Presbyterian persuasion, named Morton, son of a gallant officer who had served the Scotch Parliament, in the former civil wars, but by his death had become the dependent of a sordid and avaricious uncle, the Laird of Milnwood. This young gentleman gains the prize at the shooting match, and proceeds to entertain his friends and competitors at a neighbouring public-house. The harmony of the meeting is disturbed by a fray which

arises between a sergeant of the King's life guards, a man of high descent, but of brutal and insolent manners, nicknamed Bothwell, from being derived from the last Scottish earls of that name, and a stranger, of a dark and sullen aspect, great strength of body and severity of manners, who proves afterwards to be one of the outlawed Presbyterians, named John Balfour, of Burley, at this time in circumstances of peculiar danger, being in the act of flight, in consequence of his share in the assassination of James Sharpe, Archbishop of St Andrews. Bothwell is foiled, and thrown upon the floor of the tavern by the strong-limbed Covenanter.

"His comrade, Halliday, immediately drew his sword :You have killed my sergeant,' he exclaimed, to the victorious wrestler, and by all that's sacred you shall answer it!'

"Stand back!' cried Morton and his companions, it was all fair play; your comrade sought a fall, and he has got it.' "That is true enough,' said Bothwell, as he slowly rose; put up your bilbo, Tom. I did not think there was a crop-ear of them all could have laid the best cap and feather in the King's life guards on the floor of a rascally change-house.-Hark ye, friend, give me your hand.' The stranger held out his hand.

I promise you,' said Bothwell, squeezing his hand very hard, 'that the time shall come when we will meet again, and try this game over in a more earnest manner.'

“And I'll promise you,' said the stranger, returning the grasp with equal firmness, that, when we next meet, I will lay your head as low as it lay even now, when you shall lack the power to lift it up again.'

"Well, beloved,' answered Bothwell, if thou be'st a Whig, thou art a stout and a brave one, and so good even to theeHad'st best take thy nag before the cornet makes his round; for, I promise thee, he has stayed less suspicious-looking persons.'

"The stranger seemed to think that the hint was not to be neglected; he flung down his reckoning, and going into the VOL. XIX.

C

stable. saddled and brought out a powerful black horse, now recruited by rest and forage, and turning to Morton, observed, I ride towards Milnwood, which I hear is your home; will you give me the advantage and protection of your company?'

"Certainly,' said Morton, although there was something of gloomy and relentless severity in the man's manner from which his mind recoiled. His companions, after a courteous good-night. broke up and went off in different directions, some keeping them company for about a mile, until they dropped off one by one, and the travellers were left alone.' "—Vol. ii. pp. 83-85.

We may here briefly notice that Francis Stewart, the grandson and representative of the last Earl of Bothwell, who was himself a grandson of James V. of Scotland, was so much reduced in circumstances, as actually to ride a private in the life guards at this period, as we learn from the Memoirs of Creighton, who was his comrade. Nothing else is known of him, and the character assigned to him in the novel is purely imaginary.

Balfour and Morton having left the village together, the former in the course of their journey discovers himself to Morton as an ancient comrade of his father, and on hearing the kettle-drums and trumpets of a body of horse approaching, prevails upon him to give him refuge in his uncle's house of Milnwood. And here, like Don Quixote, when he censured the anachronisms of Mr Peter's Puppetshow, we beg to inform our novelist that cavalry never march to the sound of music by night, any more than the Moors of Jansuena used bells.

It must be remarked that by the cruel and arbirary laws of the time, Morton, in affording to the comrade of his father a protection which he could not in humanity refuse him, incurred the heavy

penalty attached to receiving or sheltering intercommuned persons. There was, by the severity of government, a ban put upon the refractory Calvinists, equal to the aquæ et ignis interdictio of the civil law, and whoever transgressed it by relieving the unhappy fugitive, involved himself in his crime and punishment. Another circumstance added to the hazard which Morton thus incurred. The ploughman of Lady Margaret Bellenden, Cuddie Headrigg by name, had been, with his mother, expelled from the castle of Tillietudlem, on account of his refusing to bear arms at the weapon-showing, and thereby occasioning the substitution of GooseGibbie, to the disgrace, as we have already seen, of Lady Margaret's troop. The old woman is described as a zealous extra-Presbyterian; the son as an old-fashioned Scotch boor, sly and shrewd in his own concerns, dull and indifferent to all other matters; reverencing his mother, and loving his mistress, a pert serving damsel in the castle, better than was uniformly expressed by his language. The submission of this honest countryman, upon a martial summons, to petticoat influence, was not peculiar to his rank of life. We learn from Fountainhall, that when thirty-five heritors of the kingdom of Fife were summoned to appear before the council for neglecting to join the King's host, in 1680, with their horses and arms, some of their apologies were similar to those which Cuddie might have preferred for himself. "Balcanquhal of that ilk alleged that his horses were robbed, but shunned to take the declaration for fear of disquiet