upon himself, and is looked up to, as the head of the poor remnant of my father's race; and Harry is in the same situation, as a descendant of the labourer, who took his master's life, on that master's own land. They have both a great many of the bad qualities, and but few of the virtues, of the two families;-and I, for one, say— God keep them from drinking deep out of the same cup!-for liquor is likely to be their bane."

This sort of language was too frequently repeated, and the witch Matty Drew's prophecy too often alluded to, by old Deborah, in those days when her tongue still talked triumphantly, although her limbs were incapable of motion, not to produce a deep and lasting impression upon her hearers. One half of the village was in a constant state of alarm, after Ralph had returned, a man, from the "up-along" counties, to which he had departed, a boy, in order to learn some improved mode of cultivating land, lest the two cousins should meet and quarrel in their cups. If they were seen in the village, passing a few moments in friendly chat, a scout immediately acquainted the parties most interested with the circumstance; and, in a short time, one of them was drawn off, by a fictitious story, of lambs tumbling into ditches, cows getting their legs entangled in hurdles, or children fallen into fits.

Ralph and Harry both loved the pastimes of their native place; they could wrestle, and play at back-sword, in very laudable style; but Ralph was the better wrestler, and Harry surpassed in the use of the single-stick. Devon being noted for its wrestlers, and Somerset for its single-stick players, the cousins were attracted in different directions, to enjoy that pastime in which each excelled; so that, up to the fortieth year of their lives,—and they were, as it will be remembered, precisely of the same age,—they had never, much to the satisfaction of their friends, met in the ring as rivals. Especial care had always been taken that they did not join the same convivial parties; they often attempted to make merry together, for Ralph and Harry really felt an affection for each other's society, but the women invariably out-manœuvred them, and the two cousins were greater strangers to each other, than either of them was to any man else in the village, of his own age and station.

Their forty-first birth-day arrived: Ralph attended a review of the yeomanry-cavalry, in which he was a corporal, and Harry went to market for the purpose of selling some steers. On returning home, they were obliged to cross each other's track. They

dwelt at opposite ends of the long, straggling village; which were approached by two different lanes: of these, the letter X will serve as a tolerably good substitute for a ground plan;—the market town being situate at the top of the left, and the common, on which the review was held, on that of the right, limb of the letter; at the lower end of which the village meandered along through meadows and corn-fields; Harry's abode being at the right, and Ralph's at the left end of it. The two lanes were crossed, at the point of intersection, by a third, which, on account of its being two or three yards wider, and a little more frequented than either of them, was dignified with the title of "the high road;" and in this "undeniable situation,” as George Robins would say, stood a snug public house, called Sawney's Cross; the front of which commanded a view, across the high road, for some distance up the lanes which led to the market town and common.

Harry was proceeding down one lane, at a speedy, shuffling pace, betwixt a gallop and trot, on a powerful blind galloway; while Ralph approached the line of intersection, from the common, by the other, on a gaunt, half-bred horse, nearly sixteen hands high, a strong galloper, and quite ungovernable when put upon his mettle. The galloway and the tall horse were both "homeward bound;" and "sniffing the manger from afar," each of them was going along, impatient of check, and at, what jockies would call, "a tip-top pace."

Ned Creese, the landlord of Sawney's Cross, stood at his door, and beheld the ominous approach of the two travellers: he was mathematician enough to discover, that equi-distant as they were, from the point where their lines of direction intersected each other in the middle of the main road, and approaching toward such point with equal speed, something unpleasant must needs occur to one of the parties, at the transit. He beckoned, and called out to each of them as loudly as he could: but Harry was short sighted, and could not see his motions; and Ralph was rather hard of hearing, and could not make out what he meant; so that neither of them pulled up; and, as they were concealed from each other by the high hedges of the lanes, neither Harry nor Ralph was aware of the danger that menaced them, until they emerged from the bottom of the lanes. Ralph foresaw the event first, and, with might and main, attempted to pull his horse out of the way: he partly succeeded, but by checking his steed, and making him swerve from the direct line in which he was going, he gave Harry

C

a decided advantage in the ensuing shock. The cousins had just time to ejaculate "Hoy, Ralph!" and "Hilloa, Harry!" when the blind galloway bore his off-shoulder against the tall troop-horse's hind quarters, and just such a catastrophe took place as Creese had anticipated:-Harry was thrown over his galloway's head; and Ralph, with his horse, and the galloway at his heels, were carried to the brink of a horse-pond by the road side. Ralph fell in the mud, and the horses went over him into the water; where they lay struggling together for a few moments; they then got up without assistance, and each limped homeward, leaving their owners to come after them as well as they could.

"Hoy, Ralph!" and "Hilloa, Harry!" were the first words the cousins uttered.

"Art hurt, lad?" asked Ralph.-"No," was the reply;"Art thee?"

"Sound as oak; only a bloody nose, and a bump on the forehead."

"That's right, then; I don't feel much the matter myself; but dowl take thy blind galloway, for all that!”

"He's worth his weight in gold;—didn't 'ee see how he capsized you and your troop horse?”

"You charged me in flank when I was filing off;—if I had met 'ee full butt, Harry, I should ha' sent thee and thy galloway clean into the muck, and gone on without abating pace, or feeling a jerk in my balance.”

"What, and not ha' turned round to say 'Hilloa, Harry?"

"Odd! yes, to be sure,-I'd say 'Hilloa, Harry!'-and what will 'ee drink, besides."

"Well, and what shall we?"

"I don't mind;-but let's ha' something, and make merry together for once."

"Wi' all my heart!-Here we be, safe from busy meddlers; and dash me if I don't feel inclined to make a day of it."

“Give me your hand;—this capsize was a bit of luck, weren't it ?"

"Aye, to be sure,-brought two good fellows together. What shall we have?—It's cold.—What d'ye say to Hopping John, made Tom Nottle's fashion?-Landlord, mix pint of brandy wi' half a gallon of your best cider, sugared to your own taste; and,—d'ye mind?-pop in about a dozen good roasted apples, hissing hot, to take the chill off."

In a short time, the two cousins were seated by the fire, in a little room behind the bar of the Sawney's Cross, with a smoking bowl of liquor on the table before them, and Ned Creese assisting them to empty it. By degrees, the cousins became elevated, and their chat was enlivened by budding jokes and choice flowers of rustic song. Harry's forehead frequently reminded him, in the midst of his glee, of the adventure in the road; and he recurred to it, for the fifth time, since the sitting, as Ned brought in a second brewage of hot Hopping John:-" I'd lay a wager I know where my blind galloway is, just about now," quoth he; "it's odd to me if he isn't stopping at the Dragon's Head, where he always pulls up, and tempts me to call for a cup of cider and a mouthful of hay."

"Gentlemen," said Creese, "I'll give you a toast-a Devonshire one-and it's this:-A back fall, or a side fall, or any fall but a fall out."

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For my part," continued Ned, after his toast was duly honoured,- "I expected no less than a fight, if you were able to stand, after what I saw would happen ;-but I hardly hoped to see both get on your legs, with nothing but one bloody nose between the pair of you."

"I must say, landlord, I fell very comfortably, indeed, considering," said Harry.

"And I came down very much to my own satisfaction," quoth Ralph, "only that I soiled my uniform.”

"It struck me," observed Ned Creese, "that you must have gone over head and ears into the pond, which is deeper than it should be in the middle; but I consoled myself;-for, thinks I,— if so be that he should, the frogs on his dragoon jacket will save him, if swimming can do it. If you'd both broke your necks I couldn't but giggle to see you. It's my belief 'twould have made a horse laugh; as my sign says, it was truly 'good entertainment for man and beast.'-Don't be hipped because I'm jocular: joking's a malady with many a man, and here stands one of 'em; we can no more help it than an ague fit. But come, folks; here's 'The West Country Orchards!'-and then let's rouse the crickets with the old apple-tree hymn.-I'll begin." So saying, Creese commenced, and, assisted by Ralph and Harry, chaunted forth the following rhymes, in a manner that would have amazed Mozart, although it gladdened the hearts of the rustic guests in the Sawney's Cross kitchen.

1.

The white rose was, aye, a dainty flower,
And the hawthorn a bonny tree;
A grove of oaks is a rich dame's dower;
But the barley-straw for me!

2.

From his acorn-cup let the Elfin sip,

And the oak-fruit be munched by swine;
The thrush may have both the haw and hip,
Give me but the jolly vine!

3.

Ale you may brew, from the barley-straw;
Neither ale, nor grape-juice for me;

I care not for acorn, hip, nor haw ;-
Give me but the apple-tree!

After they had all three repeated the last verse together, and applauded their performance by sundry exclamations of approval, and thwacks on the table, Ralph observed, "Oddsheart! cousin, we're getting as we should be; a fig for a fall after this."

"da

"Da capo, say I to it," exclaimed Creese; саро, I say to it, heartily: da capo, as it is written in the score-book we sing the psalms by, in the gallery, at church."

"Wasn't frightened a trifle, landlord, when thee saw'st us coming?"

"Is the approach of a good bone likely to alarm a hungry dog? I knew well enough you'd fall; and if you fell, the fall must bring me grist, in meal or malt:-a 'quest jury, if death had been done; board and lodging, in case of broken limbs; and a brace of guests for an hour, if you were only bruised. I shall be much obliged, when you knock one another down again, if you'll do it before my door. Success to cross-roads, blind galloways, helter-skelter dragooning, and blink-eyed farmers!—Ha! ha!— You'll excuse me gentlemen; we're all friends; I hope no offence. What are your commands?"

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"There's one thing I'd wish thee to do, landlord," said Ralph ; "if any body should enquire for us,-don't say we be here." No, truly," added Harry; an' thou dost, thou'lt lose a couple of good customers, and get thy head broke to boot, perhaps." "Never fear-never fear!" replied Ned; 66 a secret's safe with me, as though 'twas whispered in the ear of an ass.

Thank