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iWishcd b\ HOSE Sc BOBEU'VSOJV.
J
Jp*XCtl\33.,
•- I
IVIY EARLY DAY.
“ 0 remember that my life is wind } mine
eve shaii no more see good. —Joi.
:,1y early day what joys were, thine/’.
And tnou i.-adst seine sorrows too;
A varied wreath they juio’J to tv.in**,
And rnid-t it Hope her biossotns ilrcw—
Borne on tl’e breeze, her rosy kiss
bade Pleasure sojourn tl.eie,
j e Cf.me to tune her lute of bliss,
And requiems suug to cam.
Dear tltvys of peace / ah, whither Red ?
O'er my young bow’r ye did but Lover,
y 1 :i, like the Uove. year piuions spread, I
Ami souj.* I your home —the skies, torerer/1
\■; r morrung gales tnv path beguil'd,
• i whisper’d they sauul i die so soon ;
t -ch bright bud that round it s lid U,
i ruui of departing ere A was noon.
B those are hush’d and these are gone,
And sadness rules tin* blighted scene ;
I wanner downcast and alone,
‘carce mmiftnl they have ever been l
So chill, Time's marble toot hath pass’d
.o :h childhood's dimpled vaie,
jNo ii-:.b can bloom, no verdure last,
To cheer life's ev’biit? pale.
Sv. ret hours! with golden pastimes fraught,
On you i turn mv streaming eve
Ai i t,iink—and in that racking thought,
.viv heart, my gushing heart would die.
Ye conjure up each once lov’d form,
fvieti well remembered voice awaken—
Tilth shew me now they met theeturm, J
. .id sued:, on Joy’s bright shore forsaken ! e 1
JieYshal! they mount with me again
I loved so well—yon sunny steep ;
stroke hath dash’d our hands in twain,
Xcd ’neiilh its broom wood edge they sleep.
Ills pang descends not to their bed,
V> ho s.tkens round the scene,
To know life's infant fimv’rs art dead,
its riper throne yet green.
Or; y.inr more swift than morning lark
: U laied years unlov’d are borne:—
I'Vie wilt thou land rue, oh my bark,
II not to Youth's dear port we tom J
Must Man o’erpassthe beck niogivale,
And ;d! its winning sweet? renounce >—
ai. ‘ . r spreads no second sail,
lx. .r.\glits his bark but once / **- *
C i ‘ ,! me, u step-dame Nature” tell,
n 1 mall thy wayward child abide,
ir. “ 1 n far strand his pint dwell,
}'} hit* bath sperd its struggling tide ?
k. M Dope no mow imr taper mourn.
‘* ilrn "b and in the tears that Sorrow sends ;
’ hei.i the least, iUisio: time spurn
A “ 1 ‘ ! ‘>u wretch that o'er it bends?
A i more shall Follny’s yellow wing
o>r Pleasure’s path shedsicklv dews?
JVor, V,,nth's delightful tfey of spring
A’ ! Griers dim cloud its lustre Jose ?
? ‘ . <■ “r shall VVeeith's Say spangled plume
IVr>-ivfs. as when it erst was mine ?
? < r 1.-e turn simdd’rir.g from the torub :
Nor Joy at her short reign repine?
Ana w hen the grave ,{s grassy veil
pi ween these eves and life •-hail sprfad,
Aieni’i v blight tb*- primrose pate,
■•? kindly strives to shade my bed i
0.- shall the form that slumbers (her**,
No more of pain nor death endure ?
b poor thine answer on n.v car
“l u tolu thee, told-thce child— ne more!”
MONTd \RM! R.
f
I'rcm the Portland (Xe ) Aigus.
CENEItAL KNOX.
i
Casting, September £O.
I find I have driven u>v horse fas
ter than 1 have mv quill, and atn far
bTr advanced on mv journey, than 1
* ,n in mv narrative. Once more L
b iist return to 1 homaston; for the
ifMtlence of the late General Ivho.v,
Wi ‘ich 1 spent an hour or two in visit
fe2, is too interesting a spot to be
P*t>-A*d by in silence. If there were
in the place, or the mansion,
wjculhted to attract attention, the re
| •Diectton that it was once the resi
and is now the silent resting
T :7t -'e ot Knox, would induce the tra
her to pause, to linger amongst the
es which the hero planted, to jrie
die duine which he reared,*to walk
<lv< ‘ r die grounds which were his dailv
Xv, “k, aud to drop the tear of grateful
ambiance on the humble tomb
he sleeps. After Washington,
T‘ l ‘‘ps no one amongst our revolu
iary heroes deserves a higher place
I 1 our affections, than Knox. None
taioly held a higher place in the
actions of Washinton, ami to that
[ % e -ii leader in our national emancipa
’ L bit may in truth be said, knox was
••'pAatically “ the beloved disciple. ,?
hour of difficulty and danger,
*?! the first to be consulted,
and in the hour of disbanding the ar
my, Knox was the first to be embraced.
He was a volunteer in the battle of
Bunkers Hill, and acted a conspicutus
part in many of the principal battles
of the revolution. He was appointed
to the chief command of the artillery
in the army, and continued to fijjrht
with Washington till he saw the liber
ties of his country established. W hen
\\ .ishington became President, he
called Knox to his side for his Secreta
ry nt War; and when one retired to
his paternal groves at Mount Vernon,
the other sought a retirement scarcely
le<s delightful and romantic on his la
dy’s paternal domain at ihowastnn.
The similitude in their fortunes did
not end with life. Both rest in rude
and simple tombs in the calm silence
ol the grove, T he unpretending monu
ments of both look out from tile foliage
upon bright aftd beautiful waters, that
flow in stillness by, as if fearful of dis
turbing the quiet repose of the slum
bering heroes. One lies in Virginia,
upon the banks of the broad and ma
jestic Potomac; the other in Maine,
by the humbler, but equally bright wa- *
ters ol St. George. lit l must break
from these reflections, drop the paral
lel, and, resuming the thread of my
simple narrative, endeavor as well as
1 can to describe the pi ace,
* tnd tell of ad i a 1 ft and all I saw.”
“ The Knox place,*’ as it is simply j
called at liiomaston, was formerly a!
p al ol the extensive territory of Gen - J
era! Knox, and now comprises but a
small farm. The lady of Genvral
Knox, innerited a considerable portion
of this territory Irom her father or
grandfather,General Waldo, who was
proprietor es the Waldo Patent, and
ber husband alter the war made large
additions to her inheritence hv nur
cla-e, and sat down upon it to spend
the remainder of his life. The spot
which lie chose for his residence is on
a broad bend ol St. George’s River,
#f C 5 7
about twelve miles from its mouth,
near the head of ship navigation, and
perhaps three or four miies from Pe
nobscot Bay. It is about hsii a mile
from the State Prison, and nearly the
jiamedistance from the centre village
of Thomaston. It is naturally a de
lightful spot, and the General embel
lished it with exquisite taste aird skili.
the walks, tiie groves, the mansion,
the out-uouses, and tne garden plots,
though the hand of time has fallen heavi
ly upon some of them, and ail b-ar the
mat ksof approaching ruin, vet they all
retain some of the vestiges of their for
mer beauty aud magnificence. On en
tering the enclosure, you leave a little
artificial grove on your nglU hand,
and pass a few rods through a walk
leading toward the lined with
cypress trees On your
left stands the barn, which is almost a
mm ; many of the boards are off and
the timbers i otten. Some preparations
however were making to repair it. It
lias a small belfry, and the bell which
used to belong to it, is now removed
to the State Prison. As you proceed
through tiie cypress walk the river is
on your right hand nearly a quarter of
a mile distant, and the mansion house
directly before you with a southern
front and looking toward the river.—
The gardens and outhouse?, which are
iarge and extenTye, are back of the
house, aml in front a smooth grass-plot
slopes, gradually to the river. The
house is in tolerable repair, but it has
lost many of its foi merembeliishments.
It is large on the ground, thiee stories
in height, and makes a very handsome
appearance. The basement story is of
I brick painted a daik color, and the
I two upper stories of well wood
work, and of a liget colour. here
used tube spacious piazza? surround
ing the whole of the second story, but
they are ail removed now except one
on the buck ol the house, which extends
tiie whole length of the house and from
which a flight of step's at each end de
scend to the ground. The centre of
the building in front, including about a
third of its length, is of circular form,
and a bfo.td flight of steps ascends to
the iron* door in the second storv.—
The parlours and audience rooms are
in the second story, and are spacious
and elegant. **oll the front of the
building in each wing there is a large
and beautiful ante-room of an oval
form, ail of which have high wails and
are elegantly finished. The former
furniture and moveable ornaments of
the house are mostly removed. In the
oval room there hung a fine old fashion
ed portrait ofGeneial W ahio, one of
the ancestors ol Mrs. Knor, standing
erect as large as life, partly in civil
and partly iu military dress, and plac
ed in a heavy antique frame. In one
of the parlours hung a portrait ol Mrs.
Knox's mother, painted and framed
in a stvie similar to the other. Mrs.
Knox is said to have been celebrated
for her beauty, and if see was as hand
some as this portrait represents her
mother to have been, she might well be
called beautiful. General Knox and
his lady had twelve children. Thiee
of them only are now living, one son
and two daughters, all of whom are
married and reside in Thomaston. —
One of the daughters occupies the old
family mansion. 1 believe, however,
it is not not ow ned by either of the
children. The grounds round the
house are well shaded by a great verie
ty of trees, and on the southeasterly
side a walk of twenty or thirty rods,
set with spruce and fir on each hand,
brings you to a little hard wood grove,
which embowers the humble tomb of
Knox. It. is enclosed in a circular
stone wall of two oi three rods in diam
eter, and is mostly covered with grass
and bushes. It stands on the side of a
bill, and its entrance is on the lower
side by a perpendicular wooden door
which is closed by a bar and lock. On
the top of the tomb stands a marble
pyramid three or lour feet in height,on
which are the following inscriptions :
On the south side,
u The Tomb ot Major General H. KNOX,
who died October *23tu, 1806, aed s<> years.
’Tia fate's decree, farewell thy just renown,
The hero's honor and the good man’s crown.
i in the north side,
“In io.-mj y of Marcus Camillus, George
VVa-hiiigton. Mb.*< us, Washington, and M Win.
Bmccm.-i, of Julia, Caroline, Augusta, and Jn
iia Wadsworth, nine children of Henry and
Lucy Knox, ail ot whom died before their fa
tbeu’.”
When James the second abdicated
the crown, Lord D—, who was strong
ly attached to that monarch, deter
mined to share his fortunes, and be
came a voluntary exile from his native
country, an amiable wile, and a numer
ous family of children, consisting of
one son, the heir of his titles and es
tate, with five daughters; for whom,a
taste for the reigning pleasures of the
age, and a close attendance on the
court, prevented bis making ti e pro
vision to which their rank in life en
titled them.— lus lady solicited his
return with all the energy of conjugal
atfectioo : she represented to him the
necessity there was for inspecting ins
affairs, as his son was yet a minor, and
the infirm state of her own Health made
it too probable that they would very
speedily need his assistance to guide
them ttii iuigh a world brset with many
dangers to inexperienced youth. Nit-;
tuie bail been liberal in her gifts to j
this nobleman ; she had endowed him
with true courage, a strict sense of;
honor, and very tender feeling?, the
first of these qualities b id ted him to
defend the unfortunate king as Log as
his biavtiy could be of service: andj
the high notions he held of honor, pre-1
vented bit -b’sei tniif nun. v. una^r!
to Lis own interest would liavc dictated j
such a step as highly prudent, inej
just idea he hail oi what va.i due to a
deserving wife, anti such a numerous j
offspni.g, occasioned many struggles
i t his breast, and at length lie deter* j
mined to quit a cause ui which lie
could no longer be usetui, tn order to
retrieve his own affairs, which lie was
uut too sensible were in a very unpro
mising state. lie quitted the unfor
tunate king With assurances that his
sword and fortune were at Ins devo
tion whenever ins affairs required the
assistance of either ; and returned to
Ids seat at , where his lady hud
informed him she was retired, i o hi*
great concern, he found her in a state
that threatened but a short continuance
in life. She was surrounded by her
children, w hose innocent prattle serv
ed to amuse the hour id solitude. Ihe
rAght of thoe so dear to him, tor some
time deprived Lord D— of the power
of utterance ; ami though his wife had
reason to expect tile long desired in
terview, when it arrived she was una
ble to support it, and fainted away be
fore she could express the pleasure
she felt at Ins return. The usual
methods restored her to life; but it
was not power of medicine, or
the tenderness of a husband she ador
ed, to repair a constitution broke wdh
the long and unremitting solicitude she
; had felt during his absence. In short,
Lord 1) had the affliction to loose
his wile about two months after his
return. This misfortune sunk very
deep, and lie determined to alleviate
it by a c!o*e inspection into his affairs
and a strict attention to forming the
minds of his children. An examina
tion into the state of his fortune, con
vinced him that it would be highly ne
cessary to sequester himself from the
world’ in order to secure a decent
competency for bis daughters, the
youngest of whom was now about six
teen.” To make retirement pleasing,
he endeavored to cultivate in each ol
! his children not only a taste tor paint
ing, music, and reading, but a lend ness
for observing the pi oductioiis ot na
ture, and improving ner works wherev
er her liberal hand required assistance.
, They imbibed ins taste; and he cb
: served h*s son advancing towards inao
; hood, w ith a promise of every virtue
that could render him worthy tne es
teem of good men. As the ladies di
j vided their time between the inspec
tion of their domestic ail airs aud im
provement of then minds, the evening
never brought languor with it, nor the
morning a w ish for the return of night.
One day, as each were differently
employed, a servant informed my
Lord that & man, whose appearance
bespoke him a wilier, desired to be ad-
MACO.X*, fGaX WEDNESDAY, .NOVEMBER 2, 182a.
mitted to his presence. Lord D ,
supposing it to be one of the neighbor
hood who had some favor to request,
j ordered him to be shown into the room.
| J he servant announced his entrance;
which indeed was unnecessary, tor he
stepped in with as liftie ceremony as
|if he had been entering the cottage of
a ploughman, made an awkward Dow,
and then tw il led his dusty hat.
! “ Have you any commands with me,
friend inquired my Lord, observing
his rustic fiieud was iu no haste to
speak : “ \\ hy, and please your honor
l zt* been told your house was main
vim , and I’ze wish to zee it, and if I
thought you'd not be angry.” “ 1 here
i9 Homing curious (replied Lord D—)
m my dwelling ; but if it wili
you pleasure, friend, you are welcome
to view it.” ‘ Thank ye, my Lfcrd,
(says honest M heat-dust;) but, to!
speak tiutii, I’ze more inclined to zee j
your preety lasses, vor I'm been told J
they be main handzorne, ad a wound
ed . any o’em.’ ‘Do you mean my
daughter* ?’ says Lord I)—. * 1 do,’
replied the miller. My Lord, willing
to indulge the rustic humorist, order
ed them to be called. The servant
had whispered the oddity of the visit
ant ; and ike ladies entered the room
with Ingii expectation of diversion.—
The milter surveyed eacn with an at
*
tention tiiat excited their curiosity ;
and after expressing his approbation
of their persons and behaviour, in a
manner truly laughable, threw his hat,
as if partly by accident, at the young
est, saying, “ T hat is the*lass for me.”
After which, with many apologies for
trs boldness, he withdrew, with an air
less rustical than that with which he
entered.
Tin* scene afl‘ rded matter of con
versation among the ladies. The
youngest, who had been distinguished
by the miller, received the ironical
congratulations ot her sisteis with
great good humour, and my Lord
sometimes-joined in thcmiitli. About
a month after the servant of the Tai l
of L presented his Lord’* com
pliments and intention U waiting on
jfnm that morning. As Lord L)
j had held no intercouisewith tins no
;blenan, he was rathe- 1
the message, bit re‘
suer; leUiinr. ■
should be *
. the Kari
•could pi
j he vv nr
;repugn
j towums
[did equ’u
; ed. }
’ ure, 5
| and .
drew ns
i tne you?
iliei, When
; 1 iOi and, (SA
j bie to V ou, la. ...
ipreitiely happy to gam uc heart
Miss bop.hu; she b<t beauty, without
seeming conscious ol it; but that is
( the least of her charms, since, it i am
not deceived, her heart is a stranger to
pride and coquetry. I know the edu
cation you have given your daughters
to be such, as will render them ration
al companions to men who have a high
er relish for sentimental pleasure,than
chose that are m this age pursued with
avidity by the young ol both sexe*,
and of every rank. Have 1 your con
sent to endeavor to render myseil
agreeable to that amiable lady ?”
A proposal of this kind, from a per
son of the Karl's character, rank and
fortune, could not tail to be highly
I pleasing to Lord D who le
piied, “ 1 am truly sensible ot the hon
. or done me by tins proposal, and flat
ter myself that your Lordship is not
l deceived in the opinion you torm ot
. my daughter; but it is necessary to
inform you, that the injury my fortune
! suffered by so long absenting myseil
. from inv native country, makes it im
! possible to give them portions equal to
J their birth. T o supply tnis defieien
j cv, I have endeavoured to qualify
; them for being useful members of so
’ cietv, and to instil into their minds a
. relish for true domestic happiness
. rather than a taste for the splendor ot
. high life.” —“ 1 applaud the method
you have taken tor the real happiness
. of vour family, (returned the Karl ;)
. and since your Lordship has stated no
objection to my proposal, must beg
leave to be introduced to your daugh
ter as a mau who lias the highest sense
l of her merit, who wishes to contribute
. to her happiness by every means in his
. power.”
Lord D then conducted the
! Earl into the apartment where the la
. dies were, introduced him to Sophia,
. and informed her of his generous in
. tendons. Thislovely girl had, during
. dinner, surveyed him very attentive
. Iv, thought his person graceful, and
. ins manners engaging, but had not the
r least suspicion ot the motives ot his
! visit. His impatience to see again
the object of his affections, made mm
• renew bis visit as soon as possible, and
the had the pleasure to find h*s suit ac
cepted.
’> After the necessary preliminaries
were settled, the Earl pressed Sophia
to fix an early day for the completion
of his happiness. The evening before
that fixed for tying the indissoluble
knot, a# they were sitting in Lord
D ‘ 8 library, the conveisation hap
pt ned to turn to poetry, the Metamor
phoses of Ovid were mentioned. ‘ You
see there (says the Earl, addressing
! himself to Sophia,) the amazing power
ot love !’ “VY ere Ito believe all Ge
poets say, (replied the young lady,
blushing) l should believe that passion
tohavehad more influenceover the great
personages of antiquity, than it has on
the present race of either sex. Nav,
they tell us that the Blunderer himself
*
condescended to assume a mortal torm
for the sake of visiting a favorite fe
male. Heroes have submitted to the
habit of peasants : and .” “Do
not confine all those tran formations to
past ages, (said tiie Earl, iterrupt
ing her:) tor to my knowledge the
blind urchin very lately ‘reduced a
peer of this realm to a dusty miller;
and lie would have gladly continued
in that humble state Lad there been no
other means of obtaining the hand and
heart of the most amiabio of her sex.”
Observing them to look *urprised,
the Earl continued : “ Extraordinary
as the step I took to discover whether
the character my Sophia bore for afia
bdity and sweetness of temper was a
just one, you must ive me leave to as
sure you that niv passion wav not of
the romantic cast. Certain that we
discern more of the real temper of per
sons ot condition by the behaviour to
wards their interiors, than to those of
a;i equal lank. I hit ou that exedient
to selec t from a family, whose princi
ple? I esteemed, the woman I design
ed should share niy life and fortune.”
•Sophia's looks spoke her filings *
the Ear! led her to the altar the fallow
ing u orning ;anu Lord D had not
only the satisfaction to s his young
est daughter so happily and advanta
geously disposed of, Out ina very short
:ue bestowed the other four on men
ot rank and merit.
His son when arrived at maturity,
answered the expectations formed of
him in hL youth ; and the close of V
life might be justly pronnui
StlU.i t.
Brief Examination . —Nt m. ,
y ears ago, a man piesented Uimselt be
fore a magistrate, to have Ins qualifi
cations as a schooll-master examined,
for the purpose vs obtaining a certifi
cate of his capacity to instruct youth :
(I'Stiun. —Do you believe iu univer
sal salvation ?
Jinswer. —Yes, sir.
—Go you believe Thomas Jeffer
son is the greatest man tiiat ever lived :
J}. — 1 do.
(£, —Gan you spell Massachusetts P
1 iie applicator spelled it.
Q, —( I'urning to his little daughter)
Susan, did he spell it right ?
Ji. —Yes, father, that is right.
T hen, sir, (said the inquisitor) you
may begin your school to-morrow.
It is very fashionable to publish
amusing superscriptions of letters ; tne
following address to General Clark,
when he was Governor of Missouri
territory, by an English travelling
preacher, is entitled to place :—“ l o
his Madgesty YY illiatn C lerk ; Sov
reign aud Governor ot tne leiitory ot
Massury, in the United States ol Ame
rica, St. Lewis. This with care and
speed: favored by the male.”
In the Royal Court at Guernsey
(Eng.) on the 6th ultimo, a circum
stance catne out which kept the Coutt
in a roar. It was an action by fcsophy
Martin against Miss Anne Oliver, for
the care and maintainaacc of three
cats for near nine months. Miss Oli
ver being obliged to go to London for
some time, engaged Sophy to take care
of her cats and feed them properly
for which she agreed to pay her two
sliillings per week. On her return in
May last, Sophy brought in her ac
count, amounting to 3/. 18s. od. which
Miss Oliver disputed, on the ground
that Sophy had neglected the cats so
much that two of them had died a long
time before hei return, and that she
had attempted to impose upon her, by
substituting another cat instead of one
of her own that died, and that she had
suire trouble to get rid of it after she
came back. 1 lie badi Jl aid two oft he
judges were in favor of the plaintiff,
her demand.
Yo\. HI ..No.
Meg Merßilibs.—Wc extract
the following particulars of Jean
Gordon the Gipsie/ the Meg Merril
ies of “ Guy iVI .nr ering 1 ) horn a
work, just published at Edinburg,
entitled “Tllustriations oi the Y\ a
verly Novels/’
It is impossible to specify the
exact date of her nativity, thonghjfit
probably was about the tear IG/0.
She was born at Kirk-Yethoim, it.
Roxburgshire, die metropolis of thu
Scottish Gipsies, and was married
to a Gipsy Chief, named Patrick
Fas, I>y whom she had ten or twelve
children. In the vear 1715, ore of
Jean’s sons, named Alexander i aa,
was murdered by another Gipsy,
unmed Robert Johnston, who es
caped the pursuit of justice for
nearly ten } ears, but was then taken
and ind ettd by Pis majesty’s ad
vocate for the cr me. Pie was sen
tenced u be ext. utecUL ur cstap* and
trompii on. it was easier, howev
er, to escape ;hc grasp of jus ice
than to chh e the v.ide-spreaci a
- cd gipsy vengeance. Jean
Gordon traced the murderer like a
blood-hound, followed him to Hol
land, and from thence to Ireland,
where she had him seized, aiu.
brought him back to Jedburgh.—
Here she ibtamed the full reward
ol her toils, by having him hanged
on tie Gaiiowhiii. bomciime af
terwards, Jean beir.g at So” r o
a sheep farm on Bov/moot i,
the good man said to her, i ’ V\ eel,
jean, ye hae got Rob Johusun
hanged at last, and out o’ the •av V y
Ay, gudeman, replied Jean, lilt
ing up her apron by the two cor
ners/ 1 and a’ that fu’ o’gowd has
ua done’td Jean Gordon’s apron
du’ o’gowd’ may remind some of
our readers of Meg Vlerrihes’ p ke
of Jewels ; and indeed whole trans
action forcibly recalls the stern pic
ture ©x that intrepid heroine.
The circumstance in Guv Man-
ol Brown being it lehced to
” ig and pro
is way near
remarkably
an ante dot
nA P*
the no..cM u-.
which would hate b : ,
was about his person. \ ,
a jot ful shout of recugr it ,1- t i
the farmer to dismount, i ni in
zeal of her kindess, hauled r
to the barn. Great prtpa, %
were making for supper, which .
gudeman of Lochside to inert .10
his anxiety, observed was calcubt
ed ‘for at least a dozen guts s.—•
Jean soon left him ro doubt upon
the subject, bat inquired what mon
ey he had about him, and made
earnest request to be made his
purse-keeper for the night, as the
k bairns ’ would soon be home.—
The poor farmer made a virtue of
necessity, told his story, and sur
rendered his gold to Jean’s custo
dy. She made him put a few shil
lings iu his pocket, observing, it
would excite suspicion were he
found travelling altogether penny
less. This arrangement- being
made, the farmer lay down on a
sort of shakedown, upon some
straw, but, as will easily be believ
ed, slept not. About midnignt the
gang returned with various articles
of plunder, and talked over their
exploits that made the farmer trem
ble.
They were not long in discover
ing their guest, and demanded of
Jean Whom had there ? ‘ E’en the
winsome gudeman of Lochside,
poor body,’ replied Jean; 4 he’s
been at Newcastle seeking for sil
ler to pay his rent, honest man,
de’ll-be-licket he's been able to
gather in, and sae he's gaun e'en
hame wi’a toom purse and sair
heart.’ * T hat may be Jean,’ re
plied one of the banditti, but we
maun ripe his pouches *a bit, and
see if it be true or no.’ Jean set
up her throat in exclamation agAnst
this breach ofhospitallitv, but with
out producing any change in their
determination. Ihe farmer soon
heard their stifled whispers and