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nwwi^iiisr* C-- TANARUS/. C.i imm mih mu, suem to imutnu. ms ms m smm, mb to man bwmhb, For Rio-hard*’ Weekly Gazette. THE HUNTER’S HORN AT MID NIGHT. BY C. F. QUINTARD. I’ve o r ten hoanl at midnight, The huntsman wind his horn, While o'er a flood of starlight Its ochoi gs were borne. While every tree was vocal. And music fill'd the air With rounds so elenrand ringing. Its voic fell eve ywhere. T est rs seem'd all rejoi ing, Up in tl e dark blue -ky, As though they mu inur’d softly’ las raph like n]ly : Each I’otc th.it fell >o -w etly Uj on my I st'iiii g ear, Was more 1 k • so g ot angels, Thun aught that nnu may hear. The music in the wil’ey — The echoes f oin the hi 1 — The sighing < f the zephyrs— The tinkle of the ill, fame o’er my t oubVd spirit. With .‘•traoge ad lratr cp< “ ’r, Cam? with their holy influence, To consecrate <ln* hour. “fjJZiii 11A 511 J< i JUDITH, THE EGYPTIAN: on, TPTF FATE OF THE HEIR OF RICCON. “ T'bo black-eyed Judrtb, fair and tall, Attracted the heir of Ricoon Hall. ****** For years and year, was Judith known, Queen of a wide world all her own ; By Woolcr Haugh, by silver Till, By Coldstream Bridge, and l'lodden Hill. Until, at length, one nrnrn when sleet Uungfrozcn round the traveller’s feet. By a grey ruii) on Tweedsitle, The creature laid nor down and died.” BnitDKR Bai.t.ad. More than three hundred years have elapsed since the people called Gipsies first made their appearance ii. this coun try-, and, from all that I have been able to trace concerning them, it seems to have been about the same period that a number of their tribes or families proceed north wards, and became dwellers and wander ers on the Borders. Their chief places of fesort, and where, during the inclemency of winter, they horde I or housed together, were Kirk, Y’etholm, Rothbury, Horncliff, Spitial, and Tweedm outh. I believe ll at there are none of them now in Horncliff, which, on the bringing in of the moor to hen J;;;; for them ; aml tht ' r? ’ ire butfew in Spittal. But in Rothbury tml Kirk Yethohn, they still abound, and a late years have increased in Tweed mouth—that is, during the winter sea -1,. 1 “ aon : tor they take to the hedges as soon as ‘be primrose appears, and begin their wanderings. The principal names borne b.V the different tribes in these parts are bwa, Young, Gordon, Bailie, B'yth, Ruth 'en, and Winter. Their occupations ate chiefly- as itinerant muggers or potters, borners or “cuttie-spoon” makers, tink trs °f smiths and tin-workers, and makers of besoms and foot-hases They are still, With very few exceptions, a wandering a,l| l unlettered race, such as their fathers ‘'ere when they first entered Britain. At kirk Yetholm, however —which is their !cal of royalty on the Borders, and where ‘bey have a tense of the houses in what ls called Tinker Row, for nineteen times nineteen years, at a quit-rent—they have n °t been so neglectful of the education of ‘beir children as in dther parts of the conn try. At the period of their first appearance 11 this kingdom, the land was overrun with thieves and vagabonds, who, in the ‘Cvere and sanguinary jaws of Queen Eli *heth and her father Harry, were de icribed as “%ter*r*<’ and ‘'sturdy bog gars;’’ and it is more than probable that | many of these, found the mode of life fol lowed by tlte gipsies congenial to them, and so became as a part of them ; and this may account for many calling themselves gipsies, having European, or, I may say, British features. But the real gipsey there is r.o mistaking—their dark piercing eyes and Asiatic countenance mark them as dis tinctly asdo the eyes and peculiar features ofaJew. (By the by, 1 wonder that no searcher after the marvellous has endea vored to prove them to be a remnant of the lost tri-ies of Israel.) Like the Jews, they are scattered over the whole earth—like them, they are found in every land; and in every land they remain a distinct people. Who they are, or whence they came, a i* quest ions involved ii. considerable mys tery. Their being called Gipsies or Egyp tians in this country, I hold to be a popu lar error which they themselves propaga ted. Egypt, from the earliest period, was distinguished above all lands for its sooth sayers and diviners; and. as the chief oc cupation of the. wanderers then was (and in many places still is) fortune-telling, they had cunning enough to profess to be Egyptians, or natives of the land wherein were taught the mysteries of rolling away the clouds*! hich conceal fate an l futurity. They have neither the language nor the manners of the Egyptians. No reason could be assigned lor their leaving the land of the Pharoahs; and, although the gipsies es the present day profess to be Egyptians, they ran bring forward no proof in support of the pretention. From all that 1 have read concerning them, it seems to me to he clearly proved, that they are natives of Hindustan, where they form ed a part of the lowest caste of Indians, called Pariahs or Su.lers—a class held in detestation and abhorrence by the other castes. That the gipsey clans have a lan guage peculiar to themselves, and which they frequently speak amongst themselves, is well known. It is not a written lan guage: and they have endeavored to con ceal a knowle Ige of it from the people amongst whom they dwell. They have called it “gibberish;” and it has been very generally believed to be nothing more than what is usually understood by that term, or that at most it was a sort of dang similar to the phrases used among thieves. This is nn error. So far as those who have examined it have been ahle to ascer tain, the secret language spoken by the British gipsies appears to be, with but tri fling corruptions, the same as that which is spoken by the Indian caste of Suders in Hindostan. But a stronger proof that the gipsies scattered over Europe derive their origin from the Suders of India is demon strated by the facts that the Suders were the only people who professed the art of palmistry—that they, like the gipsies, are a wandering race—that their occupations are almost identically the same, being for tune-tellers, dancers, and wandering mu sicians—that the smiths amongst them go about exactly in the same manner as the tinkers in this con ill ry—that, like the gip sies, their favorite food is that of animals that have died of disease —that, like them, they have no fixed religion—and like them, they endeavor to conceal their lan guage. And the certainty of their being originally the same people is further strengthened, from the Suders having fled in thousands from India, during the mur derous ravages of Timur Beg in 1408, which corresponds with the period of the first appearance of the gipsies in Europe. ; „ 1 Ihat they are n~! Egyptians is slrong . . , . that there are ly proved by the tao., of them in Egypt, where, as in m. e colln tries, they are regarded as strangers and foreigners. I may have wearied the patience of the reader with this long and perhaps prosy introduction; but there may he some to whom it will not be uninteresting, as throwing a light on the probable origin of a singular people, of whom Judith, the gipsy, was one. And now to our story. One of the chief men amongst the gip sies on the Borders, at the beginning of the last century, was Lussha Fleckie, who was inferior in authority among the tribes to King Faa. who dwelt at Kirk Y etholm, and boasted ot reigning lord over a free people. Lussha’s avocations, like the avocations of all his brethren, were mere apologies for idleness. He was one day a tinker, on another a grinder, and on a third a wan dering piper. He was a man of great stature and uncommon strength, and re nowned for his exploits as a fisher and a sportsman. The name of his wife was Mariam, and they had a daughter called Judith, who, as she grew up towards womanhood, be came known throughout Roxburgh and Northumberland as the Gipsy Beauty—or the Beautiful Gipsy. The appellation was not unmeritedly bestowed ; for though her skin was slightly tinged with the tavvney hue of her race, a soul seemed to glow through her regular and lovely features, and the lustre of her dark eyes to throw a radiance over them. She was tall, and her figure was perfect as her sac was symmetrical and commanding. Yet she was at once conscious of her beauty and vain of it, and her parents administered to her vanity. They had her fingers adorned with trinkets, her neck with bugles; for Lussha Fleckie, like most of his race, was fond of gold and silver ornaments: ail i, amongst others, he had in his possession a silver urn, hich had been handed down to him through generations, and in which his fathers, as he now did, had deposited the fruits of their spoils and plunder, until it was filled with as rich coins as a miser’s cofler. He therefore, alt hi ugh a vagrant, was not a poor man, and could aflord to deck the charms of his daughter. Judith was early initiated by her mother into the mysteries of the sihyline leaves —her edu cation in leed extended no farther; and, at the age of fifteen, she was an alept in the art of palmistry. The proudest ladies in broad Northumbrian I or fair Roxburgh shire, eagerly submitted their h ands to the inspection of the beautiful fortune-teller. The searching brightness of her dark eyes seemed to give a prophetic reality to her words; and, as shecauscd them to kindle with apparent joy or become transfixed a l , the discovery of coining wo, her fair and high-born patrons have trembled before her, and, inquired—“ What is it, Judith And, being a favorite with them all, for they both loved and feared her, her per son was bedecked with their cast-off gar ments. It was early in summer when about for ty of the Faa people encamped near the foot of the Eiidon hills. A few minutes served for the erection of their portable village, in a secure and sheltered situation, and speedily, supported on pieces of cross ed branches, the caldrons swung over the crackling fires, each of which blaze I fierce and merrily from between two stones. — Savoury exhalations impregnated the air, and gave token of a feast. The banquet being spread upon the sward, when it was finished, and the brandy cup had been sent round, Lussha Fleckie took his Northum brian pipes and began to play a merry reel. Old and young, men, women, and children, started to their feet, and joyous “ Tripped tlio light fantastic toe.” Judith glided through the midst of them, with her bright waving tresses falling on her shoulders, as queen of the glad scene. Os her it might have been said— “ A foot more light, a step nine true, Nevorfiom the heath flower dished the dew ; Eve i th ■ light harebell raised its head. Elastic from her airy tread!” Her partner in the dance was Gemmel Giieme; and in his veins also flowed gipsy blood. Gemmel was now a youth of twen ty, and one of the mod daring of his race. A passionate enthusiasm maiked his dis position. In agile sports and feats of strength he had no competitor. In these he was what Lu-slia Fleckie had been.— He boasted of his in lependence, and that he ha I never place Ia linger on the pro perty of friend or neighbor, nor been de tected in levying his exactions on a stran ger or a foe. His merits were acknowl edged by all the tribes on the Borders ; and though he was not of the royal family of Kaas, many looked to him ,-\s heir-apparent to the sovereignty. He held in princely contempt all trades, professions and cal lings, and thought it beneath the dignity of a “ lord of C. v “ at ‘ on ” to follow them.— ‘’ r, w>n. therefore, he accompaii.T 1 ’ thfl tubes in their migra;;.’? 08 from P lace 10 ‘ ,liic “’ he did not. as was the habn ot ‘ a> sume the oci upation of either tu kttr, gi.. 1 ’ der, bass-manufacturer, or the jr,Session of a musician—but he went forth with his gun an 1 his hound or his leister an l net, and every preserve, plantation, and river, supplied him with food, and the barns ot strangers with a bed. Judith was two years younger than G?m mel Graeme, and lie had not looked Upon her lovely face with indifference ; for the stronger passions, and the gentler feel ings of the soul; find a habitation in the breast of the wandering gipsy, as in those of other men. He had a bold manly bear ing. and an expressive countenance. Ju dith, too. had seem much of his exploits.— She had behcl 1 him to the neck in water, struggle with the strong salmon, raise it up, and cast it on shore. She, too, had witnessed instances of his daring spirit, and in every sport had seen all vanquished who dared to contend with him. Yea, when the scented blossom, like fragrant fleece, overspread the hawthorn hedge rows, and the primroseand wild violet flow- ered at its roots —when the evening star shone glorious in the west, brightening through the deepening twilight—when the viewless cuckoo sighed “good night” to its mate, and the land-rails took up its eve ning cry—then have Judith and Gemmel sat together, by the heJge-side, at a dis tance from the encampment, with her hand in his. Then he would tell her of the feats he had achieved, of the wresling matches he had won, or the leaps he h,id made, and, pressing her hand, add, —“ Hut what care I for what I do, or for what others say, when the bright een o’ my lonny Judith were na’ there to reward me vs a blink o’ joy.” “ Ye’re a flatterer, Gemmel,” whispered she. “ No, bonniest,” answered he, - I deny that; lam nae flatterer. Bat if I were, ye are far beyond flattery sic as mine : and it is nane to sae, that to my een ye are nonnier than yon gowden star, that shines by its single sel’ in the wide heavens — and to me ye arc dearer than the mountain is to the wild deer, or the green leaves to the shining birds.” Then he would press his lips to hers, and she blushed hut upbraided him not.— Blit, in the character of Judith, as is that of every woman over whose bosom vanity waveth its butterfly wings, there was some thing of the coquette. She did not at all times meet the affection of Gemmel with mutual tenderness, though she loved him beyond any one else, and was proud to see him wear the yoke. She had often smiled upon others, while her eyes glanced cold as illuminated ice upon him. Y'et never was there one on whom she so smiled that repented not having courted or obtainel it. For, as Gemmel's hau l was strong, and his love passionate, so was his jealousy keen and his revenge insatiate. There were cripples in the tribe, who owed their lameness to the hand of Gemmel, because, in some instance, Judith had showed a ca pricious preference to then while she slighted him. Nmv, as has been said, it was a day of feasting and rejoicing amongst them, and Judith was Gemmel’s partner in the dance. Walter, the young heir of Riccon, was riding round the Eildons, with his grey goshawk upon his arm : and his servant ; followed him ; and hearing sounds of tmt i sic and shouts of revelry, he turned in the ! J direction from whence they proceeded. He drew up liis horse within a few yards of the merry group, and, from the first glance, the striking figure and the more striking features of Judith arrested his attention His eyes followed her through the winding mazes of the dance. They sought to meet hers. Gemmel Graeme observed him, and a scowl gathered on his brow. When the dance was ended, he led Judith to a green hillock on which her lather sat, and ap proaching the heir of Riccon, inquired fiercely—“ What want ye, sir ?—what look ye at 1 ” “ Troth, friend,” replied Walter, the master of Riccon, who was of too coura geous a temperament to be awed by the face or frown of any man, “ I look at your bonny partner, and I want to speak to her, for a lovelier face ora gentler figure my ! een hue na looked on since my mother bore me.” “ Sir,” retorted Gemmel more fiercely, j “ ye hae yer grey goshawk, yer horses, | and yer servant; I dinna covet ‘hem, and I dinna ye covet what is mine, and to me i mair precious. Away the road ye cam, : or any road ye like, hut remain not here. Your company is na desired. Is it the manners of your gentry to break in where !ye are uninvited ? Again I warn ye, while the earth is green, to turn your horse's away ! I, Gemmel Giteme, wha ne ver vowed but 1 satisfied it, warn i ye!” n “’ell,” replied young Walter haugh-, uly, “ might you vent your threats upon I the rocks that compose those cjoveit .7? 0 ' 1 "” I tains, as waste them upon me. I shall j speak wi’ your bonny partner,” And he j stuck his spurs into his horse to proceed towards her. Gemmel grasped the bridle, and in a 1 moment horse and rider were upon the ground. “ Gemmel Gimme!” shouted Lussha Flee-! kie, “ is that the welcome ye gie to stran- j gers t Foul fa ye ! ye passionate tyke !—‘ tak yer hands afl the gentleman, an if be j wishes to join in our merriment he's wel-j come. Gae, Judith, bring forward the j gentle stranger. Gemmel withdrew his hand from young | Walter’s throat: and, as he did so, he ut tered wild and bitter words, and flung him self, as if in carelessness, on the grounl, j his head resting on his hand. Judith, at her father’s bidding, went and j conducted the heir of Riccon to where her father sat and the late dancers were assem bled, and Gemmel was left alone. Abiief conversation passed between Lussha and Walter, during which the latter failed not to express hi.- admiration of Judith. Her father smiled—there was a look of triumph in the eyes of her mother. The pipes again struck up, the dance was resumed, and Walter, the heir of Riccon, was the partner of Judith; while Gemmel Graeme lay upon the ground gazing upon them and gna>hinghis teeth. “We maun see that nae harm come to the young Riccon oot o’ this,” whispered some of the eldest of the tribe to each oth er; who had not again joined in the ilnnce, “ for Gemmel is kicking his heel upon the ground, an’ whistlin to hitnscl’, and the horse-shoe is on his brow. It was wrong in Lussha to provoke him. There is an ill drink brewing for the young laird. He is dancing oivre gmi pool her where the touch-fire is creeping to it.” The dance was ended, and young Wal ter, taking a costly ring from his finger, placed it on Judith’s, and whispered— “ Wear it for my sake.” And her checks seemed more lovely as she blushed, smiled and accepted the gift. Gemmel .started to his feet as he beheld this. But Walter dashed his spurs into his horse, and riding away, in a few min utes was out of sight. Gctnmcl glanced npbraidingly on Judith and he passed by her parents in.sullenness and in silence. But the heir of Riccon had not ridden far, when he turned round and said to his servant—“We go now to Melrose, anl front thence ye shall go hack and watch the movements o’ the party we have seen. Mark ye wcel the maiden wi’ whom I danced and whose marrow ye never saw ; for rather would 1 that she was lady o’ Riccon Ha’ than that I should na’ meet her again.” Shortly after the departure of Walter, some of the tribe, perceiving that what had passed between him and Judith was likely to lead to a quarrel between Lussha Fleckie and Gemmel Graeme, and knowing, from the nature of Loth, that such a quar rel would be deadly in its results, proposed that the festivities should terminate and the encampment break up. The proposal was carried by a majority of voices: and even Lussha, though conscious of the reason why it was made, knew so well the fiery and desperate nature of him who was re garded by the tribe as the future husband of his daughter, that he brooked his own temper and agree Ito it. And, while they began to move their tents, and to load their asses and their ponies, Gemmel stood whistling moodily, leaning against a tree, his eyes ever anon directed with an inquis itive scowl towards the tent of Judith’s fa ther, his arms folded on his breast, and at intervals stamping his foot upon theground; while his favorite hound looked in his face, howled, and shook his tail impa tiently, as though it knew there was work for it at hand. Early on the following day, the servant of the heir of Riccon returned, and brought him tidings that tlie encampment Imd been • broken up, and Judith and her father had | erected their tent in the neighborhood of Kelso; for, as the ballad upon the subject hath it— “ Often by Tweed they sauntered down As far ns ] leasant Kelso town.” Walter mounted his horse, and arrived ! within sight of their tent before the sun had gone down. At a distance from it he perceived Judith. She was alone, and holding her hands towards the declining uni, gazing upon her fingers as if admi ringthe ting he had presented to heron the previous day. He rode to where shestood. She seemed so entranced that she perceived not his approach. She was indeed ad miring the ring Y’et let not the sex b!ain:> ber too harshly : men and women have all their foibles-." 1 s vva * one of J,,dilh ' s an,! she was a beautiful bill ignoi”U n * eighteen, whose mind had never been nur ture.!, and wnodP heart had been left to ‘itself, to be swayed by every passion.— He dismounted—he threw himself on his knees before her—he grasped her hand— “ Loveliest of women !” he begun But I will not follow him through his rhapso dy. Such speeches can he spoken but at one period of our lives, and they are inter esting only to those to whom they are ad dressed: therefoie, l will spare my rea ders its recital. But it male an impression on the heart of Judith, lie spoke not of his feats of strength, of Itis rum.ing, leap ing. and wrestling, as Gemmel did ; but he spoke of her, and in strains new but pleasant to her ear. And although she had chided her first lover as a flatterer, she did not chide the heir of Ric<-on. Vanity kindled at his words, and even while he knelt and spoke before her, she forget Gemmel and already fancied ltersc f the jewelled lady of Riccon Ha 1 !. lie perceive 1 the effect which his first gift had produced, and he saw also how earnestly she listened to his words. He wore a golden repeater, which he had purchased in Geneva, ami which was se cured by a chain of the same metal, that j went round his neck. He placed thechain | around her neck, he pressed the watch j upon her bosom. In her bosom she heard. I she felt it heat, while her own heart heat j more rapidly. “Hark!—hark!” said he, “how con- j stantly it beats upon your breast—yet. : trust me, loved one, my heart beats more ! truly for you !” Before they parted, another assignation was arranged. From that period, frequent interviews took p'acc between Walter and j the ‘ovely Judith, and at each visit he i brought her presents, and adorned her per- 1 son with ornaments. He parents knew of I his addresses, hut they forbade them not. Now one evening they had taken up j their abode in a deserted buihliug near to j Twisel bridge; anl tbither the young laird came to visit Judith. Her father in vited him into what had once been an apartment in the ruined building, and re quested him to sup with them. Walter consented; for the love he bore to Judith could render the roarset morsel sweet. — But. when he beheld the meat that was to he prepared aqjl placed before him. his heart sickened and revolted, for it consisted of part of a sheep that had died ; when Lus-ha beheld this, he said—“Wherfore shudder ye, young man, and why is your heart sick ? Think ye not that the flesh o’ the brute which has been s’ain by the hand o’ its Creator, is filter for man to eat than the flesh o’ an animal which man has butchered V* Walter had not time to reply; for, as Lussha finished speaking, a dog hounded into the ruins amongst them. Judith start ! ed from the ground, she raised her hands, her eyes flashed with horror. “Ah !” she exclaime 1 in a voice of suppressed agony, “it is Gemmel—Gcm mel’s hound ! Fiy. Walter, fly!” “ Wherefore should I fly ?” returned the youth; think ye. Judith, I am not able to defend myself anl you against any man J Let this fierce braggart come.” “Away!—haste ye away, sir!” sail Lussha earnestly, grasping him by the ! arm, “ or there will be blood and dead ho lies on this floor! CoTe away! Gem mcl Gocme is at hand, and yc dinna ken ! him sac wee! as I do !” i Walter would have remonstrated, but 1 the gipsy, still grasping him by the arm. j dragged him to a door of the ruin, adding— ! “ Steal away—quick ! quick among the j trees, and keep down by the Till to Tweed side. Dinna speak—away !” It was a grey midnight in July, and the | heir of Riccon ha 1 not been absent three minutes, when Gemmel Graeme stalked in to the ruin, and with his arms folded sat ] down upon a stone in sullen silence, “ We are glad to see ye, Gemmel,” said Miriam; ye hac been an unco stran• , ger.” “ Humph !” was the brief and col l rc ! ply. The supper was spread upon the ground and the mother of Judith again ad led— -1 “ Come, Gemmel, lad, it is o’ nae use to I Ixrin a cankered humor forever. Draw forward and help yersel’—ye see there is . nae want.” “So 1 see,” replied he sarcastically! j “ did ye expect company ; I doubt yer fare 1 would hardly he to his palate !” “ What do ye mean, Gemmel J” cried 1 Lussha ; “think ye that we are put up wi’ ! yer fits ?—or wherefore, if ye hae nothing I to say. come ye glunching here, wi’ a brow : as dark and threatening as a nicht in De ; cembcr 1.” Gemmel rose angrily and replied—“ I hae something to say Lu-sha, and that S()m ’-;hiQg is to Judith, hut not in your pre sence. Judith, will ye sj*“ a ‘i V’ l mc • added he, addressing her. Judith, who sat in a corner of the rtifn, with her hands upon her bosom, covering! the watch which young Walter ha I given her, anil forgetting that the golden chain J by which it was suspended from her neck ‘■ was visible, cast a timid glance towards j her father, as if imploring his pro'ection. i “ 1 am no sure, Gemmel,” said Lussha. ; “ whether I can trust my daughter in yer company or no. If I do. will ye gie me yer thumb that ye winna harm her, nor raise your hand against hr.” “Haim her!” —exclaimed Gemmel, dis dainfully- I scorn it!—ihere’s my thumb.” “Y’e may gang, Judith,” said her fath er. .. n Judith, with fear and guilt graven on her lovely feature?, rose anil accompanied Gemmcl. He walked in silence by her ; side until they came to an old ami hroail | branched tree, which stood about forty yards from the ruin. A waning summer tnoon had risen since he arrived, and mingled its light with the grey gleam of the night revealing the ornaments which Judith wore. “Judith,” said Getnmel, breaking the silence, and raising her hand from her bosom, with which she concealed the watch, “ where got ye lhac braw orna ments ! lias ycr faither found a heart to lay iiis fingers on the treasures in the silver jug!” She tremble! and remained silent. “ l’oor thing! poor thing!—lost Judith !•’ exclaimed Gemmcl, “I see how it is. For the sake o’ thae vile gewgaws ye hae de serted ine —ye hae sacrificed peace of mind, and bidden fareweel to happiness! Oh Judith, woman! wha is the flatterer noo J Do you mind syne wc sat by the hedge side thegither, when the corn craik counted the minutes round about us, and tried to ; mind us boo they flew—when the sun had ! sunk down in the west, and the honey ! hawthorn showered its fragrance owre us; ! as though we sat in the garden where our first parents were happy ? Do you mind o’ thae days, Judith! —and hoo, when my heaving bosom heat upon yours, as we sat locked in ilka other's arms, 1 asked, “Will ye be mine !’ and ye let yer head fa’ on my shoulder, and said, “ I will!" —Judith! do ye mind o’ thae things, and where aro they noo1” “Gemmcl Gimme,” replied she, and she wept as she spoke, “let me gang—l canna bide wi’ ye—and ye hae nae richt to put yer questions to me.” “Nac richt!” he returned—“o Judith! hae ye forgotten a’ yer vows ! nr have ya forgotten the time when in cauhler nichts than this, when the snaw was on the ground, and the trees were bare o’ leaves, and ye hae stood or wandered wi’ me, frac that the sun gad down, until the sea-birds and the craws sailed owre oor heads seek ing for their food on the next morning ! and now ye tell me ye canna bide wi’ me ! 0 Judith ! ye hae done what has made my heart miserable and what will make yer ain as miserable!” As he spoke ha still held her hand. “Let me gang. Gemmel,” she again sob bed, and struggled to wrest her hand from his grasp —“I hae naething to say to ye.” “Then ye will leave me, Judith!” he cried, wildly, “leave me foicver with a withered heart and a maddened brain !” She answered him not, but still wept and struggled the more to escape from him. “'1 hen gang, Judith!” he cried, and (lung her hand from him, “ but beware hoo wc meet again.” Some months after this, and when the harvest-moon shone full on the fields of golden grain, and the leaves rustled dry and embrowned upon the trees, there was a sound of voices in a wood which over hung the Tweed near Cold-s,ream. They were the voices of Walter the heir of Ric con and Judith. “Leave,” said he, “dear Judith, leave tills wandering life, and come wi’ me, and ye shall le clad in silks, dearest, hae ser vants to wait on ye, and a carriage to ride in.” “Ah!” she sighed, “ but a wandering life is a pleasant life; and, if I were to gang wi’ ye. would ye aye be kind to ma, ami love me as ye do now !” Can ye be sae cruel as to doubt me, Judith*” was his reply. “ VVeel,” returned she “it was for yer sake that I left Gemmel Graeme, who is a haultl and a leal lad, and one that l once thought 1 liked weel. Now. I dinna un derstand about your priests and your books, hut will ye come before my faither and my nother, and the rest o‘ oo folks and before them swear that f am yer lawfu’ wife, the only lady o’ Riccon Ha‘, and I will gang wi’ ye!” “My own Judith; I will,” rejdiel Wal • ter, earnestly. I “ You will not!’’ exclaimed a loud voice 11 tinted over the dead body of Gem mel Grceme ?” At the same moment n pistol flashed within a few yarls of where they stood, and Walter the he : r of Riccon felt with a groan at the feet of Judith. Her screams rang through the wools, stnrtlins the slumbering birds, from the branches a * causing.them to fly to an 1 fro ii con ft Gemmel sprang forward, and graspe han !—“Now. fnuse ane,” herr-ei, 1 the lips o’ yer bonny bridegroom !—c his spirit as it leaves him ! Han : ro his neck and haud him to yer heart till itis corpse bo canid ; Noo, he canna hae ye, and I wirrna!—fareweel—fareweel!—fans* treacherous Judith !”*