al, on which the hair had been originally left, but which had been worn any places that it would have been difficult to distinguish, from the at remained, to what creature the fur had belonged. This primeval vested from the thoat to the knees, and served at once all the usual purposes thing. There was no wider opening at the collar than was necessary to passage of the head, from which it may be inferred that it was put on by over the head and shoulders, in the manner of a modern shirt, or ancient Sandals, bound with thongs made of boar's hide, protected the feet, and in leather was twined artificially around the legs, and, ascending above ft the knees bare, like those of a Scottish Highlander. To make the et more close to the body, it was gathered at the middle by a broad leathcured by a brass buckle, to one side of which was attached a sort of scrip, other a ram's horn, accoutred with a month-piece, for the purpose of n the same belt was stuck one of those long, broad, sharp-pointed, and knives, with a buck's-horn handle, which were fabricated in the neighand bore even at this early period, the name of a Sheffield whittle. The O covering upon his head, which was only defended by his own thick hair, twisted together, and scorched by the influence of the sun into a rusty,. lour, forming a contrast with the overgrown beard upon his cheeks, ather of a yellow or amber hue. One part of his dress only remains; but markable to be suppressed; it was a brass ring, resembling a dog's collar, any opening, and soldered fast round his neck, so loose as to form no to his breathing, yet so tight as to be incapable of being removed exhe use of the file. On this singular gorget was engraved, in Saxon charnscription of the following purport: Gurth, the son of Beowulph, is all of Cedric of Rotherwood.'

e swine-herd-for such was Gurth's occupation-was seated, upon one ■ Druidical monuments, a person about ten years younger in appearance, ress, though resembling his companion's in form, was of better matenore fantastic appearance. His jacket had been stained of a bright purn which there had been some attempt to paint grotesque ornaments in ours. To the jacket he added a short cloak, which scarcely reached halfis thigh. It was of crimson cloth. though a good deal soiled, lined with v; and as he could transfer it from one shoulder to the other, or, at his w it all around him, its width, contrasted with its want of longitude, tastic piece of drapery. He had thin silver bracelets upon his arms, and a collar of the same metal, bearing the inscription: Wamba, the son of he thrall of Cedric of Rotherwood.' This personage had the same sort ith his companion; but instead of the roll of leather thong, his legs n a sort of gaiters, of which one was red and the other yellow. He was o with a cap, having around it more than one bell, about the size of those awks, which jingled as he turned his head to one side or other; and as mained a minute in the same posture, the sound might be considered as Around the edge of this cap was a stiff bandeau of leather, cut at the top ork resembling a coronet; while a prolonged bag rose from within it, and one shoulder, like an old-fashioned night-cap, or a jelly-bag, or the a modern hussar. It was to this part of the cap that the bells were at ch circumstance, as well as the shape of his head-dress, and his own half-cunning expression of countenance, sufficiently pointed him out as the race of domestic clowns or jesters maintained in the houses of the help away the tedium of those lingering hours which they were obliged hin doors. He bore, like his companion, a scrip attached to his belt; her horn nor knife, being probably considered as belonging to a class steemed dangerous to entrust with edge-tools. In place of these, he was h a sword of lath, resembling that with which Harlequin operates his u the modern stage.

ard appearance of these two men formed scarce a stronger contrast ok and demeanour. That of the serf or bondsman was sad and sullen; as bent on the ground with an appearance of deep dejection, which ost construed into apathy, had not the fire which occasionally sparkled e manifested that there slumbered, under the appearance of sullen desense of oppression, and a disposition to resistance. The looks of

Wamba, on the other hand, indicated, as usual with his class, a sort of vacant curiosity and fidgety impatience of any posture of repose, together with the utmost self-satisfaction respecting his own situation, and the appearance which he made. The dialogue which they maintained between them was carried on in Anglo-Saxon, which was universally spoken by the inferior classes, excepting the Norman soldiers and the immediate personal dependents of the great feudal nobles.

The Fisherman's Funeral.-From 'The Antiquary.'

The Antiquary, being now alone. hastened his pace, and soon arrived before the half-dozen cottages at Mussel-Crag. They now had, in addition to their usual squalid and uncomfortable appearance, the melancholy attributes of the house of mourning. The boats were all drawn up on the beach; and, though the day was fine and the season favourable, the chant which is used by the fishers when at sea was silent, as well as the prattle of the children, and the shrill song of the mother as she sits mending her nets by the door. A few of the neighbours, some in their antique and well-saved suits of black, others in their ordinary clothes, but all bearing an expression of mournful sympathy with distress so sudden and unexpected, stood gathered around the door of Mucklebackit's cottage, waiting till the body was lifted.' As the Laird of Monkbarns approached, they made way for him to enter, doffing their hats and bonnets, as he passed, with an air of melancholy courtesy, and he returned their salutes in the same manner.

In the inside of the cottage was a scene which our Wilkie alone could have painted with that exquisite feeling of nature which characterises his enchanting productions. The body was laid in its coffin within the wooden bedstead which the young fisher had occupied while alive. At a little distance stood the father, whose rugged, weather-beaten countenance, shaded by his grizzled hair, had faced many a stormy night and night-like day. He was apparently revolving his loss in his mind with that strong feeling of painful grief peculiar to harsh and rough characters, which almost breaks forth into hatred against the world and all that remain in it after the beloved object is withdrawn. The old man had made the most desperate efforts to save his son, and had been withheld only by main force from renewing them at a moment when, without the possibility of assisting the sufferer, he must himself have perished. All this apparently was boiling in his recollection. His glance was directed sidelong towards the coffin, as to an object on which he could not steadfastly look, and yet from which he could not withdraw his eyes. His answers to the necessary questions which were occasionally put to him were brief, harsh, and almost fierce. His family had not yet dared to address to him a word either of sympathy or consolation. His masculine wife, virago as she was, and absolute mistress of the family, as she justly boasted herself on all ordinary occasions, was, by this great loss, terrified into silence and submission, and compelled to hide from her husband's observation the bursts of her female sorrow. As he had rejected food ever since the disaster had happened, not daring herself to approach him, she had that morning, with affectionate artifice, employed the youngest and favourite child to present her husband with some nourishment. His first action was to push it from him with an angry violence that frightened the child; his next, to snatch up the boy, and devour him with kisses. Ye'll be a braw fellow, an ye be spared, Patic; but ye 'll never-never can be-what he was to me! He has sailed the coble wi' me since he was ten years auld, and there wasna the like o' him drew a net be twixt this and Buchan-ness. They say folks maun submit; I will try.' And he had been silent from that moment until compelled to answer the necessary questions we have already noticed. Such was the disconsolate state of the father.

In another corner of the cottage, her face covered by her apron, which was flung over it, sat the mother, the nature of her grief sufficiently indicated by the wringing of her hands, and the convulsive agitations of her bosom, which the covering could not conceal. Two of her gossips, officiously whispering into her ear the commonplace topic of resignation under irremediable misfortune, seemed as if they were endeavouring to stem the grief which they could not console. The sorrow of the children was mingled with wonder at the preparations they beheld around them, and at the unusual display of wheaten bread and wine, which the poorest peasant or fisher offers to the guests on these mournful occasions; and thus their grief tor their

eath was almost already lost in admiration of the splendour of his igure of the old grandmother was the most remarkable of the sorrowing ted on her accustomed chair, with her usual air of apathy, and want of what surrounded her, she seemed every now and then mechanically to motion of twirling her spindle; then to look towards her bosom for the ough both had been laid aside. She would then cast her eyes about, as if missing the usual implements of her industry, and appear struck by the of the gown in which they had dressed her, and embarrassed by the ersons by whom she was surrounded. Then finally, she would raise her ghastly look, and fix her eyes upon the bed which contained the coffin of , as if she had at once, and for the first time, acquired sense to comrinexpressible calamity. These alternate feelings of embarrassment, grief, seemed to succeed each other more than once upon her torpid ut she spoke not a word, neither had she shed a tear, nor did one of the erstand, either from look or expression, to what extent she compreincommon bustie around her. Thus, she sat among the funeral asseinnuecting link between the surviving mourners and the dead corpse which -d-a being in whom the light of existence was already obscured by the shadows of death.

dbuck entered this house of mourning, he was received by a general and ation of the head, and, according to the fashion of Scotland on such oce and spirits were offered round to the guests. ... At this moment the entered the cottage. He had no sooner entered the hut, and received d melancholy salutations of the company whom it contained, than he If towards the unfortunate father, and seemed to endeavor to slide in a f condolence or of consolation. But the old man was incapable as yet of ther; he nodded, however, gruffly, and shook the clergyman's hand in ement of his good intentions, but was either unable or unwilling to make eply.

ster next passed to the mother, moving along the floor as slowly, silently, ly as if he had been afraid that the ground would, like unsafe ice, break feet, or that the first echo of a footstep was to dissolve some magic spell, the hut, with all its inmates, into a subterranean abyss. The tenor of said to the poor woman could on y be judged by her answers, as, half os ill-repressed, and by the covering which she still kept over her counteintly answered at each pause in his speech: 'Yes, sir, yes!-Ye're very very gude!--Nae doubt, nae doubt! It's our duty to submit! But, O Dor Steenie! the pride o' my very heart, that was sae handsome and a help to his family, and a comfort to us a', and a pleasure to a' that n! Omy bairn! my bairn! my bairn! what for is thou lying there! and ram I left to greet for ye!'

s no contending with this burst of sorrow and natural affection. Oldbuck recourse to his snuff-box to conceal the tears which, despite his shrewd temper, were apt to start on such occasions. The female assistants the men held their bonnets to their faces and spoke apart with each

ick observed to the clergyman, that it was time to proceed with the cerefather was incapable of giving directions, but the nearest relation of the a sign to the carpenter, who in such cases goes through the duty of the unproceed with his office. The creak of the screw-nails presently announced of the last mansion of mortality was in the act of being secured above its > last act which separates us for ever, even from the mortal relics of the semble to mourn, has usually its effect upon the most indifferent, selfish, irted. With a spirit of contradiction, which we may be pardoned for esow-minded, the fathers of the Scottish kirk rejected, even on this most sion, the form of an address to the Divinity, lest they should be thought ce the rituals of Rome or of England. With much better and more liberal is the present practice of most of the Scottish clergymen to seize this of offering a prayer and exhortation, suitable to make an impression ng, while they are yet in the very presence of the relics of him whom t lately seen such as themselves.

The coffin, covered with a pall, and supported upon handspikes by the nearest relafives, now only waited the father, to support the head as is customary. Two or three of these privileged persons spoke to him, but he answered only by shaking his hand and his head in token of refusal. With better intention than judgment, the friends, who considered this as an act of duty on the part of the living, and of decency towards the deceased, would have proceeded to enforce their request, had not Oldbuck interfered between the distressed father and his well-meaning tormentors, and informed them, that he himself as landlord and master to the deceased. would carry his head to the grave.' In spite of the sorrowful occasion the hearts of the relatives swelled within them at so marked a distinction on the part of the Laird; and old Alison Breek, who was present among other fish-women, swore almost aloud, His honour Monk barns should never want six warp of oysters in the season [of which fish he was understood 10 be fond], if she should gang to sea and dredge for them hersel, in the foulest wind that ever blew.' And such is the temper of the Scottish common people, that, by this instance of compliance with their customs, and respect for their persons, Mr. Oldbuck gained more popularity than by all the sums which he had yearly distributed in the parish for purposes of private or general charity.

Of this

The sad procession now moved slowly forward, preceded by the beadles, or saulies, with their batons-miserable-looking old men, tottering as if on the edge of that grave to which they were marshalling another, and clad, according to Scottish guise, with threadbare black coats, and hunting-caps decorated with rusty crape. Monkbarns would probably have remonstrate against this superfluons expense, had he been consulted; but, in doing so, he would have given more offence than he gained popularity by condescending to perform the office of chief-mourner. he was quite aware, and wisely withheld rebuke, where rebuke and advice would have been equally unavailing. In truth, the Scottish peasantry are still infected with that rage for funeral ceremonial, which once distinguished the grandees of the kingdom so much, that a sumptuary law was made by the parliament of Scotland for the purpose of restraining it; and I have known many in the lowest stations, who have denied themselves not merely the comforts, but almost the necessaries of life, in order to save such a sum of money as might enable their surviving friends to bury them like Christians, as they termed it, nor could their faithful executors he prevailed upon, though equally necessitous, to turn to the use and maintenance of the living, the money vainly wasted upon the interment of the dead.

The procession to the church-yard, at about half a mile's distance, was made with the mournful solemnity usual on these occasions-the body was consigned to its parent earth--and when the labour of the grave-diggers had filled up the trench, and covered it with fresh sod, Mr. Oldbuck, taking his hat off, saluted the assistants, who had stood by in mournful silence, and with that adieu dispersed the mourners.

A Stormy Sunset by the Seaside-From the Antiquary.'

The sun was now resting his huge disk upon the edge of the level ocean, and gilded the accumulation of towering clouds through which he had travelled the livelong day, and which now assembled on all sides, like misfortunes and disasters around a sinking empire and falling monarch. Still, however, his dying splendour gave a sombre magnificence to the massive congregation of vapours, forming out of The unsubstantial gloom the show of pyramids and towers, some touched with gold, Fome with purple, some with a hue of deep and dark red. The distant sea, stretched beneath this varied and gorgeous canopy, lay almost portentously still, reflecting back the dazzling and level beams of the descending luminary, and the splendid colouring of the clouds amidst which he was setting. Nearer to the beach, the tide rippled onward in waves of sparkling silver, that imperceptibly, yet rapidly, gained upon the sand.

With a mind employed in admiration of the romantic scene, or perhaps on some more agitating topic, Miss Wardour advanced in silence by her father's side. Following the windings of the beach, they passed one projecting point of headland or rock after another, and now found themselves under a huge and continued extent of the precipices by which that iron-bound coast is in most places defended. Loug projecting reefs of rock, extending under water, and only evincing their existence by and there a peak entirely bare, or by the breakers which foamed over those that were partially covered, rendered Knockwinnock bay dreaded by pilots and shipmasters. The crags which rose between the beach and the mainland, to the height of

ee hundred feet, afforded in their crevices shelter to unnumbered seaituations seemingly secured by their dizzy height from the rapacity of hy of these wild tribes, with the instinct which sends them to seek the a storm arises, were now winging towards their nests with the shrill and clang which announces disquietude and fear. The disk of the sun best totally obscured ere he had altogether sunk below the horizon, and an rid shade of darkness blotted the serene twilight of a summer evening. began next to arise; but its wild and moaning sound was heard some time, ct became visible on the bosom of the sea, before the gale was felt on e mass of waters, now dark and threatening, began to lift itself in larger sink in deeper furrows. forming waves that rose high in foam upon the r burst upon the beach with a sound resembling distant thunder.

cans and Queen Caroline.—From The Heart of Mid-Lothian., en seemed to acquiesce, and the duke made a signal for Jeanie to advance ot where she had hitherto remained, watching countenances which were customed to suppress all apparent signs of emotion, to convey to her any intelligence. Her majesty could not help smiling at the awe-struck manh the quiet, demure figure of the little Scotchwoman advanced towards t more at the first sound of her broad northern accent. But Jeanie had a nd sweetly toned, an admirable thing in woman, and she besought 'her o have pity on a poor misguided young creature,' in tones o affecting, e notes of some of her native songs, provincial vulgarity was lost in up, young woman,' said the queen, but in a kind tone, and tell me what arbarous people your country-folk are, where child-murder is become so to require the restraint of laws like yours.'

leddyship pleases,' answered Jeanie, there are mony places besides Scotmothers are unkind to their ain flesh and blood.'

be observed that the disputes between George II. and Frederick, Prince vere then at the highest, and that the good-natured part of the public laid n the queen. She coloured highly, and darted a glance of a most peneacter, first at Jeanie, and then at the duke. Both sustained it unmoved total unconsciousness of the offence she had given, and the duke from composure. But in his heart he thought, My unlucky protégée has with 3 answer shot dead, by a kind of chance-medley, her only hope of suc

;

ffolk, good-humouredly and skilfully interposed in this awkward crisis. d tell this lady,' she said to Jeanie, 'the particular causes which render common in your country.'

inks it's the Kirk-session-that is-it's the-it's the cutty-stool, if your leases,' said Jeanie, looking down and courtesying.

at?' said Lady Suffolk, to whom the phrase was new, and who besides leaf.

the stool of repentance, madam, if it please your leddyship,' answered light life and conversation. and for breaking the seventh command.' Here er eyes to the duke, saw his hand at his chin, and, totally unconscious of d said out of joint, gave double effect to the innuendo, by stopping short ; embarrassed.

ady Suffolk, she retired like a covering party, which, having interposed ir retreating friends and the enemy, have suddenly drawn on themselves ectedly severe.

ce take the lass, thought the Duke of Argyle to himself; there goes t, and she has hit with both barrels right and left!

e duke had himself his share of the confusion, for, having acted as eremonies to this innocent offender, he felt much in the circumstances of quire, who, having introduced his spaniel into a well-appointed drawingOmed to witness the disorder and damage which arises to china and to 3. in consequence of its untimely frolics. Jeanie's last chance-hit, bliterated the ill impression which had arisen from the first; for her I not so lost the feelings of a wife in those of a queen, but that she could