who almost sunk to the earth and was with difficulty supported by her father.

The combat was desperate, for the men were of powerful strength, and of tried courage and skill in their weapons. The blows were parried for some time on both sides with consummate address, and neither could be said to have the advantage. At length, after contending fiercely, Ross exhibited signs of exhaustion-neither guarding himself, nor assaulting his opponent so vigorously as at first. Graham, on noticing this, redoubled his efforts. He acted now wholly on the offensive, sending blow upon blow with the rapidity of lightning. His last and most desperate stroke was made at the head of his enemy. The sword of the latter, which was held up in a masterly manner to receive it, was beat down by Graham's weapon, which descended forcibly upon his helmet. This blow proved decisive, and Ross fell senseless upon the ground. His conqueror immediately wrested the weapon from him, while a shout was set up by the crowd in token of victory. The troopers looked mortified at this result of the duel, which was by them evidently unexpected. Their first care was to raise up their fellow-comrade. On examination, no wound was perceived upon his head. His helmet had been penetrated by the sword, which however did not go farther. His own weapon had contributed to deaden the blow, by partially arresting that of Graham in its furious descent. It was this only which saved his life. In a few minutes he so far recovered as to get up and look around him. The first object which

struck him was his opponent standing in the ring wiping his forehead.

"Well, Ross," said one of his companions, “I always took you to be the best swordsman in the regiment; but I think you have met your match."

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My match? confound me !" returned the vanquished man," I thought I would have made minced meat of him. There, for three years, have I had the character of being one of the best men in the army at my weapon, and here is all this good name taken out of me in a trice. Blast my eyes, how mortifying -and to lose my good sword too!"

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"Here is your sword, Ross, and keep it," said Graham. "You have behaved like a brave man ; and I honour such a fellow, whether he be my friend or foe. Only don't go on with your insolent bragging —that is all the advice I have to give you; nor call any man a knave till you have good proof that he is so." Well, well, Graham," answered the other, "I retract what I said; I have a better opinion of you than I had ten minutes ago. Take care of old Dalzell-his lambs will be after you, and you had better keep out of the way. Take this advice in return for my weapon which you have given me back. It would after all, be a pity to tuck up such a pretty fellow as you are; although I would care very little to see your long-faced acquaintances there dangling by the necks. Give us your hand for old fellowship. and shift your quarters as soon as you choose. Good bye." So saying, he and his three comrades departed.

After these doings, it was considered imprudent for

the principal actors to remain longer in this quarter. Mr Hervey retired about twenty miles to the northward, in company with Allan Hamilton and his daughter, and Allaster Wilson. Graham went by a circuitous route to Argyleshire, where he secreted himself so judiciously, that though the agents of government got information of his being in that county, they could never manage to lay hand upon him. These steps were prudent in all parties; for the very day after the rescue, a strong body of dragoons was sent to the Lowthers, to apprehend the above-named persons. They behaved with great cruelty, burning the cottages of numbers of the inhabitants, and destroying their cattle. They searched Allan Hamilton's house, took from it everything that could be easily carried away, and such of his cattle as were found on the premises. Among other things, they carried off the body of the sanguinary Clobberton, which they found in the spot where it had been left, and interred it in Lanark churchyard with military honours. None of the individuals, however, whom they sought for were found.

For a short time after this, the persecution raged with great violence in the south of Lanarkshire; but happier days were beginning to dawn; and the arrival of King William and dethronement of the bigoted James put an end to such scenes of cruelty. When these events occurred, the persecuted came forth from their hiding-places. Mr Hervey, among others, returned to the Lowthers, and enjoyed many happy days in this seat of his ministry and trials. Allan and

his daughter were among the first to make their appearance. Their house soon recovered its former comfort; and in the course of time every worldly concern went well with them. Mary, however, for a month or more after their return, did not feel entirely satisfied. She was duller than was her wont; and neither she nor her father could give any explanation why it should be so. At this time a tall young man paid them a visit, and strange to say, she became perfectly happy. This visitor was no other than the wild fighting fellow, Graham,-now perfectly reformed from his former evil courses, by separation from his profligate companions, and by the better company and principles with which his late troubles had brought him acquainted.

A few words more will end our story. This bold trooper and the beautiful daughter of Allan Hamilton were seen five weeks thereafter going to church as man and wife. It was allowed that they were the handsomest couple ever seen in the Lowthers. Graham proved a kind husband; and it is hardly necessary to state, that Mary was a most affectionate and exemplary wife. Allan Hamilton attained a happy old age, and saw his grandchildren ripening into fair promise around him. His daughter, many years after his death, used to repeat to them the story of his danger and escape which we have here imperfectly related. The tale is not fictitious. It is handed down in tradition over the upper and middle wards of Lanarkshire, and with a consistency which leaves no doubt of its truth.

THE LOVES OF THE LEARNED.

DARWIN has sung in mellifluous language the Loves of the Plants, and Tom Moore, in language no less mellifluous, has done the same thing to the Angels. My theme is of a nobler, as well as more difficult description; for I hereby engage to celebrate the Loves of the Most Learned Doctor Dedimus Dunderhead, Professor of Moral Philosophy to the University of Göttingen. The Doctor was a profound Metaphysician ;-so profound, indeed, that his lectures were often unintelligible, even to himself. This, however, so far from diminishing, enhanced their value: it proved that they were full of deep thought; and while he doled them out, in solemn strain, his audience looked up to him with an admiration approaching to awe; and he was unanimously deemed the most recondite philosopher, not onlyin Göttingen, but in all Germany, —Kant himself not excepted.

The Doctor was a short, stout, big-wigged, carbuncle-nosed gentleman of some sixty years, and a bachelor to boot. He was, moreover, Provost to the Uni. versity; and in virtue of his office, wore upon his