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which state they forcibly took possession of the wassailbowl and emptied it.
The following morning Mr. Chappell's band was discovered, like Spenser's allegory of February, sitting in an old waggon in the middle of the floods, in which state they had been left by the treachery of the man who was to meet them at the nearest railway station, and take them all over to the Hall; and there they would have been much longer, had not the principal cornet attracted the attention of the agricultural populationby a post-horn without the galop-to their plight. And, singular to say, this traitor went on straight to the Hall, and took the part of the Dragon, who spirited Annie away, changing again, when in the sheriff's carriage, to no less a person than young Walcot, who forthwith accompanied the lady of his heart by rail to Gretna-following the force of high example-and came back penitent and married, before Mr. and Mrs. Tonks had recovered from the anguish into which the failure of keeping Christmas in the old style had plunged them.
There was the usual business to go through: the anger, the pleadings, and the forgiveness; and then, Mr. Tonks thought that Annie had perhaps done better, after all, than if she had caught old Lady Hawksy's nephew. For subsequent little rudenesses on the part of his guests disgusted him with society above him, and he began to think that, however much money he spent, he was only sneered at covertly by those whom he attempted to equalize himself with, and that, if his notions of doing good and being benevolent were real, and not conventionally chivalric, they could be carried. out as well by the retired London tradesman as the gotup-for-the-purpose Old English Gentleman, to which position he had no pretensions.
(By permission of Messrs. Chapman anl Ilall.)
THE MARTYR'S BRIDE.
“O WHERE have you been, bonny Morley Reid? For mony a long night and day
I have missed ye sair, at the Wanlock-head,
Our friends are waning fast away,
Baith frae the cliff and the wood;
And O bonny Morley, I maun now
For your bridegroom is a missing too
We have sought the caves o' the Enterkin,
"Dispel your fears, good Marjory Laing, And hope all for the best,
For the servants of God will find a place,
There are better places, than we ken o',
Than all the dens of the Ballybough,
But sit thee down, good Marjory Laing,
For I have a tale to tell to you,
I went to seek my own dear James
I had a kebbuck in my lap,
And a fadge o' the flower sae sma', And a sark I had made for his boardly back, As white as the new dri'en snaw.
I sought him over hill and dale,
I sought him up, and I sought him down,
Till the gloffs o' dread shot to my heart,
I sat me down by the Enterkin.
And one of them was my dear, dear James, The flower of a' his kin;
He was wounded behind, and wounded before, And the blood ran frae his chin.
He was bound upon a weary hack,
And his hands were bound behind his back,
I kneeled before that popish band,
And I raised to heaven my trembling hand,
But all the troop laughed me to scorn,
And then he cursed our whiggish race
O, I like him weel, thou proud captain,
But can you
For the hope you have in heaven, Captain,
Then the Captain swore a fearfu' oath,
That he thought no more of a whigamore's life,
Then my poor James to the Captain called,
I'll do that for you, said the proud Captain,
He took my bountith from my lap,
Now, fare you well, my very bonny bride,
When I come back to the banks of Nith,
Your heartiest thanks must sure be given,
I am taking him straight on the road to heaven,
My love he gave me a parting look,
And the tears they mixed wi' his purple blood, And ran down to his knee."
"What's this I hear, bonny Morley Reid?
And dreadful the one to me,
"Allay your fears, good Marjory Laing,
You little ken what a bride will do,
I hied me home to my father's ha',
For I ken'd the papish lowns would well
For they'll do far mair for the good red goud, Than they'll do for heaven above.
And away I ran to Edenburgh town,
To buy my James from the prison strong,
I sought through a' the city jails,
I sought both long and sair,
But the guardsmen turned me frae their doors, And swore that he was not there.
I went away to the popish duke,