Lady Dalveen, a courageous Herries, during the stormy times of the Commonwealth, against the martial enthusiasts of the parliament. They were opened by the cannon of Oliver Cromwell after a short and a bloody defence. The peasantry still point out the knolls to their children where Oliver planted-his artillery, and show the remains of the thorntree where he stood and directed the attack, which changed for a time the ownership of the place.

Nor is it deficient in legends of latter times. A little wild and lonely nook is yet shown, where twenty-seven martial Cameronians concealed themselves in ambush for two nights and a day, without any comfort save water, for the purpose of attacking the Earl of Dalveen, as he returned to his fortress, during the persecution, with two of their captive preachers. "It was on a summer's morning, (I use the words of the peasant who conducted me to the place,) the earl with threescore followers,all men in mail,-fierce of heart and deadly of hand, gallant soldiers, but great covenant-breakers, entered the narrow path, leading to slaughter two professors of the word. Though the children of the covenant were but twenty and seven, yet they shouted their shout, and rushed upon him with hackbut, lance, and sword. They prevailed for a time, till the destroying earl cleft the heads of six of God's valiant servants, and scattered or led captive the rest. My grandfather, John Coulter by name, as douce a man as ever brake bread or read

the Bible, was one of those who escaped; and I have heard him say, that Lord Dalveen bore twenty dints on his bosom-mail, the least of which would have spilt his life, had he not been bucklered by the enemy of man's salvation. Ever as the earl smote a saint, he started up in his stirrup, and exclaimed, 'Mahoun!' and Mahoun made his sword-blade resistless. Ten of those worthies sleep side by side here where we stand,-see the moss and the brier grow above their dwelling-place. They are ministering spirits above; but where is the spirit of him who slew them ?"

But the castle of Dalveen, when its young owner and Paul entered it, had fallen away from its ancient splendour. War, forfeiture, and, worse than both, extravagance, had from time to time dismantled it of its strength, and dimmed its chief beauties. The external defences had given way; the fosse was, in many places, thickly mantled with water-grass and lilies, over which a child might almost pass dry-footed; the dragons of the fountain forgot to spout water, the savage warders neglected to wind their horns, and the top of the main tower had been taken possession of by a pair of wild ravens, whose hoarse and unwelcome cry announced to many ears the ruin of the castle and the extinction of the

name.

The character of young Lord Dalveen, who now stood on its threshold, had some influence in those prophetic forebodings. His father and his uncle

had fought in the cause of the house of Stuart. The latter fell on the field of battle, and the former abroad in a private feud. The young lord, as he was still in courtesy called-for rebellion had deprived the family of the title of earl—was self-willed, wayward, and capricious from his cradle up to manhood. As hé increased in stature, the darker parts of his character broke out by fits; in him, good and evil seemed strangely mingled, but the evil appeared to be the fixed and predestined material of his nature; while the good seemed a wandering and uncertain light, which flashed out at times like a meteor, on whose light no one could depend, but which all gazed upon and admired. He had drank deeply of the cup of pleasure at home, and he had drank still more deeply abroad. Some of the good qualities which he carried over the sea were cast away, and their place supplied by an increase of evil propensities,-by an open scorn of all that the church believed, and by a general disregard for the opinion of the world in all matters of decorum and virtue. His genius, of which he had a large share, and his spirit, in which he was surpassed by none, made many indulge in the hope, that maturer years would bring prudence to the one and wisdom to the other, and avert the total ruin of his ancient line.

John Paul and Lord Dalveen had been close and inseparable comrades at school. Nature, at the outset of life, asserted her rights; and common

courage and ability made that brotherhood between them, which was at its vigour when each began to look into the vista of future life according to his birth and hopes. The young lord then began to assume the mastery over his plebeian companion; but the heart and mind of the young peasant were formed of far too obstinate and fiery materials to allow what seemed in the eyes of the world due to birth and rank. The ancestors of Paul had been distinguished for their courage, and for their attachment to the Lords of Dalveen; but these services were of old date,―military virtue formed now no part of a nobleman's household establishment,— his rights were defended by the law rather than by the sword; the wrongs wrought by the subtle head succeeded those wrought by the armed hand, and Paul's ancestors, though they had twice saved the lives of their lords at the expense of their own blood, and made good the defence of the castle against the Lord Scroope, in the days of Elizabeth, had been able to leave nought to their descendant but a little cottage and a dauntless heart.

Before they reached their fifteenth year, the contests between the young lord and the young peasant became frequent and obstinate; and so well were they matched in courage and spirit, that, during their encounters, Victory hovered over their heads, and seemed to love them both so well, that she descended to neither. To reproach Paul with the humility of his birth and the servitude of his an

cestors was sure to be rewarded by a blow, and the blow was followed by another determined battle; while Paul, on the other hand, soon learned to dwell upon the insolence of rank, and the folly of hereditary wisdom; and thus they both went on, till scorn of rank and riches, and hatred of humble life and poverty, became the settled feelings of their respective hearts.

The sea has ever been looked upon as a tamer of fiery and untranquil spirits from the time that the swine possessed with the devils ran into it till now; and to the sea Paul went in his sixteenth year, in consequence of one of those acts of authority once very common, but which the salutary fear of the law has recently made of rare occurrence. A bloody face, and a body bearing, from the brow to the hipbone, the marks of an obstinate contest, which the young lord, with great reluctance, was obliged to exhibit, obtained for the peasant the honour of an interview with one of those district worthies, on whom the law of the land, in an hour when the moon influences the distribution of civil power, had dropped the cap of magisterial dignity. This parochial authority sat mute for a minute's space, in pure astonishment at the presumption of a rustic in lifting his hand against one of the born gods of the kingdom; he took up a blank warrant, and, with scarce a word of inquiry, consigned Paul, by the hands of the sheriff's-officer, to a certain chamber under the county jail, known by the name of