her arms.

Her husband had turned out a drunken profligate, and she has brought the child to her old lover, with the request that he will take it abroad, and educate it, removed from the example of its wretched father. John Forde (such is his name) fulfils the request. He removes Milicent to Aix in Provence, where he brings her up with tenderness and care. Her mother soon afterwards dies, and it is at this point that the leading interest of the story commences. Her education com pleted, Milicent arrives in England a grown-up young lady. On board the steamer which conveys her from Havre she has met with an elderly gentleman who makes her acquaintance, and contrives to extract from her the full particulars of her name, condition, and place of destination, with the intention which we shall presently see. Her father being dead, the young lady takes up her abode with some relatives. No sooner is she well settled in her new home, than her friend of the steamboat makes his appearance, and with him comes his nephew, one Stephen Aylmer, whom, it had appeared that, from the first moment he had caught sight of Milicent, it was his intention she should marry. The young couple, thus brought together, took a liking to each other; they become, in a short time, plighted lovers, and everything is going on as prosperously as we could desire, when a female cousin of Milicent arrives from Italy. No sooner has she learned what is going forward than she makes up her mind to appropriate the gentleman to herself, which, after a series of dexterous manœuvres, she succeeds in accomplishing. The unhappy Milicent, almost heart-broken, returns to Provence, whither she is followed by another admirer, who is unsuccessful in his pursuit. A few days before the marriage was to take place, the faith

less swain is visited with a terrible retribution he is struck by lightning, and remains blind and crippled for the rest of his life. Intelligence of the catastrophe has no sooner reached Milicent in her retirement, than she hastens back to England, takes the recreant to her arms, and marries him. The climax of this series of disasters now remains to be told. The blind man chances to be walking near the edge of a cliff; he is met by the discarded lover, of whom he inquires the way. He receives a false direction, falls over the edge of the precipice, and perishes miserably.

Such is as brief an outline as we can give of the main events of this story. Our readers will see that the improbabilities are somewhat startling; but setting these aside, there is nothing in the book at which the most hypercritical of our captious tribe can take the slightest exception. The purpose is a sound and healthy one; the style is easy and flowing, and the language often elegant and always graceful. We are exceedingly sorry that the length to which our previous observations have extended prevents us from doing this novel more ample justice. We can sincerely recommend it to the attention of our readers; and we hope no long period may elapse before we find the writer again in a field which her talents have qualified her to culti vate with eminent success.

The graceful fairy structure which we had raised for the edification of the public must now close, for its use is over; the clock is striking the hour, when the wand of office passes from our hand. We linger yet upon the threshold, as like a polite host we speed our departing guests.

"A farewell then to all courteous readers; A farewell to the rest."

Ir was a cold night in the March of the year 1708. The hour of ten had tolled from the old Gothic tower of the Collegiate Church; beating on his drum, the drummer in the livery of the burgh had proceeded from the Market cross to the ruins of St. David's Castle, and from thence to the chapel of St. Rufus, and having made one long roll or flourish at the point from whence his peregrination began, he adjourned to the Thane of Fife to procure a dram, while the good folks of Crail composed themselves for the night, and the barring of doors and windows announced that those who were within had resolved to make themselves comfortable and secure, while those unfortunate wights that were without were likely to remain so.

was

Hollowly the German Sea booming on the rocks of the harbour; and from its hazy surface a cold east wind swept over the flat, bleak coast of Crail; a star peeped at times between the flying clouds, and even the moon looked forth once, but immediately veiled her face again, as if one glance at the iron shore and barren scenery, unenlivened by hedge or tree, were quite enough to prevent her from looking again.

The town-drummer had received his dram and withdrawn, and Master Spiggot, the gudeman or landlord of the Thane of Fife, the principal tavern, and only inn or hostel in the burgh, was taking a last view of the main street, and considering the propriety of closing for the night. It was broad, spacious, and is still overlooked by many a tall and gable-ended mansion, whose antique and massive aspect announces that, like other Fifeshire burghs before the Union in the preceding year, it had seen better days. Indeed, the house then occupied by Master Spiggot himself, and from which his sign bearing the panoplied Thane at full gallop on a caparisoned steed swung creaking in the night wind, was one of those ancient edifices, and in former days had belonged to the provost of the adjoining kirk; but this was (as Spiggot said), "in the auld-warld times o' the Papistrie."

The gudeman shook his white head solemnly and sadly, as he looked down the empty thoroughfare.

"There was a time," he muttered, and paused.

Silent and desolate as any in the ruins of Thebes, the street was half covered with weeds and rank grass that grew between the stones, and Spiggot could see them waving in the dim starlight.

Crail is an out-of-the-way place. It is without thoroughfare and without trade; few leave it and still fewer think of going there, for there one feels as if on the very verge of society; for there, even by day, reigns a monastic gloom, a desertion, a melancholy, an uniform and voiceless silence, broken only by the croak of the gleds and the cawing of the clamorous gulls nestling on the old church tower, while the sea booms incessantly as it rolls on the rocky beach.

But there was a time when it was otherwise; when the hum of commerce rose around its sculptured cross, and there was a daily bustle in the chambers of its Town-hall, for there a portly provost and bailies with a battalion of seventeen corpulent councillors sat solemnly deliberating on the affairs of the burgh; and swelling with a municipal importance that was felt throughout the whole East Neuk of Fife; for, in those days, the bearded Russ and redhaired Dane, the Norwayer and the Hollander, laden with merchandise, furled their sails in that deserted harbour where now scarcely a fisherboat is seen; for on Crail, as on all its sister towns along the coast, fell surely and heavily the terrible blight of 1707, and now it is hastening rapidly to insignificance and decay.

On the sad changes a year had brought about, Spiggot pondered sadly, and was only roused from his dreamy mood by the sudden apparition of a traveller on horseback standing before him; for so long and so soft was the grass of the street that his approach had been unheard by the dreamer, whose mind was wandering after the departed glories of the East Neuk.

"A cold night, landlord, for such I take you to be," said the the stranger, in a bold and cheerful voice, as he dismounted.

"A cauld night and a dreary too," sighed poor Boniface, as he bowed, and hastening to seize the stranger's bridle buckled it to a ring at the doorcheek; but the sicht of a visitor does gude to my heart; step in, Sir. A warm posset that was simmering in the parlour for myself is at your service, and I'll set the stall-boy to corn your beast and stable it."

"I thank you, gudeman; but for unharnessing it matters not, as I must ride onward; but I will take the posset with thanks, for I am chilled to death by my long ride along this misty coast."

Spiggot looked intently at the traveller as he stooped, and entering the low-arched door which was surmounted by an old monastic legend, trod into the bar with a heavy clanking stride, for he was accoutred with jack boots and gilded spurs. His rocquelaure was of scarlet cloth, warmly furred, and the long curls of his Ramillies wig flowed over it. His beaver was looped upon three sides with something of a military air, and one long white feather that adorned it, floated down his back, for the dew was heavy on it. He was a handsome man, about forty years of age, well sunburned, with a keen dark eye, and close-clipped moustache, which indicated that he had served in foreign wars. He threw his hat and long jewelled rapier aside, and on removing his rocquelaure, discovered a white velvet coat more richly covered with lace than any that Spiggot had ever seen even in the palmiest days of Crail.

According to the fashion of Queen Anne's courtiers, it was without a collar to display the long white cravat of point d'Espagne, without cuffs, and edged from top to bottom with broad bars of lace, clasps and buttons of silver the whole length; being compressed at the waist by a very ornamental belt, fastened by a large gold buckle.

"Vile and damnable! say I," interrupted the stranger.

True for ye, Sir," said Spiggot with a kindling eye; "but if these puir viands can induce ye to partake of the hospitality of my puir hostel, that like our gude burrowtoun is no just what it has been"

"Gudeman, 'tis impossible, for I must ride so soon as I have imbibed thy posset."

"As ye please, Sir-your honour's will be done. Our guests are now, even as the visits of angels, unco few and far between; and thus, when one comes, we are loath to part with him. There is a deep pitfall, and an ugly gullyhole where the burn crosses the road at the town-head, and if ye miss the path, the rocks by the beach are steep, and in a night like this_____"

"Host of mine," laughed the traveller, "I know right well every rood of the way, and by keeping to the left near the Auldlees may avoid both the blackpit and the sea-beach."

"Your honour kens the country hereawa then," said Spiggot with surprise.

"Of old, perhaps, I knew it as well as thee."

The gudeman of the Thane scru. tinised the traveller's face keenly, but failed to recognise him, and until this moment he thought that no man in the East Neuk was unknown to him; but here his inspection was at fault.

"And hast thou no visiters with thee now, friend host?" he asked of Spiggot.

"One only, gude Sir, who came here on a brown horse about nightfall. He is an unco' foreign-looking man, but has been asking the way to the castle o' Balcomie."

"Ha! and thou didst tell of this plaguey pitfall, I warrant."

66

Assuredly, your honour, in kindness I did but hint of it."

"And thereupon he stayed. Bal. comie-indeed! and what manner of man is he?"

"By the corslet which he wears under his coat, and the jaunty cock of his beaver, I would say he had been a soldier."

"Good again-give him my most humble commendations, and ask him to share thy boasted posset of wine with me."

"What name did you say, Sir?"
"Thou inquisitive varlet, I said no
2 R

"Our king is an exile-our crown is buried for ever, and our brave soldiers are banished to far and foreign wars, while the grass is growing green in the streets of our capital - ay, green as it is at this hour in your burgh of Crail; but hence to the stranger; yet say not," added the traveller, bitterly and proudly, "that in his warmth the Scottish cavalier has betrayed himself."

While the speaker amused himself with examining a printed proclamation concerning the "Tiend Commissioners and Transplantation off Paroch Kirkis," which was pasted over the stone mantelpiece of the bar, the landlord returned with the foreign gentleman's thanks, and an invitation to his chamber, whither the Major immediately repaired; following the host up a narrow stone spiral stair to a snugly wainscotted room, against the well-grated windows of which a sudden shower was now beginning to patter.

The foreigner, who was supping on a Crail-capon (in other words a broiled haddock) and stoup of Bourdeaux wine, arose at their entrance, and bowed with an air that was undisguisedly continental. He was a man above six feet, with a long straight nose, over which his dark eyebrows met and formed one unbroken line. He wore a suit of green Genoese velvet, so richly laced that little of the cloth was visible; a full bottomed wig, and a small corslet of the brightest steel (over which hung the ends of his cravat), as well as a pair of silvermounted cavalry pistols that lay on the

table, together with his unmistakeable bearing, decided the Major of Orkney's that the stranger was a brother of the sword.

"Fair Sir, little introduction is necessary between us, as, I believe, we have both followed the drum in our time," said the Major, shaking the curls of his Ramillie wig with the air of a man who has decided on what he says.

"I have served, Monsieur," replied the foreigner, under Marlborough and Eugene."

"Ah! in French Flanders? Landlord-gudeman, harkee; a double stoup of this wine; I have found a comrade to night-be quick and put my horse to stall, I will not ride hence for an hour or so. What regiment, Sir?"

"I was first under Grouvestien in the Horse of Driesberg."

"Then you were on the left of the second column at Ramillies-on that glorious 12th of May," said the Major, drawing the high-backed chair which the host handed him, and spreading out his legs before the fire, which burned merrily in the basket- grate on the hearth, "and latterly

"Under Wandenberg."

"Ah! an old tyrannical dog." A dark cloud gathered on the stranger's lofty brow.

"I belonged to the Earl of Orkney's Grey Dragoons," said the Major; "and remember old Wandenberg making a bold charge in that brilliant onfall when we passed the lines of Monsieur le Mareschal Villars at Pont-a-Vendin, and pushed on to the plains of Lens."

"That was before we invested Doway and Fort-Escharpe, where old Albergotti so ably commanded ten thousand well-beaten soldiers."

"And then Villars drew off from his position at sunset and encamped on the plain before Arras."

"Thou forgettest, comrade, that previously he took up a position in rear of Escharpe."

"True; but now I am right into the very melée of those old affairs, and the mind carries one on like a rocket. Your health, Sir-by the way, I am still ignorant of your name."

"I have such very particular reasons for concealing it in this neighbourhood, that"

"Do not think me inquisitive; in these times men should not pry too closely."

"Monsieur will pardon me I hope." "No apology is necessary, save from myself, for now my curiosity is thoroughly and most impertinently whetted, to find a Frenchman in this part of the world, here in this out-o'-theway place, where no one comes to, and no one goes from, on a bleak promontory of the German Sea, the East Neuk of Fife."

"Monsieur will again excuse me; but I have most particular business with a gentleman in this neighbourhood; and having travelled all the way from Paris, expressly to have it settled, I beg that I may be excused the pain of prevarication. The circumstance of my having served under the great Duke of Marlborough against my own King and countrymen is sufficiently explained when I acquaint you, that I was then a French Protestant refugee; but now, without changing my religion, I have King Louis' gracious pardon and kind protection extended

to me."

"And so you were with Wandenberg when his troopers made that daring onfall at Pont-a-Vendin, and drove back the horse picquets of Villars," said the Major, to lead the conversation from a point which evidently seemed unpleasant to the stranger. ""Twas sharp, short, and decisive, as all cavalry affairs should be. You will of course remember that unpleasant affair of Wandenberg's troopers who were accused of permitting a French prisoner to escape. It caused a great excitement in the British camp, where some condemned the dragoons, others Van Wandenberg, and not a few our great Marlborough himself."

"I did hear something of it," said the stranger in a low voice.

"The prisoner whose escape was permitted was, I believe, the father of the youths who captured him, a circumstance which might at least have won them mercy.

"

"From the Baron!"

"I forgot me he was indeed merciless."

"But as I left his dragoons, and indeed the army about that time, I will be glad to hear your account of

the affair."

"It is a very unpleasant story-the more so as I was somewhat concerned in it myself," said the Major, slowly filling his long stemmed glass, and watching the white worm in its stalk,

so intently as he recalled all the circumstances he was about to relate, that he did not observe the face of the French gentleman, which was pale as death; and after a short pause, he began as follows:

"In the onfall at Pont-a-Vendin, it happened that two young Frenchmen who served as gentlemen volunteers with you in the dragoon regiment of Van Wandenberg, had permittedhow, or why, I pretend not to saythe escape of a certain prisoner of distinction. Some said he was no other than M. le Mareschal Villars himself. They claimed a court martial, but the old Baron, who was a savage-hearted Dutchman, insisted that they should be given up unconditionally to his own mercy, and in an evil moment of heedlessness or haste Marlborough consented, and sent me (I was his Aid-deCamp) with a written order to that effect, addressed to Colonel the Baron Van Wandenberg, whose regiment of horse I met en route for St. Venant, about nightfall on a cold and snowy evening in the month of November.

"Snow covered the whole country, which was all a dead level, and a cold, leaden-coloured sky met the white horizon in one unbroken line, save where the leafless poplars of some far off village stood up, the landmarks of the plain. In broad flakes the snow fell fast, and directing their march by a distant spire, the Dutch troopers rode slowly over the deepening fields. They were all muffled in dark blue cloaks, on the capes of which the snow was freezing, while the breath of the men and horses curled like steam in the thickening and darkening air.

"Muflled to the nose in a well furred rocquelaure, with my wig tied to keep the snow from its curls, and my hat flapped over my face, I rode as fast as the deep snow would permit, and passing the rear of the column where, moody and disarmed, the two poor French volunteers were riding under care of an escort, I spurred to the Baron who rode in front near the kettle drums, and delivered my order; as I did so, recalling with sadness the anxious and wistful glance given me by the prisoners as I passed them.

"Wandenberg, who had no more shape than a huge hogshead, received the despatch with a growl of satisfaction. He would have bowed, but his neck was too short. I cannot but laugh