not yet ta'en root, looking, with mournful faces, to descrive any tokens of sinking in.

I'll never forget it. I was standing by when three young lads took shools, and, lifting up the truff, proceeded to howk down to the coffin, wherein they had laid the grey hairs of their mother. They looked wild and bewildered like, and the glance of their een was like that of folk out of a mad-house; and nane dared in the world to have spoken to them. They didna even speak to ane anither; but wrought on wi' a great hurry, till the spades struck on the coffin lid-which was broken. The dead-claithes were there huddled a' thegither in a nook, but the dead was gane. I took haud of Willie Walker's arm. and lookit down. There was a cauld sweat all ower me;losh me! but I was terribly frighted and eerie, Three mair were opened, and a' just alike; save and except that of a wee unkirstened wean, which was aff bodily, coffin and a’.

There was a burst of righteous indignation throughout the parish; nor without reason. Tell me that doctors and graduates maun ha'e the dead but tell it not to Mansie Wauch, that our hearts maun be trampled in the mire of scorn, and our best feelings laughed at, in order that a bruise may be properly plaistered up, or a sair head cured. Verily, the remedy is waur than the disease.

But what remead? It was to watch in the session-house, with loaded guns, night about, three at a time. I never likit to gang into the kirkyard after darkening, let a be to sit there through a lang winter night, windy and rainy it may be, wi' uane but the dead around us. Sauf us! it was an unco thought, and garred a' my flesh creep but the cause was gude-my corruption was raised-and I was determined not to be dauntoned.

I counted and counted, but the dread day at length came, and I was summonsed. All the leevelang after noon, when ca'ing the needle upon the labroad, I tried to whistle Jenny Nettles, Niel Gow, and ither funny

3 ATHENEUM, VOL. 3. 2d series.

tunes, and whiles crooned to myself between hands; but my consternation was visible, and a' wadna do.

It was in November; and the cauld glimmering sun sank behind the Pentlands. The trees had been shorn of their frail leaves; and the misty night was closing fast in upon the dull and short day: but the candles, glittered at the shop-windows, and leery-lightthe-lamps was brushing about with his ladder in his oxter, and bleezing flamboy sparking out behind him. I felt a kind of qualm of faintness and down-sinking about my heart and stomach, to the dispelling of which I took a thimbleful of spirits, and, ty ing my red comforter about my neck, I marched briskly to the sessionhouse. A neighbor, (Andrew Goldie, the pensioner,) lent me his piece, and loaded it to me. He took tent that it was only half-cock, and I wrapped a napkin round the doghead, for it was raining. No being acquaint wi' guns, I keepit the muz zle aye away from me; as every man's duty is no to throw his precious life in jeopardy.

A furm was set before the sessionhouse fire, which bleezed brightly, nor had I ony thought that such an unearthly place could have been made to look half so comfortable either by coal or candle: so my speerits rose up as if a weight had been ta'en aff them, aud I wondered, in my bravery, that a man like me could be afeard of onything, Nobody was there but a touzy, ragged, halflins callant of thirteen, (for I speered his age,) wi' a desperate dirty face, and lang carrotty hair, tearing a speldrin wi' his teeth, which lookit lang and sharp aueugh, and throwing the skin and lugs intil the fire.

We sat for amaist an hour thegither, cracking the best way we could in sic a place; nor was ony body mair likely to cast up. The night was now pitmirk; the wind soughed amid the head-stanes and railings of the gentry, (for we maun a' dee); and the black corbies in the steeple, holes cackled and crawed in a fearsome manner. A' at ance we heard

á lonesome sound; and my heart began to play pit-pat-my skin grew a' rough, like a poukit chicken-and I felt as if I didna ken what was the matter with me. It was only a false alarm, however, being the warning of the clock; and, in a minute or twa thereafter, the bell struck ten. Oh, but it was a lonesome and dreary sound! Every chap gaed through my breast like the dunt of a forehammer.

Then up and spak the red-headed laddie:-"It's no fair; anither should hae come by this time. I wad rin awa hame, only I'm frighted to gang out my lane. Do ye think the doup of that candle wad carry i' my cap?" "Na, na, lad: we maun bide here, as we are here now.-Leave me alane? Lord safe us! and the yett lockit, and the bethrel sleepin' wi' the key in his breek pouches! We canna win out now though we would," answered I, trying to look brave, though half frightened out of my seven senses; Sit down, sit down; I've baith whiskey and porter wi' me. Hae, man, there's a cauker to keep your heart warm; and set down that bottle," quoth I, wiping the saw dust aff n't with my hand," to get a toast; I'se warrant it for Deacon Jaffrey's best brown stout."

66

The wind blew higher, and like a hurricane; the rain began to fall in perfect spouts; the auld kirk rumbled, and rowed, and made a sad soughing; and the bourtrie tree behind the house, where auld Cockburn that cuttit his throat was buried, creakit and crazed in a frightful manner; but as to the roaring in the burn, it was past a' power of description. To make bad worse, just in the heart of the brattle, the grating sound of the yett turning on its rusty hinges was but too plainly heard. What was to be done? I thought of our baith rinning away; and then of our locking oursells in, and firing through the door; but wha was to pull the trigger?

Goodness watch ower us! I trumble yet when I think on't. We were perfectly between the deil and the

As I stood

deep sea-either to stand and fire our gun, or rin and be shot at. It was really a hang choice. swithering and shaking, the laddie ran to the door, and, thrawing round the key, clappit his back till't. Oh! how I lookit at him, as he stude, for a gliff, like a magpie hearkening wi' his lug cockit up, or rather like a terrier watching a rotten. "They're coming! they're coming!" he cried out, "cock the piece, ye sumph ;" while the red hair rose up from his pow like feathers; "they're coming, I hear them tramping on the gravel!" Out he stretched his arms against the wall, and brizzed his back against the door like mad; as if he had been Sampson pushing ower the pillars in the house of Dagon. "For the Lord's sake, prime the gun,' cried out, or our throats will be cut frae lug to lug before we can cry Jack Robinson! See that there's priming in the pan."

66

" he

I did the best I could; but my hale strength could hardly lift up the piece, which waggled to and through like a cock's tail on a rainy day : my knees knockit against ane anither, and though I was resigned to dee—Į trust I was resigned to dee-od, but it was a frightfu' thing to be out of ane's bed, and to be murdered in a session-house, at the dead hour of night, by unyearthly resurrectionmen, or rather let me call them deevils incarnate, wrapt up in dreadnoughts, wi' blackit faces, pistols, big sticks, and other deadly weapons.

A snuff, snuffing was heard; and, through below the door, I saw a pair of glancing black e'en. Od, but my heart nearly loupit aff the bit—a snouff, and a gur, gurring, and ower a' the plain tramp of a man's heavy tackets and cuddy heels amang the gravel. Then came a great slap like thunder on the wall; and the laddie, quitting his grip, fell down, crying, "Fire, fire! murder! holy murder !"

66

"Wha's there ?" growled a deep rough voice; open, I'm a freend." I tried to speak, but could not ; something like a happenny row was sticking in my throat, so I tried to

cough it up, but it wadna come. "Gie the pass-word then," said the laddie, staring as if his een wad loupen out; gie the pass-word ?"

66

First cam a loud whissle, and then "Copmahagen," answered the voice. Oh! what a relief! The laddie started up, like ane crazy wi' joy. "Ou! ou!" cried he, thrawing round the key, and rubbing his hands. 66 ; by jingo, it's the bethrel-it's the bethrel -it's auld Isaac himsell."

First rushed in the dog, and then Isaac, wi' his glazed hat, slouched ower his brow, and his horn bouet glimmering by his knee. "Has the French landit, do ye think? Losh keep us a'," said he, wi' a smile on his half-idiot face, (for he was a kind of a sort of a natural, wi' an infirmity in his leg,) "od sauf us man, put by your gun. Ye dinna mean to shoot me, do ye ? What are ye about here wi' the door lockit? I just keppit four resurrectioners louping ower the wa'."

"Gude guide us," I said, taking a lang breath to drive the blude frae my heart, and something relieved by Isaac's company-"Come now,Isaac, ye're just gieing us a fright. Isn't that true, Isaac ?"

"Yes, I'm joking-and what for no?-but they might have been, for onything ye wad hae hindered them to the contrair, I'm thinking. na, ye maunna lock the door; that's no fair play."

Na,

When the door was put ajee, and the furm set forenent the fire, I gaed Isaac a dram to keep his heart up on sic a cauld stormy night. Od, but he was a droll fallow, Isaac. He sung and leuch as if he had been boozing in Luckie Thampson's, wi' some of his drucken cronies. Feint a hair gaed he about auld kirks, or kirkyards, or vouts or through-stanes, or dead fock in their winding-sheets, wi' the wet grass growing ower them; and at last I began to brighten up a wee mysell, so when he had gone ower a good few funny stories, I said to him, quoth I, "mony folk, I daresay, mak mair noise about their sitting up in a kirk-yard than its a'

66

"I beg to differ wi' ye there," answered Isaac, taking out his horn mull from his coat pouch, and tapping on the lid in a queer style-"I could gie anither version of that story. Did ye no ken of three young doctorsEirish students-alang wi' some resurrectioners, as waff and wild as themsells, firing shottie for shottie wi' the guard at Kirkmabrecke, and lodging three slugs in ane of their backs, forbye firing a ramrod through anither ane's hat ?"

This was a wee alarming-" No," quoth I; 66 no, Isaac, man; I ne'er heard o't."

"But, let alane resurrectioners, do ye no think there is sic a thing as ghaists? Guide ye, man, my granny could hae telled as muckle about them as wad hae filled a minister's sermons from June to January."

"Kay-kay- that's a' buff," I said. "Are there nae cutty-stool businesses are there nae marriages gaun, Isaac ?" for I was keen to change the subject.

"Ye may kay-kay, as ye like, though; I can just tell ye this-ye'll mind auld Armstrong wi' the leather breeks, and the brown three-story wig-him that was the grave-digger? Weel, he saw a ghaist wi' his leeving een-aye, and what's better, in this very kirk-yard too. It was a cauld spring morning, and daylight just coming in, when he cam to the yett yonder, thinking to meet his man, paidling Jock-but he had sleepit in, and was na there. Weel, to the wast corner ower yonder he gaed, and throwing his coat ower a headstane, and his hat on the tap o't, he dug away wi' his spade, throwing out the mools, and the coffin handles, and the green banes, and sic like, till he stoppit a wee to tak breath.—What! are ye whistling to yoursell ?" quo' Isaac to me," and no hearing what's God's truth ?”

"Ou, aye," said I, "but ye didna tell me if onybody was cried last Sunday "I wad hae gien every farthing I had made by the needle,

to hae been at that blessed time in my bed wi' my wife and weans. Ay, how I was gruing! I mostly chacked aff my tongue in chittering-but a' wad not do.

"Weel, speaking of ghaists-when he was resting on his spade he looked up to the steeple, to see what a clock it was, wondering what way Jock hadna come, when lo! and behold, in the lang diced window of the kirk yonder, he saw a lady a' in white, wi' her hands clasped thegither, looking out to the kirk-yard at him.

"He couldna believe his een, so he rubbit them wi' his sark sleeve, but she was still there bodily, and keeping ae ee on him, and anither on his road to the yett; he drew his coat and hat to him below his arm, and aff like mad, throwing the shool half a mile ahint him. Jock fand that; for he was coming singing in at the yett, when his maister ran clean ower the tap o' him, and capsized him like a toom barrel; and never stoppit till he was in his ain house, and the door baith bolted and barred at his tail.

"Did ye ever hear the like of that, Mansie? Weel, man, I'll explain the hale history o't to ye. Ye see~ Od! how sound that callant's sleeping," continued Isaac; "he's snoring like a nine-year-auld !"

I was glad he had stoppit, for I was like to sink through the grund wi' fear; but na, it wadna do.

"Dinna ye ken-sauf us! what a fearsome night this is! The trees 'll

be a' broken. What a noise in the lum! I dare say there's some auld hag of a witch-wife gaun to come rumble doun't. It's no the first time, I'll swear. Hae ye a silver sixpence? Wad ye like that?” he bawled up the chumley. "Ye'll hae heard," said he, "lang ago, that a wee murdered wean was buried-didna ye hear a voice ?-was buried below that corner-the hearth-stane, there, where the laddy's lying on ?" I had now lost my breath, so that I couldna stop him.

"Ye never heard tell o't, didna ye? Weel, I'se tell't ye-Sauf us, what swurls of smoke coming doun the chimley-I could swear something no canny's stopping up the lum head-Gang out, and see!"

At that moment, a clap like thunder was heard-the candle was driven ower-the sleeping laddie roared "Help!" and "Murder!" and "Thieves!" and, as the furm on which we were sitting played flee backwards, crippled Isaac bellowed out, "I'm dead!—I'm killed !—shot through the head!-Oh! oh! oh!"

Surely I had fainted away: for, when I came to mysell, I found my red comforter loosed; my face a' wet-Isaac rubbing down his waistcoat wi' his sleeve-the laddie swigging ale out of a bicker-and the brisk brown stout, which, by casting its cork, had caused a' the alarm, whizz-whizz-whizzing in the chum

ley lug.

THE

HE second of November is a grand day at the cemetery of Père la Chaise. On that day in particular, the living prove that the dead are not forgotten. The graves are new weeded, the shrubs trimmed, the monuments cleaned on the eve of this day, when sorrow, affection, and pride, mingle in groupes to decorate with roses, myrtles, laurel, or the immortal amaranth, the tombs of the departed. The ceremony is so touch

ing, it has something in it so holy, so dear to humanity, that one is unwilling to fancy that vanity sometimes usurps the exterior marks of an affection that survives the tomb, and lives still green in memory. Numerous were the groupes I lately saw, all bearing garlands, crosses, pots of flowers, or boquets, to adorn the grave of a parent, a relation, or a friend. Some of them were numerous, and marched in sad and solemn state, but