simple brevity of this reply. The mind wanders into the pathless field of horrible imaginings. From the moment that Macbeth encounters them on the blasted heath, he is impelled along his inevitable path by their spells. His mind is troubled with "thick-coming fancies;" his "face is a book where men may read strange matters;"-" Things bad begun, make strong themselves by ill:" until at length, he is

"in blood

Stept in so far, that, should he wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go o'er!"

and his unearthly tempters complete their horrid task, and gain their prey.

The Fairies in "A Midsummer Night's Dream" are of a nature as essentially and distinctly different as celestial from infernal; or light from darkness. Even that shrewd and knavish Sprite " Puck, is but mischievous only, not wicked; and Oberon, and Titania, and all their elfish troop are untainted with any fiendish attributes, and almost without any touches of mortality. The "delicate Ariel" is another still-varying creation of the same gifted pencil; made still more effective by it's

contrast with the monster Caliban;

" that thing of

darkness,"" as disproportioned in his manners,

as in his shape:"

"Whose mother was a Witch; and one so strong

That could control the Moon, make ebbs and flows;
And deal in her command, without her power."

But to do ample justice to all the Supernatural characters of Shakspeare, would demand a Volume, not an Essay; and however frequently we may have perused the magic page which "gives these airy nothings a local habitation and a name," it is still untiring, and still new. And though the allpotent art which gave it life, and breath, and being, is extinct; though the charm be broken, and the power lost; yet still,

"Our mighty Bard's victorious lays

Fill the loud voice of universal praise;

And baffled Spite, with hopeless anguish dumb,
Yields to Renown the centuries to come!"

A NIGHT AT THE MERMAID.

AN OLD ENGLISH TALE.

" "Tis a dismal shower, good mine Host, and the night is black as Erebus; my steed, too, is as ill conditioned as I am, without some slight respite to his labour, to travel as far as Whitehall, whither my affairs call me. So that were your Hostelry as full of guests as London town is of sign boards, you must e'en find room to afford me shelter for an hour or two."

"In troth, Master," replied the Host, "ye have chosen a naughty night to travel in. But i'faith! my private chambers are all occupied by constant guests; and my public room is filled by a set of gallants, who choose this night in every week to make merry at the sign of the Mermaid."

""Tis wondrous hard, mine Host," returned the Stranger," that a benighted traveller, and a loyal subject of her Majesty, should, in the centre of this ancient and hospitable City of London, and from so fair a Host as thou art, beg in vain for that

favour which would be freely granted to him by a wanderer of the desert. May I crave of thee at least this courtesy, to commend me to those gallants, and say that a Kentish gentleman, whom nightfall and the tempest have driven here for shelter, begs to know if he may warm himself at the same fire with them, without detriment to their merriment?"

The Host stared the pertinacious Stranger in the face, while he slowly unbarred the Inn-gate: for, during this conversation, the traveller had questioned on the outside, while the Host answered him through a small grating. "They are not such churlish curs as to deny thee that," said the latter, "although they have Players, and Poets, and ne'er-do-wells of all sorts amongst them. They drink too, plenty of Sack and Rhenish; and the silver comes at last, although sometimes it is over long in it's travels. No, no, they would not drive a night-foundered Stranger from the gates; and you, Sir, it is likely, will be wanting a flask of good wine to keep this raw night air from your stomach."

"It is the very thing, mine host," said the Stranger, as the man of flagons and puncheons was helping him from his steed, in the Inn-yard, "which I was about to crave of thee. But first

bear my message to thy guests; and I will await their answer in the hall."

The Host, or, as we shall in future call him, Master Stephen Drawwell, disappeared at this bidding; but soon returned with a message from his guests, to say that the Stranger was heartily welcome to their society. He then ushered him across a long corridor, and up a flight of steps into a spacious and lofty apartment where the gallants, of whom he bad spoken, were assembled. A long table extended the whole length of the room, while an enormous wood fire blazed at each extremity. The floor was strewed with rushes ; a pièce of state and luxury with which Master Drawwell ornamented his common room on this night of the week only; and wax tapers were placed on various parts of the table; which was also plentifully furnished with flasks and cups, bearing generous liquors of every quality.

The Stranger was kindly welcomed by the whole party, and was conducted to a seat at the right hand of the person who appeared to officiate as their President, or Chairman. A slight glance at the persons by whom he was surrounded, convinced him that he was in the company of no common men. They were, for the most part, plainly habited; and many of them were now considerably under the