Ahora bien, dixo el Cura, traedme, senor huésped, aquesos libros, que los quiero ver. Que me place, respondió el, y entrando, en su aposento, sacó dél una maletilla vieja cerrada con una cadenilla, y abriéndola, halló en ella tres libros grandes y unos papeles de muy buena letra escritos de mano.-DON QUIXOTE, Parte I. Capitulo 32. It is mighty well, said the priest; pray, landlord, bring me those books, for I have a mind to see them. With all my heart, answered the host; and, going to his chamber, he brought out a little old cloke-bag, with a padlock and chain to it, and opening it, he took out three large volumes, and some manuscript papers written in a fine character.-JARVIS's Translation. TALE II.-CONTINUED. OLD MORTALITY. CHAPTER I. My hounds may a' rin masterless, For there again maun I never be! Old Ballad. WE left Morton, along with three companions in captivity, travelling in the custody of a small body of soldiers who formed the rear-guard of the column under the command of Claverhouse, and were immediately under the charge of Serjeant Bothwell. Their route lay towards the hills in which the insurgent presbyterians were reported to be in arms. They had not prosecuted their march a quarter of a mile ere Claverhouse and Evandale gallop. ped past them, followed by their orderlymen, in order to take their proper places in the column which preceded them. No sooner were they past than Bothwell halted the body which he commanded, and disencumbered Morton of his irons. 'King's blood must keep word," said the dragoon. "I promised you should be civilly treated so far as rested with me.Here, Corporal Inglis, let this gentleman ride alongside of the other young fellow who is prisoner; and you may permit them to converse together at their pleasure, under their breath, but take care they are guarded by two files with loaded carabines. If they attempt an escape, blow their brains out. You cannot call that using you un civilly," he continued, addressing himself to Morton, "it's the rules of war, you know. And, Inglis, couple up the parson and the old woman, they are fittest com pany for each other, d-n me; a single file may guard them well enough. If they speak a word of cant or fanatical nonsense, let them have a strapping with a shoul der belt. There's some hope of choking a silenced parson; if he is not allowed to hold forth, his own treason will burst him." Having made this arrangement, Bothwell placed himself at the head of the party, and Inglis, with six dragoons, brought up the rear. The whole then set forward at a trot, with the purpose of overtaking the main-body of the régiment. Morton, overwhelmed with a complica tion of feelings, was totally indifferent to the various arrangements made for his secure custody, and even to the relief afford ed him by his release from the fetters. He experienced that blank and waste of the heart which follows the hurricane of pas sion, and, no longer supported by the pride and conscious rectitude which dictated his answers to Claverhouse, he survey ed with deep dejection the glades through which he travelled, each turning of which had something to remind him of past happiness and disappointed hope. The eminence which they now ascended was that from which he used first and last to behold the ancient tower when approaching or retiring from it, and, it is needless to add, that there he was wont to pause, and gaze with a lover's delight on the battlements, which, rising at a distance out of the lofty wood, indicated the dwelling of her, whom he either hoped soon to meet or had recently parted from. Instinctively he turned his head back to take a last look of a scene formerly so dear to him, and no less instinctively he heaved a deep sigh. It was echoed by a loud groan from his. companion in misfortune, whose eyes, moved, perchance, by similar reflections, had taken the same direction. This indication of sympathy, on the part of the captive, was uttered in a tone more coarse than sentimental; it was, however, the expression of a grieved spirit, and so far corresponded with the sigh of Morton. In turning their heads their eyes met, and Morton recognised the stolid countenance of Cuddie Headrigg, bearing a rueful expression, in which sorrow for his own lot was mixed |