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it in the hands of its unfortunate owner in the inn: the portmanteau was immediately examined in the presence of the magistrate, and was found to be filled principally with gold and gems; but there were other articles of no small importance under the present circumstances. The first was an old bible, within the cover of which was written, "Presented to William White, by his affectionate mother, April 10th, 1708." On the inside of the other cover was pasted a document inscribed as follows:-" Wincanton, Feb. 2, 1692. William, the son of John and Mary White, was baptized here this day by me.

(Signed)

"GEORGE PLUCKNETT, Curate." "THOMAS GREEN, Clerk."

"ABRAHAM Gapper,

"ROBERT COOMBS,

"EMMA IRESON,

Sponsors."

The signatures of "George Plucknett" and "Thomas Green" were instantly recognised by the aged rector of Wincanton as being those of himself and the individual who held the office of clerk of the parish at the date of the register; in addition to this, a portrait was found, which was declared by the same gentleman (and corroborated by the older inhabitants of the town, to whom the features had been familiar) to be that of the deceased John White; and an antique ring, on which was engraved, in black letter, " M. W. to W. W. 1707," completed a string of evidence, which proved, beyond the possibility of a doubt, the relationship which the unfortunate victim bore to his wretched murderer; and if farther proof was wanting to establish the guilt of the despicable and unhappy Jack White, it was rendered unnecessary by his own confession, from which it appeared, that, tempted by the injudicious display made by his brother in "The George Inn," he had preceded him in his way to Wincanton, and lay in wait for him at a place nearly equi-distant from that town and Castle-Cary. The spot on which the murder was committed was too well adapted for the purpose, the road being bounded on either side by a dreary common, or waste, of considerable extent, which terminates on the south side in a narrow lane; it was at the mouth of this lane, screened from observation by a furze bush, that the murderer expected the arrival of his prey; and no sooner had the latter passed the fatal spot, than a tremendous blow from a bludgeon brought him to the ground; he, however, succeeded in rising, and attempted to struggle with his unknown adversary; and the strength and vigour he possessed might have proved sufficient to defend him against his assaulter, had not the murderer, during the scuffle, drawn from his pocket a large clasp knife, and stabbed him to the heart. But little remains to be added to the melancholy recital. shameful and ignominious death closed the degraded life of the last

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miserable descendent of the proud "Le Blancs." In accordance with the barbarous "wisdom of our ancestors," he was hung in chains on the spot where his hand had shed a brother's blood. By a singular and melancholy coincidence, that spot once formed a part of the extensive and confiscated estate of his wealthy and honourable progenitors; and the very tree which was felled to afford a gibbet to the fratricide, had been planted by the hand of his grandfather. The birds of the air soon left his bones to whiten and decay in the rain and the dew of heaven; but the gibbet and the chain stood for nearly a century, to warn the scared peasant of the vicinity of the scene of blood; and though they too have at length yielded to the rude attacks of time, and the march of modern improvement, which has inclosed the common, and driven the harrow and the plough-share over the blood-stained earth, yet the revolutions of three generations have not been able to root out from the traditional lore of the surrounding villagers this tale of horror. The mansion of "The Dogs," parcelled out into a few wretched tenements, affords a miserable shelter to some of the poorest inhabitants of Wincanton. The memory of the haughty "Le Blancs," and of the Moggs, their successors, have both alike sunk into oblivion; but the crime and the fate of the fratricide have been more imperishable than the fame of his ancestors; and the trembling and simple-hearted peasant still shudders, as he points out to his wondering and affrighted children the site of "JACK WHITE'S GIBBET."

THE SONGS OF SCOTLAND.

O GIVE me yet another lay,-
One song of Scotland ere we part;
Thou dost not know the magic sway
Such accents hold upon my heart.

They lead me back to girlhood's hour,
When music's spell my soul possess'd,
And when, of all its treasured lore,
I loved the songs of Scotland best.

I sang them in the glittering throng,

And oft, when pressed to change the strain,
Coldly I breathed the chosen song,
Then turn'd to Scotland's lays again.

I murmur'd them alone-and then
With fancied scenes my sight was glad ;
I wandered through some northern gleu,
In silken snood and robe of plaid.

I watched the waterfall's white spray,
Wove garlands of the yellow broom,
Heard the sweet mavis pour its lay,
And saw the opening gowans bloom.
Those days have past ;-I now repress
The waking dreams indulged before;
The charm of fancy charms me less,
The power of custom rules me more.

And varied songs attract my praise,-
The German strain of wild romance,
Soft Italy's subduing lays,

And the light airs of merry France.

Yet, when the simple melodies
Of bonny Scotland greet my ear,
Forth at the potent call arise

Feelings and thoughts long prized and dear.

My sunny girlhood smiles again,

And, 'midst a world of strife and art,

The songs of Scotland still retain

Their early empire o'er my heart.

[M. A.] The Metropolitan.

THE OUTLAW'S BRIDE.

You are welcome, love, to the merry green wood,

The outlaw's forest-home

To our bower beneath yon mossy cliff,
With its ivy-fretted dome :

No care or trouble here we know,

Save when the winds too rudely blow.

Your father's towers are proud, my love,
The proudest in Navarre,

But on our vales the sunshine falls
More gladsomely by far;

And on our cliffs the moon-beams sleep
More calmly than on donjon keep.

Seek ye for song? Gay troubadours
Beneath the hollen tree,

Will sing a pleasant rondelay
In honour, love, of thee-

The proudest peer or palatine,

Might envy such a choir as thine.

Love dwells not in the Baron's strength;
Love shuns the princely hall:

But he seeks the wild wood's waving shade,
Where none may him enthrall.
Then welcome to our valleys green,
My own, my peerless forest queen!

R. J. M.

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THE FORTUNES OF MARTIN WALDECK. THE solitudes of the Harz forest in Germany, but especially the mountains called Blockberg, or rather Brockenberg, are the chosen scene for tales of witches, demons, and apparitions. The occupation of the inhabitants, who are either miners or foresters, is of a kind that renders them peculiarly prone to superstition, and the natural phenomena which they witness in pursuit of their solitary or subterraneous profession, are often set down by them to the interference of goblins or the power of magic. Among the various legends current in that wild country, there is a favourite one, which supposes the Harz to be haunted by a sort of tutelar demon, in the shape of a wild man, of huge stature, his head wreathed with oak leaves, and his middle cinctured with the same, bearing in his hand a pine torn up by the roots. It is certain that many persons profess to have seen such a form traversing, with huge strides, in a line parallel to their own course, the opposite ridge of a mountain, when divided from it by a narrow glen; and indeed the fact of the apparition is so generally admitted, that modern scepticism has only found refuge by ascribing it to optical deception.+

In elder times, the intercourse of the demon with the inhabitants was more familiar, and, according to the traditions of the Harz, he was wont, with the caprice usually ascribed to these earth-born powers, to interfere with the affairs of mortals, sometimes for their weal, sometimes for their woe. But it was observed, that even his gifts often turned out, in the long run, fatal to those on whom they were bestowed, and it was no uncommon thing for the pastors, in their care of their flocks, to compose long sermons, the burden whereof was a warning against having any intercourse, direct or indirect, with the Harz demon. The fortunes of Martin Waldeck have been often quoted by the aged to their giddy children, when they were heard to scoff at a danger which appeared visionary.

A travelling capuchin had possessed himself of the pulpit of the thatched church at a little hamlet called Morgenbrodt, lying in the Harz district, from which he declaimed against the wickedness of the inhabitants, their communication with fiends, witches, and fairies, and, in particular, with the woodland goblin of the Harz. The doc

*From 'The Antiquary.' 'The outline of this story,' says Sir Walter Scott, in his Notes to the new edition of his Novels, is taken from the German, though the author is at present unable to say in which of the various collections of the popular legends in that language, the original is to be found.'

+ The shadow of the person who sees the phantom, being reflected upon a cloud of mist, like the image of the magic lantern upon a white sheet, is sup. posed to have formed the apparition.

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trines of Luther had already begun to spread among the peasantry, for the incident is placed under the reign of Charles V., and they laughed to scorn the zeal with which the venerable man insisted upon his topic. At length, as his vehemence increased with opposition, so their opposition rose in proportion to his vehemence. The inhabitants did not like to hear an accustomed quiet demon, who had inhabited the Brockenberg for so many ages, summarily confounded with Baalpeor, Ashtaroth, and Beelzebub himself, and condemned without reprieve to the bottomless Tophet. The apprehensions that the spirit might avenge himself on them for listening to such an illiberal sentence, added to their national interest in his behalf. A travelling friar, they said, that is here to-day and away to-morrow, may say what he pleases: but it is we, the ancient and constant inhabitants of the country, that are left at the mercy of the insulted demon, and must, of course, pay for all. Under the irritation occasioned by these reflections, the peasants from injurious language betook themselves to stones, and having pebbled the priest pretty handsomely, they drove him out of the parish to preach against demons elsewhere.

Three young men, who had been present and assisting on this occasion, were upon their return to the hut where they carried on the laborious and mean occupation of preparing charcoal for the smelting furnaces. On the way, their conversation naturally turned upon the demon of the Harz and the doctrine of the capuchin. Max and George Waldeck, the two elder brothers, although they allowed the language of the capuchin to have been indiscreet and worthy of censure, as presuming to determine upon the precise character and abode of the spirit, yet contended it was dangerous, in the highest degree, to accept of his gifts, or hold any communication with him. He was powerful they allowed, but wayward and capricious, and those who had intercourse with him seldom came to a good end. Did he not give the brave knight, Ecbert of Rabenwald, that famous black steed, by means of which he vanquished all the champions at the great tournament at Bremen ? and did not the same steed afterwards precipitate itself with its rider into an abyss so steep and fearful, that neither horse nor man were ever seen more? Had he not given to Dame Gertrude Trodden a curious spell for making butter come? and was she not burnt for a witch by the grand criminal judge of the Electorate, because she availed herself of his gift? But these, and many other instances which they quoted, of mischance and ill-luck ultimately attending on the apparent benefits conferred by the Harz spirit, failed to make any impression upon Martin Waldeck, the youngest of the brothers.

Martin was youthful, rash, and impetuous; excelling in all the exercises which distinguish a mountaineer, and brave and undaunted

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