acquaintance with the children, but ‘the rogues fled from him like quicksilver,’ though the two eldest stood peeping when they had got to some distance. The traveller then turned his course towards the hill, crossing the foresaid swamp by a range of stepping-stones, neither the broadest nor steadiest that could be imagined. He had not climbed far up the hill when he met a man descending. He soon recognised his worthy host, though a ‘maud,’ as it is called, or a grey shepherd’s plaid, supplied his travelling jockey-coat, and a cap, faced with wild-cat’s fur, more comrhodiously covered his bandaged head than a hat would have done. As he appeared through the morning mist, Brown, accustomed to judge of men by their thewes and sinews, could not help admiring his height, the breadth of his shoulders, and the steady firmness of his step. Dinmont internally paid the same compliment to Brown, whose athletic form he now perused somewhat more at leisure than he had done formerly. After the usual greetings of the morning, the guest inquired whether his host found any inconvenient consequences from the last night’s affray. ‘I had maist forgotten’t,’ said the hardy Borderer; ‘but I think this morning, now that I am fresh and sober, if you and I were at the Withershins’ Latch, wi’ ilka ane a gude oak souple in his hand, we wadna turn back, no for half a dizzen o’ yon scaff-raff.’ ‘But are you prudent, my good sir,’ said Brown, ‘not to take an hour or two’s repose after receiving such severe contusions?’ ‘Confusions!’ replied the farmer, laughing in derision. ‘Lord, Captain, naething confuses my head. I ance jumped up and laid the dogs on the fox after I had tumbled from the tap o’ Christenbury Craig, and that might have confused me to purpose. Na, naething confuses me, unless it be a screed o’ drink at an orra time. Besides, I behooved to be round the hirsel this morning and see how the herds were coming on; they’re apt to be negligent wi’ their footballs, and fairs, and trysts, when ane’s away. And there I met wi’ Tarn o’ Todshaw, and a wheen o’ the rest o’ the billies on the water side; they’re a’ for a fox-hunt this morning,--ye’ll gang? I ‘ll gie ye Dumple, and take the brood mare mysell.’ ‘But I fear I must leave you this morning, Mr. Dinmont,’ replied Brown. ‘The fient a bit o’ that,’ exclaimed the Borderer. ‘I’ll no part wi’ ye at ony rate for a fortnight mair. Na, na; we dinna meet sic friends as you on a Bewcastle moss every night.’ Brown had not designed his journey should be a speedy one; he therefore readily compounded with this hearty invitation by agreeing to pass a week at Charlie’s Hope. On their return to the house, where the goodwife presided over an ample breakfast, she heard news of the proposed fox-hunt, not indeed with approbation, but without alarm or surprise. ‘Dand! ye’re the auld man yet; naething will make ye take warning till ye’re brought hame some day wi’ your feet foremost.’