twelve months since he stood, was the dark comely stranger. The very type of previous years were the proceedings of the day; the same homely village simplicity, the jocund song, the rustic dance, the same potations of home-brewed and cider; the same greetings, the same partings. Somewhat later than was considered within the bounds of prudence, the handmaid of Editha, accompanied by Giles, her lover, approached the wicket that opened on the lawn before Squire Elmore’s mansion, where she was met by the dark stranger of the Fair, who, tendering her a golden coin,—by way of hush money,—bade her convey to her young mistress a note of delicate proportions. Promise of secrecy was exacted; the parting kiss was exchanged between the blushing Abigail and Giles; and the latter accepting the companionship of the stranger, the two bent their steps to Rottingdean, where the honest rustic returned to his home. Where the stranger rested for the night has never transpired. Early the following morning Mag was at the mansion, the domestics of which, anxious to learn how they were ruled by the stars, parted freely with their silver pieces. The Abigail of the previous night’s adventure was particularly anxious to learn her destiny; and the truth which was essayed of her Giles, his age, his complexion, his temper, and his prospects, gave full assurance of the marvellousness of Mag’s divining skill, to which the fair Editha, with whom she also had an interview, gave implicit credence. Four-and-twenty hours, however, wrought a great change at the mansion, and likewise in the hamlet of Ovingdean. A more than usual oppression and sultriness pervaded the atmosphere throughout the day, and towards nightfall the war of elements commenced, the sharp flashes of lightning increasing in vividness, the artillery of the heavens roaring in awful solemnity, and the massive clouds discharging their drenching cataracts. Such a night had never been previously known in the neighbourhood; and every person anxiously waited the coming dawn to learn the havoc of the dreadful storm. The inmates of the mansion were early stirring, and, much sooner than usual, Mr. and Mrs. Elmore were at breakfast. But they had not been long seated when they were informed that Miss Editha could nowhere be found, and that by the appearance of her bed-chamber she had not retired to rest during the night. The note which had been delivered by the stranger, and was then lying on the dressing table, appointing a midnight interview upon the Downs, was all that could be found to account for her absence. The most diligent search of the premises and the plantation contiguous was immediately made, and a dispatch without delay was sent off to Ovingdean, in the hopes that tidings might be heard of her there; but all was fruitless. Previous, however, to the news reaching that village, upon passing by the church, the sexton discovered, in the