IN the romance which followed "Quentin Durward," Sir Walter resumed his illustration of the manners of his own country. "St Ronan's Well" appeared in December 1823, and in this novel he, for the first time, adventured on the representation of contemporaneous history. In England, its reception was cold; but Scottish readers maintained that Meg Dods and Clara Mowbray were among the best creations of the "Unknown." At Innerleithen, the scene of the novel, there was great rejoicing, the inhabitants proposing to drop its old name, and substitute that of St Ronan's. In our first illustration, our artist represents the meeting of Tyrrel and Clara Mowbray. "She pulled up the reins, and stopped as if arrested by a thunderbolt. 'Clara!' 'Tyrrel!' These were the only words that were exchanged between them until Tyrrel, moving his feet as slowly as if they had been lead, began gradually to diminish the distance which lay betwixt them.... 'Surely you need not come,' said Clara, 'either to renew your own unhappiness or to augment mine.' 'To augment yours-God forbid!' answered Tyrrel. 'No; I came hither only because, after so many years of wandering, I longed to revisit the spot where all my hopes lay buried.' 'Ay, buried is the word,' she replied; 'crushed down and buried when they budded fairest. I often think of it, Tyrrel; and there are times when-Heaven help me!-I can think of little else. Look at me; you remember what I was; see what grief and solitude have made me.' She flung back the veil which surrounded her riding-hat, and which had hitherto hid her face. It was the same countenance which he had formerly known in all the bloom of early beauty; but though the beauty remained, the bloom was fled for ever. Not the agitation of exercise-not that which arose from the pain and confusion of this unexpected interview-had called to poor Clara's cheek even the momentary semblance of colour. Her complexion was marble-white, like that of the finest piece of statuary." With inimitable zest, Mr George Cruikshank has represented the rencontre between Meg Dods and Captain MacTurk. Meg flourished the broom round her head, exclaiming, as the Captain approached, "I ken your errand weel eneugh, and I ken yoursel'; ye are ane of the folk that gang aboot yonder, setting folks by the lugs, as callants set their collies to fecht; but ye shall come to nae lodger o' mine, let-a-be Maister Tirl, wi' ony sic ungodly errand; for I am ane that will keep God's peace and the king's within my dwelling." The apostrophe was followed by another flourish of the broom, which obliged the Captain to retire a few paces, and stand on the defensive. [Illustration: 102] [Illustration: 103] RED GAUNTLET.