"And yet you trust this gay, this buoyant!--this young man, constituted by nature, to be only too sensible to the world's allurements; you trust him to the temptations of his uncle's roof?" "Because," replied the Pastor, "they are no temptations to him. Setting aside the principles with which religion fortifies his heart, his taste is too pure not to be disgusted with the coarse jollity of Sir Anthony's usual boon companions. These sots see nothing in their wassal-bowl, but the wine and its spices. It is the possible visits of Duke Wharton, and a few of his anacreontic associates, that excite my apprehension. He drugs the cup with the wreath of genius. The wit, the grace, the sorceries of that man, indeed fill me with alarm: and from his society, as I would snatch a swimmer from the verge of a whirlpool, I shall hasten to bear away my yet uncorrupted nephew." The Marquis enquired how, with these sentiments, and after the rupture with Sir Anthony, Mr. Athelstone had ever suffered Louis de Montemar to touch such a vortex again.--Mr. Athelstone apologized for having digressed so long from this most necessary part of his narrative; and proceeded to relate the accident which re-introduced the uncle and nephew to each other. What he succinctly related, is more particularly given thus: In the autumn of the preceding year, Louis obtained his guardian's permission to accompany a neighbouring gentleman to the Red-deer hunt at Blair Athol in Scotland. On the first day, several fine harts were roused and slain. But just as the two Northumbrians were seating themselves on a high wooded cliff to take some refreshment after a hot pursuit, the forester who attended them approached, crouching on hands and knees, and silently made a sign, pointing to the glen beneath.--On looking where he levelled, they saw two fine stags upon a rock below, which projected over the river Tilt. Louis immediately took aim, and shot one of them on the edge of the precipice; the animal fell headlong into the stream; and the victor, with his followers, hastened down the glen to secure his prize. About the same instant, a huntsman, who had been with the foremost all day, from an opposite direction had espied the companion of the slain stag galloping forward in affright. He lost not a moment, but fired, and wounded the creature in the haunches. The disabled deer slackened his pace, and the huntsman let a hound loose after him, who held him at bay on a high bank; but the stag recovered courage, and broke away again.--Another dog was then unleashed, which brought him to a stand in a deep dell, filled by the current of a mountain-stream. This second hound ran in upon his antagonist, and seized him between the horns. The stag gored him from shoulder to shoulder, and alarmed for the life of his dog, the huntsman made a spring into the water, to shoot the deer without danger to the hound. But in his haste, the man fell, and with his gun under him. At this