On a bench outside the tavern, and in part concealed by the deep shadows of its old, overhanging thatch-covered eaves, sat a powerful-looking youth with stick and bundle. He sat there listening to the music inside, and more than once heaved a deep sigh. It was almost impossible to see his features, but what little could be discerned showed that he was a handsome-looking and powerfully built rustic youth of about eighteen years of age. He seemed desirous of remaining concealed in the deep shadows of the house, for he crouched close under the shadow of the overhanging roof. If any one had been close enough to observe him they would have perceived that this country-looking youth not only frequently sighed but that more than once he hastily, and in an angry manner, dashed away from his eye a stray tell-tale tear-drop that trickled down his sun-burnt cheek. He listened to the merriment within, and more than once a faint sickly smile lit up his handsome features. The noise of loud laughter continued within, but all at once a labourer’s voice was heard, who shouted out, in stentorian tones— “Come, lads and lasses, I’ll give ye all a toast! Fill up yer glasses to the brim, and do justice to it.” “Hear! hear!” “What is it, Mr. Chairman?” said one and another. “Let’s have it, Hodge.” “Well,” said Hodge, rising in his chair, glass in hand, whose shadow the young stranger could see reflected on the parlour blind; “well, lads and lasses all, here’s long life and good luck to our good, kind old master, Farmer Bertram! his health with three times three.” The toast was responded to with a boisterous “three times three,” which shook the glasses on the table till they jingled, and made the windows tremble again. The young man, when he heard this toast proposed, rose from his seat, and, picking up his bundle and stick, walked hastily away, with downcast head. He had not gone far along the beaten snow track in the middle of the road ere he turned his head, and saw the figure of a single horseman approaching at a hard gallop! The horseman rode a splendid coal-black mare, which seemed to fly over the ground with wonderful grace and ease. The rider, himself, was elegantly dressed, and muffled up to the chin in a stylish great-coat, while his three-cornered hat was drawn over his eyes, and shaded his features so much that no one could scarce see his face distinctly. When he approached the “Black Bull,” he stopped for a minute, as if undecided whether he would dismount or not. After a time, however, he put spurs to his horse once more, and soon overtook the youth with his stick and bundle, who was slowly and thoughtfully walking along. “Bitter cold night, friend,” said the horseman, checking his steed into a slow walk. “Yes, it is,” was the sullen answer of the youth.