in her last quarter, hung on the southern horizon, ready to shroud herself from such unhallowed doings in the mountain shadow. Above them was the famous burial-ground, where, time out of mind, the suicides of two counties had been enearthed. The earth was partially blackened by a thaw, which still continued; but vast wreaths lay in the hollows, and looked out in cold and chilly brightness from their mountain recesses. Grierson insisted, in terms peculiar to himself, on the old shepherd and his family giving information of the retreat of M'Dougal, who had been traced but last night to the neighbourhood. It was mentioned by one of the dragoons, that he even saw the herd-lad foregather with a figure, which he took to be William M'Dougal, on the hill-top; but he was too distant, and without his horse, else he would have given chase. The young man was interrogated, but refused to give any information on the subject. Grierson lost all patience, swore a round oath, and, presenting his pistol, shot him dead on the spot. The report of firearms brought up two figures, scarcely discernible in the dubious light, from the fold-dyke. The one was a female, the other a male. O God! they were those of Mary and William, who, being unable to withdraw himself from his beloved, had ensconced himself, along with her, amongst the rushes of the little cot. They came rushing on in frenzy, exclaiming that they were there to suffer--to be shot--to be tortured; but entreating that their kind and innocent entertainers might not suffer on their account. "So ho!" exclaimed Grierson, "we have unkennelled the foxes at last; secure them, lambs, and let us march for the guid town of Biggar; we will reach it ere night; and then, ho! my jolly lovers, for Edinburgh--sweet Edinburgh! Can you sing, my sweet maiden, 'Now wat ye wha I met yestreen?' It's a pretty song, my neat one; and all about Edinburgh, and Arthur's Seat, and love, and sweet William. You will certainly give us a stanza or two by the way? It beats your covenanting psalm-singing hollow." And then he sang out, in a whining covenanting tone-- "'Wo's me, that I in Meschech am A sojourner so long; Or that I in the tents do dwell To Grierson that belong.'