CHAPTER IV.

The parson of our parish

Has lost his puzzling cap.-Old Play

HAD the knight of La Mancha, or even Pentapoliu with the naked arm, suddenly emerged from the forest, and presented himself to the eyes of our travellers, their astonishment could not have exceeded that which they felt on beholding the figure mentioned at the conclusion of the last chapter.

Mounted on a brown mule, was a tall, thin, formal man, apparently about thirty years of age; he sat as bolt upright (to use a common simile,) as if he had swallowed a ramrod; his feet so near the ground, that unless from close inspection, it could not but appear that they did actually reach it-and he would have looked as though he were standing over a child's hobby, but that the mule taking it as no 'point of friendship,' to be so bestrode, winced and dogged, and ducked its head, and turned round and round, until finding its course obstructed by the coach, in the only path it was willing to take-it fairly lifted up its voice, and brayed aloud.

The rider was clothed in a decent suit of what was generally called parson's gray, at that time the distinguishing dress of clergymen. His blue eyes, high cheek bones, long face, and red hair, indicated that he was neither buckskin, or Yankee, but rather seemed to bespeak him of "the land of bannocks and kale.”

His sedate, composed, and rather austere cast of countenance, would well have comported with his dress, but that in one particular his appearance set at defiance all possible conjecture, as to what manner of man he might prove to be. He wore on his head a lady's blue beaver hat. Mr. Scoreum accosted the person thus described, with civility, and asked him if he was sufficiently acquainted with the neighbourhood, to enable him to inform them, whether the ladies in the coach could be accommodated in any respectable lodging near at hand: adding, that a very unpleasant occurrence, no less than an attempted robbery, had made them extremely anxious to put up for the night.

Our young friend of the inn was scarcely less astonished at the grotesque appearance of the stranger, than at the collected and courteous manner in which he replied to the landlord's question. "I regret to learn," said he of the blue beaver, "that such an outrage should have been attempted amid these peaceful, and hitherto secure and quiet shades,

"Hic secura quies, et nescia fallere vita”

had been, I thought, an appropriate motto for the entrance of this wood; and I confess the circumstance greatly moves my wonder. To your inquiries concerning a domicile, which may afford shelter during the ensuing night, the crepusculum of which I perceive has commenced, I answer, that immediately below that hill lives a wealthy and hospitable Quaker pair; who I venture without dubiety to pronounce, will afford you the desideratum you mention."

"I perceive," said Mr. Scoreum, "you speak of Mr. Basil Roberts, of Indian Spring Valley; I am perplexed in this wood, but am not so far from home, but I know who is who hereabouts; and whilst my hand

is in, I may as well guess, I see the Rev. Mr. Marmaduke Scott, formerly of Scotland, now rector of this parish." You are right sir, said the rider of the mule, in all your assumptions. Basil Roberts of Indian Spring Valley, is the person to whose house I will forthwith show you the way. Marmaduke is my patronymic, or sponsorial appellation; and had I fifty tongues, they would all bear witness that I am "nae ither than one of the Scotts; that I am a native of Scotland, is also true, for I was ere while, as the old song says,

"A man of pleasant Tiviotdale,

"Fast by the river Tweed."

As he spoke he essayed to put his steed in motion, and mulish as was the disposition of the beast, which bore this man of Tweedside, yet it saw not good to contend against such fearful odds, as its rider now had in favour of his choice of roads; and therefore on its head being pulled round by Mr. Scoreum, it trotted off at a round rate, in the direction given it.

"I would accompany your party to the house itself," said Mr. Scott, as on reaching the brow of the hill which overlooked it, he pointed it out, "but for a plaguy trick, Dunmore, my horse has got this evening of braying, and you must know, gentlemen, that Basil Roberts, though I suspect but a wet Quaker, is nevertheless a dry sarcastic humourist."

"We shall hardly be sure of a welcome without your introduction," said Scoreum; "though I must needs say, that if 'tis braying you have a dislike to, you would do well to part with Dunmore, from the length of his ears I suspect he often offends in that way."

"Eh! what?" said Mr. Scott, looking at the creature's ears as if for the first time; the whole truth at

once flashed on him, and he reddened to the forehead with confusion and indignation. "It was not, gentlemen," said he, "that I was oblivious or unmindful of Dunmore; but I left a wedding where I performed the ceremony, in some haste, and I minded not what I mounted, so that I got away, but I must leave you. I cannot bear to encounter this foolish man Basil on this preposterous animal. I will make you go the way I please," said he, as he struck the mule over the head with his switch. Ah! luckless word and bootless boast! for the mule, at this unfriendly mode of arguing the matter, set up a most terrible shout of lamentation; the truth was, she had snuffed the fragrance of a clover field, and had predetermined in her own mind not to leave Indian Spring Valley until she had partaken of its sweets.

"Imp of abomination!" said the rider, "I will see if you will take me away or not :" but just at this moment the man of all others the most dreaded by Mr. Scott stood before them, even Basil Roberts himself. Mr. Scoreum and the young gentleman immediately made him acquainted with the name of Mrs. Belcour, stated the circumstances in which she was placed, and the object of their approach to his house.

"Friends, you are heartily welcome,—were I any way given to popery-you are welcome, friends-were I any way given to popery I should cross myself."

"Shall I introduce you to the ladies in the coach ?" said Scoreum, willing to take his attention from poor Mr. Scott.

"Oh! not now," said he, "let us jog on. What were there masquers at the wedding? I pray thee tell me were there masquers ?"

"This" said Mr. Scoreum, "is the reverend Mr. Marmaduke Scott."

"I know him, friend, I know him, and am pleased to see him. I am pleased to see thee, friend Scott. Thou hast made an early flitting of it from neighbour Jolly's come, put on, put on, thy brute really trots. very easy."

"I beg you to spare your remarks," said Mr. Scott. "I acknowledge I am at a loss to know how I made the exchange."

"Well, I pretend not to read the riddle," said Roberts. "I have heard, to be sure, of persons, who, when the wind was eastwardly, did not know a hawk from a hand-saw; but that a learned scholar from St. Andrews should not know a horse from a mule, is very astonishing, and beyond the compass of my slender comprehension.

"I was in a hurry, Mr. Roberts," said Mr. Scott, "and I gave little attention to the beast I was to ride."

"Likely, likely," said the persevering Roberts; "but truly I should as soon have supposed thou wouldst have taken the widow Tryagain's blue gipsy beaver for thy own old white and brown hat. What now mightest thou suppose to be the value of that long eared bargain of thine ?"

"Master Basil Roberts," said Mr. Scott, "these strangers are little interested in this idle talk, and that you may give your attention to them I will take my leave."

"That shalt thou not; what makes the difference? so that thou wast conveyed to neighbour Jolly's, and performed the marriage ceremony. I see no cause for complaint; thou hast married the couple, and that's enough. To be sure persons less inimical to idle jokes