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Ourisk still survives, but like some other personages in the picture, with talents and temper rather the worse for wear. She has become what Dr. Rutty, the Quaker, records himself in his journal as having sometimes been-sinfully dogged and snappish.

If it should suit Mr. * *'s purpose to adopt the above illustrations, he is heartily welcome to them, but I make it my especial bargain that nothing more is said upon such a meagre subject.

It strikes me, however, that there is a story about old Thomas Scott, the shepherd, which is characteristic, and which I will make your friend welcome to. Tom was, both as a trusted servant, and as a rich fellow in his line, a person of considerable importance among his class in the neighbourhood, and used to stickle a good deal to keep his place in public opinion. Now, he suffered, in his own idea at least, from the consequence assumed by a country neighbour, who, though neither so well reputed for wealth or sagacity as Thomas Scott, had yet an advantage over him, from having seen the late King, and used to take precedence upon all occasions when they chanced to meet. Thomas suffered under this superiority. But after this sketch was finished, and exhibited in London, the newspapers made it known that his present Majesty had condescended to take some notice of it. Delighted with the circumstance, Thomas Scott set out on a most oppressively hot day, to walk five miles to Bowden,

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where his rival resided. He had no sooner entered the cottage than he called out in his broad forest dialect " Andro', man, did ye anes sey (see) the King?" "In troth did I, Tam," answered Andro'; "sit down, and I'll tell ye a' about it :-ye sey, I was at Lonon, in a place they ca' the park, that is, no like a hained hog-fence, or like the four-nooked parks in this country-" "Hout awa," said Thomas, "I have heard a' that before: I only came ower the know now to tell you, that, if you have seen the king, the king has seen mey" (me). And so he returned with a jocund heart, assuring his friends "it had done him muckle gude to settle accounts with Andro'." Jocere hæc as the old Laird of Restalrig writes to the Earl of Gowrie-farewell my old, tried, and dear friend of forty long years. Our enjoyments must now be of a character less vivid than those we have shared together,

But still at our lot it were vain to repine,

Youth cannot return, or the days of Lang Syne.

Your's affectionately,

Abbotsford, 2d August, 1827.

WALTER SCOTT.

The Night before the Battle of Montiel.

A DRAMATIC SKETCH,

From the Spanish of Don Juan Algalaba.

[The battle of Montiel was that which determined the fate of Pedro the Cruel. Just ten years before it took place he and Edward the Black Prince had utterly defeated at Nejara Henry (called of Transtamara) Pedro's natural brother, the competitor for the throne of Castile: But in the interval Pedro's cruelties had alienated the affection of his subjects, and the murder of his wife Blanche of Bourbon, sister to the king of France, had stirred up an enemy whom, being deserted by the English Prince, he had no longer any sufficient means to resist.

Pedro's famous mistress, Maria de Padilla, was in the castle of Montiel when the battle was fought, and after her lover was slain received the body and was permitted to bury it.

The French army was commanded by the illustrous Bertrand du Guesclin-in whose memoirs the highly picturesque details of the conflict, the subsequent meeting of the brothers, and the death of Pedro, may be found. Le Begue was the French knight who stabbed Pedro.]

SCENE I.

SCENE-The Camp of Henry.

ALAIN DE LA HOUSSAYE AND LE BEGUE.

HOUSSAYE.

I do remember even on such a sky

King Pedro's banner flaunted, even so calm

And heavy hung yon selfsame royal blazon
Upon the air, as the slow sun went down
The night before Nejara.

LE BEGUE.

'Twas in Paris,

I heard the tidings of that field;-I knew not

That my old friend rode in Prince Henry's host
Else had I not rejoiced.

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I had heard many things against Don Pedro,
Yet, truth to speak, it seemed to me foul scorn,
That one whose mother never had been married,
Should put his hand forth-clutching at the crown.

HOUSSAYE. I hope we'll have no thoughts like
these to-morrow.

LE BEGUE. Not I, the fleurdelys will be i' the van.
HOUSSAYE. My thoughts shall be upon the
Lady Blanche.

LE BEGUE. Aye, well they may

That bloody Jewess-is it known if she

Be still with Pedro? Follows she the camp?

HOUSSAYE. They say she doth-but see! Lord

Onis comes,

And he can tell us further.

LE BEGUE.

The old lord

Walks very solemnly methinks to-night,

His pace is sober as a hooded priest.

HOUSSAYE. Aye, and I'll warrant ye his thoughts

more sober,

Than oft lie hid beneath the gown and cowl.

LE BEGUE.

In the hot hour

The chance is equal! be we French or Spaniard-
But if the day go darkly, and Don Henry
Find on Montiel the fortune of Nejara,-

No ransom for a traitor.

HOUSSAYE.

Look upon him!

There sits no selfish fear on Onis' brow;

He is a Spaniard, and we war in Spain.
The rival chiefs are brothers-and the swords
That glow even now in many a strenuous hand
As they receive the polish and the point,
Must gleam ere long before the eyes of kindred.
Where'er may fall the chance of victory,

Yon stream, amidst to-morrow's noontide brightness, Will be more purple with Castilian blood,

Than now the broad sun sinking paints its face.

LE BEGUE. He passes on-he takes no note of us.
HOUSSAYE. We greet you well, Lord Onis!

ONIS.

Ha! fair Sirs!

I crave your pardon. Whither be ye bound?

HOUSSAYE. Du Guesclin's trumpet hath not sounded yet?

ONIS. They are together in the royal tent.

Anon we shall be summoned.

LE BEGUE. Doth the Prince,

(I crave your grace, the king) doth he to-morrow Charge on the centre of his brother's battle?

ONIS. I would it were not so; but, if I know him, It would be heavy tidings for his ear,

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