said the pedlar, when, after sundry fruitless efforts, he, at length, regained the faculty of speech.

"The Lord of Heaven only knows," replied the bewildered man of liquors; "I think the house is bewitched, and all that's in it. Another such a stir, and my wits are clean gone. Jack!" continued he, addressing himself to the ostler, who, at that moment, entered from the yard, "have ye seen ought of the gentleman ?"

"What he in the queer hat and boots? Sure I have."

"Where where is he?" inquired the host and the pedlar, in one breath.

"I left him in the yard, staring at old Gibbons, yonder, by the light of the stable lamp. Every man to his taste! say I; or else, it's a queer amusement to be gaping at a dead body, at this time o' night, by the light o' a stable-lamp. Indeed, you mun know, master! that when he first came in,-for I was cleaning his worship's horse"

"What!-oh, aye, I remember now, he came o' horseback; but what sort of cattle may it be? more bones than beauty, I'll warrant."

"Never saw, never will see again, such a piece of flesh the bravest black ever wore a tail, and a swinging one he has. Stands eighteen hands if an inch; such flanks such joints such eyes! but, as I was saying, in comes my gentleman, as I was combing his horse. Now, d'ye see, my mind misgave me; for, seeing such a codger come in, and a

dead man lying, may be, some ten yards off, and a dark night too, and no light but a farthing rush in a horn lanthorn, my heart jumped into my mouth, in a moment; but, howsomever, I put a bold face on the thing;-I were woundily frightened though; and so, says I, Good night to you, friend.”—“ Good night,' says he. My God! such a voice; it was like-it was like let me see: splice me if I know what it were like! but it made me drop my comb, and turn round with a flisker. Take care of my horse, my lad!' quoth he. 'Your horse,' says I to myself; 'you're a rum customer, too:-carry that tale a step farther, my dear!' By the holy he might have heard every word I had thought; for he cocks up his glim at me,-such a blinker!—I shook, like a leaf in a March wind, and kept my tongue safe from that time. So, he takes no more notice, but marches up to the corpse, as it was lying there, on Tim Shunter's old barn door, that they pulled down to carry it on. And I looked slily, with half an eye, -for I didn't care that he should spy me noting him, and, as I live, he was grinning and laughing to himself, like, and snuffing up the air; though one would think he might have found somewhat more pleasing to his eyes and his nose."

Further communication was prevented, by the entry of the object of the discourse; who requested to be shewn to his lodging for the night. With great internal reluctance, the landlord complied. The stranger courteously bade the pedlar a good night,

and departed, without removing his boots, the clank of which rang in the ears of every inmate of the dwelling. The landlord returned, looked at his doors, and retired to rest. The pedlar crept, with hesitation and doubt, to his chamber, and the ostler withdrew to his den.

It was long ere the pedlar slept; and then, his dreams were troublous and strange. He awoke again, and lay tossing on his hard couch,-his thoughts full of the stranger horseman and his marvellous laugh. Though the stranger had shewn himself more complaisant to him than to the rest, and this had, in some degree, emboldened him, yet, to divest himself of fear was impossible. He lay long, panting and wishing for the morning light, to deliver him from the horrors that assailed him, till at length, a doubtful lethargy stole over his senses.

He had lain thus to his conception the time appeared infinite-when a sudden sound seemed to drop upon his ear, and he shivered, as he recognized in it the creak of the stranger's boot, and the clank of his spur, suppressed, as if by the cautious and stealthy step of the owner: he shrunk under the bedclothes he listened the step approached-his nightcap, perforce, abandoned his head he felt, he knew that the stranger was in his room! Every nerve was unhinged; a cold sweat burst from him; the bed shook audibly under his tremblings; all was silent, till a voice, which the pedlar's fears instantly

acknowledged, called him by his name, Tapeyard, shew thy face, man!"

"Peter

The miserable pedlar, thus invoked, raised his countenance above the bed-linen, and beheld, gazing upon him, the traveller, attired as before. There was the same complacence in his looks that had before been manifested in his demeanour towards the man of goods; but, when the latter essaying to speak, ejaculated, "For the love of God!"—his exordium was cut short, by the stranger's altered look; the hue of his face deepened almost to blackness, and his brows contracted hideously, over eyes that suddenly gleamed like plates of fire, with a cold and shining light. The pedlar's faculties were suspended, until the voice of his visitor, jarring on his ear, recalled him from his trance of horror.

"Peter Tapeyard! listen to me,-to thy friend: thou art poor as the poorest of thy trade. Is it not so ?"

A deep groan, from the pedlar, announced a woful affirmative.

"Yes, thou art poor: I know thee well, though thou knowest not me, Peter! and-but look up, man! and fear not."

The pedlar obeyed. The fearfulness of the traveller's aspect had passed away.

"Thou would'st wed Mistress Simkins, the landlord's niece. Thou need'st not say aye; thy looks speak for thee, and the girl would have thee."

“Surely she would,” replied the pedlar, “ if—” "If, thou would'st say, thou wert richer. The landlord is a prudent man, and will not trust his chicken to a cold nest. Now, what would'st thou do to get thee wherewith to obtain the damsel ?"

"I would," exclaimed the pedlar, then stopped abruptly; for all the stories he had recently heard of the Evil One and his dealings, rushed upon his mind, and he shuddered at the thought of consigning his soul to perdition, even for Cicely Simkins. The stranger laughed his intolerable laugh. "Fear not, man! thy soul is safe; what have I to do with thy soul? or who would barter the cast of a bent sixpence for a pedlar's soul,-worn threadbare, too, like thine? But time is short. Listen then; there is hung round the neck of yonder dead fool, a box of gold."

"Of gold!" exclaimed the pedlar : but as mouldy brass."

"it seemed

"Peace, man!" said the other. "I tell thee it is gold; though, to the clowns that thronged hither, it seemed the base thing thou speakest,-else, their reverence for the dead had not held out so long. I wish the gold had been coined into red guineas, such as thou mayest turn them to, if wise. Hesitate not :they call it a charm, to keep away him they call the Evil One. Asses! to think a metal box can guard against his power! Remove the box-take it to the goldsmith of the next town-sell it him-marry