overstrained, romantic, and composed by the wild imagination of an author, desirous of gratifying the popular appetite for the horrible; but those who are read in the private family history of Scotland during the period in which the scene is laid, will readily discover, through the disguise of borrowed names and added incidents, the leading particulars of an over true tale.

SIR W. SCOTT.

THE

CATASTROPHE OF DIRK HATTERAICK AND GLOSSIN.

THE jail at the county town of the shire of was one of those old fashioned dungeons which disgraced Scotland until of late years. When the prisoners arrived there, Hatteraick, whose violence and strength were well known, was secured in what was called the condemned ward. This was a large apartment near the top of the prison. A round bar of iron, about the thickness of a man's arm above the elbow, crossed the apartment horizontally at the height of about six inches from the floor, and was built into the wall at either end. Hatteraick's ankles were secured within shackles, which were connected by a chain at the distance of about four feet, with a large iron ring, which travelled upon the bar we have described. Thus a prisoner might shuffle along the length of the bar from one side of the room to the other, but could not recede farther from it in any other direction than the length of the chain admitted. When his feet had been thus

secured, the keeper removed his handcuffs, and left his person at liberty in other respects.

"The

Hatteraick had not been long in this place of confinement, before Glossin arrived at the same prison house. In respect to his comparative rank and education, he was not ironed, but placed in a decent apartment, under the inspection of Mac Guffog, who, since the destruction of the Bridewell of Portanferry by the mob, had acted here as an under turnkey. When Glossin was enclosed within this room, and had solitude and leisure to calculate all the chances against him and in his favour, he could not prevail upon himself to consider the game as desperate. estate is lost," he said, "that must go; and, between Pleydell and Mac Morlan, they'll cut down my claim on it to a trifle. My character; -but if I get off with life and liberty, I'll get money yet, and varnish that over again. Let me see: This Bertram was a child at the time-his evidence must be imperfect-the other fellow is a deserter, a gipsy, and an outlaw.-Meg Merrilies, d―n her, is dead. These infernal bills!Hatteraick brought them with him, I suppose, to have the means of threatening me, or extorting money from me. I must endeavour to see the rascal;-must get him to stand steady; must get him to put some other colour upon the business."

His mind teeming with schemes of future deceit to cover former villany, he spent the time in arranging and combining them till the hour of supper. Mac Guffog attended upon this occasion. After giving him a glass of brandy, and

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sounding him with one or two cajoling speeches, Glossin made it his request that he would help him to an interview with Dirk Hatteraick. "Impossible! utterly impossible! it's contrary to the express order of Mr. Mac Morlan, and the captain (as the head jailor of a county jail is called in Scotland) would never forgie me."

"But why should he know of it?" said Glossin, slipping a couple of guineas into Mac Guffog's hand.

The turnkey weighed the gold, and looked sharp at Glossin, "Eye, eye, Mr. Glossin, ye ken the ways o' this place. Lookee, at lockup hour, I'll return and bring ye up stairs to him.— But ye must stay a' night in his cell, for I must carry the keys to the captain for the night, and I cannot let you out again until morning-then I'll visit the wards half an hour earlier than usual, and ye may get out, and be snug in your ain birth when the captain gangs his rounds."

When the hour of ten had pealed from the neighbouring steeple, Mac Guffog came prepared with a small dark lantern. He said softly to Glossin,"Slip your shoes off, and follow me." When Glossin was out of the door, Mac Guffog, as if in the execution of his ordinary duty, and speaking to a prisoner within, called aloud, "Good night to you, sir," and locked the door, clattering the bolts with much ostentatious noise. He then guided Glossin up a steep and narrow stair, at the top of which was the door of the condemned ward; he unbarred and unlocked it, and giving Glossin the lantern, made a sign to him to enter, and locked the door behind him with the same affected accuracy.

In the large dark cell into which he was thus introduced, Glossin's feeble light for some time enabled him to discover nothing. At length he could dimly distinguish a pallet bed stretched upon the floor beside the great iron bar which traversed the room, and on that bed reposed the figure of a man. Glossin approached him, "Dirk Hatteraick!"

"Donner and hagel!" said the prisoner, sitting up, and clashing his fetters as he rose," then my dream is true! Begone, and leave me to myselfit will be your best!"

"What! my good friend, will you allow the prospect of a few weeks' confinement to depress your spirit?"

"Yes-when I am only to be released by a halter-let me alone-go about your business, and turn the lamp from my face."

"Pshaw! my dear Dirk, don't be afraid-I have a glorious plan to make all right.”

"To the bottomless pit with your plans! you have planned me out of ship, cargo, and life; and I dreamt this moment that Meg Merrilies dragged you here by the hair, and gave me the long clasped knife she used to wear-you don't know what she said. Sturm wetter! it will be your wisdom not to tempt me!"

"But, Hatteraick, my good friend, do but rise and speak to me."

"I will not!-you have caused all the mischief; you would not let Meg keep the boy; she would have returned him after he had forgot all."

"Why, Hatteraick, you are turned driveller!” "Wetter! will you deny that all that cursed

attempt at Portanferry, which lost both ship and
crew, was your device for your own job?"
"But the goods, you know"

"Curse the goods! we could have got plenty more; but, der deyvil! to lose the ship and the fine fellows, and my own life, for a cursed coward villain, that always works his own mischief with other people's hands! Speak to me no moreI'm dangerous!"

66 But, Dirk-but, Hatteraick, hear me only a few words."

"Hagel! nein."

"Only one sentence."

"Tausand curses,-rein!"

"At least get up, for an obstinate Dutch brute," said Glossin, losing his temper, and pushing Hatteraick with his foot.

66

"Donner and blitzen!" said Hatteraick, springing up and grappling with him, you will have it then?"

Glossin struggled and resisted, but so ineffectually, under his surprise at the fury of the assault, that he fell under Hatteraick, the back part of his neck coming full upon the iron bar with stunning violence. The death-grapple continued. The room immediately below the condemned ward, being that of Glossin, was, of course, empty; but the inmates of even the second apartment beneath felt the shock of Glossin's heavy fall, and heard a noise as of struggling and of groans. But all sounds of horror were too congenial to this place to excite much curiosity or interest.

In the morning, faithful to his promise, Mac

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