for my rent," said my gudesire, who was afraid, it may be, of losing the benefit of Sir Robert's discharge.

“I will bear the contents to your credit in the rentalbook, and give you a discharge under my own hand," said Sir John, "and that on the spot. And, Steenie, if you can hold your tongue about this matter, you shall sit, from this term downward, at an easier rent."

"Many thanks to your honour," said Steenie, who saw easily in what corner the wind sat; "doubtless I will be conformable to all your honour's commands; only I would willingly speak wi' some powerful minister on the subject, for I do not like the sort of summons of appointment whilk your honour's father."

"Do not call the phantom my father!" said Sir John, interrupting him.

"Weel then, the thing that was so like him," said my gudesire; " he spoke of my coming back to him this time twelvemonth, and it's weight on my conscience."

“Aweel, then,” said Sir John, “if you be so much distressed in mind, you may speak to our minister of the parish; he is a douce man, regards the honour of our family, and the mair that he may look for some patronage from me."

Wi' that, my father readily agreed that the receipt should be burnt, and the Laird threw it into the fire with his ain hand. Burn it would not for them, though; but away it flew up the chimney, wi' a long train of sparks at its tail, and a hissing noise like a squib.

My gudesire gaed down to the Manse, and the minister, when he had heard the story, said, it was his real opinion, that though my gudesire had gaen very far in tampering with dangerous matters, yet, as he had refused the devil's arles (for such was the offer of meat and drink), and had refused to do homage by piping at his bidding, he hoped,

that if he held a circumspect walk hereafter, Satan could take little advantage by what was come and gane. And, indeed, my gudesire, of his ain accord, lang foreswore baith the pipes and the brandy-it was not even till the year was out, and the fatal day passed, that he would as much as take the fiddle, or drink usquebaugh or tippenny.

Sir John made up his story about the jack-an-ape as he liked himself; and some believe till this day there was no more in the matter than the filching nature of the brute.. Indeed ye'll no hinder some to threap, that it was nane o' the Auld Enemy that Dougal and my gudesire saw in the Laird's room, but only that wanchancy creature, the Major, capering on the coffin; and that, as to the blowing on the Laird's whistle, that was heard after he was dead, the filthy brute could do that as weel as the Laird himself, if no better. But heaven kens the truth, whilk first came out by the minister's wife, after Sir John and her ain gudeman were baith in the moulds. And then my gudesire, who was failed in his limbs, but not in his judgment or memory—at least nothing to speak of—was obliged to tell the real narrative to his friends, for the credit of his gude name. He might else have been charged for a warlock.

THE DIVER.

From the German of Schiller.

"WHO'S here of noble or vassal blood,
Of courage to dive beneath this flood?—

I fling therein a golden beaker,

And now 'tis swallowed up by the breaker;

Whoever shows me the

cup again,

May have it and keep it for his pain."

So spake King Robert of Sicily,
From a high cliff overhanging the sea,
While into the howling Charybdis he flung
The goblet of gold in his hand that, he swung-
"Who is so bold, I ask again,

As into this deep to plunge amain ?”

The knights and squires, who stood around,
Heard him, but uttered not a sound;
Tho' they mark the sinking of the cup,

No one of them cares to fish it up.

A third time the king exclaims with a frown,"Is no one so brave as to venture down?"

Yet silent as before they stood;

When a fair page of noble blood

Steps from among the fault'ring band;

His girdle and mantle he casts on the strand;
And all the men and women, amaz'd,
On the lovely youth admiring gaz'd.

And while he walks to the cliff's brow
Looking down on the gulf below,
Charybdis gave back bellowing
The waters she had been swallowing;
As with the noise of distant thunder
Her foaming womb was rent asunder.

It billows, it hisses, it seethes, and it roars,
As when water on burning forests showers;
To heaven the reeking surges spray;
Wave pushes wave in endless fray,
Exhaustless teeming full and free,
As would the sea bring forth a sea.

At length the wild force dies away,
And black, amid the foaming spray,
And bottomless, as were it the path to hell,
A growing chasm absorbs the swell;
And down the murky tunnel's yawn
Eddying, the rushing waves are drawn.

Quick, ere the waters again are abroad,
The youth commends himself to God.
Around is heard a shriek of dismay,

And already the whirlpool has borne him away;
The throat mysteriously closes o'er,

And the bold swimmer is seen no more.

Stiller becomes the watery abyss,
Climbs from the deep a hollower hiss;
The howlings more faintly die away.
All wait in anxious terrific delay,
And lips of many with trembling tell :
"Thou lofty-spirited youth, farewell!

"Were it the crown you had thrown,
And said, 'Whoever brings me the crown
Shall wear it, and be my king and lord,'
I would not fetch the dear reward.
What's hid in the howling deep below,
No living soul shall ever know.

"The whirlpool has seized on many a ship,
And dragg'd it headlong into the deep;
But only a keel or a splintered mast,
From the all-swallowing grave have past."
Now shriller and nearer the dashing is heard,
Like winds when the coming storm is fear'd.

It billows, it hisses, it seethes, and it roars,
It rushes, and gushes, and dashes, and pours,
Wave pushes wave in endless fray;

To heaven the reeking surges spray,
And with the noise of distant thunder,
Bellowing, the dark womb bursts asunder.

And lo! the swelling billows upon,
Something uplifts itself, white as a swan,
And an arm and a glittering shoulder is bare,
It rows with force and busy care;

And 'tis he! and high in his left hand held up,
He flourishes, joyfully beckoning, the cup.

With breathings long and deep he wins his way,
And drinks the air, and greets the light of day.
With frolic and clapping one cries to another,
"He lives! he is there! the abyss could not smother!
The brave one was allowed to save

His soul alive from the jaws of the grave."

He lands; the shouting choir surround;
At the king's feet he sinks on the ground,
And kneeling, reaches back the cup;
The monarch graciously lifts him up,
Beckons his daughter, so fair and so fine,
Who fills the goblet with sparkling wine,
And the page drank, and thus began :-

"Long live the king! He well may be gay,
Who breathes the rosy light of day;
Yonder lie horrors dark and dense;
Let no man tempt God's providence.
And never, never, seek to know
What graciously is veil'd below.