more especially after what had just passed between them and the young stranger. On their way home, Conachar stepping up to the Glover, said to him "master, walk faster, we are dogged.' Accordingly, old Simon falling behind his daughter and his young companion, observed a man following them step by step in a very stealthy and suspicious manner. At length, however, they arrived at the Glover's house, who seeing his daughter now fairly out of harm's way, called upon his unknown follower to declare himself and his purposes. He was answered in one of the deepest tones that ever satisfied an interrogator, and he immediately recognised in the respondent no other person than his crony, HENRY Gow, who was just returned to Perth after an absence of some time. In a moment the Gow is pulled into the parlour (which, according to the Scottish custom served for a kitchen also) a lamp is blazing, Dorothy cooking them a supper, and the guest, seated before a cheerful fire, recounting the adventures of his late journey. As this Henry Gow is a very important personage in our history, being no less than its hero, we present to our readers the following portrait of him:

"Their unknown attendant now stood in full light among them, and though his appearance was neither dignified nor handsome, his face and figure were not only deserving of attention, but seemed in some manner to command it. He was rather below the middle stature, but the breadth of his shoulders, length and brawniness of his arms, and the muscular appearance of the whole man, argued a most unusual share of strength, and a frame kept in vigour by constant exercise. His legs were somewhat bent, but not in a manner which could be said to approach to deformity; on the contrary, which seemed to correspond to the strength of his frame, though it injured, in some degree, its symmetry. His dress was of buff-hide; and he wore in a belt, around his waist, a heavy broad-sword, and a dirk poniard, as if to defend his purse, which (burgher-fashion) was attached to the same cincture. The head was well proportioned, round, close cropped, and curled thickly with black hair. There was daring and resolution in the dark eye, but the other features seemed to express a bashful timidity, mingled with good humour, and obvious satisfaction at meeting with his old friends. Abstracted from the bashful expression, which was that of the moment, the forehead of Henry Gow, or Smith, (for he was indifferently so called, as both words equally indicated his profession) was high and noble, but the lower part of the face was less happily formed. The mouth was large, and well-furnished with a set of firm and beautiful teeth, the appearance of which corresponded with the air of personal health and muscular strength, which the whole frame indicated. A short thick beard, and moustaches which had lately been arranged with some care, completed the picture. His age could not exceed eight-and-twenty." Vol. i. p. 35.

At this period there occurs an incident apparently trivial, but which leads to such important consequences in the sequel, and is so necessary to a proper understanding of the whole plot, that we must dwell upon it more particularly. The Glover after some time passed in conversation with the Gow, remarks with displeasure, that Conachar is not present, and bids Dorothy, who informs him that the youth is retired to bed in his cock-loft, call him down immediately and set him about his business. The call was answered with a sullen murmur, and presently after the unwilling apprentice inakes his appearance, and with a gloomy and haughty countenance, proceeds to discharge the duties of a menial servant, in spreading the board, arranging the trenchers, &c. A significant look from Catharine however, made him suppress his dissatisfaction as well as he might for some time, until in the course of the conversation, the Smith spoke his mind rather too freely of the wild Highlandmen, for whom he was very far from entertaining a due degree of respect. The consequence was, that Conachar, who was a Celt, refused to serve him to ale, until he was compelled to do so by his master, and then he contrived to empty the contents of the can into the bosom instead of the goblet of the Gow. A scuffle ensues, in which the irascible youth stabs his muscular adversary in the neck, without doing more harm than drawing a little blood, and then quietly leaves the room, nobody caring to pursue him. After the composure of the company had been somewhat restored, Catharine undertook to give the Smith (as it seems to have been her custom to do) a long lecture about the abominable sin of homicide, and the barbarous spirit of that iron age, concluding her philosophical capucinade, which is in rather a more elevated strain than beseems a glover's daughter in the fourteenth century, with an earnest exhortation to her catechumen, that he should never again use, or even handle arms. The enamoured armourer (for so he was) exhibits all the docility and contrition which might be expected of a lover on such an occasion; but, at the same time, presumes to suggest the difficulty, that as he lives by making arms, it would be impossible for him not to see, and seeing, not to handle and to use them. The old Glover, however, who is pre-determined that Henry Gow shall be his daughter's Valentine, precisely because he is unrivalled in his profitable craft, loses all patience at the bare idea of his abandoning it, and rewards Kate's philosophy, by ordering her, rather rudely, to quit the room. The guest is now about retiring, but Simon will not consent to it. A three-quart bottle here makes its appearance, and an edifying tête-a-tête ensues, in which the Smith talks in rather a puling strain of his pas

sion for the Fair Maid of Perth, whom he "holds as a thing ensky'd and sainted," and at last declares himself jealous of Conachar. The Glover assures him if he wishes it, he will send the "land-louper" adrift the next morning, adding, that his services as an apprentice were worth nothing, since he cut all his gloves out for the right hand, and never could finish a pair in his life. The reply of the Smith will remind the reader of the amusing reasons given in Don Quixotte for Angelica's preference of Medoro to Orlando.

"No doubt, his notions of skin-cutting are rather different,' said Henry. 'But with your leave, father, I would only say, that work he, or be he idle, he has no bleared eyes-no hands seared with the hot iron, and welked by the use of the fore-hammer-no hair rusted in the smoke, and singed in the furnace, like the hide of a badger, rather than what is fit to be covered with a Christian bonnet. Now, let Catharine be as good a wench as ever lived, and I will uphold her to be the best in Perth, yet she must see and know that these things make a difference betwixt man and man, and that the difference is not in my favour.'

'Here is to thee, with all my heart, son Harry,' said the old man, filling a brimmer to his companion, and another to himself; 'I see, that good smith as thou art, thou ken'st not the mettle that women are made of. Thou must be bold, Henry; and bear thyself not as if thou wert going to the gallow-lee, but like a gay young fellow, who knows his own worth, and will not be slighted by the best grandchild Eve ever had. Catharine is a woman like her mother, and thou thinkest foolishly to suppose they are all set on what pleases the eye. Their ear must be pleased too, man; they must know that he whom they favour is bold and buxom, and might have the love of twenty, though he is sueing for theirs. Believe an old man, women walk more by what others think than by what they think themselves; and when she asks for the boldest man in Perth, whom shall she hear named but Harry Burn-the-wind?-The best armourer that ever fashioned weapon on anvil? why Harry Smith again-The tightest dancer at the May-pole? -why, the lusty smith-The gayest troller of ballads ?-why, who but Harry Gow?-The best wrestler, sword-and-buckler player-the king of the weapon-shawing-the breaker of mad horses-the tamer of wild Highlandmen ?-ever more it is thee-thee-no one but thee.-And shall Catharine prefer yonder slip of a Highland boy to thee? Pshaw! she might as well make a steel gauntlet out of kid's leather. I tell thee, Conachar is nothing to her, but so far as she would fain prevent the devil having his due of him, as of other Highlandmen-God bless her, poor thing, she would bring all mankind to better thoughts if she could.'

'I

In which she will fail to a certainty,' said the Smith, who, as the reader may have noticed, had no good will to the Highland race. will wager on Old Nick, of whom I should know something, he being indeed a worker in the same element with myself, against Catharine on that debate the devil will have the tartan; that is sure enough.'

'Ay, but Catharine,' replied the Glover, 'hath a second thou knowest little of-Father Clement has taken the young reiver in hand, and he fears a hundred devils as little as I do a flock of geese.'

'Father Clement!' said the Smith; 'you are always making some new saint in this godly city of Saint Johnstoun. Pray, who, for a devil's drubber, may he be ?—one of your hermits that is trained for the work like a wrestler for the ring, and brings himself to trim by fasting and penance-is he not?" Vol. i. pp. 54-56.

The Smith had more reason to be curious about this ghostly instructor of Catharine, than he was then aware. For the present, the Glover merely intimates that although Father Clement would be taken by all who saw or heard him for the best of men, the Dominicans represented him as a heretic, and states in conclusion, that whatever might be his influence over Kate, he was not her confessor, but Father Francis, one of that order. They finish their flask, and old Simon's last words to Henry Gow are an exhortation to bear himself like a man in his suit, and be at the lattice window on the east gable at the peep of dawn.

The honest Smith makes his toilette, as may be supposed, with more than ordinary care, and having completed it, places in his bosom a little ruby heart transfixed with a golden arrow, which he intended as a present for his mistress; then wrapping himself up in his cloak, sallied forth to take his stand on Valentine morn, according to Simon Glover's direction. Perceiving, however, that he was at least an hour too soon, and dreading lest by going into Curfew-street, he might get into an affray (as he was so apt to do) with some of the roving gallants of the time, he determined to loiter about in another quarter of the town awhile, until he should see a streak of dawn in the eastern sky. In this mood, he passed slowly under the walls of St. Anne's Chapel, when a voice from behind him said, "He lingers that has need to run.' Henry was not able to discover who it was that uttered these ominous words, (it was Father Clement as we afterwards learn) but upon their being repeated, flies with all his speed to the Glover's house.

"He had not made three steps towards Simon Glover's, which stood in the midst of the narrow street, when two men started from under the houses on different sides, and advanced, as it were by concert, to intercept his passage. The imperfect light only permitted him to discern that they wore the Highland mantle.

'Clear the way, catheran,' said the armourer, in the deep stern voice which corresponded with the breadth of his chest.

They did not answer, at least intelligibly; but he could see that they drew their swords, with the purpose of withstanding him by violence.

Conjecturing some evil, but of what kind he could not anticipate, Henry instantly determined to make his way through, whatever odds, and defend his mistress, or at least die at her feet. He cast his cloak over his left arm as a buckler, and advanced rapidly and steadily to the two men. The nearest made a thrust at him, but Henry Smith, parrying the blow with his cloak, dashed his arm in the man's face, and tripping him at the same time, gave him a severe fall on the causeway; while almost at the same instant he struck a blow with his whinger at the fellow who was upon his right hand, so severely applied, that he also lay prostrate by his associate. Meanwhile, the armourer pushed forward in alarm, for which the circumstances of the street being guarded or defended by strangers who conducted themselves with such violence, afforded sufficient reason. He heard a suppressed whisper and a bustle under the Glover's windows-those very windows from which he had expected to be hailed by Catharine as her Valentine. He kept to the opposite side of the street, that he might reconnoitre their number and purpose. But one of the party, who were beneath the window, observing or hearing him, crossed the street also, and taking him, doubtless, for one of the sentinels, asked, in a whisper, 'what noise was yonder, Kenneth ?— why gave you not the signal?'

'Villain!' said Henry, 'you are discovered, and you shall die the death!'

As he spoke thus, he dealt the stranger a blow with his weapon, which would probably have made his words good, had not the man, raising his arm, received on his hand the blow meant for his head. The wound must have been a severe one, for he staggered and fell with a deep groan. Without noticing him farther, Henry Smith sprung forward upon a party of men who seemed engaged in placing a ladder against the lattice window in the gable. Henry did not stop either to count their numbers, or to ascertain their purpose. But crying the alarmword of the town, and giving the signal at which the burghers were wont to collect, he rushed on the nightwalkers, one of whom was in the act of ascending the ladder. The Smith seized it by the rounds, threw it down on the pavement, and placing his foot on the body of the man who had been mounting, prevented him from regaining his feet. His accomplices struck fiercely at Henry, to extricate their companion.But his mail-coat stood him in good stead, and he repaired their blows with interest, shouting aloud, 'help, help, for bonnie St. Johnstoun !— Bows and blades, brave citizens! bows and blades!—they break into our houses under the cloud of night.'

These words, which resounded far through the streets, were accompanied by as many fierce blows, dealt with good effect among those whom the armourer assailed. In the meantime, the inhabitants of the street began to awaken and appear on the street in their shirts, with swords and targets, and some of them with torches. The assailants now endeavoured to make their escape, which all of them effected excepting the man who had been thrown down along with the ladder. Him the intrepid armourer had caught by the throat in the scuffle, and held as fast as the greyhound holds the hare. The other wounded men were borne off by their comrades," Vol. i. pp. 61-62.