cell of a fortune-teller, upon a frolic, as it is termed, and yet not always in a disposition absolutely sceptical towards the responses they receive.

When the sisters of Burgh-Westra arrived in the apartment destined for a breakfast, as ample as that which we have described on the preceding morning, and had undergone a jocular rebuke from the Udaller for their late attendance, they found the company, most of whom had already breakfasted, engaged in an ancient Norwegian custom of the character which we have just described.

It seems to have been borrowed from those poems of the Scalds, in which champions and heroines are so often represented as seeking to know their destiny from some sorceress or prophetess, who, as in the legend called by Gray the Descent of Odin, awakens by the force of Runic rhyme the unwilling revealer of the doom of fate, and compels from her answers often of dubious import, but which were then believed to express some shadow of the events of futurity.

An old sybil, Euphane Fea, the housekeeper, we have already mentioned, was installed in the recess of a large window, studiously darkened by bearskins and other miscellaneous drapery, so as to give it something the appearance of a Laplander's hut, and accommodated, like a confessional chair, with an aperture, which permitted the person within to hear with ease whatever questions should be put, though not to see the querist. Here seated, the voluspa, or sybil, was to listen to the rhymical inquiries which should be made to her, and to return an extemporaneous answer. The drapery was supposed to prevent her from seeing by what individuals she was consulted, and the intended or accidental reference which the answer, given under such circumstances, bore to the situation of the person by whom the question was asked, often furnished food for laughter, and sometimes, as it happened, far more

serious reflection. The sybil was usually chosen from her possessing the talent of improvisation in the Norse poetry; no unusual accomplishment, where the minds of many were stored with old verses, and where the rules of metrical composition are uncommonly simple. The questions were also put in verse; but as this power of extemporaneous composition, though common, could not be supposed universal, the medium of an interpreter, might be used by any querist, which interpreter, holding the consulter of the oracle by the hand, and standing by the place from which the oracles were issued, had the task of rendering into verse the subject of inquiry.

On the present occasion, Claud Halcro was summoned, by the universal voice, to perform the part of interpreter; and, after shaking his head, and muttering some apology for decay of memory and poetical powers, contradicted at once by his own conscious smile of confidence, and by the general shout of the company, the light-hearted old man came forward to play his part in the proposed entertain

ment.

But just as it was about to commence, the arrangement of parts was singularly altered. Norna of the Fitful-head, whom every one, excepting the two sisters, believed to be at the distance of many miles, suddenly, and without greeting, entered the apartment, walked majestically up to the bearskin tabernacle, and signed to the female who was there seated, to abdicate her sanctuary. The old woman came forth, shaking her head, and looking like one overwhelmed with fear; nor, indeed, were there many in the company who saw with absolute composure the sudden appearance of a person, so well known and so generally feared as Norna.

She paused a moment at the entrance of the tent; and, as she raised the skin which formed the entrance, she looked up to the north, as if imploring

from that quarter a strain of inspiration; then signing to the surprised guests that they might approach in succession the shrine in which she was about to install herself, she entered the tent, and was shrouded from their sight.

But this was a different sport from what the company had meditated, and to most of them seemed to present so much more of earnest than of game, that there was no alacrity shown to consult the oracle. The character and pretensions of Norna seemed to almost all present, too serious for the part which she had assumed; the men whispered to each other, and the women, according to Claud Halcro, realized the description of glorious John Dryden,

"With horror shuddering, on a heap they ran."

The pause was interrupted by the loud manly voice of the Udaller. "Why does the game stand still, my masters? Are you afraid because my kinswoman is to play our Voluspa? it is kindly done in her, to do for us what none in the isles can do so well; and we will not baulk our sport for it, but rather go on the merrier."

There was still a pause in the company, and Magnus Troil added, "It shall never be said that my kinswoman sat in her bower unhalsed, as if she were some of the old mountain-giantesses, and all from faint heart. I will speak first myself, but the rhime comes worse from my tongue than when I was a score of years younger. Claud Halcro, you must stand by me."

Hand in hand they approached the shrine of the supposed sybil, and, after a moment's consultation together, Halcro thus expressed the query of his friend and patron. Now, the Udaller, like many persons of consequence in Zetland, who, as Sir Robert Sibbald had testified for them, had begun thus early to apply both to commerce and naviga

tion, was concerned to some extent in the whalefishery of the season, and the bard had been directto put into his halting verse an inquiry concerning its success.

CLAUD HALCRO.

"Mother darksome, Mother dread—
Dweller on the Fitful-head,

Thou canst see what deeds are done

Under the never-setting sun,

Look through sleet, and look through frost,
Look to Greenland's caves and coast,-

By the ice-berg is a sail

Chasing of the swarthy whale;
Mother doubtful, Mother dread,

Tell us has the good ship sped?”

The jest seemed to turn to earnest, as all, bending their heads around, listened to the voice of Norna, who, without a moment's hesitation, answered from the recesses of the tent in which she was inclosed,

NORNA.

The thought of the aged is ever on gear,-
On his fishing, his furrow, his flock and his steer;
But thrive may his fishing, flock, furrow and herd,
While the aged for anguish shall tear his gray beard."

There was a momentary pause, during which, Triptolemus had time to whisper, "If ten witches and as many warlocks were to swear it, I will never believe that a decent man will either fash his beard or himself about any thing, so long as stock and crop goes as it should do."

But the voice from within the tent resumed its low monotonous tone of recitation, and, interrupting farther commentary, proceeded as follows:

NORNA.

The ship well-laden as bark need be,
Lies deep in the furrow of the Iceland sea;

The breeze for Zetland blows fair and soft,
And gaily the garland* is fluttering aloft:
Seven good fishes have spouted their last,
And their jaw-bones are hanging to yard and mast;†
Two are for Lerwick, and two for Kirkwall,
Three for Burgh-Westra, the choicest of all."

-

"Now the powers above look down and protect us!" said Bryce Snaelsfoot; " for it is mair than woman's wit that has spaed out that ferly. I saw them at North Ronaldsha, that had seen the good bark, the Olave of Lerwick, that our worthy patron has such a great share in that she may be called his own in a manner, and they had broomed the bark, and, as sure as there are stars in heaven, she answered them for seven fish, exact as Norna has tell'd us in her rhime."+

"Umph-seven fish exactly? and you heard it at North Ronaldsha?" said Captain Cleveland, " and I suppose told it as a good piece of news when you came hither?"

up

"It never crossed my tongue, Captain," answered the pedler; "I have kend mony chapmen, travelling merchants, and such like, neglect their goods to carry clashes and clavers and down, from one country-side to another; but that is no traffic of mine. I dinna believe I have mentioned the Olave's having made up her cargo to three folks since I crossed the Dunrossness. 99

"But if one of those three had spoke the news over again, and it is two to one that such a thing

* The garland is an artificial coronet, composed of ribbands by those young women who take an interest in a whaling vessel or her crew: it is always displayed from the rigging, and preserved with great care during the voyage.

The best oil exudes from the jaw bones of the whale, which, for the purpose of collecting it, are suspended to the masts of the

vessel.

There is established among whalers a sort of telegraphic signal, in which a certain number of motions made with a broom, express to any other vessel the number of fish which they have caught.