journey on purpose to see her, I feel so greatly prepossessed in favour of her and the whole family, by all that is said of them in this life of their father, that I heartily wish I could be come acquainted with any of them." I should have made some further extracts from George's letter, if I had not been called away to attend on some visitors, but Fanny has promised to fill up my paper with a letter she wrote last night to Richard. So leaving my pen in such good hands, I will myself conclude with being, dear Mr Editor, your obedient servant,

JOHN DE COVERLEY.

To Richard de Coverley, Esq. YOUR letter, my dear brother, caused quite a sensation at the breakfast table this morning. Mamma reiterated so frequently, "Dear me, what a pity! Dear me, how silly!" that at length my father raised his eyes from the newspaper to inquire the cause. "Cause enough,” replied Mamma, "the collars of Dick's new shirts are all an inch too low. Was ever any thing so unlucky?" Papa laughed a little at Mamma, but more at you, and I could have joined him heartily, had not my aunt scolded him for laughing, scolded Mamma for not having attended to her advice to make the collars higher, and almost scolded me for not knowing the fashion better. Pray when you next want a set of shirts send an exact pattern, for how are we to guess the proper height of a collar in this ultima Bandyborough?

Eleven o'clock.—So far I had written when the cool and refreshing breeze which has succeeded the intense heat of this day, induced me to stroll to Miss Wilmot's, whom I have already described to you as my favourite among the young ladies here, and whom I like every day better and better. The result of my visit was my introduction to a new and so very interesting an acquaintance, that I cannot resist resuming my pen at this late hour to repeat to you the occurrences of the evening, while they are fresh in my recollection. Miss Wilmot was preparing for a walk, and immediately asked me to accompany her. "I am going," said she," to visit a very dear friend of mine, who is out of health. Will you go with

me? It is not more than a mile from
the town, a very pretty walk, and we
shall meet the breeze." I willingly
agreed to go, if her friend would not
consider it an intrusion. "Not at
all," said she, "Mrs Melmoth and
her daughter, had circumstances al-
lowed, would have been among the
first to welcome you here, and I am
sure if you will waive the ceremony
of a call, they will be very happy to
be introduced to you, and, indeed,
there will be charity in visiting them,
for my poor Lucy has been confined
to her sopha more than two years,
and-But I can tell you her story as
we walk along." This, however, she
was prevented doing by Mr Scamony,
who joined us as we left the door, and
never ceased congratulating himself
on the honour and happiness of
esquiring two such fair ladies, till he
bowed off as we arrived at Mrs Mel-
moth's. I had heard poor Mrs Mel-
moth and her daughter mentioned
frequently, but having sufficient em-
ployment in learning the history of
those I saw, I had not inquired into
that of people unknown to me, and in
utter ignorance of every thing, except
that I was to be introduced to a sick
young lady, I was ushered into a very
elegant sort of dressing-room, with
French windows opening into a little
veranda covered with jessamine and
roses in full blow, and leading to a
lawn so green, that it seemed as if the
sun of the last three days had shed
its mildest beams upon it. Near one
of these windows sat, or rather re-
clined, a young lady supported by pil-
lows, and evidently much out of
health. Oh, my dear brother, I wish
you could have seen her, for my de-
scription can give but a faint idea of
the interest excited by her appear-
ance. She is not beautiful, perhaps
not pretty; but there is a grace in all
she says and does beyond the reach
of art, and an expression of mildness
and submission in her countenance,
for which I can find no other name
than that of heavenly. She seems to
be rather above the middle height;
her figure slight, but not emaciated,
and her hand the whitest and the
prettiest I ever saw. This white and
pretty hand she extended to me as
Miss Wilmot introduced me, and
gracefully thanked me for visiting one
so very useless in society as herself.
Then turning to Miss Wilmot, with,

FANNY DE COVERLEY. "

an affectionate smile, "Emily," said perceptible-a very little paler, pershe, "I see that scrutinizing glance, haps, but that was all,-the conversaand I can answer it to your satisfac- tion fell into a new channel, and our tion-the traces of sadness you ob- party was immediately after increased serve are not caused by my own cares, I by the entrance of Mrs Melmoth, a have been sighing over the sorrows of woman of pleasing manners and appoor Miriam, and had scarcely closed pearance, but so much like many the book when you entered. I hope other people, that she would pass unyou have both read the Fall of Jeru- noticed, were it not for traces of mensalem, and I hope you both admire tal suffering, which give dignity to it, that we may talk over its beauties the commonest characters, and must together.' We had both read, both always inspire respect. The converadmired it, and were very ready to sation of both mother and daughter place our chairs in the veranda, as she was easy, and rather cheerful; they requested us, and to talk over its scarcely alluded to the melancholy beauties together. I will spare you situation of Miss Melmoth, and not the whole of our criticisms, but if at all to any past misfortunes. What you have read the poem, (which I their past misfortunes had been I hope you have,) you will not be sur- could only guess from the effect of my prised at our dwelling with chiefest unfortunate observation, till after two admiration on the interviews between very agreeable hours, and a promise Miriam and Javan, and that the ten- on my part of a future visit, I was derness of the lover, the filial affec- again tête-a-tête with Miss Wilmot. tion of Miriam, the piety of Javan, Your curiosity must be still further and the charm of the poetry, were exercised, and I must defer till my long our theme. Miss Melmoth, as next letter the account she gave me, I have since recollected, joined but for this extreme verge of my paper little in this part of our conversation, will only allow me to say, Good night, but I shall never forget the animation my dearest brother, which brightened her fine countenance as she pointed out the beauties of her favourite chorus, King of kings, and Lord of lords, nor the fervour of her manner and the sweetness of her voice, as she read to us the prayer and hymn of Miriam. Even the author, had he been present, must have felt that his verse could not have had more justice done to it, and when she A distant age asks where the fabric stood." ceased, it was difficult to find voice to thank her. We had chatted in that way for some time, when a sudden stop was put to our conversation by my unfortunately remarking, that there were many passages too affect ing to read aloud with comfort, and that amongst them was the scene of Salone's death."I cannot,' said I, "admire Salone, but the situation of poor Miriam is so utterly destitute, when she weeps over the remains of her own and only sister, that it is scarcely possible to resist weeping with her!" The words were scarce ly uttered, when I perceived by the rising colour in Miss Wilmot's face, and by her hasty glance towards her friend, that I had touched on a tender string; it seemed, however, that constant pressure had made it cease to vibrate, for the change in Miss Melmoth's countenance was scarcely

HISTORICAL NOTICES OF THE POPU
LAR SUPERSTITIONS, TRADITIONS,

AND CUSTOMS OF TIVIOTDALE.

No. III.

MR EDITOR,

COWPER.

IN my last communication I endeavoured to illustrate, as far as my nar row limits would permit, the opinions which prevailed in ruder ages concerning witches, and the faith that was placed in their supposed supernatural powers. The witch of modern times is now to occupy my attention.

From those strolling tribes of tinkers and gypsies who traverse the country, pretending to gain their livelihood by mending broken kettles, pots, and pans, making horn spoons, besoms, &c. &c. the honest peasantry have, from time immemorial, been plentifully supplied with fortune-tellers, necromancers, sorcerers, spaewives, and all the race of black-art professors. It is rather remarkable,

however, that few of this sort of people were anciently stigmatized with the character of mischievous witches, but that they all along occupied a kind of middle station between witches and other people, approaching to that of a fortune-teller. If the modern witches of Tiviotdale be not solely confined to this class of people, there are, as far as I have been able to learn, exceedingly few exceptions. There may, indeed, be some old women, who, by the eccentricity of their habits, draw upon themselves the reputation of being witches; but this character, I should suppose, is ascribed to them only by such people as are unacquainted with their manner of life. It of ten happens, indeed, that those who are publicly reputed uncannie are the best and most decent old women of the community, who, from the infirmities incidental to old age, are unable to stir much abroad, and industriously employ their time within doors in the usual occupations of domestic life, and, while thus engaged, their character is all the while suffer ing, by their being supposed secretly to practise the black art. This, if seldom the case in our own days, was, I make no hesitation to say, the case every day an hundred years ago. The gypsey fortune-tellers, on the other hand, retaining their usual and universally suspicious character, pass to and fro, without remaining so long in one place as to submit it to the examination of any one; so that, with them, the reputation of having a "black connection" may accumulate, but never decrease; and hence they are now almost the only source from which the country is supplied with persons upon whom the voice of the public confers a character any way assimilating to that of a witch of former times.

In order to render what I proposed to give you, in illustration of this, amusing to your readers, and at the same time subservient to my purpose, I have selected as my heroine the farfamed Euphemia Stevenson, alias Black Eppy, alias Eppy the Witch, alias Eppy Sooty. The latter is the name by which this vulpinary veteran of the black art was universally known throughout the upper districts of Tiviotdale. In the history of this old virago there is something very remarkable, and which cannot have jus

VOL. VII.

tice done to it within the limits to which I am confined. Her prolonged life, for she was upwards of ninety years of age when it forsook her, was one continued scene of adventure. We never, therefore, hear a story concerning her which is not filled with ghosts and bogles, witches and warlocks, predictions and prophecies; in short, with all those fine things by which the tales of witchery are characterized. Among the commonality, the truth of her unearthly connection and intercourse was never questioned; hence she was believed to be a witch, as sure as there ever was a witch ;" and, that she possessed powers derived from this source superior to other people, was equally undisputed.

66

Eppy's personal accomplishments were sufficiently suited to her profession, for every female charm was exquisitely caricatured in her person. The accomplishments of her mind were also most harmoniously in unison with those of her person; in place of delicacy, rudeness, to its consummation, was manifested in her deportment; in place of the charming timorousness so characteristic of her sex, she possessed a masculine boldness. But, without attempting minutely to describe her beauty, it may, in general, be mentioned, that the structure which she inherited from Nature was abundantly well calculated for the purposes of her profession; for even her "whiskin' beard," hanging in graceful tresses from a long pointed chin, which, as if intended to protect three tremendous tusks that projected out of her mouth, crooked up in a semicircular curve, till it almost embraced a nose of nearly equal dimensions, and equally as symmetrical in its conformation; or the harmonious tones of her ventriloquial voice were enough to strike those who looked on her visage, or who listened to her prophecies, with a conviction of her proficiency and profundity in her art. This was, in fact, the case. She was looked upon by the common people as a sort of oracle, and, for this reason, was regarded with awe. She was conscious of the value of her personal attractions in the way of her trade, and, accordingly, did not fail to avail herself of the advantages which they afforded her of aggrandizing her renown. But, that she might add more

R