and Aston. They were all gathered in a circle round the corpse, which it was impossible to contemplate without awe. On the other hand, the narrative of Mr. Skink had been given with a grotesque union of distress and apologies; distress for what had happened to his wife, apologies for what had happened to his guests; while, in the midst of both, he every now and then, expressed his great satisfaction at finding, "the gentleman had only shot the coffin;" a clear proof, by the way, that though Cameron saw something white, his aim was so unsteady that he fired at something black.

But that which wonderfully heightened the ludicrous, now that the horrible began to lose somewhat of its first terrors, was the cool and airy attire of the party, (considering it was a bitter night in December,) and the sensitive anxiety of all to remedy those deficiencies which Cameron's hasty summons had occasioned.

Jenny had twisted herself into one of the bed-curtains so ingeniously, that nothing was visible of her, except two stout naked feet

at the bottom, and a broad, pale, shivering face under a dirty night-cap, at top.

The ostler, who in his first fright had sufficient presence of mind to recollect that should he fortunately escape with life his money would be useful, had snatched up that portion of his nether habiliments in which it was contained, and was now using his best diligence behind the door, to restore them to their proper use.

As to Cameron and Aston, they kept shifting and edging about, so as to make each other, if they could, serve alternately for screens. But Mr. Skink, who had indubitably the most need of a screen of any of the party, and who was, apparently, the least conscious of it, kept striding about the room, perplexed in the extreme. His long, lank figure, his skeleton limbs, the tawny hue of his skin, and the dismal character of his readymade, miserable face, presented altogether a picture, which not even the grisly adjunct of the shrouded corpse could divest of its strong provocation to mirth.

At length it was settled that Cameron should finish his first sleep, which had been so unseasonably interrupted, in his friend's room; and thither they both retreated with the best grace they could, leaving mine host, with Jenny and the ostler, to set the late Mrs. Skink to rights.

At breakfast, Peter made his appearance, to apologise afresh for the mischance, laudably anxious for the reputation of the Black Bull, and naturally apprehensive lest any evil reports of what had happened might make future travellers afraid to sleep there. His guests, however, treated the affair so lightly, now it was over, and promised so willingly to promulgate nothing respecting it to affect the fair fame of the house, that Peter, when he made out their bill, silently deducted halfa-crown, as a secret oblation of his gratitude.

CHAPTER XIV.

Truth to tell thee,

The grief hath crazed my wits.

SHAKSPEARE.

THE morning was fine, the sun shone brightly, the air was fresh and bracing, and our travellers pursued their journey with reanimated spirits, discoursing, by the way, of the last night's adventure; Aston by no means sparing his friend for so valorously attacking a dead woman, and wounding her coffin in the fray.

They had not proceeded many miles, when they saw before them a man whose whimsical appearance, and strange antics, attracted their notice.

He was walking at a smart pace; but every now and then stopped, took off his hat, made

a bow, with all the grace of a finished courtier, and then began to dance. The next moment he would set off at full speed, as if walking for a wager, suddenly halt, and go through the same ceremonies of bowing and dancing, or throw his arms about with vehement gesticulation.

His dress was as singular as his actions. He was attired in a complete suit of faded green velvet, trimmed with tarnished copper lace, and of the fashion of the preceding century. In his hat was a solitary red feather, purloined seemingly from the tail of some farmyard cock. He wore two basket-hilted swords, one dangling at each side. His stockings were rolled over his knees, while his legs were ensconced in a pair of loose boots, that swagged down to his ancles.

Our travellers at first concluded he was a mountebank, rehearsing; but after observing him for some time, they agreed he must be a lunatic, escaped from his keepers. They were soon, however, enabled to judge more accurately concerning him, for as they ap