ing been sorely twitted by Master Simon for having
let his hawk fly at carrion. As to the falcon, in the confusion
occasioned by the fair Julia's disaster, the bird was totally
forgotten. I make no doubt she has made the best of her way back to
the hospitable Hall of Sir Watkyn Williams Wynne; and may very
possibly, at this present writing, be pluming her wings among the
breezy bowers of Wynnstay.

ST. MARK'S EVE.

O 't is a fearful thing to be no more.
Or if to be, to wander after death!
To walk as spirits do, in brakes all day,
And, when the darkness comes, to glide in paths
That lead to graves; and in the silent vault,
Where lies your own pale shroud, to hover o'er it,
Striving to enter your forbidden corpse.

--DRYDEN.

The conversation this evening at the supper-table took a curious turn,
on the subject of a superstition, formerly very prevalent in this part
of the country, relative to the present night of the year, which is
the Eve of St. Mark's. It was believed, the parson informed us, that
if any one would watch in the church porch on this eve, for three
successive years, from eleven to one o'clock at night, he would see,
on the third year, the shades of those of the parish who were to die
in the course of the year, pass by him into church, clad in their
usual apparel.

Dismal as such a sight would be, he assured us that it was formerly a
frequent thing for persons to make the necessary vigils. He had known
more than one instance in his time. One old woman, who pretended to
have seen this phantom procession, was an object of great awe for the
whole year afterwards, and caused much uneasiness and mischief. If she
shook her head mysteriously at a person, it was like a death-warrant;
and she had nearly caused the death of a sick person, by looking
ruefully in at the window.

There was also an old man, not many years since, of a sullen,
melancholy temperament, who had kept two vigils, and began to excite
some talk in the village, when, fortunately for the public comfort, he
died shortly after his third watching; very probably from a cold that
he had taken, as the night was tempestuous. It was reported about the
village, however, that he had seen his own phantom pass by him into
the church.

This led to the mention of another superstition of an equally strange
and melancholy kind, which, however, is chiefly confined to Wales. It
is respecting what are called corpse-candles, little