d been laid out upon a table, a
sheet thrown over it, and a pine torch blazed from the chimney wall
close by, and flung its broad, red glare over the apartment. An elderly
female, the wife of the woodman, and two or three children, sat quietly
in the room. The small detachment of troopers loitered around the
corpse, walking with stealthy pace across the floor, and now and then
adjusting such matters of detail in the arrangements for the interment
as required their attention. A rude coffin, hastily constructed of such
materials as were at hand, was deposited near the table. A solemn
silence prevailed, which no less consisted with the gloom of the
occasion than with the late hour of the night.

When the newly arrived party had dismounted and entered the apartment, a
short salutation, in suppressed tones, was exchanged, and without
further delay, the whole company set themselves to the melancholy duty
that was before them. David Ramsay approached the body, and, turning the
sheet down from the face, stood gazing on the features of his son. There
was a settled frown upon his brow that contrasted signally with the
composed and tranquil lineaments of the deceased. The father and son
presented a strange and remarkable type of life and death--the
countenance of the mourner stamped by the agitation of keen, living
emotion, and the object mourned bearing the impress of a serene, placid,
and passionless repose:--the one a vivid picture of misery, the other a
quiet image of happy sleep. David Ramsay bent his looks upon the body
for some minutes, without an endeavor to speak, and at last retreated
towards the door, striking his hand upon his forehead as he breathed out
the ejaculation, "My son, my son, how willingly would I change places
with you this night!"

Allen Musgrove was less agitated by the spectacle, and whilst he
surveyed the features of the deceased, his lips were moved with the
utterance of a short and almost inaudible prayer. Then turning to
Drummond, he inquired: "Has the grave been thought of? Who has attended
to the preparations?"

"It has been thought of," replied the woodman; "I sent two of my people
off to dig it before I went with Major Butler to see David. We have a
grave-yard across in the woods, nigh a mile from this, and I thought it
best that John Ramsay should be buried there."

"It was kindly thought on by you, Gabriel," replied Musgrove. "You have
your father and others of your family in that spot. Da