cked personage in the bright yellow waistcoat, and the
melancholy gentleman; but we, at the same time, resolved that we would
resume the same mode of entertainment on the following evening, and
continue it till every one had contributed his quota.

GUILTY, OR NOT GUILTY.

On the 15th of September, 17--, an unusual stir was observable in our
village. The people were gathered in little groups in the streets, with
earnest and awe-stricken countenances; and even the little children had
ceased their play, and, clinging to their mothers, looked up as if
wondering what strange thing had happened. In some parts of the town the
crowds were larger, but the remarks less audible; at times, two or three
individuals were seen passing along, in grave conversation, while the
women stood in groups at their own or their neighbour's doors, many of
them with tears in their eyes, and giving utterance occasionally to
sounds of lamentation. It was evident, to the most casual observer, that
something unusual had occurred--something that had stricken a feeling
approaching to alarm into all hearts--and that all were engaged in the
discussion of one common topic. There was that gathering together, as if
for mutual support, or for the purposes of sympathy and consultation,
which usually attends the appearance of public danger, the extent of
which is unknown. It seemed, indeed, as if the occurrence of an
earthquake, however much it might have increased the alarm, could not
have deepened the gloom. The night at length gradually thickened, and,
one by one, the villagers crept into their dwellings. Many a fearful
tale was told by the firesides that night; and not a door but was more
carefully barred than it had been perhaps for years before.

Our village was like many other villages in Scotland; it was long,
dirty, and irregular, and wholly wanting in those qualities of neatness
and taste which give a character of comfort and rustic beauty to the
generality of English hamlets. The odour that rose from the fronts of
the cottages was not from flowers, and was certainly much less agreeable
to the senses. The situation, however, was romantic; and there was a
character of rusticity about the place which harmonised well with the
surrounding scenery. On one side it was skirted by a water, which, in
rainy seasons, struggled into some importance, and turned two or three
respectable mills. On the other, the country undulated gracefully, and
rose at on