gate partially expanded, and he walked in, when it as instantly closed behind him. Above appeared a gigantic face, which, to his slumbering recollection, bore a perfect resemblance to the White Rock, in the Dropping Glen. As he turned away with instinctive dread, it unlocked its stony jaws, and although no sounds were uttered, seemed to demand of him what he did there. The question from such a querist was embarrassing, and he could only beg, with trembling lips, that the gate might be re-opened.

The gigantic countenance assumed an expression of compassion, as, looking down in his face, it observed his extreme dismay, and although he was not distinctly aware that it spoke, yet he received an indefinable intimation that it would suffer him to depart, if he would pledge himself to return, and again ask admittance on the same day of the following month. This condition he for a time attempted to resist, but his horror became so overwhelming, that he at length gave the promise. The massive bars of the gate were then withdrawn, and its vast compartments unfolding, were just clashing behind him, when with the thundering noise he awoke.

The dream the company said was certainly remarkable, inasmuch as it bore reference to visions that had visited and impressed him before: yet what were dreams? And although in the conversation excited by his narrative, several wonderful facts were related in connexion with nocturnal visions, still Mr. M'Alpine would be foolish to indulge further meditation upon the subject. He took the advice, and the traces of this wayward visitation were speedily obliterated by the exhilarating engagements connected with an active preparation for the nuptial ceremony. Time passed on, and some days before that appointed for the solemnity, he had occasion to visit the neighbouring village of Crieff, on business connected with his late father's affairs. When he reached the place, he missed one of the persons whom he expected to meet, and was obliged to engage to revisit the village on the following day. Circumstances barred the keeping of his appointment, and, occupied with ante-nuptial concerns, it was put off until the very morning previous to the one on which his neighbours were invited to attend his bridal.

Taking horse early, he promised if possible to return by nightfall. Night came, however, and he was still absent. His bride was with the family at Cairndale, occupied by the agreeable employments of the time, when a gentleman who lived at some distance arrived, and narrated a circumstance he had witnessed as he crossed the country.

"I may be a little superstitiously disposed," said the gentleman, "with regard to a certain place in this neighbourhood, which we all know by the name of the Dropping Glen, ever since a remarkable anecdote told me concerning it by my grandfather, to which I only can now barely allude. Lying in my way to this house, I felt something I confess like alarm, on observing that the darkness had overtaken me before I cleared its dangerous vicinity. When quite near it, my attention was fixed by the clatter of a rapid horse tramp. I stopped and listened. A horse and rider approached at an irregular gallop. Well acquainted with the broken and bushy nature of the ground, it

seemed to be almost a proof of madness for any man, even under the influence of the most headlong haste, to dash on with such furious speed, particularly in the thickening darkness. It was then so obscure, that I could not judge who the desperate rider might be. Conscious of the imminent danger he was in, I shouted more than once as he passed, but whether the hard breathing and the sounding hoofs of his horse prevented him from hearing my call, I know not, but notwithstanding the warning, he rushed on directly towards the upper chasm of the Dropping Glen, as if all the demons of the air were hurrying him to destruction. I spurred after him as soon as astonishment would allow me, but by this time I heard his horse's feet ringing on the ledge of the cliff, and the clang resounding through the low-lying hollows. Again the receding echoes died away, and nothing broke the dead silence, save a voice-like murmur, which might have been the affrighted man's exclamations on finding himself in this dreadful situation. To me it seemed like the unearthly whisperings of the fiends that are said to haunt the inner gulphs of that fearsome place. The horse's hoofs rattled again upon the rocks, and presently there broke upon my ear a piercing shriek, followed by a low dashing noise that arose from the extreme depths, answered as it were by a hollow moan, rolling down the windings of the glen. Then all was again still, as if the fearful chasm had just been made a grave—as if the spirits of doom had been appeased by a sacrifice!

"I stood transfixed with terror, when I oberved something flying towards me, and presently a horse, with empty saddle, came rushing past. I rode up, and tried to seize hold of the bridle, as the animal floundered among the brushwood, but my nerves were too greatly agitated, and it broke away.-God grant that all our friends may be safe! Some unhappy mortal, I fear me, has this night been called to his last account, in that accursed spot!"

It was long past the hour that the bridegroom of the morrow should have arrived, and the effect of this narrative upon the alarmed bride, I need not attempt to pourtray. A horse-prance was heard without -It was M'Alpine's horse-riderless!

The

Next morning, on search being made in the inner recesses of the glen, the remains of the unfortunate young man were found at the bottom of a steep precipice, just beneath the spectre-like crag, where fall the incessant drops which give its name to the fatal scene. story made a deep impression in the superstitious neighbourhood of Benlaws, in Perthshire; for on comparing dates, the catastrophe was found to have occurred on that very day month, after Gregor M'Alpine

had his remarkable dream.

P.

RECENT RAMBLES

IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF DON QUIXOTE.-No. 2.

Ir is well known to the readers of Don Quixote,-and who then is there to whom it is not known ?-that the valiant Knight of La Mancha made two sallies from his own village; in the first of which he was knighted, in the inn which he mistook for a castle: and that, by the advice of the innkeeper, he returned to his village, that he might furnish himself with a purse, and a change of linen; but especially that he might provide himself with a squire, as was befitting every true knight errant. Now, although I profess to ramble in the footsteps of Don Quixote, I trust it will not be expected that I should twice journey from the village of Miguel Esteban, and as the Knight of La Mancha chose the daylight for one of his rambles, and the night for the other, I must claim the privilege of selection, and avoid darkness, which could scarcely enable me to fulfil my promise of following in his footsteps.

The reader will recollect where I took leave of him; I bade him good night in the reputed house of Don Quixote; and so fatiguing had been my day's journey, that no dream of knight errantry disturbed my slumbers. I broke a lance with nobody; but was awakened from my first sleep about daybreak, by the entrance of my friend the barber. "I was thinking," said he, "that your mercy * cannot do without a squire." "Not without a squire?" said I. "How? I am not going in quest of adventures." "No," returned the barber, "but how can you follow the track of Don Quixote, unless some one show you the way; the muleteer you have brought from Toledo, knows no more about this country than I know about Andalusia." The barber was in the right; a guide could not be dispensed with, and I enquired of him whether he knew any one fitted for the office. "Such people are scarce," said he; "I know of only one, and he could walk through La Mancha blindfolded." I returned the barber muchas gracias, and told him to send this invaluable guide to me forthwith, as I should set out in less than half an hour. "He's not far off," said the barber, with a look which convinced me this guide was no other than himself; "trade is not brisk, and, perhaps "—"I am afraid," said I, “I cannot promise you so magnificent a reward for your services as the government of an island." But this proved no obstacle with the barber, and the matter of remuneration was speedily arranged; he would accept of nothing more than board for himself and his mule; and in less than half an hour, we were jogging out of the village, just as "ruddy Phœbus, o'er this wide and spacious earth, displayed the golden threads of his refulgent hair." We had each a wallet, well stored with provisions, and each a wine-skin of most agreeable rotundity, produced by several quartillos of good Val de Penas; and we jogged on among the scattered olives, and through the saffron fields, though without the chorus mentioned by the knight, "from the little painted warblers with their forky tongues." Such a chorus is indeed no where to be found in La Mancha, which is nearly destitute of trees. But this embellishment being contained in a rhapsody of the knight, must not be charged against the veracity of Cervantes, who, in all that he relates as having happened to his hero, adheres most strictly to nature, such as we find her to be at this day in the district of La Mancha.

Sometimes the path was only wide enough for one mule; sometimes it was broader; and then we rode together, and conversed by the way. "After all," said the barber, "Sancho Panza was worthy of the government his master

This is the phraseology in Spain; vuestra merced (your mercy) in place of you.

promised him; there never lived in La Mancha an honester man than Sancho.” "Except the Knight of La Mancha," said J. "Not honester," replied the barber, "honour for the knight and honesty for the squire; each had the honesty that befitted his station." "True," said I, "and I believe Sancho would have scorned a dishonest action as much as his master." Here the path became so narrow, that my companion was obliged to fall behind, and I was left awhile to my own reflections, which continued to flow in the same channel. To endeavour to assign a motive for the production of any work, is idle; for my own part, I believe that the often repeated motive, that of throwing ridicule upon books of knight errantry, was a very secondary consideration with Cervantes; and that he, like most other men of genius, wrote because genius overflowed, and sought a channel which might conduct it to immortality. It is a more interesting question to ask, what is the aim and moral of the work? It is "all things to all men." The gentleman, the Christian, the master, the servant, may each learn something from its pages; for the Knight of La Mancha was a more perfect gentleman, a better practical Christian, a more excellent master, ay, and a wiser man too, than probably any one of those who study his life and conversation. Cervantes evidently intended to personify the intellectual and the animal parts of our nature, in the contrast between the knight and the squire. High-mindedness, loftiness of purpose, unbounded generosity, total disinterestedness, undaunted courage, humility, and Christian resignation,these are the fine attributes of intellectual perfection; while in the character of the squire, we find all that is sensual, worldly, common, and vulgar, united with only that rough good sense, blunt honesty, and good nature, which are compatible with an uninformed mind, and a low station.

I was interrupted in my cogitations by my companion telling me it was already mid-day, and therefore time to apply to our wallets and wine-skins, a proposition to which I willingly assented; and allowing our mules to pick up a scanty breakfast, we seated ourselves under the imperfect shade of a stunted olive, and opened the budget. The olive is the only tree in La Mancha, and La Mancha is one of the ugliest countries under the sun; let nobody be deceived by the words of the song, "Oh! remember the time in La Mancha's shades," for there are no shades in La Mancha. Our provisions were not very tempting; the barber had been the purveyor, and had suited his own taste rather than mine. They consisted of a thick pancake, interlarded with slices of bacon; and cheese, bread, and wine. These are the provisions carried by every muleteer in Spain, with the addition sometimes of salted fish; but the pancake being seasoned with garlic, and the cheese made of sheep's milk, neither of them was very enticing. As for the wine of La Mancha, in which Sancho Panza found a solace for many of his hardships, its goodness depends altogether upon the skin in which it is carried; for if the skin be not old and well-seasoned, the best Val de Penas acquires an unpleasant flavour. But it is impossible that the wine of La Mancha should be carried otherwise than in skins; the roads are only fitted for mules, and skins can be more easily and more safely carried across mules than casks: but indeed casks are out of the question in a country in which there is scarcely any wood. It is no contemptible art, that of drinking out of a wine-skin without spilling the wine, and drenching the bosom; the wine-skin is held horizontally, one hand supporting its rotundity, and, by the pressure of the fingers, the wine is thrown forward to the neck. When, in the translations of Don Quixote, we meet with the word bottle, we must of course substitute skin, otherwise the sentence will sometimes be unintelligible; as for example, when, after the adventure with the wind-mills, we find Sancho visiting his bottle, and discovering that it was much more lank than it was the night before.

It was now too hot to think of journeying for some hours, and willing to pass the time otherwise than in a siesta, "Mr. Barber," said I, "I feel well con

vinced that you have not been all your life a barber in Miguel Esteban; we have now two good hours to spare; the shade of this olive-tree is too scanty to allow a siesta, and how then can we spend our time better than you in telling, and I in listening to your story."

"In truth," replied the barber," you have guessed well in thinking I have not been all my life a barber in Miguel Esteban. I have been many trades; and since, as you truly say, there is no shade for a siesta, and as our wine-skin would be dried up by the rays of the mid-day sun, before we could get to Lapiche, you shall hear my story, such as it is:" and the barber accordingly began as follows. "I was born in the town of Manzanares in La Mancha. My father was porter to the Dominican convent there, and my mother was laundress in the house of the Duque de San Carlos.* As for me, I led the merriest of lives till I was fourteen years of age; I was idolized both by my father and mother, and spent my time equally in the kitchen of the duke and of the Dominicans. In the one, I tasted the most savoury stews, and in the other, the most delicious fruit in the world; and nothing was farther from my thoughts than to leave so agreeable a mode of life, when one day my father called me to him and said,Lazaro, it is time that thou shouldst think of bettering thy fortune, and I have found thee a road to it.'

:

"For my part, I felt no great inclination towards bettering my condition, which appeared to me the most agreeable in the world; and my mother was also of the same opinion but the picture drawn by my father of my future prospects was so flattering, that even I was anxious to commence my new mode of life. The opening was this: a certain stranger, who lately died in the house of the curate of the parish church of San Salvador, in Manzanares, had left to the church money for eight thousand masses to get his soul out of purgatory; and the curate, willing to receive the legacy, without the condition of saying a mass every day for twenty-two years, resolved to apply to the Archbishop of Toledo, as the head of the church, for permission to say eight in place of eight thousand masses,―a restriction which would not affect the condition of the stranger's soul, since the archbishop might declare, by his supreme authority, that eight masses should be as effectual as eight thousand in praying it out of purgatory. The curate applied to the Dominicans to find a trusty messenger; they selected my father, and he delegated the mission to me. This other letter,' said my father, at the same time, also, putting into my hand the letter to the archbishop, is for the Padre Cirillo, curate of the church of San Pasqual at Toledo; it recommends you to his protection, and there is, therefore, little doubt that he will take you into his service; who knows but that you may, by and bye, be transferred to the service of the archbishop, whose stews are no doubt as far superior to those of the Duque de San Carlos, as the melon you are eating is to a turnip. My teeth already began to water for the archbishop's stews; and I set out the same day with an honest muleteer, who was charged with wine for some of the canons.

"You shall enter into my service,' said the cura, when he had read the letter; and when I heard this piece of good fortune, I already fancied myself transferred to the service of the archbishop, and scented the savour of his kitchen. My duties in the service of the Padre Cirillo were simple; they consisted in sweeping the church, and cleaning the ornaments used at mass; and the rest of my time was at my own disposal. If this had been all, I should have had no reason to complain; but the reverend Cura, who fed upon dainties every day, shared them only with his housekeeper; and far from find

*The Duque de San Carlos is proprietor of almost all the town of Manzanares, and the surrounding vineyards.

The curate was mistaken in this opinion; it is only the Pope who possesses this

power.