mity, and ending in a distressing and lengthened illness, prevented the performance of my promise. I know not if I have even now succeeded. But if your Grace will accept the Narrative, (no doubt a little garnished in the details, but in the main true,) as an unfeigned tribute of esteem for virtues universally acknowledged, you will add greatly to the favours you have conferred upon

Your most obliged humble Servant.

THE AUTHOR.

The above address had scarcely been sent from the Continent to England, to be printed, when by an unexpected and most lamented death, the amiable and illustrious person for whom it was intended was taken from the world which her presence may be said to have blessed as well as

adorned.

This reminiscence may, in consequence, by some be thought to be out of place, and therefore perhaps better avoided. The Author hopes however to be forgiven, if to perpetuate the veneration which he ever entertained for the virtues of this admirable lady, gives him a melancholy pleasure which he does not wish to part with; and he therefore is unwilling to cancel the attempt.

Ir was as cold as it ought to be at Christmas, and moreover the rain and the hail and the snow, were blown with fearful violence against the walls of Castle Campbell, which stood beetling on a rock overhanging the sea, near the Mull of Cantyre, in Scotland.

The wind whistled shrilly through the crevices of doors and windows; and even the rolling of thunder, so uncommon at this time of year, was heard, at first in the distance, but approaching nearer and nearer, till it burst over the roof, part of which it destroyed.

A large party, though engaged in the conviviality of dinner, were so far affected, not to say alarmed, that the conversation often paused, and even the progress of the banquet was sometimes arrested, while, in silence, the guests contemplated

one another's countenances, to read in them the various impressions made by the storm.

Mr. Campbell, the owner of the castle, entreated his friends not to be alarmed, for it had stood the buffeting of many worse attacks than the present. The howling of the wind however, and the banging of doors, continued till the dinner became almost a Quaker's meeting; and the excitement was not at all diminished, by the Mâitre-d'Hotel entering to beg his master's presence among the lower (he might have added the upper) servants, who, he said, could not be persuaded that Sawney Bean had not again come from over the sea, full five years before his time.

At this time some of the guests shuddered; but Mr. Campbell set up a laugh, which gave them (especially the ladies) some comfort; for their own alarm had been evidently by no means quieted, by the tidings brought by the Mâitre-d' Hotel; although who Sawney Bean was, or what the allusion, no one could make out.

Mr. Campbell, apologizing for a few minutes absence, left the room to appease his domestics; though no mere reasoning could persuade them out of their fears of Sawney Bean. His return created a general inquiry as to this mysterious person; and all but two or three Scotch gen

tlemen, who knew the story, entreated Mr. Campbell to inform them.

"Why," said he, "there certainly was such a person, and a horrid fellow he was; so that if you have not a mind to have your blood run cold, you had better not inquire."

"Well! but," said several, "the meaning of coming from over the sea full five years before his time?"

"I had better tell you his history at once," said Mr. Campbell; upon which, the dinner being over, the company all huddled closer round the fire, while the hubbub from without did not decrease the interest within.

"Sawney Bean," said Mr. Campbell, "was a robber, and a murderer, (by many thought to be the devil himself,) who lived several years in a cave on the opposite coast of Ireland."

"When?" cried several voices.

"At the beginning of the sixteenth century," replied Mr. Campbell, "but in what year I have forgotten. Certain it is, he was a cannibal as well as a murderer, and lived, himself and his wife and children, upon the bodies and blood of the unfortunate people who fell into their hands."

"Heaven preserve us!" said all the company, while the rain beat louder and louder against the windows.

"His cave," continued Mr. Campbell, "communicated with the sea, but was almost closed up with rocks, on one side; and opened on the other into the country, through a subterranean passage, covered entirely with furze and briars. People perpetually disappeared from the fields, and were searched for, but always in vain. The land seemed under a curse, and the inhabitants began to abandon it. However, this horrible family were at length discovered; for the fewness of their victims began to tempt them farther than usual from their stronghold. A farmer, with his wife behind him, on horseback, being attacked by three of Bean's sons, in the scuffle the wife fell off, and immediately not only her throat was cut, but her blood drunk by one of these fiends, while the other two endeavoured to do as much by her husband.

"The farmer, however, whose name was Campbell, wrought to madness by what he had seen, fought so stoutly with a loaded whip, that the wretches sought safety in flight; and the farmer pursuing them, saw the aperture through which they escaped under ground, and having marked it, immediately proceeded to the next town, where, being joined by a competent force, well armed, he returned to the spot he had marked, and heading his companions through the subterranean passage, they found this Modern Cacus, with his four sons and