dicated an intimate knowledge of the ground she traversed. At length they gained the top of the bank, though by a passage so steep and intricate, that Brown, though convinced it was the same by which he had descended on the night before, was not a little surprised how he had accomplished the task without breaking

his neck. Above, the country opened wide and uninclosed for about a mile or two on the one hand, and on the other were thick plantations of considerable extent.

Meg, however, still led the way along the bank of the ravine out of which they had ascended, until she heard beneath the murmur of voices. She then pointed to a deep plantation of trees at same distance,—"The road to Kippletringan," she said, "is on the other side of these inclosures—Make the speed ye can; there's mair rests on your life than on other folk's.—But you have lost all—stay." She fumbled in an immense pocket, from which she produced a greasy purse.—"Many's