appearance twice, without receiving any answer, or attending to the pinches by which his companion endeavoured to intimate that their best course was to walk on, without giving farther disturbance to a being of such singular and preternatural exterior. To the third repeated demand of "Who are you? What do you here at this hour of night?"—a voice replied, whose shrill, uncouth, and dissonant tones made Elliot step two paces back, and startled even his companion, "Pass on your way, and ask nought at them that ask nought at you."
"What do you do here so far from shelter? Are you benighted on your journey? Will you follow us home, ('God forbid,' ejaculated Hobbie Elliot, involuntarily) and I will give you a lodging."
"I would sooner lodge by mysel in the deepest of the Tarras-flow," again whispered Hobbie.
"Pass on your way," rejoined the figure, the harsh tones of his voice still more ex-
