circumstances, and run any risk which she
might be willing to share, when he was interrupted by Betsy Braikens,
who had come expressly for the purpose of telling him that her brother
had redeemed the whole of his debts, and was now in prosperous
circumstances. In a few days thereafter Jenny went to reside with her
mother for a short time; and one evening, as Sandy bade her
good-night, he gave her a clap on the shoulder, and called her his
"spectre bride." On the following week they went to Perth; and Jenny
Jervis and Betsy Braikens were married on the same day--the former to
Sandy Crawford, and the latter to Robert Walker, who had kept up a
regular correspondence with her ever since the night on which he lost
his way among the snow.

THE SMUGGLER.

The golden days of the smuggler are gone by; his hiding-places are
empty; and, like Othello, he finds his "occupation gone." Our
neighbours on the other side of the herring-pond now bring us _dry
bones_, according to the law, instead of _spirits_, contrary to the
law. Cutters, preventive-boats, and border-rangers, have destroyed the
_trade_--it is becoming as a tale that was told. From Spittal to
Blyth--yea, from the Firth of Forth to the Tyne--brandy is no longer
to be purchased for a trifle; the kilderkin of Holland gin is no
longer placed at the door in the dead of night; nor is a yard of
tobacco to be purchased for a penny. The smuggler's phrase, that the
"_cow has calved_,"[D] is becoming obsolete. Now, smuggling is almost
confined to crossing "the river," here and there, the "ideal line by
fancy drawn;" to Scotland saying unto England, "Will you taste?" and
to England replying, "Cheerfully, sister." There was a time, however,
when the clincher-built lugger plied her trade as boldly, and almost
as regularly, as the regular coaster; and that period is within the
memory of those who are yet young. It was an evil and a dangerous
trade; and it gave a character to the villagers on the sea-coasts
which, even unto this day, is not wholly effaced. But in the character
of the smuggler there was much that was interesting--there were many
bold and redeeming points. I have known many; but I prefer, at
present, giving a few passages from the history of one who lived
before my time, and who was noted in his day as an extraordinary
character.

Harry Teasdale was a native of Embleton, near Bamborough. He was the
sole owner of a herring-boat and a fishing-cobble; he was also