ich glowed and sparkled in the darker recess of the waste
land, as the gloomy forms of the Egyptians were seen dimly cowering
round the blaze. A scene of this sort is perhaps one of the most
striking that the green lanes of Old England afford,--to me it has
always an irresistible attraction, partly from its own claims, partly
from those of association. When I was a mere boy, and bent on a solitary
excursion over parts of England and Scotland, I saw something of that
wild people,--though not perhaps so much as the ingenious George Hanger,
to whose memoirs the reader may be referred, for some rather amusing
pages on gipsy life. As Walter was still eyeing the encampment, he in
return had not escaped the glance of an old crone, who came running
hastily up to him, and begged permission to tell his fortune and to have
her hand crossed with silver.

Very few men under thirty ever sincerely refuse an offer of this sort.
Nobody believes in these predictions, yet every one likes hearing them:
and Walter, after faintly refusing the proposal twice, consented the
third time; and drawing up his horse submitted his hand to the old lady.
In the mean while, one of the younger urchins who had accompanied her
had run to the encampments for a light, and now stood behind the old
woman's shoulder, rearing on high a pine brand, which cast over the
little group a red and weird-like glow.

The reader must not imagine we are now about to call his credulity in
aid to eke out any interest he may feel in our story; the old crone was
but a vulgar gipsy, and she predicted to Walter the same fortune she
always predicted to those who paid a shilling for the prophecy--an
heiress with blue eyes--seven children--troubles about the epoch of
forty-three, happily soon over--and a healthy old age with an easy
death. Though Walter was not impressed with any reverential awe for
these vaticinations, he yet could not refrain from inquiring, whether
the journey on which he was at present bent was likely to prove
successful in its object.

"'Tis an ill night," said the old woman, lifting up her wild face and
elfin locks with a mysterious air--"'Tis an ill night for them as seeks,
and for them as asks.--He's about--"

"He--who?"

"No matter!--you may be successful, young Sir, yet wish you had not been
so. The moon thus, and the wind there--promise that you will get your
desires, and find them crosses."

The Corporal had listened very attentively to these pred