rew from his crimson vest.

And the palmer grey his treachery
Had watched, when all beside
In the feast were gaily revelling,
Nor danger there espied.

"Say where didst thou the treason know?"
The troubled chieftain cried;
"I had blessed thy bread, I had blessed thy bowl,"
The hoary man replied.

"And the blessing was given--the boon from heaven;
Or this night from thy lordly bed
Thy spirit had passed with the shuddering blast,
With the loud, shrill shriek of the dead!

"Oh! never taste the meat unblessed;
Remember the palmer grey;
Though he wander afar from thy castle gate,
Yet forget not thy feast to-day."

And the pilgrim is gone from that gate alone,
When prayer and vow were said;
And the blessing thenceforth from that house was heard
Ere they broke their daily bread.

[Illustration: THE DULE UPO' DUN]

THE DULE UPO' DUN.

"Wae, wae is me, on soul an' body,
Old Hornie has lifted his paw, man;
An' the carle will come, an' gallop me hame,
An' I maun gae pipe in his ha', man!"

--_Old Ballad._

For the tradition upon which the following tale is founded, the author
is indebted to _The Kaleidoscope_, an interesting weekly miscellany,
published by Messrs Smith and Son at Liverpool.

Barely three miles from Clitheroe, as you enter a small village on the
right of the high road to Gisburne, stands a public-house, having for
its sign the title of our story. On it is depicted his Satanic
majesty, curiously mounted upon a scraggy dun horse, without saddle,
bridle, of any sort of equipments whatsoever--the terrified steed
being off and away at full gallop from the door, where a small
hilarious tailor, with shears and measures, appears to view the
departure of him of the cloven foot with anything but grief or
disapprobation.

The house itself is one of those ancient, gabled, black and white
edifices, now fast disappearing under the giant march of improvement,
which tramples down alike the palace and the cottage, the peasant's
hut and the patrician's dwelling. Many windows, of little
lozenge-shaped panes set in lead, might be seen here in all the
various stages of renovation and decay: some stuffed with clouts,
parti-coloured and various; others, where the work of devastation had
been more complete, were wholly darkened by brick-bats, coble-stones