middle size. A bright full
eye gave an ardour to his look not at all diminished by the general
cast and expression of his features, which betokened a brave and manly
spirit, scorning subterfuge and disguise, and almost disdaining the
temporary concealment he was forced to adopt. A wide cloak was wrapped
about his person, surmounted by a slouched high-crowned hat, with a
rose in front, by way of decoration. His boots, ornamented with huge
projecting tops, were turned down just below the calf of the leg,
above which his breeches terminated in stuffed rolls, or fringes,
after the fashion of the time. A light sword hung loosely from his
belt; and a pair of pistols, beautifully inlaid, were exhibited in
front. Despite of his somewhat grotesque habiliments, there was an air
of dignity, perhaps haughtiness, in his manner, which belied the
character of his present disguise. He walked slowly on, apparently in
deep meditation, till, on turning round the angle of the tower, he was
somewhat startled from his reverie on beholding an open grave, at a
short distance, just about to be completed. Clods of heavy clay were
at short intervals thrown out by the workman, concealed from
observation by the depth to which he had laboured. After a moment's
pause, the cavalier cautiously approached the brink, and beheld a
strange-looking being, with sleeves tucked up to the shoulders, busily
engaged in this interesting and useful avocation.

"Good speed, friend!" said the stranger, addressing the emissary of
death within. The grim official raised his head for a moment, to
observe who it was that accosted him; but without vouchsafing a reply,
he again resumed his work, throwing out the clods with redoubled
energy, to the great annoyance of the inquirer.

"Whose grave is this?" he asked again, perseveringly, determined to
provoke him to an answer.

"The first fool's that asks!" shouted the man from below, without
ceasing from his repulsive toil.

"Nay, friend; ye do not dig for a man ere he be dead in this pitiful
country of thine?"

"And why not? there's many a head on a man's nape to-day that will be
on his knees to-morrow!"

"Then do ye rig folks out with graves here upon trust?"

"Nay," said the malicious-looking replicant, holding up a long lean
phalanx of bony fingers; "pay to-day, trust to-morrow, as t' old lad
at the tavern says."

"What! is thy trade so dainty of subjects? Are men become weary o'
dying of late, that ye must need