the rider, and the portmanteau, all were gone; and he found himself
within a few paces of the inn door which he had quitted in the morning,
with the halter and the brass gibbet still remaining in his hand. The
narrative states farther, that this horrible rencontre so affected
Conrad Braunsvelt, that he forthwith delivered himself up to the rangers
of the forest, and was sent to Cassel to await the pleasure of the Grand
Duke. He is now confined in an asylum for repentant criminals, desirous
of being restored to society; and his miraculous warning is noted in the
records of the institution.--_Monthly Magazine_.

* * * * *


CAMBRIAN CONVIVIALITY.


"Cloth must we wear,
Eat beef, and drink beer,
Though the dead go to bier."

_Old Ballad._


There is something refreshing, and not a little inspiriting, in the
scanty relics of those hearty customs and pastimes which imparted such a
manly tone to the character of our ancestors; but now, like the ruined
castle, or the old ivied abbey, they have become objects of admiration
rather than sources of delight. Fifty years ago, the inhabitants of
North Wales, a rude and blunt race even now, were far less sophisticated
by modern refinement than they are at present; and it was then a common