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therefore adjourned to the

infernal regions, there to hear their judgment; and both parties were
amerced, &c.--by William de Scargell Snesclal.
The above is an exact translation of the original Latin; and if this is
inserted in your entertaining work, I will make inquiries respecting the
proceedings.
W.H.H.
[3] Notwithstanding our correspondent's equivocal title to this article,
we beg to assure our readers, who may suspect us of diablerie, that we
are not a party to the purchase or sale. Could an ejectment in this case
be effected by _common law_?
* * * * *
PREVENTION OF EFFLUVIUM.
(To the Editor of the Mirror.)
Sir,--The choruret of lime is recommended for preventing bad smells
from water-closets, &c. Can any of your correspondents oblige me and
the public by communicating the least expensive method of preparing it
ready for use, and also to state the proper quantity to be used?
C.C.C.C.
* * * * *
NANCY LEWIS,
(A CASTLE BAYNARD LYRIC.)
(For the Mirror.)
My peace is fled--I cannot rest,-- The tale I tell most true is; My heart's
been stolen from my breast, By lovely Nancy Lewis.
Fair is the blossom of the thorn, And bright the morning dew is; But
sweeter than the dewy morn The smiles of Nancy Lewis.
The eye that's sparkling black I love, Ay, more than that which blue is;
And thine are like two stars above, And sloe black--Nancy Lewis.
Alas! alas! their power I feel; My bosom pierced right through is: In
pity, then, my bosom heal, My charming Nancy Lewis.
Oh! bless me with thy heaven of charms, And take a heart that true is,
While circling life my bosom warms In thine dear Nancy Lewis.
F. G----N.
* * * * *

THE NOVELIST
No. CXII.

* * * * *
A MOUNTAIN STORY.
In one of the most picturesque parts of the western Highlands of
Scotland stands an inn, which is much frequented by travellers. This
inn itself adds considerably to the beauty of the landscape. It was
formerly a manor-house; and the sedate grandeur of its appearance is in
such good keeping with the scenes in its neighbourhood, and so little in
accordance with its present appropriation, that travellers more
commonly stop at the gate to inquire the way to the inn, than drive up
at once through the green field which is spread before its windows, and
its fine flight of stone steps. Very few dwellings are to be seen from it;
and those few are mere cottages, chiefly inhabited by the fishermen of
the loch. One of these cottages is my dwelling. It stands so near to the
inn, that I can observe all that goes forward there; but it is so
over-shadowed and hidden by trees, that I doubt not the greater
proportion of the visiters to the inn are quite unaware that such a
cottage is in existence; and of the thousand sketches which artists and
amateurs have carried away with them, perhaps not one bears any trace
of the lowly chimneys, or the humble porch of my dwelling.
On one fine evening in the month of August, seven years ago, I was
depositing my watering-pot in the tool-house, when I observed a gig
drive up to the inn; it contained a young lady and a gentleman.
According to my usual habit of conjecture, I settled in my own mind
that they were husband and wife: bride and bridegroom they could not
be, as they were in deep mourning. They seated themselves by an open
window till it grew dark, and I saw no more of them that night. In my
early watch the next morning, I passed them twice, and changed my
opinion respecting them. They were evidently brother and sister: there
was a strong resemblance between them, and a slight difference in
years--the young man appearing to be about eighteen, his sister one or
two and twenty. She was not handsome; but the expression of
melancholy on her countenance, and an undefinable air of superiority
about her, engaged my attention. The brother was handsome--very
handsome. His features were fine, but their expression was finer still.
He had taken off his hat, and I had a full view of him. What an intellect
did that forehead bespeak! what soul was in those eyes! "Why,"
thought I, "does she look so melancholy, while leaning on the arm of

such a brother?" But a glance at her dress let me into the cause of her
sorrow. A father or a mother, or perhaps such another brother, has been
taken from her. Whatever the cause of their common grief might be, it
seemed only to knit them more closely together; for never did I see a
brother and sister so attached. They were inseparable: and during the