THE THREE DAMSELS.
A TALE OF HALLOWEEN.
BY DAVID LYNDSAY, ESQ.
“Come hither, my beautiful Jean, and my fairy Lilias,” said the venerable Countess of Moray to her laughing, happy grand-daughters—“come hither, my children, and spend your Halloween with me. It is true I have not prepared the charms of the night, nor am I ready to join you in the incantations of the season, but I have a tale may suit it well; and you will not like it the less because the gray head tells you with her own lips the story of her day, when her locks were as bright as the berry, and her eyes as beaming as your own.”
“That, in truth, shall we not, noble grandam,” said the sparkling Lilias; “but yet would I have the charm of Halloween. Ah, little canst thou dream how dear this night is to the expecting maiden!—Let us perform the rites of the even, and to-morrow, grandam, thy tale shall find us most attentive listeners.”
“Ah, true Scots!” said the Countess, “thus clinging to the wonderful, and seeking to peep into futurity: but try not the charm, my children, if you love me. Alas! I think not of it without tears and a sorrow unspoken of till now; for the fate of a friend, dear to my early youth, gushes into my bosom. Sit, my children, and my story shall repay you for this loss of your time; me it will also please to speak of the things gone by: and if it convince you, as I trust it will, of the folly of these superstitions, I
