have fallen upon him unawares, and to advantage, but the “Woodsman” endeavoured to keep an eye upon him, while he went on forcing the valise open as well as he could.  At length the straps were all cut, and the robber thrust his hands in eagerly, making sure to find the bags which he had seen the preceding evening, for he had distinctly felt them from the outside.  But, when he drew out his hands, there was in one only a halter, and in the other a piece of brass in the shape of a gibbet!  And, at the same moment, a gripe was laid upon his arm; and a deep low voice, which seemed to be close beside him, pronounced the words, “This shall be thy fate!” When he turned round in horror and consternation, the horse, and 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 matter for the Penteulu, or head of the family, to dine in the large stone hall of the mansion—­he and his own particular friends at a table, raised on a Dais—­and his numerous tenants and dependants at another table running the whole length of the said hall.  Then came the wassailing—­worthy of the days of Arthur—­wine for the upper table; ale, medd, (mead,) and spirits for the other; and after all came the friendly contest at some manly game—­wrestling, racing, pitching the bar, or the like.  At a period somewhat later, these boisterous pastimes began to degenerate; and the Welsh squire became more polished, but not, perhaps, more happy.  Still the custom of inordinate potation fondly clung to him.  Immediately contiguous to every mansion of any magnitude was erected a summerhouse, usually situated in a spot, selected for the beauty