  THE tale of the "Black Dwarf" appeared in 1819. One of the "Tales of My Landlord" series, it was founded on the character and peculiarities of David Ritchie, a misshapen creature, popularly known as Bow'd Davie, who lived on a wild moorland near Peebles, and who, from his deformed aspects and uncouth manners, was an object of superstitious dread in the locality. Mr Turner, the celebrated artist, has, in the accompanying illustration, strikingly delineated a familiar scene in the novel. As Earnscliff and Hobbie Elliott were crossing the common, the latter was interrupted in certain protestations of heroism which he was uttering, by the outline of a form seemingly human, but under the ordinary size, moving among the grey stones which formed the buttress of the granite column which they were approaching. The figure was descried by aid of the moon, which, struggling with the clouds, shed a doubtful light upon the scene. From time to time came a sort of indistinct muttering sound. The entire spectacle so much resembled his idea of an apparition, that Hobbie, making a dead pause, while his hair stood on end, whispered to his companion, "It's Auld Ailie hersel'! shall I gi'e her a shot?" "For Heaven's sake, no," said Earnscliff, holding down the weapon, which he was about to raise to the aim; "for Heaven's sake, no; it's some poor distracted creature." In his etching Mr George Cruikshank has effectively represented the strange interview between Hobbie Elliott and the Dwarf. It is described by the novelist. "The Dwarf turned his rage on the young farmer, and by a sudden effort, far more powerful than Hobbie expected from such a person, freed his wrist from his grasp, and offered the dagger at his heart All this was done in the twinkling of an eye, and the incensed recluse might have completed his vengeance by plunging the weapon in Elliott's bosom, had he not been checked by an internal impulse, which made him hurl the knife at a distance. 'No! he exclaimed, as he voluntarily deprived himself of the means of gratifying his rage; 'not again-not again!' Hobbie retreated a step or two in great surprise, discomposure, and disdain, at having been placed in such danger by an object apparently so contemptible, exclaiming, 'The deil's in the body, for strength and bitterness!'"
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