diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/51177-0.txt | 9839 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/51177-0.zip | bin | 199926 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/51177-h.zip | bin | 348107 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/51177-h/51177-h.htm | 10058 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/51177-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 92182 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/51177-h/images/inscription.jpg | bin | 15597 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/51177-h/images/monument.jpg | bin | 30045 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/51177-h/images/stars.jpg | bin | 853 -> 0 bytes |
11 files changed, 17 insertions, 19897 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6e3950d --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51177 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51177) diff --git a/old/51177-0.txt b/old/51177-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f2eab6c..0000000 --- a/old/51177-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9839 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Legends of Lancashire, by Peter Landreth - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Legends of Lancashire - -Author: Peter Landreth - -Release Date: February 11, 2016 [EBook #51177] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEGENDS OF LANCASHIRE *** - - - - -Produced by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - LEGENDS - - OF - - LANCASHIRE. - - - “Round the fire such Legends go.” - - SIR W. SCOTT. - - - LONDON: - - WHITTAKER, AND CO., AVE MARIA LANE, - - AND - - R. COCKER, MARKET-PLACE, WIGAN. - - - MDCCCXLI. - - - - - TO - - THE RIGHT HONOURABLE - - LADY STANLEY, - - THE “LEGENDS OF LANCASHIRE” - - ARE, - - WITH HER LADYSHIP’S KIND PERMISSION, - - RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - PAGE. - - The Battle of Wigan Lane 6 - - The Witches of Furness 69 - - The Devil’s Wall 91 - - The Prophetess and the Rebel 155 - - The Spectre Coach 229 - - The Cross and Lady Mabel 243 - - Lancaster Castle 303 - - - - -PREFACE. - - -A _Preface_ before an Introduction seems sufficiently impudent. - -It is like popping our _face_ in at the door for a short -reconnoitre, before we introduce ourselves. Be it so! - -The Chronicler of the “Legends of Lancashire” has no apology to -offer, except to his palsied hands, for taking up the pen. He is -not a Paul Pry, appearing before the public, with his perpetual -non-intrusion plea. He imagines that his motives for writing the -Legends are distinctly enough stated in the following Prospectus. - -“Lancashire, of all Counties in England, is the most interesting -to the antiquarian. Its rivers once flowed with blood;--its houses -were towers, castles, or abbeys;--its men were heroes;--its ladies -were witches! But now, what a change! The county is commercial. -Where the trumpet of war called Arthur to his victories, the noisy -engine is roaring. The fortresses have become factories; the -abbeys--workhouses;--the heroes--clerks, merchants, and bankers. -The ladies, indeed, profess to be what they were in former ages, -and still call themselves ‘Lancashire Witches.’ It may not be -safe for the ‘Chronicler,’ aged as he is, to speak lightly of -the power of their spells; they may _yet_ be of a deadly nature -to him--for witches love revenge. Report says, however, that -they cannot use the broomstick on which their ancestresses were -accustomed to perform their nightly wanderings in the air; but the -Chronicler is not so ungallant as to conclude, that it is because -they have broken it over their husbands’ shoulders. The witches -of a former age were accustomed, with awful incantations, to mix -their drugs:--pooh!--those of this age infuse a cup of comfortable -tea--but surely not to chatter scandal over it. - -“Alas! the age of chivalry and romance is gone from Lancashire. Its -bones are in the tomb of history;--but some are too gay for such -_grave_ meditations. Legends alone can bring it to view, amidst all -the light of poetry; and their wand of enchantment may call into -existence a creation, beautiful yet real. - -“The Chronicler of the forthcoming ‘Legends’ undertakes to present -his readers with a series upon individuals, events, and places, -all connected with a former age. Charles, with cavaliers of every -shade:--roundheads, from Cromwell down to his groom:--the old -tower, wherein were gallant soldiers and fair ladies:--the field -of battle fiercely contested;--all shall appear, described, he -flatters himself, with accuracy and faithfulness. He shall never -sacrifice historical facts, or characters, to fiction. History, -accurately sketched, he believes to be the truest and most -beautiful romance, and there is enough of that in Lancashire to -dispense with false colour and glitter. Places, dates, and names, -as well as characters, shall be accurate. - -“He begs leave to say one word of himself. He is an old man, and -this he conceives to be an advantage. The torch of tradition is -most becoming in a trembling hand; and its light falls with a -strange harmony over the white locks of the Chronicler, while he -totters on through the regions of the past, long forgotten; and of -which he himself seems to be the genius.” - -He candidly confesses that he has not yet fulfilled his promise. -That could not be done in the first volume. But the next shall be -a continuous series of Legends connected with the civil wars, and -illustrative of the characters of the opposing leaders. And in -these he shall avoid all discussions about the merits of Roundhead -and Cavalier. Vandyke might have given immortality to the features -of Cromwell, as well as those of Charles, without deciding on the -questions--ought Charles to have been beheaded, and was Cromwell -an usurper. So the Chronicler undertakes, even in his portraits -of leading characters, and in his sketches of events, to steer -clear of party spirit. Still the pledge does not prohibit him -from weighing the military and other talents of their respective -leaders. Should he say that Cromwell, beyond all comparison as a -man of genius and a soldier, was above Charles, it must not be -inferred that he is a Roundhead. Or should he paint Charles as a -more handsome and attractive man than Noll with the wart, he must -not be called a Cavalier. - -The Chronicler had no such design as has been attributed to him, -of “mercilessly blackening the character of Cromwell.” The critic, -evidently, had been gazing long upon some very sunny portrait -of the Protector, and, therefore, when he came to a more sober -one, his eyes being still dazzled, naturally thought it dark and -“black.” Besides, really the man of the newspaper must not get -deadly angry at the hint that his eyes are none of the best. - -That the Chronicler is free from any such design may be seen by the -high character which Cromwell sustains in the Legend of “Lancaster -Castle.” If it be thought that there is any contradiction between -that and the “Battle of Wigan Lane,” it is sufficient to reply, -that the Cromwell of 1644, and the Cromwell of 1651 are very -different personages indeed. When first he came into notice, none -of his enemies could suspect the sincerity of his profession of -republican principles, but before the above-mentioned battle, even -some of his friends had abandoned their confidence in his honesty. - -There now only remains to say a few words regarding the contents -of this volume. The Legends are all founded on authenticated -traditions, and at the end of the work the documents shall be -given. It is singular that the most improbable of them--the -“Devil’s Wall,” although a most perfect tradition in all its parts, -has never been known beyond the immediate vicinity of Ormskirk. The -Legend founded upon it follows the tradition without one deviation -except in the name and occupation of Gideon Chiselwig. The wall may -still be seen. The “Witches of Furness,” are the only two ladies -whom the Chronicler knows, that are unlike to the real Lancashire -Witches, and yet, the Legend is true. The neighbourhood of Furness, -it may be supposed, could produce a more noble kind of Witchcraft, -than the far-famed Pendle-hill. The latter abounds with nothing -but witches, the down upon whose lips might have formed the brooms -on which they careered through the air, when they had failed to -throw their bridle over some sleepy wretch, and transform him into -a horse. But a Legend of this kind of witchcraft shall afterwards -be given. The “Cross and Lady Mabel,” although founded on the same -genealogical account as Mr. Roby’s “Mab’s Cross,” is essentially -and altogether different in its details; and besides, gives the -tradition of the erection of the cross, which has, hitherto, -been unknown. And here the Chronicler returns his thanks to that -gentleman for the pleasure which his “Traditions of Lancashire” -have afforded him. Lancashire abounds with so many traditions, that -five or six Chroniclers might each glean a few volumes. This forms -the only excuse for following Mr. Roby. - -To the County Press the best thanks of the Chronicler are due, for -the high approbation they have bestowed on an anonymous work. - - - - -INTRODUCTION. - - -The Chronicler of the forthcoming “Legends” is, perhaps, more of -an Antiquary, in disposition and habits, than many whose names -are well known in Societies, which have been formed for objects -of interesting research. He inhabits an old castellated building, -which was both a fortress and a mansion, in some former age. Time -has passed roughly over its proportions: he has even broken the -dial, which marked out his own flight. Still, many relics of the -past are left: and limbs of warlike images, and rude inscriptions, -partly effaced, may yet be seen. The chisel, or even the plaster -of modern art, have never approached its walls. No flower has -sought shelter amidst its mantling ivy:--shelter, it should never -find,--it would instantly be rooted up. Within, no partitions have -been erected, to silence the sacred echoes of the spacious hall. -The spirits of sound, which tenant the dwelling, would take flight -upon the slightest change. No carpet of richest manufacture, has -dared to cover the silent footsteps of the fair and the brave, -who once to the minstrel’s harp, and the sigh of love, trod many -a gallant measure in the dance. The windows on the terrace, when -opened, receive no sound from the distance, save the old echo -of the lover’s lute, greeting the maiden as she listened in her -chamber, with fluttering heart, to the fond tale. When seen from -without, her handkerchief seems to float--the signal of peace and -hope. To the Chronicler, there is no silence in these deserted -scenes. From him, the sixteenth century has never departed. The -echoes are still of merriment and war. Knights and squires, -successful in wooing or fighting, move before him. He mingles, -with the delight of reality, in the banquet and the dance--and -then rushes to the siege and the battle. Could the reader obtain -admission to his apartment he would, as by a flash of lightning, -be favoured with a glance--it might be transient to his eye, but -it could never be darkened in his mind--of olden times. He would -converse with one, who has never lived for modern change, and in -whose white locks, and obsolete dress, he should behold a living -specimen of a former century, as if it had literally descended from -that time. The Chronicler must be excused for speaking of himself. -Who _could_ forbid any of the followers of Cromwell, or Charles, -to arise--the one to recite with solemn countenance and lengthened -drawl; and the other with a dissipated air of pleasant vice--their -respective achievements, whilst their manner, and costume are -thoroughly scanned? What cavalier would ban the Protector, even -Nol with his nose and ominous wart, from again appearing, to -reveal to us those stern and inflexible features, and to discourse -to us, in one of those intricate speeches, which none could -understand,--for, like his own dark and wily spirit, they baffled -all knowledge? Or what republican could say “nay,” as the king’s -court was brought into view, with the handsome, though melancholy -martyr, at its head, surrounded as he was, unfortunately, by -gilded butterflies? In like manner, the Chronicler hopes, that no -one _can_ be inclined to prevent a specimen of these times from -intruding himself, for a little on the attention of his readers. - -He is now seated, writing from an inkhorn said to have been -the property of General Fairfax; and leaning on a table, once -heavily laden with a feast, of which royalists and republicans -alike partook, on a day of truce. Other relics of that time are -around him; but there is one dearer than all besides--a lovely -daughter--a descendant, by the mother’s side, of an ancient family -of distinction, from whom Charles II., during his wanderings, -received shelter, and subsequently, assistance to mount the throne. -She sings to him the ballads of other days, and they revive again -in the echo of her music. For her, as well as for her father, this -is but the sixteenth century; and though only in her seventeenth -summer, she rejects all the amusements of more modern times. -He has resolved, out of fondness for the days that are gone, as -well as affection for his daughter, that no lover fresh from -the approbation of his tailor, and the flattery of his mirror, -practised in bows and compliments acquired at the theatre--shall -ever find admission to his beloved Jane. He would sooner give her -to an ourang-outang than a fop. The favoured suitor must, indeed, -be handsome, learned, and brave; he must breathe a song of love -in the good old style, beneath her lattice, when the moon and -stars are shedding their light over the old mansion. Nor must he -be an Antiquary, in the modern sense of the word. He may enter -with the long essay, which he read to the British Association, in -his pocket, peeping out instead of the handkerchief of the dandy; -he may drag behind his name, all the letters of the alphabet, as -honorary titles; the Chronicler shall lead him to the door by -a way, to detail the curiosities of which, must obtain for him -additional laurels. He shall, to a certainty, likewise qualify him -for describing the strength of an oak cudgel. Nor must he be a -silly Poet, a thing distilled of sighs, flames, water, and earth, -who should have lived in the moon to address sonnets to her, and -not on earth, since the envious clouds prevent her from seeing and -reading them, as well as the brown paper of a garret window. Should -any such find his way here, the Chronicler promises to compliment -his head with a salutation from a good round of old England’s beef. -No, no, the favoured suitor must be of a different genus; and his -lute, moreover, must have no resemblance to the sighing guitar of -Venice, or the rude whistle of England. And the Chronicler has -sometimes been of opinion, that his daughter has made the same -resolution. Of late, he has caught the sound of a manly serenade, -and he has observed her blush, and occasionally leave the room. -Nay, he has met her rambling through the adjoining thickets, with -the son of an old friend, whose romance is in the past, and he -has blessed them both. Yes, handsome and talented is ----. He had -written the name, when Jane, looking over his shoulder in womanly -curiosity, beheld it. Shrieking, she immediately snatched the pen -from his hand, and scratched through it the above stroke, and gave -her fond old father a playful blow: yet now she seems thoughtful -and sorry for having violated that dear name, by blotting it, and -is half inclined to rewrite it herself. Fear not! Fate will draw no -such ominous mark over it, and all that binds it to you is love and -happiness. - -To confide a secret to the reader, since the last sentence was -written, the Chronicler has received a hint that the proof sheets -of the following “Legends” may be read by his son-in-law! Nay, this -very night, the lovers shall be formally betrothed, over a Bible, -which has been stained by the blood of its former possessor--a holy -martyr--and the sword of an old English patriot shall be placed in -the young man’s hand; therewith to defend religion--a wife--and a -country. - - * * * * * - -The ceremony is performed, and both press the old man to read the -first Legend. He gives his assent, and, at the same time, orders -chairs to be set for his dear friends, the Public; whom he has -respectfully invited, and whose attention he now humbly craves to - - - - -THE LEGEND OF THE BATTLE OF WIGAN LANE. - - -Few battlements now remain, of one of the best fortified castles -that ever defended Lancashire, and the King. But two centuries ago, -and Houghton Tower, situated at the distance of four miles and a -half to the west of Blackburn, stood proudly, and seemed in itself, -without the assistance of garrison or artillery, to be capable of -maintaining a successful struggle with the power of any enemy. All -around were peaceful vales, where primitive simplicity dwelt; and -often has the traveller, at eve, laid himself down on the green -knolls, beside the gently flowing stream of the classic Darwen, -in order to become as happy as every object near him; to enjoy the -gambols of the lambs frisking about; and to view the milkmaid, as, -with a light step, and a merry heart, she tripped across the glen. -He has then fancied himself, not only retired for ever from the -theatre of war, but likewise from the mart of commerce; and happy -has he been that there was an Eden sacred to his imagination, at -the very time when the face as well as the heart of his country was -blighted by civil strife, and stained by the blood of its own sons, -shed by the murdering hand of their brothers. But suddenly--to -jar upon all the rural sounds by which he was greeted--the shrill -trumpet was heard loud and near, startling the silent echoes of -the green woods on the banks of the river, and on emerging from -the vale, the fortresses of Houghton Tower were seen, dark and -sullen, against the fading light of the sky. The challenge of the -warder, and the fastening of the draw-bridge, were of war, and -entirely dispelled the previous calm. Who could have imagined -that in the bosom of such beautiful vales there could be a mass -of frowning rock, so huge as that on which the castle was built? -or, that amongst a class of venerable patriarchs, distinguished -for simplicity of manners and life, there could be the restless -spirits of war to fortify and maintain it? And yet it seemed to be -a castle of nature’s building, and not of art’s; for tall trees -over-shadowed its turrets, and around its base the Darwen flowed -over its deepest channel. - -It had been erected by Sir Thomas Houghton, towards the beginning -of Elizabeth’s reign, and the gallant knight had always supported -a garrison in it, evidently for no other purpose than to fire a -salute, at every anniversary of his birth day. But he died, and -so did his queen: and upon the accession of the learned James to -the throne, folios became the only battlements. His descendant, -Sir Gilbert, was honoured with a visit from that monarch, in -his celebrated “Progress” through Lancashire; and from the -tower of Houghton, the modern Solomon fired his wit from an old -Latin mortar. “Our opinion” said the grave fool and the merry -sage, “whilk hath been kept for some time, as our jester Horace -(the oyster eater should have lived in our court) recommends, -in our desk,”--and here he pointed to his brow, with his usual -self-complacency--“our opinion is,” he continued, “that Houghton -Tower is just like a Scotch pudding--ha!--ha!--Sir Gilbert;--your -castle is a pudding, and you are chief butler, and all your men are -cooks! _We_ say so.” - -But another reign brought different scenes. Upon the disputes of -Charles and the Parliament, a strong garrison was again supported -in the tower, and the costly velvet which had decked the “Progress” -of James, through the ponderous gateway, was removed from the -trampling hoof of the war steed. The Parliamentary army besieged -it, but it made a bold defence, until, by accident, the magazine -of powder in the strongest battlement, was ignited; and as the -assailants were making a vigorous effort, all at once three of the -buttresses were blown up, and Cromwell’s troops were masters of -Houghton Tower, having taken all the garrison as prisoners. Their -governor, Sir Gilbert, had fallen in the assault. His son Richard -was heir, and the rightful lord of the tower, but he was confined -in a dungeon, along with his youngest daughter, Anne--for all her -sisters were married. But the wily Cromwell, when he was compelled -to lead his troops to Ireland, secretly advised his officers in the -garrison to give out that they were willing to conspire against -the Parliament, and to return to their allegiance, in order that -he might be privy to every intended movement of the Royalists. -The plot was successful. As soon as Cromwell had departed from -England, (he never had resided in the tower,) this resolution was -made known, and to prove its sincerity, Sir Richard Houghton was -restored to his claims as governor of Houghton Tower, which was -once more considered as a strong-hold of the Royalists; while -virtually it was in the power of spies, who secretly conveyed -all intelligence of any loyal movement which was, or had been -concerting,--to the General. - -The scene of our Legend opens in the year 1651, on a beautiful -evening towards the end of August, when the setting rays of the -autumn sun fell, with a luxurious light, on the grey fortresses, -and the floating banner. The fair Anne was walking alone, on the -eastern battlement which overlooked the valley. She was of slight -proportions, and her age could not have exceeded sixteen, though -she was possessed of a mind nobly accomplished, in which genius -and passion were now beginning to develope themselves, in beauty -and power. Her features were eminently noble, and beautiful; yet -changing to every expression, as if they themselves thought and -felt. In one mood, she might have sat to the painter, for a true -image of the laughing and innocent Hebe; one who would have danced -away an immortality in smiles, with no other wreathes than her own -beautiful hair, and no other company than her own thoughts and -love: more gay and gladsome than a child of earth,--the genius of -witchery. In another, for that of Melancholy, her long dark locks -hanging over a face so pale, with the colour and the life of hope -dashed from it, as was hope itself, from her mind. Her form was -moulded in the most perfect symmetry of beauty,--not luxurious, but -spiritual. - -The weeds of mourning for her mother, who had died a few months -before, had been thrown aside; but the paleness of her cheeks, and -the tremor of her lips, spoke the sorrow of her heart. Her locks -waved to the breeze. Her eye kindled with enthusiasm, as, quickly -placing her small hand upon her marble brow, she exclaimed, “how -tranquil and how beautiful is earth now. Yonder cottages, with -their ivy porches, around which children are sporting, appear as if -they were the habitations of young spirits. England is blessed in -her cottages--but ah!--in her palaces!--no crown for the sun’s rays -to fall upon! Once the sun gleamed upon the crown placed carelessly -amidst the state ornaments, in the palace:--without, upon the gory -head of the king, which had once been invested by it; and last of -all, upon his headless trunk. Oh! that his son--now returned, might -be blessed with conquest.” - -At this moment, her eye was arrested by a reflection of light -in the distance. It was the gleam of arms, from a small body of -soldiers; over whom the banner of Charles was waving. - -In her joy, Anne Houghton clasped her hands, and fervently said, -“Thank God! all are not traitors.” She turned round, and met the -searching glance of Colonel Seaton, one of Cromwell’s spies. - -“Fair lady--yonder troop is a loyal body. But--” and his -countenance darkened with thought as he spoke,--“they have now -encamped, and three horsemen leave the line, and are galloping in -the direction of the tower. Well--for their reception!” - -There seemed to be a concealed meaning in his tones, and in haste -he strode away. Three men were now seen approaching the avenue -which led to the gateway. The foremost seemed to have no armour, -but a sword. He wore no helmet, but a low cap, with a white -plume. He was clad in a mourning garb, and over his left arm his -cloak was flung, as for a shield. Keen was his eye, though he had -evidently passed the meridian of life, and the fair lady of the -tower almost believed that she only stood at a short distance from -him--so quick was its flash. Behind him was a handsome youth, -equipped in light panoply, who seemed fitted either for contesting -the battlefield--or for sighing, not unpitied, in a lady’s bower. -Light was the rein which he passed over his charger, and yet, as -it plunged furiously, the rider sat with indifference. The third -horseman, who seemed altogether absorbed with papers on which he -was glancing, was the most stalwart. His coat of mail was clasped -over a breast, full and prominent, and his horse startled whenever -his mailed hand was placed upon its mane, to urge it forward. His -eye never sought the fortress of the tower, until they had arrived -at the drawbridge--when the warder’s horn sounded the challenge, -and Sir Gilbert appeared on the walls. The first horseman called -out, “The Earl of Derby, with two friends, in the service of -Charles.” - -The drawbridge arose instantly, and, as they entered, Sir Richard -gave the Earl a warm welcome. “In mourning, my noble friend? Is the -Countess of Derby in health?” - -“Yes,” was the reply--“But I wear these weeds for my late -unfortunate master: and never shall they be exchanged--unless for -a court dress, to appear with my heroic lady, in the palace of his -son.” - -“Never,” was the ejaculation of Colonel Seaton, who now bowed his -homage to the loyal nobleman and his companions. The word seemed -ominous--but it was intended to be _more_ than ominous. A tear -trembled in the Earl’s eye, and, although delicate was the hand -which brushed it away, that hand seemed formed for the sword. -“Excuse my weakness,” he added. “Loyalty costs me much; but for -every tear which falls on the ground, that ground shall drink, till -it be glutted, aye, dyed with the enemy’s blood.” This was said in -no threatening tone, but, from its very mildness, was thrilling -with the sternest revenge, and breathing the spirit of the -deadliest resolution; as the still calm, sometimes truly announces -the darkness and fury of the tempest. - -“Sir Thomas Tyldesley and a distant relation, whom he calls his -nephew;--dear to me for themselves, as well as for their loyalty, -accompany me,” said Derby, introducing them to Sir Richard; “we -met at Preston, in the royal name, once more to try the cause of -Charles.” - -“My sword,” replied Sir Thomas to the praise of the governor, “once -intervened between the king and death; and gladly would I have -intervened myself, to save him from his shameful end. I can do the -same for his son: my nephew will support me,” and he looked with -emotion upon his young relative. They informed Sir Richard, that at -the head of six hundred men, they were on their march to possess -themselves of Wigan, and then to join the army of the king. Colonel -Seaton councilled them to delay their march till the morrow, and -then some of the garrison might be prepared to accompany them. -Meanwhile, he assured them that a messenger should be sent to the -camp, to make known this resolution. He stepped aside to one of his -men, and, in a low and firm voice said, “Mount horse ere another -minute is gone, and meet Colonel Lilbourne, and bid him haste to -seize upon Wigan. Stay--” as he bethought himself, “your course -may be seen at present; in half-an-hour you will be favoured by -the night,--and ride, as from death!” “Perhaps,” he muttered to -himself, as he moved on to join the Earl, “Lilbourne may give them -a welcome, if his friendship be hasty, in these very walls.” - -Sir Richard Houghton had now conducted the new comers up to the -battlements, through ponderous arches, and had asked Derby’s -blessing upon his beautiful daughter. Kind was the Earl’s language -to the maiden, as, gently taking her arm, he put it within that of -young Tyldesley; “Let the smiles of beauty always honour and reward -the young and brave royalist!” - -“Old soldiers likewise honour the youthful royalist,”--interrupted -Colonel Seaton, who had joined them--“and perhaps high honours -await him on the morrow.” These words were not heard by young -Tyldesley, who was gallantly paying his compliments to the lady. -Her eye never wandered from the ground, even to gaze upon the -handsome cavalier, until they had entered the great hall, and she -was led by him to a seat in the recess, with the casement opening -upon the woody precipices of the tower. She then stole a glance at -him, as he gazed upon the scene without. He seemed agitated with -some remembrance newly awakened. Anne’s eyes were still upon him, -until, at length, he broke from his reverie. - -“Excuse my rudeness, fair lady:--the times prevent us from giving -the attention we are proud to show. In the midst of courtesy, -aye, and of tenderer duties, the trumpet calls us away, or some -painful remembrance comes, like a cloud, over our joy. Three -years ago I was cloistered within the walls of Oxford, striving -successfully for literary honours. My sister,--fair and beautiful -as the lady-love of a poet’s dream; and pure as an angel--for she -transformed earth into a holy spot, and then fondly clung to -every flower which grew there, of hope and love--came from home -to visit me. It was towards sunset, in summer, when she entered -my apartment. She rushed not forth to meet me, as was her wont. -She was pale, and her golden ringlets were disordered;--but her -countenance was intensely thoughtful, and she assumed all the -affection of an elder sister, kissed my brow, and asked God to -bless her brother Henry. Cold were her lips, as I fondly pressed -them. I put her hand within my bosom, and encircled her slight -frame with my arm. I begged her to tell me her distress. I had -not a friend to inquire respecting; we were two orphans; and, -therefore, I knew that the causes of her anguish were bound up in -herself. ‘Oh! Eleanor,’ I said, ‘how different is this meeting -from our last; in this very room, when you bounded in, all fondly -and playfully, and gave me a kiss for every medal of honour I had -won.--See,’ and I showed her many which I had won since--‘will -you refuse me a sister’s reward?’ She bent forward--her arms were -twined around my neck, when her head sunk on her bosom. ‘Oh! tell -me!’ I exclaimed with an earnestness almost frantic, ‘why are -you thus disturbed?’ She slowly raised her face, with a strange -expression, and asked, ‘Does a nerve of my frame tremble, brother? -do mine eyes drop one little tear? why, then, should ye suppose me -distressed?’ Here a bell tolled suddenly--it was no requiem for -the dead--but for a noble youth who was shortly to be so. - -“She started up, and exclaimed, ‘it is time!--brother, ask me not a -question, but silently accompany me.’ - -“‘Where?’ I inquired. - -“‘To the place of execution!’ - -“The truth now flashed upon me. She took my arm and we left the -room. It was a beautiful night, so like the present. I lamented the -fate of him who must bid adieu to earth, when it was so lovely, -and on a scaffold! and I longed to know the tie which bound my -sister to him, but I dared not question her. We had already left -the suburbs of Oxford, and the dense crowd was in sight at a short -distance. She broke the silence, ‘Henry, do not hold me, when I -quit your arm; do not, for my mother’s sake. That vow is sacred to -us both!’ We had now reached the place of death. The sun gleamed -upon the block. I thanked God that he was to be beheaded as a -gentleman, and not hanged as a dog. He came upon the scaffold with -a proud step, and a haughty mien. His head was uncovered, and dark -were the beautiful locks, which hung over his neck;--but that head, -which might have lain on my sister’s bosom, was to be as a piece -of wood for the axe of the executioner! My sister never trembled, -but gazed upon him. He started as he looked upon the block! He -approached,--the executioner was about to unbuckle the sword of -the condemned cavalier, when, with a proud glance, he forbade him. -He knelt:--his lips moved in prayer. His eyes fell upon the marks -of military honour on his breast. ‘Sir William,’ he said, ‘thou art -no more.’ - -“At his name, my sister gave one scream of madness; he started -up at the sound, and his eyes were upon Eleanor. ‘My Eleanor!’ -he exclaimed: she rushed to the scaffold; but in a moment he was -bound down to the block, and the axe fell, but not before a loud -shout came from his lips, ‘God save King Charles!’ and there was my -sister kneeling over him, and then attempting to snatch the head -from the executioner, in her frenzy. I sprung forward--I heard a -fall--Eleanor was dead upon the headless trunk! I rushed home with -the lifeless body in my arms, and there pronounced a vow of revenge -upon the rebels, by whom I had lost a sister. - -“My books were disregarded, and I joined my brave uncle. But--this -night is the exact type of that awful night! and I--have no sister!” - -He buried his face in his hands. In sympathy, tears were flowing -down the cheeks of Anne. He raised his eyes, and blessed her for -one tear shed over the memory of Eleanor. He even ventured to take -her hand--and it was not withdrawn--“Excuse me,” he said, “I -cannot leave the subject soon, as I cannot leave her grave when I -visit it, until the dews are falling upon my prostrate form. It -is sacred. You remind me of her. And will the fair Anne Houghton -refuse to be unto me what my Eleanor was?” - -At this moment the warriors entered the hall, and a council was -held, as to their future movements, when Sir Richard bade his -daughter give orders to the domestics for the feast. In an hour the -entertainment was ready, and the hall lighted. Sir Thomas Tyldesley -sat at the table in full armour, and at every movement which he -made, the clang of his armour was heard, amidst the sober mirth -of the feast. Colonel Seaton inadvertently remarked “The Lord’s -people of old were commanded to eat the passover with their staves -in their hands, ready to depart; and his people, now, must eat with -their swords in their hands.” - -“Friend,” replied the knight, “that speech savours too much of a -roundhead, who must always be quoting scripture. I once knew one of -them, whom Cromwell advised to read carefully the account of Jael -and Sisera; and after he had done so, he would inquire at every -old woman whom he met, whether she had got such articles as a long -nail, a heavy hammer, and a strong arm; and told her to operate -upon the head of a cavalier, assuring her ‘that the Lord had -delivered all such into her hand,’ and that she would henceforth -be a mother in Israel. No, no, colonel,--I do not say let soldiers -leave piety to monks, but let them, I say, leave sermons, homilies, -and long faces.” - -“Well spoken,” said Sir Richard Houghton, “but our friend hates the -roundheads.” - -“I do,” replied the Colonel, “God save King Charles.” - -At this moment a blast was heard, and Sir Richard arose, when -Seaton again interrupted them. “Keep your seat, worthy knight, and -entertain your guests. I will go and parley with the new comer; it -is the blast of a royalist.” He strode away saying in his heart, -“God save Cromwell.” - -In a short time he returned with the stranger, who was of an -athletic frame, altogether destitute of grace, though not of -dignity; for he strode into the hall with a commanding air. His eye -moved restlessly over the forms of the warriors, when the Earl of -Derby started up, with his hand on his sword. - -Colonel Seaton stepped between them, “You behold a friend, noble -Earl! the governor of a loyal castle, who has come to deliberate -with Sir Richard Houghton, in reference to their garrison: not -knowing whether they ought to join the King at Worcester, or keep -to their castle.” - -The Earl was satisfied, and only remarked that “he had been -deceived by a resemblance.” - -The stranger was invited cordially to partake of the cheer; during -which he spoke but little, and yet seemed interested in the -conversation. At length Sir Thomas Tyldesley proposed that a song -should be sung, adding “that amongst royalists there were to be -found the only true poets.” - -“Nay, Sir Thomas,” replied the Earl of Derby, “the republicans can -boast of one whose name shall be the boast of our country to latest -ages, whose lays are wild and majestic. When in London, I was -desirous of seeing the man who wrote so bitterly against the king; -expecting to see a fiend in human disguise. His house was mean: I -thought that he surely had not taken bribes, otherwise he might -have lived in a magnificent mansion. As I entered, two females were -writing, and the sound of an organ came from the further end of the -room. I turned there, and beheld a beautiful man, seated behind -the faded hangings, with a countenance so serene and angelic, and -his eyes looking up to heaven, as if his soul was ascending on the -breath of the music. He was dictating to the ladies, who called him -father. He moved not his eyes: his face was pale, but every muscle -seemed to vibrate with thought and feeling. His hair was parted in -front, over a beautifully formed brow, and fell in brown ringlets -over his shoulders. He could not be young--there was so much of -thought:--he could not be old--there was so much of happiness. -‘Dorothy,’ he said, ‘I have given you the last sentence:--subscribe -Joannis Miltonus.’” - -“Milton!” exclaimed the stranger with enthusiasm. “John Milton!” - -“His daughter,” the Earl continued, “beheld me; they told their -father that an armed stranger was present. His sword was on the -table--he grasped it--but instantly laid it down. ‘He is welcome, -though I cannot see him. All is dark--dark--not even shadows. But -your errand, sir stranger?’--and his sightless orbs seemed to turn -upon me, with the sweetest, and yet most dignified expression. I -dared not announce with what views I had come, but I went close -to his side, and took the hand (it scarcely touched as if it were -human) which was stained with my master’s blood, and I kissed it -in profoundest admiration. I remained for hours, happy, useful -hours. He arose, as I prepared to depart; I yet see his form; I yet -hear his step. He led me to the door, and blessed me. I have often -thought of the interview, and as I passed the Darwen a few hours -ago, I repeated his lines--though they were commemorative of the -king’s defeat,-- - - ‘And Darwen’s streams with blood of Scots embrued.’” - -Here the stranger was much moved, and frequently repeated to -himself, “my Milton! my Milton!” - -“Yes,” added Sir Thomas Tyldesley, “it was on such a night as this, -three years ago, that Cromwell defeated the Duke of Hamilton.” - -“It was,” replied the stranger, averting his gaze. - -The conversation now began to turn upon their warlike plans, -and Henry Tyldesley, conceiving that he might be more agreeably -occupied, led Anne to a seat in the recess, where our fair readers, -we doubt not, have been frequently wishing them to be, together and -alone. - -Music was heard from the battlements, through the casement; the -moon shed her softening light upon the young hero’s armour, and -he almost fancied that the rays were the fingers of his beautiful -companion. They spoke not, though their eyes had met, and though -the emotions with which they were lighted up, could not be -mistaken. They loved fondly, and to them both it was that holy and -rapturous thing--first love--which is for ever remembered, even -in old age, as something more beautiful and real than a dream of -earth. In war, love is seen only as in a glimpse, yet then it is -most interesting. Does the dove ever appear so much the spirit of -peace and hope, as when her silver wings are seen, like eternal -types of light, through the darkness of the storm, ascending to -heaven? How beautiful then is every flutter! Darkness is over all, -except these wings, and they appear purer and whiter than ever! -Thus is it with love, when it clings, fonder and fonder, in the -midst of danger; and when slender arms twine themselves around the -martial form, as if they could give a charm against wounds and -death, which reach through corslet and shield. - -Young Tyldesley had taken her hand, and she had not withdrawn it, -when a shadow was reflected from the casement, at which they sat -within hearing of the Darwen. Anne started, and on turning round -beheld her maid, who motioned her to leave the hall. There was -an unusual earnestness in her manner as she whispered “for God’s -sake--for your own--not a moment’s delay, my lady!” - -Her mistress silently obeyed her. - -They were now both upon the battlement, at the eastern extremity. - -“We are out of hearing,” said the maid, looking cautiously -around; and gazing upon Anne, whispered with terror, “you are -betrayed!--betrayed--and in the power of false hearts, but daring -hands!” - -“Never,” replied her mistress with energy, “who dares asperse his -character and motives?--the stranger is true--” - -“My young lady thinks of love,” returned her maid,--“but I refer -not to a lover. Nay, blush not; I meant not, that falsehood, either -to his king, or his lady-love, is in the heart of that young and -handsome cavalier; no, he and his companions I could swear over my -dead husband’s bible, are loyal and noble. But the new comer, whom -Colonel Seaton admitted, is a traitor!--nay, start not, my fair -mistress,--and Houghton Tower is now in the hands of Charles the -First’s murderers!” - -There was a fearful reality, thrilling in the voice of the -attendant; so different from the gossiping tone, for which she was -somewhat noted. - -“Gracious heaven!” exclaimed her mistress, “and are we betrayed? I -doubt the fidelity of Seaton. He had the countenance of an honest -man until this day; but I now fear me, that his heart is deceitful -and villainous. The stranger, too, seemed sullen; still, there was -an expression of cunning. Yet why should we tremble? Let their -heads grace the walls of Houghton Tower!--my father shall see it -done.” - -“Hush, hush, my lady,” replied her maid, “other heads than those -of traitors may, ere long, grace the turrets. They are supported -by the garrison. I learned as much from one of the sentinels, and -a high admiration he expressed for the stranger, whom my husband, -heaven rest his soul! would have addressed as an ungainly butcher, -such is the villain’s appearance.” - -Here she was interrupted:--she beheld two forms in the distance, -approaching, and she whispered to her mistress, to screen -themselves from view, behind the enormous engine posted on the -battlements. Scarcely had they done so, before they heard steps -near them, and instantly a dead pause was made. A stern voice now -lowly broke upon the silence, and Anne recognized it to be that -of the stranger, only it seemed more authoritative, even in its -whispers. “Is all safe? Is every thing in readiness?” - -“Yes,” was the short reply of his companion, Colonel Seaton; but it -was given in an obsequious and reverential tone. - -“But Derby, and his companions--” - -“Your excellency,” returned Seaton, “they shall be taken care of. -Though the night is not dark, still, dangers beset their way back -to the camp; and since their health is valuable, we must not expose -them beyond the limits of Houghton Tower. We are good nurses, and -are generally able to lull all whom we love, into a long and sound -sleep. Fear not--they are safe;”--and he laughed in scorn. - -After a moment’s pause, the stranger replied, “Seaton, you speak -of sleep; let us then think of a bed for them. I have heard of a -deep draw-well in the court; they would not be disturbed there. -’Twill but keep them from a sea of blood, into which, heaven -assisting me, the royalists must soon be plunged, and drowned, like -Pharoah’s host, in the red sea,--aye, red indeed! But, Seaton, see -that these three men do not quit the tower; their troopers shall be -an easy prey--they are sheep without a shepherd.” - -“Fear not,” the Colonel again said; “they are safe. They have -been men of blood, and it is but befitting them, that they should -undergo a cleansing. The ruffian Tyldesley pointed out to me some -stains of blood upon his armour--aye, the blood of our companions: -the well shall wash them out. Your excellency shall triumph over -all your enemies.” - -“Again,” interrupted his companion, “I charge it upon you. I am not -wont to come unattended, but, at present, I have run every hazard, -encountered every danger, to learn how our cause prospers. The -enemy is in our power. Seaton shall defeat Derby at Houghton Tower, -and his general shall defeat Charles at Worcester.” - -The stranger here spoke in a soothing and flattering tone. He added -a few more words, but they were inaudible. The speakers then trod -to and fro, upon the battlements, conversing with each other in -whispers. Sometimes the stamp of the stranger was heard enforcing -his words. - -The fair Anne, concealed with her attendant, behind the engine, -had listened in terror to the preceding conversation. She saw that -they were surrounded by the most artful plots, managed by powerful -and experienced agents; that the cause for which she had so long -implored the assistance of heaven, was in the greatest danger; -that her father, and young Tyldesley, whom she did not now blush -to think of as a very dear friend, with his uncle, and Derby, -must perish; and that she herself was at the mercy of stern and -unflinching ruffians. But how could she inform them of treachery, -when the traitors were walking near the place of her concealment? -Every moment seemed an hour; and, perhaps, it was then being -determined that every royalist in the tower, should be dragged by -the garrison, to a disgraceful end! She was almost frantic with -impatience, and she knew, likewise, that one slight movement of her -posture, as well as a whisper, might betray her. - -Again the two republicans stood opposite to the place where the -females were concealed, and their conversation could be heard. - -“All is safe,” said the stranger. “A few hours will bear me to my -men, assured that no enemy can annoy me in the rear; and before -me is the hungry skeleton of a wandering king. Pity that the -royal fool will not become my groom. He should be fed and clad, -and I might, eventually, raise him to hold my stirrup.” There was -intense mockery in his tones. He continued,--“aye, and when his -time allowed him to sport, I might procure him a gilded staff -for his sceptre, and he might crown himself, with straw from the -manger--the Lord’s anointed!” - -Not a smile passed over the face of the speaker, and Seaton, -was silent. The words were too earnest to be taken as humourous -sallies. The stranger resumed,--“He returns again to England. Poor -fool! Nature seems to have _beheaded_ him at his birth! and all -that the Lord’s people can do, is to bury him.” The speaker’s scorn -here seemed to increase, until he became silent. Colonel Seaton -ventured to inquire-- - -“Your excellency departs early?” - -“In a few minutes hence,” was the reply. “I may be suspected;--as -I entered the hall, Derby seemed to recall my features. The dead, -methinks, have a better cause to bear me in memory, than the -living. Yet Derby should recollect me; I once crossed swords with -him, disguised in habit, but not in countenance; and to a singular -incident he owed his safety. He fought bravely, and I should have -dispatched him gallantly, had--but this avails not now. He seems to -know me.” - -“Nay,” replied Seaton, “he spoke kindly to you after I explained -the purport of your visit. Let us return to the hall for a little.” - -“Why?” asked the stranger proudly;--“to be discovered? and then -the stay of England’s army and England’s freedom would be broken! -No, I mount horse instantly.” - -“Your hasty departure may excite suspicion, and frustrate our -schemes.” - -“’Tis well. I go to bid them adieu, a long adieu; ’tis probable -that I may never see them more. I am not in the habit of searching -wells, there to renew old acquaintanceship.” - -They passed on. Anne started up from her concealment. Not a moment -was to be lost, after the republican disappeared in the distance. -But alas! she could gain admittance to the hall by no other way -than that which they had taken. She reached the hall door,--she -heard her father, in a loud and merry tone of voice, pledge -the health and safety of the stranger. For a moment she stood -irresolute, when Seaton and his companion appeared. “Fair maid,” -said the stranger, “receive my wishes and prayers, as I bid you -adieu.” In a moment he was gone, and she rushed into the hall. - -“Speak not! ask no questions, noble warriors!” she exclaimed. “We -are betrayed! Yes, father, that stranger you have harboured as a -guest, is a republican, and Seaton has been acting as his spy. The -garrison are likewise traitors, and from us all escape is cut off--” - -“I knew that it was Cromwell,” replied Derby, as he started from -his seat, “but heaven grant that he is not yet beyond our reach; -I’ll die in capturing him! My friends, let us pursue!” - -He drew his sword, and every sign of feebleness left his frame. -Attended by his two companions, and the governor, he rushed forth, -exclaiming “treason! treason!” - -Fiery and impatient were their spirits, and as hasty their -steps. They came within sight of the drawbridge. It was up: and -as they rushed forward, a horseman spurred his steed across it, -and it again fell, and all communication was prevented. Cromwell -had escaped! and in the bitterness of disappointment Derby and -the governor stood bewildered, and thought not of securing the -traitor Seaton. They returned to the hall without perceiving that -Sir Thomas Tyldesley had left them, until the inquiries of Anne -rendered them aware of his absence. When they were alternately -expressing their disappointment at Cromwell’s escape, and their -surprise as to what had befallen the knight, a shriek was heard, as -coming from the nearest turret. Anne exclaimed, “the garrison are -traitors, and they are now slaying Sir Thomas.” - -“Nay, lady,” said the earl, “Tyldesley must first become coward, -ere a shriek escape him, though tortured beyond endurance. He would -express triumph even in death. But let us hasten. Fair lady, you -may be safer under our protection than in the hall. Lean on Harry’s -arm, it is the arm of a soldier--come;” and they hastened to the -place whence the noise proceeded. The moon shone full on their -faces, and gave them, to the gaze of each other, a strange mystery. -A step was heard in the distance, and soon Sir Thomas Tyldesley -stood before them, with his naked sword in his hand. He bade them -follow. He halted at the distance of a hundred yards, and raising -up an object which lay motionless, revealed the lifeless body of -Seaton. He tossed it down; and there it lay, with ghastly features, -all marked with blood, turned upon the spectators. A sword was -beside the body: the knight grasped it, and said,-- - -“The traitor fell by his own weapon. Thrice through the heart I -stabbed him with it, for I would not wound him with a sword which I -received from our late master.” - -“He richly deserved a thousand deaths,” ejaculated the governor. - -“Richly indeed,” replied Tyldesley, “had all his villainy been -comprehended in this night’s treachery. He lowered the drawbridge, -and while we stood astonished and motionless with anger, attempted -to retreat. I followed him. He muttered to himself, ‘Cromwell is -safe, and now for the mutiny in the garrison.’ He reached the -highest battlements. Rushing past him, I presented myself full -on his path, and ordered him to stand on his defence, or die. -He hesitated; entreated me for his life; wished to be thought a -coward; and yet all the time was cautiously, and, as he thought, -secretly, drawing his sword. He knelt, and then, imagining that I -was bending over him, he made a furious thrust, which I foiled, and -struck his weapon from his hand. Ha! it seems to pollute my hand -as I now grasp it.” The knight approached the walls, and tossed -it over. In its descent it glimmered in the moonshine, and the -bloodstains were seen, until it fell into the river. - -He returned, and taking up the body of Seaton, said, “let its -master share the same fate,” and instantly hurled it over, and a -heavy splash was heard. - -“So much for a traitor,” said Derby, “but did not the young lady -say that all the garrison were traitors also? What then is to be -done? Let us leave the tower, for if they knew of the murder of -their leader, all our lives would be sacrificed, and my troops -could not advance to the assistance of Charles. What dost thou -advise, Sir Governor?” - -“I cannot leave Houghton Tower,” was the reply. “I am its owner, -and must either live or die in it.” - -“Perhaps,” interrupted his daughter, “the garrison, since Seaton -is dead, and all other supporters are at a distance, may not openly -rebel for some time.” - -“Maiden,” said Derby, “thy counsel is good. Let them, moreover, be -informed of Seaton’s just death, and should they revolt, it would -be at the moment, and then Sir Richard might hang out a signal -from the walls, and in a short time my troops would advance to -the rescue. Meanwhile, Sir Thomas, it is necessary that we should -instantly be at the head of our men, prepared for every emergency. -Let us to horse!” - -This proposal met the sanction of the warrior. Our young hero, -however, turned pale; he was to be torn from the object of his -fondest love, never, perhaps, to meet again. He committed his -mistress to the care of her attendant, who now appeared. - -“Nay,” said Sir Richard. “We part not thus; let my noble guests -once more, in the hall, pledge the good old cause. Meanwhile your -horses shall be prepared for the way.” - -Young Tyldesley, as long as they remained in the hall, looked in -vain for Anne to enter. He was obliged to leave without pronouncing -farewell. - -They had now reached the gateway, where stood their horses. A young -page was likewise in waiting, who craved in a low, yet sweet voice, -to accompany them, as he was of no use to his fair mistress, and -might be the bearer of warlike messages, though a very unwarlike -personage himself. - -“Does your mistress know of your departure?” asked Sir Thomas -Tyldesley. - -“Yes,” was the reply. - -“Then, nephew, he is but of slender form, and cannot burden your -horse. Mount him behind you.” - -When all was in readiness, the drawbridge arose, they spurred their -horses, the moon shone upon the armed horsemen, and the pale face -of the page, who clung fast to Henry Tyldesley, and soon from the -tower their march could not be heard. - -Sir Richard sat in the hall, considering in what manner he should -best break his message to the garrison. Wishing to consult Anne, -whom he fondly loved, and whom, young as she was, he used to -call his premier, he retired to her private chamber, but she was -not there. He was not at first alarmed, because he knew, that -on a moonlight night, she was in the habit of walking on the -battlements, and enjoying the sweet influences which breathed upon -her from so many sources. But after an hour had passed, and still -she came not, though she must have known the perplexed state of her -father’s mind, occasioned by the strange events which that night -had disclosed, he summoned her attendant. - -“Where is my daughter?” anxiously asked the knight. The woman was -silent, but some secret intelligence seemed lurking on her lips. -Sir Richard became enraged; at length, she muttered, “She is not in -Houghton Tower.” - -“Not in Houghton Tower!” exclaimed the knight, half frenzied. “And -she is lost to me! There she was born, there she has lived, the -only flower of my hopes and love, which my own heart’s blood would -have been willing to cherish; aye! and there she should have died! -The little chapel, where she has so often prayed by my side, would -have given her a holy grave, and the withered hands of her old -father before they were stiff in death, would have gathered a few -blossoms, and strewn them over it. She’s gone!--gone!” - -The woman stood speechless at the ravings of her master. His mind -had always before been calm, as the stillest lake embosomed in a -summer glen. Even when his lady died, the composure of a feature -was not disturbed. Amidst treachery and private grief he had been -unmoved. But now, what agitation amidst the silent thoughts of an -old heart! Beautifully was it fabled by the ancients, that should -the sleeping waters of Lethe, on whose fair breast, no breeze came -to silence the murmur of its loving waves, which were only heard -by young spirits revelling there--be stormed into fury by any -influence, no trident of Neptune could assuage them. The young, -when their hopes are blasted, know nothing of the grief felt by -the aged, when their last hope dies, and when winter is over their -feelings. - -At length Sir Richard recovered himself, so far as to inquire where -his daughter was. “She has gone,” was the reply, “with the Earl of -Derby. The young horseman has avowed his love for her.” - -“Eternal curses on them all!” thundered forth the knight. “Thus -it is. These old men have conspired to ruin her. Derby pressed -her upon the youth’s notice, and has persuaded her to accompany -them. They are pledged against her innocence! aye!” his rage -still increasing,--“so have I heard of the unlicensed conduct -of cavaliers--but I will be revenged!--and henceforth, I am the -bitter enemy of all royalists!” In a moment, passion and love for -his daughter had brought him to this conclusion. He invoked curses -on Charles. Every prepossession in favour of the cause which he -hitherto supported, was gone, and in its place, inflexible and -active hate had entered. - -He left the hall, and acquainted the garrison,--who, we have seen, -were well disposed to Cromwell, with his daughter’s flight, and -instantly inspired them with deadly revenge. They all loved Anne; -she had listened to the tale of war which the very humblest of -them had to recite; and many of them had almost been compelled to -acquaint her with the plot of the Parliamentary officers. But at -present they were cool enough to observe, that it would neither be -prudent nor safe to make a sally upon Derby’s followers, to whom -they were inferior in number. It was, therefore, agreed, that at -the hour of midnight, fifty men from the tower should accompany Sir -Richard Houghton, to join the army of Captain Lilbourne, who was -then supposed to be marching from Manchester, to seize on Wigan, -and defend it against the royalists. Thus, Sir Richard Houghton, -formerly a true, though by no means an active, defender of Charles, -became a zealous supporter of Cromwell. - -Long before morning had dawned upon the camp, the Earl of Derby was -stirring about, and ordering all to be in readiness for departure. -No signal had been seen from Houghton Tower. It was, therefore, -concluded, that there had been no mutiny in the garrison. In a -short time, the trumpet was sounded, and all were mounted, waiting -the command to march. Derby rode into the centre, in full armour, -accompanied by his faithful servant, a Frenchman, who was proud to -behold his master once more arrayed for the field, where he should -distinguish himself. Every lock of his dark hair was concealed -beneath his steel-front beaver, and the mournful expression usual -to his features, was now exchanged for that of sternness. A loud -shout was raised for “King Charles and Derby.” - -The trumpets sounded, and in triple rank, with the earl in front, -and Sir Thomas Tyldesley and his nephew, accompanied by the young -page, in the rear, they hastily marched on. Lord Widdrington, and -Sir Robert Throgmorton, with a few soldiers, rode in different -directions, to give the alarm, should the enemy appear, though that -was not considered as at all likely. - -The page kept close by young Tyldesley, in the march; yet he spoke -little, even when Anne Houghton, his mistress, was introduced to -be praised. Upon giving expression to a beautiful and earnest -prayer, that Charles might return to his own, young Tyldesley took -his hand; it shrunk timidly from his grasp. “Poor page,” and as he -spoke, he drew his arm around his slender form, “thou seemest to be -but ill nerved for this day’s work. Thou tremblest.” - -“I have left many dear friends behind me, and I am here alone.” - -“But not unbefriended,” was Tyldesley’s reply. “Keep by me; I will -avert danger from thee. Be merry, gentle youth, and thou shalt yet -dance a gay measure with your mistress,--when she is my bride.” - -“But--” the crimson colour which mantled his features, changing to -a deadly paleness as he spoke, “should you fall, what is for me?” - -“A safe return to your mistress.” - -No answer was given; the page turned away his head, but not before -a tear had fallen upon Tyldesley’s hand. - -They had now marched for two hours, and the town of Wigan was seen -in the distance. As they advanced, the reapers were busy in their -quiet occupations, amidst the richly waving crops. The Earl of -Derby was, in his own mind, contrasting the joys of peace, with the -miseries of war, when, all at once, Lord Widdrington and Sir Thomas -Throgmorton were galloping towards him. The earl spurred from the -lines, and met them. - -“The enemy is approaching--the day must be lost,--they are some -thousand strong.” - -Derby turned pale at the intelligence. He had hoped to possess -Wigan as a strong-hold, until he had cleared a way to Worcester, -to join his Sovereign. But his paleness soon fled. “Dost see,” he -proudly exclaimed, “these few reapers cutting down whole fields of -corn,--and shall we not take courage from them?” - -Without ordering a halt, he wheeled round to the Tyldesleys, and -announced to them the movements of the enemy. - -“They have even taken possession of Wigan,” he said, “the -strong-hold of loyalty.” The earl then uncovering his head, looked -round upon his troops, and solemnly bade every soldier ask the -blessing of the God of battles. The helmet was raised from every -head, and every eye was fixed upward, as the small army prayed. - -“Let your prayers,” interrupted Derby, “be sincere; and even that -youthful page, whose cheek is pale for coming danger, may be nerved -to deal havoc among the enemy. Now let the march be sounded, and -let us, with all possible haste, scour to Wigan. And when we -encounter, as soon we must,--you have children,--there is strength -in your arm; you have wives--the thought is worth a hundred swords; -you have a king--fight, therefore, in their defence! Less than an -hour’s march must bring us front to front with the enemy, and they -are reported to be numerous.” - -“Front to front!” exclaimed Sir Thomas Tyldesley, “sword to sword! -let us meet them!” - -“Poor youth,” said Derby, as his eye rested on the pale face of -the page, “thou hast neither a soldier’s form nor heart, thou -shouldst have remained to amuse thy mistress. And yet” he added, as -if entirely absorbed in his own remembrances, “my countess never -required such a companion! heaven bless her, and guard her, should -I never see her more!” - -“Nor does my mistress, noble earl,” replied the page, quickly, -while his dark and beautiful eye glowed keenly: “and I too, -whatever my form and look may bespeak, am ready to lose a life for -my sovereign. I shudder to draw a sword, but I will not shudder to -receive it,--aye, in my bosom!” - -Never did the most herculean form appear more warlike, than did the -youthful speaker. His firmly chiselled mouth was pressed together -with a deadly expression of resolve, and the soft eyelash was -arched, as if it could slay. - -“Bravo,” exclaimed the elder Tyldesley, “a true knight; and yet -fair sir, a maiden speaks of bosom,--a hero speaks of heart!” - -Unconsciously, at this moment, the page had spurred his steed, -which plunged furiously. Like lightning, a slender arm reached -over the proud mane--grasped the bridle--and in a moment, he was -quiet as before. The strength of a giant horseman, could not have -so tamed him. In the suddenness of the motion, the plumed beaver -of the rider had fallen, and like some young and beautiful spirit -of power, with dark ringlets, curling over a brow of glistening -thought and love, and as if quelling the furious tempest, the page -leaned forward, on his steed. - -“Nay, nay,” said the earl, “spur on, and let us not delay to meet -the foe.” - -The gallant army marched on rapidly, and in a few minutes, as the -sun streamed from the eastern clouds, the rays fell upon Wigan, -seen in the distance. Only one sound was borne to the ear, and it -was the trampling of horses. “They come,” was the general cry. “On, -on,” exclaimed their leader, “let Charles’s banner be unfurled, and -soon we shall plant it, to wave over the church tower!” - -A few minutes more brought them to the entrance of the town. A -strong hedge skirted both sides of the road. The windings were many -and abrupt, and the sharp angular view, was over the rocky heights -on the banks of the Douglas, and almost suggested the appearance of -traitors, so unexpectedly were many of the scenes brought before -them. The scenery of the country around, was wild, and marked that -here, war would not be out of keeping. Young Tyldesley took his -uncle’s hand, to bid him farewell, for now the impression rested on -every mind, that from the unusual stillness, the stern sounds of -combat might soon be heard. Silence seemed to be the soft whispers -of a traitor! secret, but sure. A tear stole down the hardy cheek -of the veteran, as he blessed his companion. - -“This parting,” he added, “seems ominous. ’Twas thus your gallant -father bade me adieu, for the last time. Yet, Harry, another grasp -of your hand. Farewell, my brave boy.” - -They rode on without exchanging another word, when the young -soldier felt himself gently touched, and, on turning round, beheld -the page, who, with averted face, said--“Excuse me, but farewell, -Harry Tyldesley, should I see you no more.” - -“We part not thus, for your mistres’s sake. Ride by my side, and -you may command this arm to strike for your safety.” - -At this moment the small army heard some half-concealed -movement made, behind the hedges, and instantly a close fire of -musketry;--only a few were wounded. - -“The foe are in ambush!” exclaimed Sir Thomas. - -“Nay,” replied the earl, “the greater part are before us,” pointing -to a large army which now appeared. “Let us advance. Sir Thomas, -take the half of the band, and I shall lead the others. Let a halt -be sounded. We can do nothing against those who fire from the -hedges. Let us cut through the main body.--A halt!” - -Ere the signal had been given, many a brave fellow, had indeed, -halted, never more to advance, as a second volley, directed with a -steadier aim, was poured in upon them. - -Derby, in a moment, was at the head of his detachment. “Soldiers -of Charles!” he said, with energetic eloquence, “there are his -enemies and yours; and where are your swords? Be mangled--be -slain--but yield not. Hear your leader’s vow. Upon this good sword, -I swear, that as long as steel can cut, flesh shall wield.--Charge! -Upon them! The king! the king!” and they dashed on to meet the -enemy. - -Colonel Lilbourne, who commanded the enemy, instantly arrayed his -men, to bear up against the attack, and a dense square was formed -from hedge to hedge, of the regular troops, while the militia of -Lancashire and Cheshire were formed into a wing, to close in upon -the royalists, when they engaged with the main body. - -Derby, with his three hundred men, spurred on with incredible fury, -until they found themselves hand to hand with the regular troops. -They were instantly surrounded, for the militia wing had wheeled, -and now assailed them in the rear. A shout from the Parliamentary -army was raised, as the three hundred seemed to be bound in their -power, when Sir Thomas Tyldesley, with his men, advanced; and so -furious was the onset, that the enemy were literally trodden under -foot, and Derby and the knight were riding abreast, at the head -of their respective bodies, fighting to cut a passage through -the dragoons. Heedless of danger, the royalists followed every -direction of their leaders, who, themselves, fought, as well as -commanded. They had now almost reached the extremity of Lilbourne’s -forces, and bloody was the passage which they had made. - -“One effort more,” said the earl to his men, “and all is -gained!--On!” The battle raged more furiously--Derby’s sword, at -every thrust and plunge, was stained with fresh gore; but, all of -a sudden, he stood pale and surprised--for there was Sir Richard -Houghton advancing to meet him, from Lilbourne’s guard, with drawn -sword. Could he have turned traitor? The earl’s weapon was as ready -for a blow, as his heart was for a curse upon a false knight, and -instantly they would have crossed swords, had not Derby’s steed -been shot from under him, while that of the recreant knight carried -his rider beyond him, safe and unharmed. On foot the earl fought -with as much execution as when mounted; but his voice could not -be heard, as he addressed his men, from amidst the hoofs of the -enemy’s horse. An officer of the enemy approached. In a moment he -was dragged from the saddle, pierced as he lay on the ground, and -as his dying eyes were raised, he beheld Derby mounting his horse. -Many blows were then showered upon the gallant nobleman, and some -deadly thrusts were made in the direction of his breast, but he -seemed to escape unhurt. - -The next moment placed Derby at the extremity of the opposing -lines. “King Charles and England’s royalty!” was the shout that -burst from his lips, and, although it was heard by the enemy, for -a few moments they fell back from the single arm of the loyal -nobleman. There seemed something supernatural in his bearing, so -calm, and yet so furious. Taking advantage of their inactivity, -he dashed through the rear. A gleam of sunshine flashed on his -armour, and hope entered his soul, as he found himself at the -top of the steep and sweeping descent which leads to the town. -It was then rocky and precipitous, but his horse never stumbled. -For a moment he wheeled round, and no followers were near, except -young Tyldesley, and the page. Stern was the expression on the -countenance of the former; but the latter, though pale, displayed -a heroism still wilder. And yet his sword had not, throughout the -battle, been unsheathed, and he had forced a passage without giving -a wound. - -“Brave page!” exclaimed the earl. “Still, thou oughtest to have -used thy sword; thine arm might have sent the blow with power -sufficient to wound--aye, to kill!” - -At this moment two of the enemy, who had pursued the leader of the -royalists, rushed on him. His horse plunged furiously, and turned -himself altogether on one of the assailants--thus exposing his -rider. Instantly that assailant sprung forward with a loud shout -of joy; but that shout was ended in a dying shriek, as the sword -of the page passed through his body. The other fell by the earl’s -own hand. For a brief space the page looked with something of -satisfaction on the blood-stained sword. But as a drop fell upon -that small hand, a shudder passed over his frame, and his eye was -fixed, with unnatural light, on the spot. - -“It is of a foul colour!” he exclaimed. “Good God! and have these -fair hands been stained with human blood? What will Anne Houghton,” -he added in a low tone, “think of me now?” - -“Nay, nay,” hastily replied the earl, “repent not the deed at the -sight of blood. I thank thee, brave youth. But now, what movement -is to be made? Shall we rush upon Wigan without our followers?” - -“I’ll defend the church,” said the page, “as the brave countess -defended her home.” - -But before Derby had decided--for all that we have related took -place in a few moments--a cry arose from his men in the rear, -who, overpowered by numbers, could neither fight nor advance. -The dragoons, headed by Sir Richard Houghton, had so surrounded -them, that they must either surrender, or die to a man. That -knight conducted himself most valorously, for, in every enemy who -approached, he expected to recognize those whose perfidy (such he -thought it) he burned to revenge. At every attempt of the small -band of royalists to rally, by shouting “Derby and Tyldesley,” he -dealt his blows more fiercely. Still, the royalists did not call -for quarter; and soon, in this awful emergency, they heard the -voice of Derby cheering them on, as he came to their succour. So -sudden was the assault, and so much impetus was given to it, that -the enemy, in the terror of the moment, crowded to the hedges, over -which many of them leapt their horses. But Sir Richard Houghton -kept his station, at the head of a few followers, who remained -firm; when his eye, falling upon young Tyldesley, he spurred his -horse forward, aiming a blow at his enemy. A shriek, at that moment -arising from the page, arrested his arm. - -“No! no!” exclaimed Sir Richard, “it cannot be; and yet, so like -in sound!” Ere he had uttered these words, his arms were gently -grasped by the page; but a follower of the knight soon freed him -from the encumbrance, and the wounded youth fell into the arms -of Harry Tyldesley, who bore him forth, himself fatally wounded. -Bloody was the harvest which the royalists now began to reap, as -they charged the fugitives, with impetuous fury. The earl, and his -brave fellow-leader, Sir Thomas Tyldesley, met, having literally -cut down, and cut through the intervening troops of the enemy. -Several officers had been slain, and Sir Richard Houghton had been -carried from the field by his men, faint from wounds. - -“Again!” was the exclamation of the loyal leaders, as they -separated to lead their followers once more to the work of death. - -Success attended every blow, and many were the bodies which they -rolled over mounds, and charged into the river, entirely routing -their array. But soon they were vigorously repulsed by Lilbourne’s -guard, who closely engaged them. After a long struggle, the -gallant royalists made their way to the farthest line of the -enemy. “Again!” was now not only the exclamation of the leaders, -but likewise the war-cry of their men, and they wheeled and dashed -through the centre of the dragoons. Here the scene of battle -widened, the enemy had been driven from their ranks, and the -royalists had left theirs to follow them; and now the fate of the -battle seemed altogether changed. The combat was almost single, -and then six were opposed to one. Derby was unhorsed a second -time, and his brave and faithful servant, who had, in his youth, -followed him from France, fell in warding off some blows from his -master. Lord Widdrington was pursued by a whole rank of dragoons, -and slain on the banks of the Douglas. In vain did the royalists -attempt to rally. Their leaders saw that the battle was lost. The -earl had, himself, received many wounds, and was faint from the -loss of blood. His sword was heavy for his arm, and he could attack -with difficulty, since he was on foot. He stood, for a moment, -bewildered, when he heard Sir Thomas Tyldesley, at the head of -about twenty men, exclaim, “through, or die!” Instantly the brave -knight was in the thickest of the engagement. His plume waved long, -and his arm plunged furiously. At length he fell, pierced by many -weapons, but his head lay proudly in death, upon a heap of those -whom his own hands had slain, forming a monument more lasting than -that which the gratitude of a follower has erected, on the same -spot, to the hero’s memory. - -Derby now stood alone:--after great exertions he could only rally a -few men. These persuaded him that he could only die, did he choose -to remain. He perceived then that his death should be in vain, that -it could not change the fate of that day’s battle. They mounted -him on a horse, and scouring over the hedges together, were hotly -pursued to Wigan. - - * * * * * - -Let us re-visit the field of battle towards sunset of the same -day. All was then still. The departing rays showed the ghastly -countenances of the dead, crowded together promiscuously, without -the distinction of roundhead or cavalier. They lay in such perfect -repose, that Nature seemed to have brought them there, without the -help of man, herself to bury them, with her own funeral rites. -The breeze sighed over them, and occasionally moved some of the -locks, which had escaped from the helmet, and these were thin and -silvery with age, or dark and clustering with youth. Here and -there a venerable head lay naked on the ground. Here and there -young lips were pressed to the cold and bloody sod, in the kisses -of death. Such a scene, at such an hour, when every thought is of -quiet peace, and love, with such a beautiful sun, shedding a mellow -light around, might have given rise to a notion entertained by -the Persians of a former age, that in some sequestered spot, near -to the gentle flowing of a river, the most highly-favoured of our -race shall undergo a transformation, and for days lie on the grass, -apparently dead, even with symptoms of bloody violence, until the -last touch shall have been given to the passive clay; and, amidst -the light and music of heaven resting there alone, with those of -earth, hovering like dreams about them, they shall rise up pure and -lovely spirits, above misery and mortality. - -Leaning upon the arm of a servant, who supported with much care, -his halting steps, one of the Parliamentary leaders was now groping -his way through the slain, and occasionally stooping to examine the -features. - -It was Sir Richard Houghton. His countenance was pale, bearing -traces of anguish within, more than of bodily fatigue. The -excitement which had sustained him in the engagement, seemed to -be gone. Years of sorrow, since then, might have passed over him, -without producing so great a change. His spirit seemed to have -been more deeply wounded than his body. Long was his search amidst -the slain. As he stooped, a shade of the deepest anxiety was over -his face, but the glow of his eyes showed that he looked for an -enemy, and not for a friend; and as he rose disappointed, his lips -quivered with deadly emotion. - -“Nay, nay, ’tis in vain. They have both escaped--uncle and nephew. -And I have left my couch, wounded and sickly, to come and gloat on -my own disappointment. But they must be found, dead or alive!” - -“But surely, Sir Richard,” interrupted his servant, “not to-night; -the air is chill.” - -“Not for me,” muttered the knight, “revenge will warm it. I feel -not the blast. Is the tempest loud? Why, the night is calm, and -still as the dead; and though it raged as if every sound was the -united shriek of a thousand demons in pain or joy, I could not hear -it. No, no, my soul is on fire; cold!--cold!--mock me not. If my -revenge is not satisfied, I shall lie down here, stripped, naked, -and shelterless, in order that I may be cool.” - -“But consider your wounds.” - -“Aye!” fiercely answered Sir Richard,--“consider my wounds; a -daughter lost, deceived, polluted;--my hospitality returned by the -foulest treachery. Consider these wounds! aye, and revenge them -too!” - -“But still,” returned his follower, “the shades of night are fast -descending. We cannot remain here long.” - -No answer was given, and he perceived his leader kneeling over -a heap of bodies. The light was streaming upon that point. An -awful silence ensued, when in a tone which seemed the very voice -of satisfied revenge, Sir Richard exclaimed, “Here is the elder -villain!” He held his face close to the lifeless body of Sir Thomas -Tyldesley. No sound escaped him; but there he gazed, like a mad -spirit, exulting, yet miserable, that the object of his revenge -could not open his eyes, and know his fate. His face was pressed -close to that of the dead, as if the unholy embrace was sweet to -the very senses, and thrilling even through the frame of the aged. -Hate did not prompt him to trample, with profane foot, upon the -unresisting body, or to mar the calmness reposing on the stiff -features, but he even kissed the cold lips in ecstacy, and drew -the head into his bosom. At length he suffered himself to be led -away. “The young man,” after a short silence, he added, “the young -man must be here likewise, and I go not before I have seen him.” -They sought in vain, until reaching the banks of the Douglas, they -stumbled on two bodies, lying at the foot of a tree. They were -those of young Tyldesley and the page. What a shriek of madness -was uttered by the knight, as he recognized in the page, his own -beloved Anne! Her breast was naked, and on it lay the head of her -dead lover, while his arms were encircled around her, as if their -love could never die. Sweet and beautiful was the expression of -her countenance in death. Her dark ringlets were moved by the -breeze from the river, and richly they waved, under the radiant -moon, gleaming through the foliage. Calm they lay, as in the sleep -of love, which a single murmur may disturb, and affection seemed -awaking on their countenances, to assure them of each other’s -safety, and then go to rest. Sir Richard’s grief, was gradually -subsiding and ebbing, but only to feel the barren, dry waste, over -which it had rolled, and the wreck which its waves had borne along. -Without a word, he quietly prepared to sit down on the little mound -where the head of Anne was reposing. The father once more blessed -his child. Attempting to raise her lover’s head, and make them -divided in death, a shudder passed over him, and he again restored -it to its place, and put the cold, stiff arms, even more closely -around Anne, with as much fondness, as if, like a heavenly priest, -he wished to bind them in eternal wedlock. But over such a scene of -sadness we draw the curtain. Long after, that tree marked out the -spot where the young lovers died, in each other’s embrace. It has -now, however, entirely disappeared; but if the Chronicler has drawn -forth from his readers one tear for their fate, they still have a -proud monument. - -But softened as was the heart of Sir Richard Houghton, by the fate -of his daughter, the desire of revenge on the Earl of Derby, whom -he regarded as her destroyer, was now inspired above every feeling, -and he formed a resolution of immediately returning to Wigan, and -searching out the earl, who was reported to have found shelter -there, after his flight from the battle. - -An hour before midnight, the portly landlord of the Dog Inn, Wigan, -was roused from a comfortable sleep, beside the fire, not by the -cravings of thirst for the contents of a jug, which he held in his -hand, as firmly as if it contained the charm of forgetfulness, and -was the urn from which pleasant dreams vapoured out--but by a loud -knocking at the door. - -In those days, the inhabitants of the good town here mentioned, -were not so careful, as they are at present, of the digits of their -visitors, and had not substituted brass or iron knockers. Fair -ladies, however gentle in disposition, were obliged to raise their -hand in a threatening position, and, horror on horrors!--strike the -hard oak. Still the blow was generally given with a strength, of -which their sentimental successors must feel ashamed, and wonder -how they could venture upon such a masculine course of conduct, -degrading the softer sex. What! they will exclaim, did the lily -hand, which ought for ever to have slept amidst perfumes, unless, -when it was raised to the lips of a lover, in his vows, profane -itself by becoming a battering ram! - -The Dog Inn, at that time, presented a somewhat different -appearance than it does at present. The part of the building in -front, next to the street, was low, and seemed to be appended, -as a wing or covert, both to the interior and exterior of the -other parts, and was parallel to a line of small shops. Behind, -another story had been added, and there, on a transverse beam, -was placed the dog, which the landlord had, a few days before, -baptized as Jolly, in a good can of ale. The Inn was the resort -of two classes; the one consisting of those who were regularly -thirsty of an evening, in reference to wit and news; and the other, -of those who could only ask for a draught of ale, and then amuse -themselves by rubbing the bottom of the jug round and round a small -circumference, in full view of themselves, after quaffing the -contents. Their merry host could satisfy the appetites of both. But -he displayed a decided preference for the former class; and for -such, the door of admission was the one at the end of the building, -directly leading to the large fire, which generally burned bright -and long, in the hall, and it had been known to be open long after -midnight, to the visitors; while the others had only the honour of -the low one in front, and that not after nine o’clock. - -The knocking now made, was at the last-mentioned door. The landlord -awoke, and rubbed his eyes till they opened and expanded to their -proper focus; but they fell first upon the foaming ale in the -tankard, which tempted him to a draught. In the act, however, the -knock was repeated. Still, though his eyes gazed in the direction -of the door, it was also evident that his mouth was not altogether -idle in paying due attention to the liquor. - -“Ho! knave!” exclaimed he, as soon as he had obtained liberty of -speech--“a warrior and a roundhead, doubtless! So thou hast not -got a belly-ful of fighting in the lane, but must come to my door! -Why dost not thee speak, Jolly? Last week John Harrison painted -thee alive, and made thee as young as thy mother’s whelp, put thee -upon a beam over the door, to bark at those who might come at -unseemly hours, or for improper purposes, and hung a chain round -thy neck, lest thou might be too outrageous. Not one word, Jolly, -for thy dear master? But,” he added in a whisper, as he went to the -door, “all’s safe!--yes.” - -The door opened, and Sir Richard Houghton and his servant entered. -The latter announced the name of his master. - -“So,” said the landlord, addressing the knight, as he led him to -a quiet corner, near the fire, “you are the warrior who so nimbly -changed parties to-day? Perhaps you are desirous of changing -occupations likewise, and would be glad to throw off your titles -and dress, for those of an innkeeper. I’faith, your lean face, and -what call you these?” as he pointed to the legs of the knight, -“would thank you for the wisdom of your choice. If so, I am ready -for the barter. There is my apron. Ho--ho--you’ll get a complete -suit out of it, and a winding sheet into the bargain! Be patient, -oh! wise knight--who must be knight no more--for I shall be Sir -John.” - -In truth he would have been a worthy successor to the knighthood of -the famous Falstaff, if any super-abundance of wit and fat could -ever embody Shakespeare’s prototype. - -“Where,” exclaimed Sir Richard, in a high passion, “where is the -Earl of Derby?--surrender him.” - -“So, so,” was the reply, “you are again disposed to return to your -allegiance, and be one of the earl’s party!” - -“Surrender him into my hands,” interrupted the knight, in a -soothing tone, “and a large reward shall be yours. You will then -be able to exhibit a golden dog on your escutcheon. Refuse, and a -strict search shall instantly be made, and woe to the wretch, who -has harboured the traitor!” - -“Search, brave Dick,” rejoined the merry host, “and I’ll assist -you. Here’s a bottle; can the traitor be within? search,--storm the -castle!” and here he broke it, while the contents were thrown into -the knight’s face. “Is he there, Sir Richard, is he there?” - -“To ensure our safety and dignity,” said the enraged knight to his -servant, “give the signal, instantly.” A shrill whistle was made, -and a number of armed men entered. - -“Search every corner,” exclaimed Sir Richard “and let the host -beware, lest a sword should search his person.” - -“Search my person!” rejoined the landlord, while he swelled himself -out to his fullest dimensions, “Sir Richard, could you walk round -me in less than twenty four hours, and without long rests? you -might as well think of searching the continent of America! Come to -me, before service on Sunday, when I have donned my great coat, and -then search me, or even walk around me, ‘Twould be, as Cromwell’s -servants might say, ‘a sabbath day’s journey.’ My good wife was -just my fellow, and her daily exercise, for some years before she -died, was to walk round me, and brush my coat, and then she went to -rest, satisfied with a day’s hard labour. She was, truly, a help -meet for me, and we became fatter with looking on each other. When -indisposed after travelling to the ale cellar too frequently, she -got me conducted to the chair opposite to her own, and she smiled -so lustily upon me, that I soon recovered. But Sir Richard,” he -added in a solemn tone, “how many gallons of oil, shall I bring -from the cellar, to light you in your search? ha! a lucky thought -now strikes me. Would’st be the better of a quick scented hound?” - -“Aye,” exclaimed some voices, “where is he?” “standing over the -door;” was the reply, “shall I bring Jolly?” “if so, it is on the -express condition, that you nail him up, in time for to-morrow. A -ladder, friends; bring me a ladder. But I must keep my hands from -off his hide--not that he will bite--but since he is fresh from the -painter, and may be pleased, in good humour, to mark me with his -wit. A ladder!”--and Richard the Third, even assisted by the lungs -of a modern actor, did not shout forth more lustily for “a horse! -a horse!” - -“Regard not the laughing ox,” interrupted the knight, as he -motioned to his men, who stood bewildered at the conduct of the -landlord. - -The soldiers commenced their assigned duty, but, Sir Richard -expecting that, every moment, Derby should be apprehended in his -presence, kept his seat, thinking over the orders to be given, -in the event of such a discovery. Perhaps feelings of awe, which -would be awakened by a view of the loyal nobleman, likewise -threw their shadows, amidst other emotions of a sterner nature. -True it is, that he became paler; and the only expression on his -features seemed to be the most abject despair, and misery. Like an -exquisitely moulded image, when the light has expired which gave -the animation of life and thought to its coldness, no longer shows -what, but a moment before, seemed its only natural appearance; so -the events through which the knight had passed, and which served -to give a new character of feeling and action, left not a shade by -which it might be known, that he had been an avenger, a few hours -ago, and a mourner over his last hope. - -Meantime the host of the Inn, continued to annoy the men with his -wit. In the most serious voice he would exclaim “He is here;” when -all instantly rushed to the place where he pointed. “Tarry but -a moment till I bring a light--my nose does not shine as a torch -to-night.” He then procured a light, and, as he hurried amongst -them, was sure to bring it into a disagreeable proximity with some -faces, and all that the light could fall upon, was a broken pot, -into which the host peered most anxiously. “Can he be there? I -fancy that I should not remain in it long.” - -After many similar tricks, he went to a black cupboard, at the -further end of a small room adjoining, and asked them to inspect it -also. “Can the rebel,” he said, “lurk in the butter?” - -From experience, this they thought to be a sufficient reason why -they should not search there. - -“Unwieldy bull of Bashan!” exclaimed one of the soldiers; “keep -within thine own enclosures--a prisoner of hope! The avenger may be -nigh!” - -“Ha! ha!” retorted the landlord, “where is he? Thankee, friend, for -pointing him out. He will, indeed, avenge my thirst!” and he seized -upon a bottle of ale, which stood solitary upon a shelf. “The -rogue’s a bachelor, friends;--he stood alone; and he is so cross, -that he may well be called ‘cut-throat!’” - -After an hour’s search, towards the end of which the landlord had -contrived, first to lull his tongue asleep, and then himself, the -knight commanded the soldiers to desist. They awoke the host, who, -starting to his feet, after a difficult balancing of himself, -looked eagerly around. - -“Where is the earl?”--and as he spoke, he approached one of the -men, and bringing a light to bear rather closely upon the grave -countenance of the roundhead,--“is this his lordship? take the -rebel from my house,” and he gave a hearty kick, so far as his -heart could reach, down to his foot. It was in vain to resent the -blow, for the humour of mine host had altogether disarmed them. - -But we choose to pass over the details of their unsuccess, not -being desirous that the mournful remembrance connected with -the young and the ill-fated characters of the Legend should be -obliterated from the mind of the reader. - -The tyro in Lancashire history knows well, that in that very -cupboard to which the landlord pointed, the earl was concealed; and -that early in the morning he left the Dog Inn, leaving behind him, -as a small token of gratitude for the shelter he had received, a -part of his armour. - -“I cannot wear it,” said the jolly landlord, when it was presented -to him, “though you are a warrior, yet, noble earl, you are not a -giant. But it shall be preserved as none of the least of the treats -for a traveller at the Dog Inn.” The earl shook his humble friend -cordially by the hand. Yet even then, wit and light repartee had -not forsaken the host.--“Wont shake a paw with Jolly?” - -Over the earl’s countenance, a melancholy smile passed, which was -unseen by mine host, who was not long in resuming, as he stepped -over the threshold and gazed up at the dog-- - -“Well, well, Jolly will excuse you, and wont even bark; he’s a -sensible dog, and knows, or ought to know, how long your lordship -has been confined in the cupboard. So, you are bound for Worcester? -Well, for my sake, if you meet Cromwell, scratch the ugly wart on -his face. But stay, earl, for a moment; there your horse comes, and -you must take the stirrup cup, from my hands. My wife would have -been proud to have wiped her mouth for a salute, but it is not the -fashion of men, towards each other,” and he ran in, and in a minute -returned with a glass of wine, which the earl took, and quaffed the -contents to the luck of the Dog Inn, Wigan. There was a serious -expression on the landlord’s countenance, not as if it were caused -by the present farewell, but by some remembrance. “It was at this -hour, some years ago, that my wife died, and closed her eyes upon -ale, and a husband. I had broken up the best barrel in the cellar, -and was raising a jug of it to her lips, and I was obliged to drink -it myself.--But excuse me, farewell Derby.” - -We pass over the account of the earl’s escape to Worcester, and of -the literal overthrow of all the hopes of the royalists, by that -disastrous battle; of the earl’s capture, and subsequent execution; -all of which, like the rapids of the last act of a tragedy, passed -with heightened and speedy horror to the bloody end. - -One thing merely we shall notice, that amongst the names of those -who recommended his lordship to be beheaded, was that of Sir -Richard Houghton. - -All historians and biographers have agreed in speaking of that -knight as “the rebel son of a very loyal and worthy father,”--but -they have not thrown light over the circumstances and events which -dethroned Charles and all royalists from his affections. Tradition -gleams upon them with steadiness and fearful distinctness, and the -Chronicler has accurately detailed them. - -For the sake of the Antiquarian, who may be desirous of reading -the Inscription on the monument which stands in Wigan Lane, the -Chronicler appends it. In his more youthful days, when passing -through Wigan, by the assistance of a ladder, and his grandmother’s -glasses, he obtained a transcript of it, which he vouches to be -accurate. - -[Illustration] - - An high Act of Gratitude, which conveys the Memory of - - SIR THOMAS TYLDESLEY - - To posterity, - Who saved KING CHARLES THE FIRST - as Lieutenant-Colonel at Edge-hill Battle, - After raising Regiments of Horse, Foot, and Dragoons; - And for - The desperate storming of Burton-upon-Trent, - over a bridge of 36 arches, - RECEIVED THE HONOUR OF KNIGHTHOOD. - He afterwards served in all the wars, in great command, - Was Governor of Lichfield, - And followed the fortune of the Crown - through the Three Kingdoms, - And never compounded with the Rebels, though strongly invested; - And on the 25th August, A.D. 1651, was here slain, - Commanding as Major-General under the EARL OF DERBY, - To whom the grateful Erector, ALEXANDER RIGBY, ESQ., was Cornet - And when he was High Sheriff of this County, (A.D. 1679,) - Placed this high obligation on the whole - FAMILY of the TYLDESLEYS. - - - - -THE WITCHES OF FURNESS. - - -In a small recess, still deeper in shade than the neighbouring -valley where the ruins of Furness Abbey lie, there once arose a -well-proportioned mansion, of which, not a vestige is left. And -yet, the wand of no magician had summoned it to appear, as a tenant -of the retreat, without any materials, and then to depart without -a wreck,--for much toil, and many precious coins had been spent in -building and adorning it, by the first owners; and on its decay, as -much sighing, and as many lamentations, had been wasted by their -successors. - -Tradition says, that it was erected in the reign of Henry the -Eighth, by an Englishman of rank, whose name was Morden. Against -his earnest entreaties, his daughter had secluded herself from -the world, and taken the veil as a nun in Furness Abbey; but -when that religious house was broken up, by royal act, so much -attached was she to the spot of her vows, that to gratify her, a -family mansion was erected in the vicinity. To this, a considerable -extent of ground was added, as territorial possession. The owner -became enamoured of the pleasant solitude of such an abode, and so -did all his successors, whose feelings were in harmony with the -simplicity of the district, and the quiet beauties of its scenery. -Time destroys not the works of God, and the brook which trickled -beside the porch, still murmured dreams of happiness amidst the -nightshade which grew on its banks, or the lillies, which, in its -channel, courted its stream, in all their meekness and purity. But -time destroys the works of man, and the noble building, towards the -end of the sixteenth century, was but a decayed wreck of its former -self. - -The inmates exhibited a striking contrast to the ruined abode. -The echoes did not awake to the slow step of the aged, but to the -bounding tread of the young. The wind might rave around in fury, -but, at intervals, sweet voices were heard, joining in the music -of the heart. Sombre was the light which entered the apartments, -but there was no snowy head on which it could fall; shining was -every brow, and clustering the ringlets waving thereon. On the -rudely-framed seat, by the porch, no old man sat, like a dial, to -point out time’s flight, but a beautiful pair, with a little boy -sporting before them. - -William Morden, and Emily Clifton, were the only survivors of -two noble families. The time of our Legend is six years after -their marriage, when their love had been pledged and crowned by -the birth of a boy. Sweet was their domestic bliss, but darkness -and death are prepared to enter upon the scene. The curse of -witchcraft is about to fall upon the holy beings, in all its -horrors and pollutions. The Chronicler shudders, as tradition -leads him to their tragic fate, and as it gleams upon the hellish -causes. The fair creatures have, in many a dream, for many a long -night, been cradled by his side, in beauty and love. Their voices -have whispered to him, their faces have smiled upon him, in the -mysteries of sleep. And yet he must now awake them to feel the -breath of unearthly enmity and power, withering their souls, while -serpents are even twined around their shroud! - -On a calm evening, towards the beginning of summer, Emily was -seated in the old hall, expecting the arrival of her husband, who -had rode out early that day, to hunt, when he entered, with marks -of agitation on his countenance. - -“William!” she exclaimed, as she arose to embrace him, “thou art -sad. It cannot be for want of success in the chase; you would not -dare”--and she gave him a playful blow on the cheek with her little -hand--“to appear before your wife so sorrowful, and with no better -excuse. But, love, you smile not. William, are you wounded? Have -you been thrown from your horse?” - -“No, Emily,” was the reply, “I am safe, but my horse, in passing -the cave of which you are so much afraid, sunk down, as if -exhausted, though a moment before, he seemed capable of the -greatest exertion. Thus is it,” he continued, as he yielded to his -wife, who forced him down to a seat, whilst she leaned over him, -“our cattle have died, though green is the meadow on which they -grazed. And now, my favourite steed--aye, the very one, Emily, -whose neck arched so proudly beneath your gentle touch, after he -had borne me to your abode, where I wooed and won you as my bride, -is now, I fear, stiffening in death. My servant shook his head, as -I left Ranger to his care.” - -“Poor Ranger,” interrupted the lady, “he was a proud animal, and -spurned acquaintance with others of his kind. Yet, William, dost -thou recollect how closely and fondly he trotted by the side of -my white pony, on the evening you brought me to your home, and -how the kind animals allowed me to be locked in your embrace, -although their bridles hung loose? Nay, more, did they not choose -a lonely path, with the moon shining all sweetly upon it, through -the hushed forest, as if there ought to be nothing known to us, -save each other; and that, orphans as we were, with the voices -of gone friends, as silent to us as the night, still, there was -hope shedding its rays over our common lot? Now both of them may -be lost. Still you could have visited me without your steed, and -I should, perhaps, have been less coy after your fatigues, and,” -she added, as her fair hands played among the curls which shaded -her husband’s brow, “I could have come hither without my palfrey, -leaning on your arm, William.” - -The sorrowful man could not reject the consolation of his beautiful -wife. Though unforeseen calamities had gathered thickly upon him, -as if there was some direct cause, separate from the general course -of Providence, yet every chain of human affection was unbroken; and -though his fold was now almost forsaken, on his hearth still moved -the beings whom he loved, and not a household god had been thrown -down. His little Edward had entered, and was climbing his knee, and -hugging his neck,--and could he refuse to be happy? He had regained -a portion of his usual gaiety, when his servant entered. - -“Master, Ranger is dead! I took the bridle from off his head, and -he could no more shew that he was at liberty. There was a strange -shriek after he fell down. He licked my hands, and his tongue was -black and swollen.” - -“Shriek, dost thou say?” returned his master, “I have heard that -horses groan when in pain, but that they shriek, I cannot believe.” - -“It could not be the horse,” was the reply, “no--no--nor was it a -human voice.” - -They gazed upon the servant. His tones were low, as if from secret -terror, and his countenance was deadly pale. He continued, “I have -heard the shriek before, master, when old Margery, who nursed you -when a boy--died. She raised her hands, drew herself up on the -pillow--as if escaping from some invisible spirit--and sunk down -lifeless. The neighbours said, that at that moment the witch of the -cave passed the window, with hurried steps.” - -Emily Morden looked upon her husband, and took their little boy, -and folded him closely in her bosom. Not a word was spoken, but -many, many thoughts were theirs. Their fears seemed to recognize in -the sweet blue eyes, the calm brow, and the golden locks, signs of -a dark fate. The little fellow, however, was unconscious of their -feelings, and darted forth to the lawn to pursue the shadows, which -were now fast settling, and to gambol with his favourite pet lamb. -Soon fatigued with his sports, he leaned upon the tame animal, -like a beautiful picture with a pure back ground. At that moment -an old woman stood before him. He saw not her dark and hideous -features, more frightful because she attempted to smile: he only -saw the tempting fruit which she held. He heard not the unearthly -tones of her voice, he only distinguished the words, “Shall I give -you it?” He felt not the touch of her withered, bony hands, as he -received it. He cared not, though these hands were placed upon his -brow, as he devoured the fruit. He clapped his hands, and shouted, -“Good,--good mamma! give little Edwy more,--more!” Oh! it was -horrible to see the beautiful boy playing with a foul hag, hand in -hand, cheek to cheek, and to hear him address her, as “kind mamma.” -The lamb had fled far over the glen, at her approach--but the boy -had even kissed her black and shrivelled lips! He was throwing his -arms around her neck, amidst the long locks of white hair, which -hung like serpents over it, when he was dragged away by his mother, -who had rushed forth with her husband, upon beholding the woman’s -familiarities. The hand of William Morden was raised, in fury, to -strike the hellish crone, whom he knew to be the witch of the cave, -when she disappeared to a short distance, where her form dilated -against the faint light of the sky, and then she glared with her -blood-red eyes, full upon him. She tossed her hands in the air, -then approached a little nearer, and pointed to Emily, while she -sung in awful notes-- - - Has early summer fruit for man?-- - No, but for spirits:--yet the boy - Has tasted! and the mother ran - Too late!--too late, to shield her joy-- - Embrace him! so have I! - Ere the sun sinks, from him you’ll fly, - Nor press a couch where he may die! - His mouth is sweet; beware his fangs! - Kiss him, he bites in maddest pangs! - -The still calm all around, allowed every word and tone to be -distinctly heard. When she had ended, she gave a shriek of delight, -and slowly proceeded in the direction of the cave; at intervals -turning round, and raising her arms. All objects around her could -not be perceived, still those small malicious eyes sparkled in the -gathering twilight, and her voice could be heard muttering. - -“Nay, William, follow her not!” exclaimed Emily, as her husband -prepared to pursue the witch. But he was now maddened by rage and -despair, and he started forward, fully resolved to enter the cave, -and brave its unseen and unknown terrors. - -She anxiously gazed after him, until his form was altogether lost -in the distance. The many tales to which she had listened, of the -witch’s power and revenge, were unfolded again, and they seemed -scrolls of the future, written with the fate of herself, and all -that were dear. She led Edward into the hall, and soon perceived -a marvellous change in the boy. At first he was silent, and did -not acknowledge the attentions of his mother. He then shrieked in -terror, and laughed in joy, alternately. His features were, at -times, absolutely hideous, grinning, as if with malice, and then -they became more beautiful than a mother’s eye ever beheld. - -“Mamma! mamma!” he would exclaim,--and he looked from his mother -upon vacancy--“give Edwy more--oh! it is sweet, sweet. Heed not the -man, wicked man, who drives you away;--come back to Edwy!” - -At length she succeeded in hushing him to rest, and her thoughts -were of her husband. Darkness was now over the earth, and she -imagined that the hag’s face was gazing in upon her at the -casement, but she dared not rise to close it, lest she might -disturb the sleeper. Sometimes, too, another form, seen by the -moonlight, was there, and the witch dared to embrace the husband, -in sight of his trembling wife! Hour after hour passed, and the -next would be midnight, and William had not returned. In vain did -his faithful servant, whom she had summoned to bear her company, -suggest that his master might have refused to leave the cave, until -the woman had read the destiny of the family more distinctly. - -“Nay, Roger,” she said, “something has befallen your master. Oh! if -he should return no more!” and her agony was too deep for tears. - -“My lady, fear not. It is said that all those who are bewitched in -the cave, have first listened to the love confessions of the old -woman’s daughter, and drunk the cup of unearthly beauty. But I will -instantly go to the cave.” - -Emily was about to urge him to make all possible haste, when he -shrieked out, and pointed to her breast; and there her boy was -gradually raising up his head, like a serpent, to her face, whilst -his eyes gleamed with the most fiendish expression, and his mouth -was grinning and distended. For a moment she was silent as the -dead, and gazed in horror; but she could not trace a touch of -kindness on the young features. All love and beauty, in a moment, -had been dashed from them. The boy’s eye never moved from hers, or -changed its emotion;--it was slowly meeting hers, in malice. His -breath was now close to her cheek! - -“Kiss me, kiss me,” were the first words he uttered; but the tones -were unknown, and seemed those of a young fiend. With a loud -shriek he prepared to dart upon her face. She started from her -seat, and threw him on the floor, and there the little monster -rolled--gnashing his teeth, and tearing with his hands, in frantic -fury. His eyes were of a glassy brightness, and coldness; and foam -was on his little black lips. His struggles soon became fainter, -and he lay motionless, and apparently lifeless. He then regained -his own beauty, but was pale and trembling, as if from an infant -dream of evil. His eyes were raised to his mother, and again they -were affectionate, as of old. - -“Mamma! mamma!” he cried, “take me to your arms, cover me up in -your bosom; you wont kill me, mamma? Oh! leave me not here to die!” - -There was a mournful upbraiding in the boy’s accents, and his -mother burst into tears, and rushed forward to raise him, when, all -at once, he sprang from the ground. Again he was changed; his hair -stood erect, his mouth was stretched to an unnatural width, and he -ran to her, howling like a dog. In a moment the servant struck him -down. Bitterly did the mother weep to see her child bleeding on the -floor, and yet, she dared not touch him. “He is possessed!” she -exclaimed, “aye, that is the fate which the witch foretold!” - -“My lady,” said Roger, “pardon me for what I am about to mention. -He has been bewitched into a disease which must be fatal to -himself, and to all whom he bites. Your security, and that of my -master, lies only in his destruction.” - -“Never!” was the indignant, but sorrowful reply. - -The boy once more regained his own appearance, and called piteously -for his mother. He put his little hands to his mouth, and when he -gazed upon them, they were all suffused with blood! He burst into -tears. - -“Mamma, kiss the blood away from my lips. Wipe this love ringlet, -or papa wont play with it. Oh! cool my lips. Take the fire out of -them. Mamma, mamma! must I die? Who took me out of your bosom, to -lie here?” - -Every word fell, like a child’s curse, upon the ear of Emily. - -“Oh Roger! good Roger,” implored the lady,--“what can be done?” - -The boy attempted to rise, but his strength seemed gone, and his -head dashed itself violently upon the floor. His mother fell down -senseless. Roger rushed from the room, to bring water to sprinkle -upon her face. In a moment he returned,--and there a scene was -presented to his eyes, which nothing in after-life could curtain -from his mind. Both lay lifeless. The countenance of the mother -was mangled and bloody, and her boy’s teeth were in her cheek. As -soon as she had fallen, the boy had crept to her, under the same -infernal influence as before, and, fortunately, she never awoke -from insensibility. - -Meanwhile let us leave the dead, and follow the living. The reader -is not asked to dry his tears after the mournful spectacle, and put -off his sackcloth, and don singing robes and smiles, for soon the -curtain may be raised from the same scene, to exhibit on the same -stage, another victim. - -William Morden, when out of the sight of his wife, came in view of -the object of his pursuit. Unlike the aged, the hag avoided not the -many elevations of sharp rock, on her path. After passing them, for -a moment she would linger, and looking back, and howling, motion -him, with a wild plunge of her arm, to follow. The scenery became -more bleak and desolate, as if nothing in animal or vegetable life -could flourish near her abode. Not a sound was heard; her steps -were hurried, but silent. They were approaching the cave, which -was formed in the old channel of the brook, and which was supposed -to be the outlet of a subterraneous passage leading from the abbey -into a deep wood, which skirted and concealed the bank. Amidst the -trees strange lights seemed to move, and the witch, by their flash, -was enabled to expose her malignant and hellish countenance to the -gaze of Morden. She stood still and he advanced. From the folds of -the cloak in which she was wrapped, she drew her hand, and pointed -to a deep ravine, at a short distance from the cave. She muttered -some incantations, raised her eyes, as if to invisible agents in -the air, and exclaimed, “Slaves! ye know my power! Shew him--shew -him what a word, escaping from my lips, has done. Now, fool!” and -she grasped his hands for a moment, “gaze there--and tremble.” - -Morden started, as lurid lights gleamed in a mass, over him. He -stumbled down the declivity, and fell, his head striking against -his lifeless steed! Unearthly shrieks of laughter saluted him, and -as he sprung to his feet, the witch, surrounded by flames, was -waving her arms in fiendish joy. He once more found himself on the -path close beside her. All again was darkness, and now he heard -the witch enter the cave. He prepared to follow her. The entrance -was small, and could only admit him by crawling through. His face -came in contact with the jutting rocks, and he imagined that around -his neck the hag had placed her hands, to strangle him. He crept -in, but saw nothing. No object could be distinguished, until, -on a floor far below him, he beheld a few embers burning on the -hearth, and a form walking around, and by its shadow intercepting -the light. The ground was damp beneath his hands, and the very -worms were crawling over them, and thus early claiming connexion, -by twining around them the marriage ring of the grave. He knew -not how to let himself down into the interior. The light from -the embers, meanwhile, was gradually increasing; and at length he -recognized the witch rubbing her hands over them. Her head was -uncovered, and her long grey locks were flung back from a brow -black and wrinkled. He could not remove his eyes from her, and -every moment he expected that she would arise, and curse him with -her arts. She lighted a taper, and placed it upon a small coffin, -and sung a death dirge; at every interval, when she paused for -breath, making the most unnatural mirth. The lid of the coffin -slowly arose, as she removed the taper, and a beautiful boy raised -his face, so pale and deadly, over which golden locks curled, -like young spirits. His sweet blue eyes met those of Morden; his -little hands were pressed together, and his lisping voice said, -mournfully,--“Father!” - -Morden sprang down, when, with a wild shriek, the witch turned -upon him, and attempted to mimic the tones in which the fond word -“father” had been breathed. He prepared to rush upon her, when -every limb was powerless. He could not move, and yet all his -senses were intensely active and awake. He beheld the coffin again -closed, and glad now would he have been, could he have returned -to his home, to assure himself of his child’s safety. The witch -began some awful and unholy rites, as she lowered the coffin into -a hole dug beside the embers, and then over the spot, after her -incantations had been muttered, sprung up a mossy tomb-stone, with -this inscription,-- - - Edward Morden, - AGED - FIVE YEARS. - 1643. - -She kindled another taper, when a larger coffin seemed to be placed -before her by invisible hands. The lid was raised; and there -Morden beheld his Emily, as beautiful now, amidst all the horrors -of witchery and death, as when that face was revealed in the -moonlight, on their nuptial night, slumbering so happily, to gaze -upon which he had kept himself awake. But soon the features became -clouded and black; aye, and blood--blood was seen upon them, and -horrible gashes. - -“Embrace her!” exclaimed the witch, “embrace her. How beautiful! -What a sweet crimson! Fool! thy wife blushes! fly to her!” - -He started forward, and fell upon the coffin, but the lid was -closed. A long fit of insensibility was over him. Dreams still more -revolting than the realities he had now beheld, kept him bound. - -He awoke--but far different was the scene. A sigh which had been -nursed in the dream, now found expression, and instantly a movement -was heard, in a distant part of the cave; and a female bent over -him, and perfumed his burning brow. Wild was the beauty beaming -from her eyes; but soft and earthly was the hand which took his. He -gazed silently upon her. She seemed scarcely to have entered upon -girlhood, and yet Morden thought that she never could have been -younger, and never, for the future, could be older. She spoke not; -but her lips uttered strange sounds of the most thrilling music. -She gently raised and led him to a couch, as soft as dreams. The -air around breathed fragrance, and vibrated song. Invisible roses -seemed to fall upon his brow and hands. So brilliant, and yet -shadowy, was the light, that he could not gaze far around. Light -seemed to be a boundary to itself, and no walls intercepted the -vision. - -“Who art thou?” was the exclamation of Morden, “and where am I? -How have I been brought here? This is not the cave to which I -came;--and where is the foul witch who so tormented me with her -dark spells?” - -“There cometh light after darkness,” replied his beautiful -companion, “and joy after sorrow. What makes the love of one being -so pleasant? Because it is nursed amidst the storms of hate. Love -cares not for a palace; to sit, travel, and sleep, amidst gold and -diamonds. The tomb is the home where it is most beautiful; and were -two mortals, who cling to each other, to dwell there, it would be -love’s paradise. As they sat beneath the shade of the cypress, how -rapturous would their thoughts and words be; and oh! how true! At -eve, as they walked together over graves, how confiding would they -be! And at the midnight hour, when the wind howled, and ghosts -flitted around them, how sweet the sleep of the two lovers, with a -tomb-stone for their pillow!” - -Each word thrilled through the soul of Morden. - -“Mysterious angel!” he cried, “tell me thy name and abode!” - -The young being dismissed the melancholy which, whilst she spoke, -had rested on her countenance, and smiled. Her deep blue eyes gazed -upon him, and, in the intoxication of the moment, he recollected -not his own inquiry. But soon, thoughts of home and Emily, came -into his mind, and checked others which were rising. He turned away -from her, when she asked,-- - -“Would’st thou see the past?” - -“Yes,” eagerly returned Morden. “Oh! could I once more behold her -whom an untimely fate bore from me!” - -She took from the table a golden cup, encircled with flowers, and -throwing a liquid drop, which she had poured out on her hand, -away in the distance; instantly, amidst music, with the bass of a -profound calm, there arose before his eyes a strange scene. There -were the haunts of his boyhood, the bower in the garden, and even -the ivy-covered seat, on which was the plumed cap his mother’s -hands had made; the gentle stream, with his book and fishing-rod -lying on the bank; and last of all was himself, smiling, the actor -in each. A pure mist arose before him, as in the bower he was -placing the cap over his shining curls; bright eyes gleamed in it, -and as it vanished, there stood his only sister! She appeared to be -the gentler type of himself, and sweet was her beauty, though it -was the beauty of Genius and Power. The mist descended, and hovered -over them, as they were singing the lays of their own happiness, -and shrouded both. It once more rolled away. There was seen a -mourner, near a rose-scattered grave! The mourner was known to -Morden long before he raised his features from the earth:--it was -himself, at the grave of his sister! - -He started up from the couch, and fell at the feet of his -mysterious companion, exclaiming,-- - -“Perpetuate the scene! Give me boyhood again; give me the lost and -the beloved, and I’ll adore you,--aye, love you!” - -He arose calmly, after her lips had been pressed to his. - -“Drink,” was the reply. “Drink from this cup, Morden, and death -shall not separate the brother from the sister. Beautiful she -was a month before her sudden end, and that month shall never be -enrolled in your existence. Drink,--and the past is written over -with every drop of this liquid, on the tablet of your mind, and on -the objects of your external senses. Could inanimate things feel -its influence--and shall not the mind? Drink!” and the scene again -arose, in more thrilling beauty and truth. Sweet and long was the -draught, and he returned the cup, empty. Strange sensations shot -through his frame, and as strange feelings passed in his mind. -Emily, in a moment, was forgotten, and his arms were around his -companion, when a shriek was heard, and in place of the fading form -of his sister, stood the withered Weird of the Cave! Her daughter, -(for such the beautiful witch was,) now coldly repulsed him, and -shrunk from his embrace. As soon as he could move his eyes from the -hag, he turned round to chide his companion, when he found that -she had disappeared. A loud laugh was raised by the old witch, and -he pursued her. Darkness fell over the scene, and once more he was -near to the dying embers. - -“Go home!” exclaimed the hag,--“go home, and die there along -with your dead wife and child! It is long past midnight. It is, -therefore, meet time that you should go to sleep with them. -Home--fool!” - -Her words drove Morden almost to madness. He climbed up to the -entrance, and as he left the cave, he heard the laugh of the two -witches. He rushed along the path. He saw not the lurid lights that -flashed around him, from the dark abode which he had left. Terror, -shame, and despair, were driving their victim to what he considered -as a sanctuary from evil. He was heedless of his steps, and as he -stumbled, it but increased his fury; when he felt himself suddenly -grasped, and on looking up, recognized his servant Roger. - -“Is all well,--is all well, Roger, with your mistress? Speak, -man,--speak!” - -The servant hesitated, and then replied, “Yes, master!” - -“Kind, dear Emily!” exclaimed Morden, “she has sent you to -search for me. Nay, Roger, I will outstrip you; and I can delay -no longer.--How anxious she will be! Death! no--no--it was but a -horrible dream! Yet, Roger,--am I agitated? would my looks frighten -Emily? Frighten--oh! no. Not a moment is to be lost,” and he darted -forward, and soon, all breathless, reached his abode. He trode up -the lawn with as heavy a pace as possible, in order that suspense -might be ended, and that she might know of his return, before he -appeared. A dim light was in the hall when he entered. - - * * * * * - -The faithful servant, when he arrived, heard no noise, and although -he felt keenly for the woes of his master, did not venture into the -hall before morning,--and there was his master lying, with his arms -around his wife. He spoke to him;--but he spoke to the dead! - - * * * * * - -A distant relation laid claim to the dwelling, with the land -attached to it; but from the awful scenes in the former, which we -have related, it became uninhabited, and was soon an entire ruin; -finally even without a wreck. - - - - -THE DEVIL’S WALL. - - -“Jeremiah, read those directions and intimations once more; they -contain no less than a challenge to my valour. Truly his Black -Majesty seems to think that he can toss about the ball of earth for -his amusement; and that there is not a tailor who would venture to -‘measure him.’ Ah! Nick, give me a trial.” - -Thus spoke Gideon Chiselwig, tailor, in Ormskirk. Unlike the most -of his brethren belonging to that honourable profession, he could -boast of six feet of perpendicular matter; but conceiving that -even that height was too low a tabernacle for his giant soul, he -fixed to the one extremity a long red nightcap, whilst he made -the other move on tiptoe, much to the mirth of the quizzing old -maids, for which that town is noted. He was never seen with that -upper garment, commonly called a coat; unless to display one of -fashionable cut, which he had just finished; and the absence of -this did not take from Gideon’s stature. Some conjectured that he -knew this; others had seen Mrs. Gideon, at home, arrayed in what, -evidently, had once been a coat; and they jocosely remarked, that -she had altogether monopolized the use of her husband’s apparel, -for now they had seen her with the coat, and Gideon himself had -confessed that she wore the breeches.--He had a vest, but the -pockets were only visited by his hands; silver and gold they had -never weighed; so that to all intents and purposes--the wife wore -the vest also. - -Nature, however, had denied him her average allowance of breadth -and thickness, so much so, that in a tour to remarkable places, -during the honey-moon, having entered a museum in the metropolis, -the blushing bride was asked by the keeper, what was the price she -fixed upon the piece of anatomy which she brought. Gideon, did, -indeed, convince the questioner of his mistake, by a powerful and -conclusive argument directed against his head: still people will -suspect, even in the face of ample evidence; and the report had -been afloat, that there was something altogether strange about him. -This only served to give a more singular character to the tailor, -and nothing short of the marvellous in adventure could win his -attention and occupy his thoughts. - -Others hinted, that were Mrs. Gideon not to awake him so early; -not to rap his knuckles, when at table he was stretching forth his -hand to help himself; nor yet to allow the poker to fall upon his -toes and corns, when they ventured within a few yards of the fire; -not to compel him to perform the necessary ablutions on a cold -morning, a mile from the house, and then allow the sun, the wind, -or the frost, to dry him; not to confine him, for bedclothes, to a -sheet in winter, and his shirt in summer; nor yet, occasionally, -to exercise her hands, and a stick, upon his body; Gideon would -soon improve in appearance, and, at length, be a rival to the oily -priest. But the old maids (for Mrs. Gideon had formerly been one -of the numerous sisterhood residing there) considered such hints -as morsels of scandal;--and who can, with more propriety, condemn -scandal, than old maids?--and if, in the multitude of councillors -there be safety, their view of the matter, certainly, had every -assurance of being the correct one--that he was killed by too -much fondling and love. Ah! ah! poor Gideon knew better. He had a -scar on his face that he was proud to shew, for he had received -it in honourable combat with a barber;--but he had others, below -the night-cap, and many all over his person, which he was glad to -conceal; for these he received from his wife! At first he resisted -her encroachment upon the rights of man; but soon his noble spirit -disdained to contend with a woman. He had not lost a dram of -courage, and he burned for some supernatural achievement. - -His brother Jeremiah was made exactly in the antipodean style. He -was short and round; yet, as he himself pathetically said, when the -doctor, dreading apoplexy, had inquired about his diet, “tears were -his daily food, and misfortunes were the vinegar and salt.” His -eyes, in fact, seemed to have invisible onions always around them. -It was so when he was a babe, and his mother was in the habit of -remarking, that Jeremiah would not be troubled with water in the -head, because it would never stay there. When he entered upon the -profession of a tailor, Gideon had serious doubts that he would but -bring disgrace on it, himself, and all his relations; for, as he -very wisely reasoned, “How could he use the goose?--however hot it -was, in a moment his tears would cool it. And as for his needles--a -hundred would become rusty in a day.” However, Jeremiah passed -his apprenticeship with distinction, and became a partner in his -brother’s shop; where we introduce them, squatted on a large table, -to our readers, at the moment that Gideon had finished the sentence -which opens the Legend. - -Jeremiah had in his hand, an old and tattered book, which seemed -to have been read by the feet, and not the eyes. He raised his eyes -from it, as his brother spoke, and poured forth a fresh flood of -tears. “Ah! brother,” he said, “you’ll still be after what leads -to your destruction. I warned you against marriage. On the night -previous, did I not strike you sharply on the ankle, and then upon -the head, and ask you how you could endure to have it repeated a -hundred times, in the whole multiplication table of your life. And -now,” here tears impeded his words, “can I not read about Satan’s -tricks without your wishing--” - -“Resolving you mean; nay, Jeremiah, call it resolving to fight him. -I’m sure that he’s in Ormskirk. Yesterday morning, when I came from -washing myself, I traced in the snow a strange hoof to this very -door. There never was such a nunnery of old maids, in which he was -not found wooing them. But--but I’ll make a goose of him--I will!” -concluded the magnanimous tailor. - -“A goose! a goose!” exclaimed the simple Jeremiah, in horror, -“he’ll burn our hands, and the cloth. I cannot use him for a goose. -Oh! brother, only say that you will not make him either a needle or -a goose, and I’ll read the words over again.” - -“Well, well,” returned Gideon, a little pacified, as well as -elated, by the thought that there was one who really did think -that he was able to turn the devil into a goose, “sweep away your -tears. You’ll find the table cloth near you. Use the dirty corner -twice, and Nelly wont need to wash it.” - -Jeremiah followed his brother’s directions, carefully passed the -cloth over his face, and once more fixed his eyes upon the book. -Gideon laid aside a pair of gaiters, which he was making for the -comfort of his wife. The winter was severe--and the doctor, it -seems, had said at the house of some wealthy person that there -would be a great mortality that season, should females not keep -their feet properly warm, and the report had spread through all the -town, and had been pretty well circulated, both by the tailors and -shoemakers. In fact, shoes and gaiters had been exhibited under -the imposing titles of life-preservers. Towards evening the sexton -had been known to look suspiciously upon them, and even openly to -condemn the traffic; but the articles were still in great demand. - -Mrs. Gideon’s gaiters being, as we have said, thrown aside, the -tailor settled himself into the posture which was most becoming the -spirit of the reply, which he intended to make to the proposition -now to be propounded, and Jeremiah commenced reading-- - -“About midnight, let him go out into a wood, wherein there be -divers kinds of trees; let him stand behind a yew, and clapping -his hands together, cry out, come here, James, (such being the -endearing name by which he is known to his friends,) come here. -He shall then perceive a whisper from the top of the tree. Let -him instantly draw around him a magic circle, with the forefinger -of his right hand, lest his devilship, being angry, pettish, or -mischievous, may enter unawares, and suffocate him with his breath. -He must next name the conditions, upon the fulfilment of which, he -surrenders himself as a slave, then and for ever. He may ask any -thing, and his master is bound to perform it, or break the league, -and allow his hoof to be scratched with six pins or needles.” - -“I have it!” exclaimed Gideon, “the agreement shall be made -this very night,” and he looked terrible things to a portrait -of Apollyon, which he had torn out of “Pilgrim’s Progress,” and -plastered over the mantel-piece. - -But not contented with this manner of defiance, he sprung upon -his toes, hastily drew a needle from his waistcoat, and pinked -the enemy through and through the breast, in spite of scales -and hellish armour. Jeremiah, upon this, could not refrain from -weeping, and cried out, “poor dragon! poor dragon!” - -“Poor dragon! Poor, indeed!” returned the doughty conqueror. “But -see, how fierce he looks! The longer I strike, his eyes become -larger, and expand with rage.” - -When this announcement was made, Jeremiah quickly drew a circle -around him. This caution was unnecessary; for Gideon, seizing -the picture, threw it to the door, which Mrs. Chiselwig, at that -moment opening, received it full in her face. With a loud shout, -the enraged wife flew at her husband--we cannot say like a dove to -its mate. Nelly had a singular fancy and propensity for squinting; -and her visual organs seemed always, as if chiding nature for the -place which she had given them to occupy, and were just upon the -eve of taking their departure to some back settlements on the head, -as sentinels to guard a large neck-covering, which she wore with -some degree of pride. Jeremiah, who had a mixture of shrewdness -with all his simplicity, had long been of opinion, after careful -observation, comparison, and induction of facts, that squinting -was the property of old maids, and very philosophically, as well -as categorically, gave the following reasons. First--since they -always look back upon age, and, in their own calculations, never -become older, but sometimes younger; why should not their eyes be -in the posterior of their head? Secondly--female eyes ought always -to be in front, when their lips are in danger of being saluted; but -as old maids are not exposed to this danger, such a situation is -not necessary. But be this as it may, there could be no doubt of -the fact, that Mrs. Gideon Chiselwig did squint, and viewed every -thing at right angles. Perhaps she wished to avoid the labour of -her eyes travelling over a large nose. Still, squinting as she did, -she took a tolerably correct aim at the shoulders of her spouse. -In vain did he look pale, in vain did he attempt to kiss her, and -excuse the deed, by affirming that it was purely accidental: all -these circumstances did not stay the uplifted hand, or take away a -grain from its weight. She had frequently complained of being very -delicate, and when the doctor had been called in to feel her pulse -with his finger, poor Gideon wished that he could only feel her -fist with his head, as he must then have come to a very different -conclusion. She could faint, go vulgarly into hysterics, look as -pale as a drooping lily, and speak of consumption:--ah! Gideon knew -that she could likewise strike hard. It was not the mere “ego,” -tripping on his tongue, which said so: every rib, every bone, every -member told the same tale. On this occasion, Nelly did not abate -any of her strength. - -“Angel of my life!” Gideon cried out, “desist, oh! Nelly desist!” - -“You treat me as an angel, eh? Doff your nightcap then, in an -angel’s presence, and make your lowest bow of reverence.” - -Gideon silently obeyed, and very soon had his head scratched to his -wife’s content. We omitted to mention that Nelly’s figure rather -came under the definition of dumpy; so that had Gideon only been -able to read the classics, and to know that the face of man was -made to look towards the skies, or the ceiling, she could not, -without the labour of mounting a high stool, have reached him, so -as to inflict _capital_ punishment. - -Meanwhile, Jeremiah’s eyes were moist enough. We have our suspicion -that a _wave_ of Mrs. Chiselwig’s hand deposited a few tears there. -Still, as this phenomenon was by no means unusual, the Chronicler -leaves the point without any further investigation. - -After “wholesome severities” had been administered to Gideon by his -wife, she dragged him to a seat beside the fire, where she also -seated herself, and began to examine the evidence of an exculpatory -nature, which the offender had to produce; and to the furtherance -of the ends of justice, called his brother to be jury in the case. -Jeremiah, in his own mind, had some doubts as to the equity of this -course of proceeding: but he was too wise to allow any private -opinion of his to contradict the wish of the judge. He thought, -too, that his brother’s heroism was much too pure and exalted, -since it led him to be passively submissive to the treatment of -his wife, lest he might use his weapons ingloriously, when their -edge was to be turned against Satan; and as he rose from the -table to occupy the jury-box, he was almost tempted to tell both -parties that he would be their mutual second, in a fair combat, -and then strength would be both jury and judge, and fists would -pronounce guilty or not guilty, and register the doom or acquittal -accordingly. But Jeremiah shewed his prudence by being silent. Mrs. -Chiselwig motioned him to his seat, when her eyes fell upon the -gaiters, lying unfinished on the floor. - -“So,” she began, “you thought I should not require gaiters after -you had killed me, and had resolved to be thrifty, that you might -tempt some other person to be your wife?” - -Gideon, in reply, raised his eyes. We have some doubt as to whether -this movement was expressive of his calling Heaven to witness that -he was innocent of any such design; or of his chiding Heaven, for -not having brought accidents to such a desirable issue. - -Mrs. Gideon’s head began to incline a little to her left hand, -which was opened to support it; her breast was heaving against her -right hand; her eyes were rolling in an interesting lack-lustre; -and her face, with the exception of the nose, was pale. These were -symptoms of hysterics. She seemed about to fall from her seat, and -Gideon once thought of helping her to her wish, by removing the -chair from under her, but when he thought over the matter twice, -the idea was abandoned, for Nelly had been known to recover in a -wondrously short time, from her fainting fits. On this occasion she -contented herself with bursting into tears. - -“Oh! cruel brute, to be yoked to such a delicate little heart! Why -did I leave the holy state of single life. I might now have been -seated, eating gingerbread as I was when the wretch came with his -proposals!” - -Gideon gave a sigh, and thought that even Ormskirk gingerbread -should not tempt him, were he free, to bear her company. - -Mrs. Chiselwig continued,-- - -“Was not my shop the most frequented of any in the town? Those who -could not pay to eat the gingerbread, stood gazing upon it at the -window, and feasted their eyes; those who were my friends, were -allowed to smell it; and those who ate it, thought that they would -never die. Where was the true lover that did not regularly, when -about to visit his sweetheart, buy a little of Nelly’s cake, in -order that he might have an agreeable and pleasant breath?” - -“And did not your own true love,” interrupted Gideon in an -appeal overflowing with tenderness, “pay your shop many of such -periodical visits, and did he not, in the slyness of the feeling, -pretend that he was about to visit such and such a damsel, and -then, after swallowing a cake or two, delicately and timidly -ask pardon for the liberty he was about to take, in wishing you -to decide, by allowing him a salute on your own sweet lips, -whether his breath was made agreeable enough? Oh! Nelly, have you -altogether forgot those days?” - -At this moment, when he was pursuing his reminiscences, he came -upon one which he passed over in silence. In “those days” to -which he referred, he had his suspicions that Nelly’s decision -was not quite disinterested, for after one salute, and frequently -two salutes, she was of opinion that Gideon’s breath was not -sufficiently flavoured to make it pleasant, and, of course, he was -under the necessity of purchasing a few more cakes of gingerbread. -Then, however, these suspicions were counterbalanced by others, -which whispered, that instead of wishing him to spend his money, -she was only anxious that he should spend his kisses. Woman is -said to be fickle and changeable: but some hold that man, after -marriage, changes his opinion much more than woman, adducing as a -proof, the existence of angels on earth in female form, to which -every unmarried man swears a hundred times, but which no married -man believes. Gideon, accordingly, was not exactly of the same -opinion, in reference to Nelly’s motive for the course of conduct -described, and he recollected many a squint in the direction of his -pocket, confirmatory of the change. This one reminiscence, we have -said, Gideon omitted to suggest to Mrs. Chiselwig, and was about to -wander over others which might tend to warm her towards him, when -Jeremiah waved him to silence, and began,-- - -“And, madam, you surely have not yet forgot how many times I -entered the shop, and made some purchases?” - -“No,” sharply returned Mrs. Chiselwig, “twelve times, and out of -these, five times you left the shop without leaving your money. -One of my reasons for marrying the fool, your brother, was, that I -might not lose your account. But, Jeremiah, finish my gaiters, and -you shall be quit for the interest due to me. So, Mr. Chiselwig, -you thought that I would never use them, but I shall outlive you, -and obtain another husband.” - -Jeremiah moved uncomfortably on his seat, but resolved in his own -mind, that _he_ would never be that husband. - -“Another husband!” continued Nelly, after thinking over her last -words, “no, no. Why did I leave the virgin state?--oh! why--why?” - -Gideon listened eagerly, expecting to hear her assign a reason, -the “why,” and the “wherefore,” for when he asked himself the same -question, he could invent no answer. - -“I was a fool--a fool,” she concluded. - -Her spouse thought that the same answer would do for him likewise, -and that marriage had coupled them in folly. Mrs. Chiselwig then -left the room to retreat to bed, warning Gideon against making his -appearance there before morning. - -The two brothers drew closer to each other, and, in a short time, -our hero was “himself again,” and spoke of undertaking an adventure -with Satan that very night. And the first question to be settled -was, what should Gideon’s apparel be? Some philosophers, perhaps, -will say, that in strict logical arrangement, this ought not to -have been the first question, and that the time and place had prior -claims upon their notice. But, let it be remembered, that the hero -was a tailor.--Jeremiah was decidedly of opinion that Gideon should -not take a coat. “The book,” he argued, “gives directions that -a circle be drawn round your person. Now, should the slightest -movement on your part be made, the skirts of the coat might fly -over the circle, and the enemy might seize them, and thus draw you -from your strong hold of safety, and carry you away.” - -It was, therefore agreed upon, _nem. con._ that Gideon should not -take a coat. - -“And as for the night cap,” resumed the same subtle reasoner, -“since it is of a red colour, it may remind him of the hot place -which he has left, and then setting him to shiver and tremble, may -give you, his opponent, some advantage.” - -This, likewise, was carried unanimously. - -The next series of questions was concerning the place. The book -had mentioned a wood, and luckily it occurred to the remembrance -of Gideon, that there was a dark wood, at a short distance -from Ormskirk. But then, all the trees were of fir, and it was -distinctly stated, that the challenger should stand behind a yew. -Here seemed to be an insuperable objection. - -By agreement they divided themselves into two committees, to -deliberate upon the matter; and they placed themselves at opposite -sides of the fire, and hid their faces in their hands, lest the -other might know of their opinion. Once, indeed, they had started -from their posture, as they imagined that they heard Nelly’s foot -on the staircase, but as she did not make her appearance, it was -resumed: and certainly the expression of their countenance at that -moment would not have discovered any opinion about the question in -consideration. At length Gideon started from his seat. - -“I have it!” he exclaimed, rubbing his brow and scratching his -head, “yes: the priest, towards the conclusion of his discourse -last Sunday, told us that the yew was a type of death. He said that -it was black, and so was death: it grew in the church-yard, and so -did death. Then he stated--” - -“Go on, go on,” interrupted Jeremiah impatiently,--“proceed, -brother. I fell asleep over that point.” - -“Then he stated,” continued Gideon, “that as the yew was the emblem -of the death of old men, so the cypress, being a much smaller tree, -might, with great propriety, be considered as an emblem of the -death of young men. Now I am a young man, Jeremiah, and the cypress -is, therefore, the tree for me!” - -“But is there a cypress in ‘the Rough?’” - -“No, no,” was the answer, “remain here for a little, and I will -bring one. Satan can have no objection, unless he be a coward, to -one standing without roots.” - -Still Gideon did not leave the house, and some uncomfortable -thoughts were evidently clouding his brow, at least that part of it -which the nightcap left uncovered. - -“Should Nelly come down, and find that I am out, she would leave -me to cool all night, on the wrong side of the door. But covered -with glory, from fiendish achievements, could she resist me?”--and -elated with the idea, he looked a few inches taller, and braver by -as many; strode with a martial air twice across the room, and then -strode out. Jeremiah was not fond of adventures: and the truth was, -that he had not asked where his brother was going for the cypress, -lest he should have been answered by another question, “would he -not accompany him?” He himself confessed that he was rather of a -_sedentary_ disposition, and must, therefore, have declined to -leave his chair. - -Meanwhile Gideon was threading his way to the churchyard, which -was at a little distance. The priest, it seems, had said, that -should any of his hearers have the curiosity to see a cypress, he -would, when the service was over, shew them one. A few had remained -behind: of whom, some not being very excellent herbists, had -expected to find winter apples there; because, as they reasoned, -the tree was an emblem of death, and the eating of an apple had -brought death into the world. Gideon was not of this class. He -was forced to remain behind, because Mrs. Chiselwig had strictly -enjoined him never to be nearer her on their way home, than a -hundred yards; so that he received the benefit of the priest’s -illustration, and knew exactly the situation of the cypress. He -entered the churchyard, found the spot, and then ascertained that -he had forgot a digging spade. It was dim twilight, but the snow -on the ground made objects, otherwise invisible, to be seen, and -the tailor recognized a form approaching. He at once concluded -that it was the enemy, and took his station, as directed, behind -the cypress. He heard a deep groan, and then a shriek. Nothing -terrified, Gideon called out, in a ferocious tone, “Come, James, -come,” when he received an answer, - -“Oh! heaven, save my wits, and my body. Shall I come? No, no; and -yet I cannot run. Something holds me fast.” - -Gideon was astonished. The enemy had, in his hearing, breathed a -prayer;--not a pater-noster, indeed, but still a prayer. Soon, -however, his astonishment gave way to his rage, that he would not -come. “Fiend! coward!” Gideon cried out, when he instantly heard -retreating steps. He pursued in the direction of the sounds, and -came up to a form crouching behind a tombstone! The tailor was -collared in a moment, and struck to the ground. - -“You are the fiend or ghost who terrified me. I took thee for the -spirit of the strange gentleman, over whose grave the cypress is -planted. Ha! take that, and that,” and as he spoke he made a few -presents to Gideon, which seemed very like blows. “Where are your -confounded life-preservers now? Are they upon you?” and he struck -the tailor’s shins, who, looking up, beheld James Dennis, the -sexton of Ormskirk. We have hinted already that the members of -these two useful professions, during the winter, were not very -amicably disposed towards each other. After Gideon had got upon his -legs, the sexton resumed,-- - -“You have tried to rob me of my trade, and I have half a mind to -make you atone for it, by putting you into a grave which I have -just dug.” - -“Not to night,” interrupted Gideon. “I have a work before me, -to be performed, and I shall not be buried happily till it be -accomplished. Not to night, good sir, for I fight the devil!” - -A fit of shivering came over his companion, who was very -superstitious; and it is no comfortable word, that same devil, to -be heard with an atmosphere of darkness, and in a churchyard. - -“Oh! oh!” groaned the sexton, “mention it not. The snow falls -heavily, and I often fancy that such is the garb of light, which we -are told he sometimes assumes.” - -“Hast thou, friend,” inquired Gideon, “seen the track of his steps -here lately? Snow shews them rarely. Here they are--” - -“For goodness sake, do not mention the subject,” interrupted the -sexton, as he trembled anew. The tailor, however, explained all -his warlike intentions to him: stated for what he had come to the -church-yard: and finally, received the assistance of the grave -spade, to uproot the sickly cypress. He left the spot, bearing -it on his shoulders, and the hero of the Eneïd did not stalk -with a prouder air, as he raised the heavenly shield which his -goddess-mother had induced Vulcan to forge for him, than did Gideon -Chiselwig, tailor, in Ormskirk. - -The snow continued to fall heavily, and the wind drifted it about -in fury, when, a little before midnight, the two tailors (for -Jeremiah, from fear of Mrs. Chiselwig’s wrath, had thought it best -to accompany his brother) were moving in the direction of the Rough -Wood, situated at a short distance from the town. The priest, it -will be recollected, had termed the cypress black; but it had -now changed colours, and was white enough. Gideon’s nightcap was -still red, for, at his request, Jeremiah took it from the head -repeatedly, and dashed the snow from it, lest it should lose any -of its power, to call up some rather unpleasant sensations in the -mind of Satan. Many were the misfortunes which befel them on the -way; now wandering from their course, and now stumbling into a deep -wreath of snow. - -“Gideon’s courage, however, was not to dissolve thereby, and -wearied as he was, by carrying the cypress, and dragging Jeremiah, -he still persevered, and at length reached the entrance of the -wood. They passed on to a convenient station, Jeremiah starting -when large flakes of snow fell upon his face, from the trees. - -“No more, no more,” said Gideon, making a halt near to some -overgrown firs, and his voice sounded so hollow, even to himself, -that he almost began to be frightened. “Here is the scene of the -horrible enchantment; Jeremiah, brush my nightcap, whilst I elevate -the cypress on that huge branch.” - -“Aye, aye, brother, raise it high. The book said that he would -appear at the top; do not allow him to come too near, for I never -relished sulphur much.” - -When all things were in readiness, the nightcap adjusted, and the -cypress fixed, the brave knight of the needle, in a firm voice, -cried out,-- - -“Come, James, come!” - -A flash of lightning gleamed over their heads, and a voice, by no -means musical, though merrily attuned, amidst hollow laughter, -said,-- - -“Here, Gideon, here.” - -As soon as a circle of safe diameter had been described by their -fingers, they looked up. There Jeremiah was fated to behold eyes -of a much deeper red than his own, peering down; moreover with a -less mournful expression. He fell, but had the good sense to fall -within the magic circle, and there he groaned. Gideon was thus -left alone to brave the infernal terrors; and whatsoever some may -say respecting Beelzebub, certainly on this occasion, he did not -appear the handsome and well-favoured gentleman, equipped in boots, -shining so beautifully, that everything is reflected, except his -hoofs,--and perfumed with spices and ointments, to suppress the -strong effluvial sulphur of his person. Nor was he the noble fiend -of Milton, shorn of his glory, as the sun in a partial eclipse: -for we presume that his devilship has the right of proving the -simile false at the hour of midnight. Accordingly, horrible sights -were Gideon’s, and they were ever varying. Now the enemy assumed -some strange mixture of forms,--rolling heads, contorted legs, -and swinging tail: but before a conception could be formed in the -tailor’s mind of what they were, he was altogether changed. Light, -darkness, and smoke, were around him. The cypress leaves rustled to -the movement of his hoofs. Saucer eyes, in the edges of which there -lurked such a malicious wink and twinkle; a mouth, occasionally, -when it could be seen, as wide and black as the pit whence he came, -in which hung a tongue, bright and lurid with a serpent’s poison, -breathing out thence visibly a blue air; naked limbs, around which -a green light flickered, shewing neither skin, muscle, nor bone, -but an indescribable substance: large black hoofs, hanging from -small ancles; all these parts changed, and poor Gideon stared, -perfectly bewildered at the proportions of his opponent. He soon, -however, regained his wonted composure, and broke the silence,-- - -“Nay, enemy of man, think not thus to confound me, with your -childish tricks. Be a man, Nicholas, and not a fool.” In a moment -around the circle which had been made, a blue flame flashed. The -devil danced on the outside, with the cypress for his stilts. His -face was concealed, and he now wore the garb of a scrivener, with -paper and pens stuck in his belt. He leapt to the ground, and there -he stood, of small stature, but twisting and pliable. - -“Gideon Chiselwig,” said the learned clerk, “you are a brave -earth-clod. I am an antiquarian in my small way, and should be glad -of your autograph on this parchment. In my desk at home, I have the -names of great warriors, statesmen, and poets, but am yet denied -the honour of that of a tailor. Mine is a rare and a valuable -museum. Friend, be so kind as to write me ‘Gideon Chiselwig’ here, -in this corner. Now,”--and he unfolded a long roll, and held it -out to Gideon. “Nay, nay, your hands are stiff and cold, with the -blowing of this storm; give me a shake, and I’ll warm them. Tush! -Gideon a coward? Then write me your initials.” - -“I came not here,” solemnly returned the tailor, “to sport, but to -fight with you. Prepare for combat, or write on the parchment, a -coward.” - -“What! fight without a challenge? Here are the articles; write your -name, and then I must gird myself for battle. Come, the night is -cold--cold--and I shiver.” - -“That will be a change, friend, I guess,” interrupted Jeremiah, -who now venturing to raise his head, saw nothing formidable in -the enemy, “I warrant thee, that some of your associates are not -shivering at present. I suppose that during summer, there is not -much rain in your country, and during winter not much frost or -snow.” - -No reply was made to the polite address of Jeremiah, but the clerk -had already placed the pen in the hand of Gideon. - -“Where is the ink?” - -“In your veins; prick them with a needle, or be a coward. Blood is -the challenge to deadly combat.” - -“Do all other inks freeze in your country?” again inquired -Jeremiah, and again he received no answer. - -Gideon did as he was directed, and wrote his name on the parchment. -He observed that the blood dried as soon as it fell from the pen, -and became indelible. - -“Fool! fool!” exclaimed the fiend, with a loud shriek of joy, -“thou art for ever lost. This is a contract that you will be my -servant in hell. Two conditions are granted to you; or, rather, two -deeds to which you may command me. Next night we meet again, and -when morning comes, you are mine. Live a pleasant day to morrow. -Ask two things, and here I have pledged to grant them, or you are -free. The parchment may not be wiped, and cannot be torn!” - -This was spoken in a tone so fiendish and exulting, that Gideon’s -heart failed him. He now knew that he was altogether in the power -of the enemy, with only one day to live; and then a horrible -departure from this world; and in the next world such a revolting -service in which he was to be employed. He bent down on his -knees, and clasping his hands in extreme agony and terror, looked -imploringly upon the fiend, and cried out-- - -“Oh! spare me! I can be of no use to you.” - -“More,” was the reply, “than you are to any one on earth. Ah! -Gideon, you’ll make a good member of society there.” - -“Nay, nay,” returned Gideon, “I may lie in a hot and black corner -of the pit, like an old woman by the fire, who cannot move about. -I shall do nothing but retch, and cry for water. I could not go on -any errand of yours--could not whisper mischief in any person’s -ear. You might torment me, but I should be utterly unable to serve -you. Oh! spare me!” - -“Spare him,” began Jeremiah with averted face. “Had he been a -ruffian, he would have been of essential service in any vacant -situation. But, sir, and I speak with great respect, Gideon would -be the laziest footman in your employ. He could not travel from -your place to Ormskirk in less than a life-time. And then he would -have forgot your messages, and lost your letters, unless they were -put in his nightcap, and that, you know well, could not hold as -many as you require. Gideon Chiselwig an imp of darkness! why a -little infant could cheat him of an apple! Perhaps he would then be -fonder of a snow ball. Ah! he is too simple to be a man, and how -could he be a devil?” - -The fiend laughed, and pointing to the name on the parchment, -written with blood, bade Gideon recollect that he was his property, -by contract and consent. - -“Oh!” once more ejaculated Gideon, “spare me! What! must I leave--” - -“Nelly, you mean? Fear not. I shall bring her to you in good time. -The separation cannot be long.” - -“Oh!” resumed the tailor, “must I die,--have my brains dashed out -against the wall, as your victims generally are treated?” - -“No, no, Gideon, they shall even then be covered with your -nightcap--” - -“To leave my profession, to--” - -“No, no,” was the reply, “you shall then make my pantaloons -of many colours. My wages are--but I dare not quote from that -Book.--You understand me, Gideon. You need not shriek: spare your -lungs, as they will have exercise enough, and yet they will not -require sewing and mending. They must last as long as your service, -and that is for ever. I shall never dismiss you for bad conduct, -Gideon. Eternity is the term of the engagement between us. Oh! -eternity!”--and here all the farce and pantomime vanished, as -his form changed into one of lofty power, and his voice thrilled -with eloquence from the remembrance, and the still more intense -anticipation of endless woe. “Oh! Eternity, how vast thou art. -No shore, a boundless sea! No bank, nor yet a little island, on -which the lost can alight, and, for a moment, quit the gulf, and -shake off their pain. The scroll of fate is placed in the hand, -written with woe: long and long may it unfold itself, but the last -roll never comes. Oh! Eternity! thou hast no resting place for -the bright foot of Hope:--yes,” and here Satan assumed the same -appearance as before, “Gideon, our engagement expires only with -eternity: you shall board with me, and have enough of food--not -much ale or water, however, but a great supply of fuel, and that -gratis. But before I depart, name two requests which you may wish -me to fulfil. Would you enjoy power or beauty? They shall be -granted, and the poor tailor may sit on a throne, or at the side of -a beautiful empress. Amidst all, think of the coming night, when -your appetite is about to pall, and how will it be whetted!--Name -two requests.” - -Jeremiah started up, so sudden was the advent of the idea in his -mind, and no longer miserable, thinking that Gideon would now -successfully puzzle Satan. He whispered into his brother’s ear, -“Ask for the reformation of Nelly!” - -“Well then,” said the tailor addressing the enemy, “the first -condition is, that you thoroughly reform my wife: make her to -love me; to give me due allowance of food, fuel, sleep, and all -necessaries, and not to beat me. She may comb my head, but must -not scratch it. She may kiss, but not bite me. The vinegar must be -taken from her temper, and honey put in. The poker must only be -used for the coals: in short, you have undertaken an impossibility. -You may have made her what she is--but you cannot unmake her.” - -“Ah! master Nicholas,” chuckled Jeremiah, who was vain of having -suggested the above condition, “give it up, and confess that you -are an easy simpleton for once. A devil make an angel of a woman! -Ridiculous, quite ridiculous, Nick. You may pare her nails, but -you cannot keep her from scratching. Say no more, give it up and -depart, and carry a globe of snow on your shoulders, to your abode, -to cool some of your friends.” - -Lightning flashed over Jeremiah’s head as he finished speaking, and -effectually withered up his wit, as well as his courage. A long -silence ensued, broken by the fiend at last, as he said-- - -“The condition shall be fulfilled. Your person shall be sacred to -your wife, no more to come in contact with poker or fist, nails -or teeth. She shall supply your grinders with every thing but her -own fingers. As for sleep, you have not much time for that, before -I come to claim you as my slave. And as for fuel, Nelly will seat -you close by the grate, and you may take warm coals in your hand -like boiled potatoes: and do not feel the least anxiety about fuel -hereafter, you shall have great abundance then. Nay, nay, Gideon, -your wife’s temper shall likewise be reformed. Oh! you are a man of -discrimination, and have perceived that it is no easy task which -you have assigned me.--Now name your other condition.” - -Gideon then trembled, lest the first condition should be fulfilled, -and thought over some impossibility which he should ask the devil -to perform, as the fulfilment of the second condition. - -“Then build me a wall, with stone and mortar, an hour before -daybreak to morrow.” - -“Provided there be a thaw.” - -“No provisions,” boldly replied Gideon,--“no provisions. And lest -there should be a thaw occasioned by crowds passing, it must not -be built in a thoroughfare, but in a field at some distance from -Ormskirk. It must be four hundred yards in length, and five feet in -height, and all finished in an hour.” - -“Why, Nick,” interrupted Jeremiah, whose courage flowed as well -as ebbed, “you will take an hour to bring the sand from the -sand-hills. Besides, no honest man will lend you his horse and -cart.” No answer was returned, and the enemy walked around the -circle once or twice, and then stood full in front of Gideon, while -the parchment, with his name, burned brighter, and more bright. But -the flame did not conceal the blood by which it had been written, -and the form of a heart, weltering amidst the flame, turning in -agony, and guarded by the name. - -“The conditions,” Satan exclaimed, “shall be performed, and as -soon as the wall is built, I shall escort you to your future home. -Let this parchment float, till then, before you, in your waking -moments and in your dreams. Accustom your mind to the thought of -thunder, lightning, sounds of an earthquake, the hissing of fiends, -the rolling of a deep unfathomable gulf, and the clutch of this -little, little loving hand,” and he switched out a horrible paw, -scorched, but not burned; for every joint and muscle moved with -inconceivable ease and speed. “Do not think, poor wretch, that you -shall see me then as merry as I have been at present, nor will you -be merry when limb from limb is torn and mangled? Dream of it,--it -must come to pass. A few hours, Gideon, and I meet you: till then, -adieu,” and the fiend vanished. A long track of blue light, and -dark forms hovering near it, marked the course of his flight over -the wood. - -As we have been long enough in the cold and bitter storm, and as -all fire and brimstone have disappeared, we do not choose to walk -side by side with the two tailors, on their way back, amidst the -drifting of the snow, which, by this time, had fallen so heavily, -that the way was completely blocked up. - -We prefer to enter the residence of the parson, and, seated -opposite to his rosy countenance, note a few observations as -to what was passing there. In a parenthesis, we have already -described the worthy man as fat and oily. Indeed, he was singularly -consistent, for whilst he preached _good living_ to others, he -did not neglect to practice it himself, though, perhaps, he had -a private interpretation of the word, and understood it in a -different sense. He told his hearers that they would, in the end, -feel the advantages resulting from it: and certainly, after fifty -years practice, he looked very comfortable himself. This regimen -had endowed him with size and colour, flesh and paint. He had -been called a light of the church; only, we presume, because his -face, in shape, resembled the moon, though scarcely so pale. Yet, -withall, Dr. Mauncel was mild and benevolent, and one of his best -properties was, that he had a beautiful daughter, who had just -reached her nineteenth winter. Many a sigh had been unconsciously -breathed as Mary leant upon her father’s arm, on their way to -church: and as she knelt in prayer, many a look had been directed -towards her, and lovers envied the vicar for the many caresses he -must receive from such a fair being, and thought what a sanctuary -her presence would make of the very humblest home. The little arch -creature knew this, and flung back her ringlets, that her face -might be seen, and then contrived to make it so demure and grave, -that one might have imagined that a ray of happy, but feverish -love, had never brightened over it. When she smiled, it was always -so friendly, that a deeper sentiment, it was thought, could not -lurk beneath it; and she would extend her hand so frankly, that -no one could venture upon retaining and kissing it,--it felt so -sisterly. And yet, the sweet rogue was in love with her cousin -William, then residing at the Vicarage; and when the good doctor -was paying his addresses either to his meals or his sermon, the -young pair were toying with each other’s hands, and his reverence -had once been startled from his reveries, by a very loud kiss. - -We have, strangely enough, omitted to mention that it was -Christmas night on which all the transactions we have recorded of -the tailors, took place; so that lights were still seen in the -vicarage, and a goose, with others of the same genus, was standing -on the table very peaceably, if we except the smoke of their anger, -which was ascending, and, as the vicar facetiously remarked, much -more comfortable where they were, than without, in the fury of the -storm. - -“Is all in readiness? Now, nephew, you can fence and carve, bisect -and dissect; but when you reach my age, you will only be able to -devour, decant, or digest. Stay; Mary, bring Rehoboam and Jeroboam, -with all their tribes. Rehoboam was the son of Solomon, and there -is no reason why a wise man should not be fond of him. Come, haste, -Mary, else I shall send William to bring you.” - -“Nay, nay, uncle,” said the youth, “to avoid delay, I will go at -once, and chide her so, that she must despatch. Now,--dear Mary,” -and the happy couple ran out of the room together. - -“Sly rogues,” chuckled the old man, who saw how matters stood. - -Mary, it seems, had been refractory, for it was not until a -considerable length of time had elapsed, that she appeared, -carrying a few glasses, whilst her cousin bore two large bottles, -Rehoboam and Jeroboam. - -“Ah! ah!” cried the vicar. “Fie, fie, whence come these blushes, -Mary? Let both of you approach; now kneel; and God bless you, my -dear children! Nephew William, take her hand as a Christmas present -from her father; you have already obtained her heart from herself.” - -“Dear, dear uncle,” exclaimed the delighted youth, as he clasped -his relative’s knees with his hands. - -“Nay, nay,” the parson interrupted, “put your arms around that -blushing neck. I have long watched you. When you read for the -old man, William, she sat beside you, gazing upon the same book, -and when your locks and cheeks were together, your voice became -agitated, and then she looked innocently into your face. You always -preferred a large folio, and she slipped her little hand in one -side, beneath it, and then you put yours through, to meet hers; and -for hours, the happy father has been delighted with your loves. -Ah! one other remembrance comes upon me. In our evening walk I was -strolling behind you, when a beautiful child left his sister’s -hand, and ran to you, Mary, and climbing up, kissed you once and -again. I was near enough to hear William say, ‘now, cousin, give -me one likewise.’ Ah! rogues, rogues,” and he took them both in -his arms, and hugged them together, when a knocking was heard at -the gate. The vicar started, but the lovers were so happy in each -other, that they had not even heard the noise. - -“Some poor traveller seeking shelter from the storm. How the storm -blows without. Hark to that awful howl,” and the good man arose -from the table. He heard the servant open the door, and instantly -a form bounced into the room, all drifted and covered with snow. A -single shake served to discover Mrs. Gideon Chiselwig. - -“Oh! doctor,” she exclaimed, in a tone altogether foreign to her -usual voice, “what a dream I have been visited with. The devil has -appeared to me, and shewed my dear husband’s name, affixed to a -contract, that he shall be a slave in hell, from to-morrow night, -henceforth, and for ever. He is then to come and take him from me. -Oh! I have shamefully treated Gideon, and now I love him so much, -that I could die for him. ’Twas but this evening, that I struck -him with these heavy hands. Oh! doctor, what can I do? Is there no -hope?” - -Dr. Mauncel was altogether astonished and confounded. The woman -now before him had the repute of a termagent; and yet she spoke -so affectionately, and bitterly upbraided herself, for her former -cruel treatment of her husband. Nor did she appear at all under -the influence of strong drink. “Good woman,” he at length inquired, -“where is your husband?” - -“He has gone and sold himself to the devil, for my conduct towards -him. I have made earth miserable, and he would rather live in hell, -than dwell with me any longer. Oh! how I could now love him! My -heart is changed, but it is too late! Yes, yes, it is too late!” -and she wrung her hands in wild agony, tore her hair, and shed more -tears than Jeremiah could have done. - -“Mrs. Chiselwig,” returned the vicar, “you have, indeed, been -anything but a dutiful and affectionate wife to your spouse, but -now begin a thorough reformation. It is only a dream of evil with -which you have been visited, and Gideon shall, doubtless, be spared -to you for many a long year yet.” - -“It cannot be! Although the storm rages, he is not in the house; he -has gone and sold himself for my shameful conduct. In the afternoon -I forbade him to go to bed, until I should have arisen; nay, more, -I planted these nails in his face and head, as a tender good night -for a dear husband. Ah! wretch that I am, and yet, he patiently -submitted, took the hand which had struck him, so affectionately, -and was making gaiters for the feet which had kicked him.” - -“Ah! Mrs. Chiselwig, you were a sad wife,” chimed in the parson. - -“What tempted you,” asked Mary Mauncel, “to be cruel to Gideon? He -was always so kind and attentive to you.” - -Her cousin William approached, and whispered something which was -inaudible to all others, save Mary herself. She smiled so prettily, -and with such an affectation of malice, as she tossed her head, -and said, “Try me, you are free at present, but have given me the -chain. I’ll rule you, and beat you into the sober obedience of a -husband. You have told me frequently that you were my slave: I -shall shortly prove it.” - -“Dear Mary, go on, go on, and tell me what a good little wife you -will make.” - -Nelly once more appealed to the vicar, with great earnestness. -“Oh! sir, have you not a charm to be obtained from all those books, -from all your sermons, from all your robes, by which you can break -the contract with the devil. Laugh not; he appeared to me, in -such a form, and uttering such words, that to my dying day I dare -not rehearse them. To-morrow night he comes to claim Gideon! Your -profession is to tame and conquer the enemy. Oh! now exert that -power!” - -“To-morrow night; well then, go home, and I will come at noon, and -see what is to be done. Good woman, you have (innocently I grant) -spoiled my supper, for who can eat with the smell of brimstone. I -declare that that goose now appears to me to have hoofs, instead -of claws. Mary, give Mrs. Chiselwig a compliment from Rehoboam, -to cheer her on her way home, through the storm. You’ll find -Gideon, I hope, there before you, and prove that all your fears -have been the baby thoughts of a horrid dream. May you long live -for each other,--and, Nelly, you will shew, by your future course -of conduct, I trust, that you are willing to atone for all the -domestic misery which you confess to have brought upon honest -Gideon. Nay, drink it off, Mrs. Chiselwig; it is warmer than snow, -eh?” - -Nelly, after many thanks to the vicar, emptied the glass, and once -more braved the storm. - -The walls of the houses were now completely drifted, and not a -footstep had left its trace on the snow-covered streets. What a -lonely feeling is over the soul, when nothing is heard but the deep -gust of the wind, driving the storm before, around, and against us, -and when all objects are being wrapped in winter’s white raiment. -For us, in youth, there never was a greater luxury, than to wander -over the dreary mountain and vale, with the snow pelting on our -face, as it was turned upwards, when not a glimpse of the sky could -meet it; and then, after having become thoroughly exhausted, to -enter some natural cave, or sheepfold, on the waste, and there -seated, gaze around upon bush, bank, and hill, cottages, and woods, -all thatched with white: and even yet, by night, has the old man -taken his staff, and tottered to the hall door, to stand without -the threshold, devoutly uncovering his head, white as winter’s -after December has smoothed it, and looked up, while the snow -fell, sweet and grateful as the kisses of his only child, upon his -dim eyes, and feverish forehead,--and as he entered the room, has -forbidden Jane to wipe away the flakes, for he wished them gently -to weep themselves to death, on his face, in all their virgin -sorrow. Rain, we love thee not, even in thy spring showers, and -must canopy our head to protect it from thy salutations: but Snow, -we uncover it for thy kisses, so pure and soothing. How beautiful -art thou, when the messenger of death; and a holier and a whiter -bed dost thou afford the poor traveller, than could be smoothed -and softened by the hand of his young and beloved wife, in his own -happy abode, where, true as her love in difficulty and trial, burns -the signal of her expectations, through the small lattice, during -the long night, and often trimmed in vain! How gently is he hushed -to sleep, amidst the wreathes of thy purity, unconscious of the -blast. Not a limb aches, and heaven, likewise, bids thee be thy -lover’s shroud and tomb! - -Had Mrs. Chiselwig, however, been disposed to apostrophize the -snow, it would have been in very different language; and, perhaps, -the good woman had reason, as she arrived, almost blinded and -senseless, at the door, where stood two figures, whom she instantly -recognized as Gideon and Jeremiah. - -“Dear, dear husband!” she exclaimed in raptures, and flung her arms -fondly around his neck, for the first time since marriage, and then -she sobbed. Gideon had started back instinctively, when he beheld -the arms raised, but now he was convinced of Nelly’s affection, and -joined her sobbing. It may be superfluous to add, that Jeremiah’s -sympathetic sluices were not closed on this occasion, and that they -threatened to deluge his person. - -“Oh! Gideon, you shudder in my embrace.” - -“Aye, aye, I am a lost man, yet now, I feel so happy in your love, -dear Nelly. But I am very, very cold.” - -The door was opened, and after entering the house, Nelly was -informed of the exploit in the Rough Wood. She upbraided not, she -only kissed her husband, wept, and looked heart-broken. Gideon -conjured her not to be changed in temper for one day at least, and -still to treat him harshly. - -“I could not,” was the affecting reply, “though such conduct were -to save your life. Oh! I feel ashamed of myself. You must, if you -wish me to be happy hereafter, give me as many scratches, kicks, -and angry words, as I have ever given you. Promise me, Gideon.” - -Gideon did promise, and as the first-fruits of the vow, kissed her. -They retired not to rest, for, as the husband piteously remarked-- - -“Dear wife, I cannot, and I should not sleep. I must gaze upon you -as long as I am permitted. I must speak with you as long as my -language is of earth. I must embrace you as long as I am not called -upon to embrace clods, dust, and worms. Ha!” he cried in a frantic -voice, “not that! not that! I am denied burial, and must go, body -and soul, to the dark pit! I shall be mangled, and Jeremiah will -not be allowed to sew me together, into a decent corpse. Oh! oh!” - -At length, punctual to his appointment, the vicar came, attended -by his nephew. What was the astonishment of the worthy man, when -he learned that Gideon had fulfilled verbatim his wife’s dream, -and actually sold himself, for better, for worse, to the devil! He -gravely shook his head, and the motion was also communicated to his -paunch, as he remarked-- - -“I am afraid that the present is a case far beyond my poor skill. -I once, indeed, had the honour of casting out a devil, but he was -a blue devil, and I put his victim into a room by himself, for a -month, and removed a large bottle, after which the man was never -tormented with him again. But this--” - -“And you a doctor of the church,” interrupted -Jeremiah--“humph!--with a black coat, professing that you are able -and inclined to fight the devil in his own colours. Now, if you -could fight a blue devil, in a black coat, would you not have a -greater chance of success in fighting a black devil? Had I as many -prayers, homilies, and sermons, Dr. Mauncel, I would instantly -take and pull him by the nose, very much to the lengthening of -his proboscis. Oh! doctor, accompany us to the place of the awful -meeting, and I will carry the Book as your weapon!” - -“Yes, yes,” added Mrs. Chiselwig with great earnestness and -simplicity, “and I will carry--what was the name, sir?--Yes, -Rehoboam. I’ll carry Rehoboam for you.” - -“He is a dear child, and I could scarcely trust him out of my own -hands.” - -But we cannot detail the conversation, many episodes of which were -long prayers, and spiritual maxims, calculated to do anything or -everything, save to overturn and reverse the horrid destiny of -Gideon--the doomed of Satan. None gave consolation, until the -parson’s nephew suggested that it was quite possible, indeed -extremely probable, that the devil would find the building of the -wall a task, by no means easy; and that, for his part, he would be -most willing to take his uncle’s post, and accompany poor Gideon to -the place of rendezvous, and see the wall to be, in mason’s terms, -sufficient and proper, before the Devil could claim a hair of the -tailor’s head. Still, this was not altogether satisfactory, for the -first condition, and that which appeared the most difficult, had -been strictly fulfilled. - -As the clock struck every hour, Gideon seemed to hear the fiend -exclaim, “prepare.” His heart vibrated so much, that had it been -skilfully placed in the mechanism, it would have regularly and -accurately moved the pendulum. He counted every shade darkening on -the sky, until night came on; and melancholy, if not poetical, was -his farewell to the glorious sun. He was not altogether ignorant of -figure and trope, to eke out his pathos, as will be seen. - -“There thou art, about to disappear for ever from these delighted -eyes, with thy beautiful chariot! That dark cloud is thy coachman, -with a pink-coloured vest. He is now mounting, and in a moment will -be ready to drive thee into the ocean, and wet thy garments, making -them truly uncomfortable for thy tailor, whoever he be, to repair. -He has lighted his pipe of tobacco, and puffs out the smoke to keep -away the sea sickness. His drab great coat is now over him, and he -is exclaiming, ‘all’s right, all’s right.’ ’Tis false, charioteer, -all’s wrong, wrong. Farewell, thou orb of day. I go, where time is -not measured by day--the tailor; and clad by night--his journeyman. -Yet just one other peep; yes, here is thy ray upon my hand. Oh! -Nelly, hast thou a glove to put over my hand, and thus confine -the light for ever to be my hope. Farewell! To-morrow thou again -appearest, but not for me. Perchance, as thou arisest over the -finished wall, thou mayest observe my head as the cope stone. At -morn, how anxiously have I removed the nightcap from my eye to -behold thy charms, O sun! How beautifully dost thou gleam into the -soup, and kindly reveal all the peas and beans which slily lie at -the bottom of the dish. How fondly hast thou loved my needle, and -even danced, with thy hundred feet, upon the point! Farewell!” and -he closed the window and wept. - -The speech may contain a little of the ludicrous; not so the -feelings. In vain did Nelly, who had been a little consoled by -the remarks of the parson’s nephew, and who had, therefore, been -able to attend to cookery, set before him food the most savoury, -to tempt his appetite, with what one of the signs elegantly terms -“the real-original-genuine-best Ormskirk gingerbread.” As her hands -spread them on the table, Gideon’s sorrow was renewed, for the -thought struck him, that they would move before him no more. It was -no easy matter for the good man to be resigned to the loss of his -wife, just when she had become so agreeable and affectionate. - -Soon Mary Mauncel entered, leaning on the arm of her cousin. She -had tried all her arts to dissuade him from the expedition, and had -even threatened never to speak to him again. And yet, out of pure -love and care for him, and of her own accord, she had come along -with him to Gideon’s house. And never had she spoken so much and -so tenderly, as she did now, cautioning William, for her sake, not -to be rash. Jeremiah shewed them to seats, and because there was a -scarcity of chairs, mounted the table himself. Gideon had watched -the motion. - -“Ah! Jeremiah, I have sat there for the last time. Orders shall be -sent, good broad cloth shall be spread out, but no Gideon shall be -there to cut, sew, and mend.” - -“Reverse the picture,” added his brother, “and change the scene. A -horrible pit, at the bottom of which--” - -“Nay, Jeremiah; do not make me to anticipate it. Young gentleman, -how are your nerves braced for the work? Give me your hand.” - -At that moment, however, the lover felt his hand touched, and -detained gently by Mary, so he held out the sinister one to the -tailor. - -“Ready, quite ready, Gideon. I shall return with you safe again. -Fear not; you shall not lose Mrs. Chiselwig, nor,” he added in a -whisper to his beautiful companion, “shall I lose Mary Mauncel.” - -“Is the night calm?” meekly inquired Nelly, who had some thoughts -of accompanying her husband. - -“Beautiful and clear,” was the reply. “The snow is glistening in -the moon’s rays, and not a breath of wind awakes it.” - -“Beautiful it is,” added Mary, in a low voice to William, “but for -ghosts, devils, and your folly. How much happier should we have -been together, in the garden.” - -Jeremiah’s very acute ear had distinguished these words. “Ah! my -young lady, the open field, where we are to meet the enemy, is much -more romantic than a garden; and you must be happier there, as the -shelter is better. The devil had fled without a place of meeting -being definitely assigned, but I had courage enough to recall him, -and then we agreed upon a spot of ground to the right of Aughton -Moss, and in the direction of Cleives Hills. Garden? No, no, for -were I concealed behind a bush, even in the presence of your -father, the enemy might ask him to bestow the little bird that was -in such a bush, and his reverence, not knowing, might comply, and I -should then be caged. All must be open and exposed.” - -“No more,” exclaimed Gideon in agony, after he had returned from -the door, where, for the last minute he had been gazing upon the -moon, “no more must I see thy light, after a few short hours. Ha! -and the candle too. But let me try how I can do without it,” and he -immediately extinguished it. “Horrible darkness; and then I must -for ever put on and take off my clothes, and shave and wash myself -with liquid fire, and eat without a light; yes, eat brimstone and -tempest, without having a candle to shew the mouth. Hush, hush, I -hear some fiend eating. His lips smack.” - -Gideon was not wrong in one part of his conjectures, for Mary’s -lover, taking advantage of the light being extinguished, was -attempting to console and pacify her by whispers and kisses. The -clock now struck the hour of eleven, and Nelly lighted the candle, -to prepare the last supper for her husband. Not a word was spoken. -Every countenance was fixed upon the miserable pair. Every little -noise startled them, and then again they were immovable, as gloomy -pictures. The candle flame turned blue. The chimney looked darker -and darker. Shadows flitted upon the wall, in formidable guise. -At length the parson’s nephew proposed that Miss Mauncel, rather -than return to her father, should keep poor Nelly company in their -absence. - -“Come, Gideon, come; it is the hour.” What terror these words -inspired in all, save the speaker, who laughed at superstition, and -even at the devil! The tailor’s limbs trembled,--he looked up, and -then hid his face in his hands. Jeremiah brought a long cloak, to -wrap his brother from the cold. All things were adjusted, as for a -criminal on the drop. He was at the door. Nelly gave a shriek;--her -husband heard it not. She embraced and hugged him,--he was passive -in her arms. - -“Oh!--he is dead already!” she exclaimed, “he is,--yes!” - -But they observed, by the rolling of his eyes, that although his -reason might have fled, his spirit was still in its tabernacle. -Jeremiah shook him, but Gideon responded not. He was dragged forth, -as the hour had already passed, and yet, no farewell was uttered by -him. Nelly’s farewell was a loud, a long, a piercing shriek, as he -was moved over the threshold, and then a longer fainting fit. - -The snow crisped beneath their feet, a slight breeze passed over -their heads, and these were the only sounds heard. The hour of -twelve was striking in the town, as they reached the spot assigned. - -Gideon now seemed to awake from his insensibility. He attempted to -speak, but words and utterance altogether failed him. The magic -circle was drawn around, and he looked up to summon the enemy of -mankind to fulfil his engagements, when a violent fit of shuddering -seized his limbs, and some thing not less gentle passed over his -soul. The stars above were fiery, and gleaming with malignant -aspect and influence over a mortal’s fate, and around them was a -dull haze, which was interpreted into a shroud. Not that the tailor -was an astrologer, in faith or practice: but there are moments -and circumstances when the orbs of heaven appear as the types of -earth’s history,--as the eyes of fate turned upon individuals, -likewise, with their revelations. He then gazed around. Not a tree -or fence stood near, for a covert; but a desert heath, still more -desolate in its appearance from its snowy covering. The ground, -with its winter’s carpet, was prevented from echoing to footsteps: -and the air seemed, too, as if it were bound up from the vibrations -of sound,--for over all was a dead silence. - -William Mauncel was the first who spoke. “Gideon, thou tremblest; -I will take thy duty. Give me the charm by which thou renderest the -devil obedient to thy call. Eh? does he stand upon ceremony? My -good uncle assures us that he frequently pays us a visit when he is -not invited, and that he makes himself such a pleasant fellow, that -we are loth to give him a hint that it is not agreeable for the -time to have his company, much less to shew him to the door. Ah! -ah! Gideon, you were too polite, you gave him your card, with name -and residence, last night. That will make him troublesome. He is a -punctual keeper of his appointments. Now, pray, give me the signal. -Nay, then,” as Gideon’s voice could not be heard, “Jeremiah will -oblige me.” - -The substance of the directions was repeated from the old book, -where they had, at first, stimulated the tailor’s courage, to make -him more than a mortal hero. William laughed at the affectionate -terms in which he was to invite the enemy; and began, in as low -and gentle a tone, to say, “Come, James, come,” as he had ever -employed when he had tapped at the window of his uncle’s study, -where his beautiful cousin was, whispering, “come, Mary, come,” in -order that she should trip out and enjoy a moonlight scene, seated -along with him in the arbour. Still the devil was not pleased most -graciously to appear, and William laughed and shouted in full -merriment. He, indeed, believed in the devil’s journeyings to and -fro, over the earth, and in his exertions and plans to obtain -victims by false and almost involuntary contracts; but then he -was not frightened, for as he firmly believed that human skill, -stratagem, and valour might baffle him. Where was the necessity, he -reasoned, of mistaking his black majesty for a gentleman in black; -of using blood instead of ink; of receiving slate stones instead of -golden coins? He also held as a part of his superstitious creed, -the existence of certain old ladies, on whose chins the Lancashire -rains have fallen with such a fructifying influence, as to beard -them “like the pard;” with hands dark and sickly, from the deadly -drugs which they mix over the light of the cauldron, in their cave, -and with decrepid and corrupted forms, as if they were spirits of -another world, and had come to the charnel house, and there clothed -themselves in a body which had begun to be the prey of worms; and -with souls, whose every idea was familiar with the dark fates in -store for earth, and rejoiced in those which were to blast the -happy, and destroy the beautiful. But then, he as firmly held that -their spells might be made to fall impotent upon man. He laughed at -them, and was prepared to scratch them, in their only vulnerable -part,--_above the breath_. In travelling, he cared not though he -should have the company of a ghost, provided it only spoke, and -recounted some horrible deed, as the avenger of which it walked -the earth,--for he hated silence. At home, he would have shook the -devil very frankly and cordially by the hand, had he ever paid him -a visit, and he would have smoked a pipe, or drunk a cup of tea -(had tea then been known) with any witch, in her own abode. Thus -William Mauncel was exceedingly merry in prospect of beholding the -devil, whom he imagined that he could so easily thwart. In a loud -voice, he again exclaimed, “come, James, come,” and instantly a -little man, with the tools of a mason-builder, stood opposite to -Gideon. - -“Gideon Chiselwig, give me the dimensions of the wall which I have -contracted to build. You know that it is now an hour from my day -break, and I must finish it, and then claim you. You know me?--or -shall I disclose my features? and assume some of my former tones, -and thus convince you that I am--the devil?” - -Gideon trembled still more, and feebly ejaculated, “No, no. I -believe in very deed that thou art my enemy, and, I beseech thee, -give me no further proof.” - -“Until,” was the return, “your very existence and employment, as -well as habitation, shall prove it.” - -“And that shall never be,” interrupted the vicar’s nephew. “Shew -thyself to us, belch fire and smoke, if you do not wish to pass for -an unskilful conjuror.” - -“That would do him good,” remarked Jeremiah, “a good and powerful -vomit would be of essential service. Whenever I have compelled my -food to march too quickly down into my stomach, I am not well until -it has made a hasty retreat back again to head quarters. It is -exactly the same when too much goes at once. Now, I suppose that -you have rather more of fire and smoke than you could wish. In -fact, your throat is said to be worse than a chimney. Would it not, -therefore, be prudent to vomit a little?” - -“To be sure it would,” answered young Mauncel, trying to restrain -his laughter, “yet, Jeremiah, he has enough of brimstone to physic -him.” - -The earth instantly shook; beneath and around them, they heard the -elements as if contending in the bowels of the earth; fire blazing, -rivers dashing and rolling, and thunder reverberating. Jeremiah -fell down, but very quietly, and lay with his face close to the -ground, if we except his hands, which, somehow or other, intervened -between the snow and his watery countenance. Gideon groaned and -shrieked alternately; and their companion, now, was startled into -silence and paleness, so awful were the signs of the devil’s -presence and power. A low, but deep voice, now came from the mason, -as he approached to the circle. - -“Give me your directions, Gideon, as to the place where I shall -commence to raise the wall, and they shall be obeyed. For a time I -am your servant, and am content to be so, for through eternity I -shall be your master: men value every thing by time--devils value -every thing by eternity. And who would not be a servant for such -hire?--an hour’s labour,--and as a compensation for it, a soul to -torment through all eternity! Come, haste, give me the dimensions -of the wall. Eh? have I not reformed Nelly?” - -Gideon tremulously answered, that he had given the dimensions last -night. - -“True, true,” was the reply, “you did. Gaze, and soon you shall -behold the wall arising, and as the last stone is placed, be ready -to meet your fate; yet,” he soliloquized, as he moved round the -circle, “what have I, in which to carry the sand for the mortar! -I can tear up stones, but I cannot dig for sand, and what can I -procure to convey it from the sand hills! Oh! I see it.” - -Jeremiah’s apron had been more valorous than its master, and -boldly, though very unwisely, had ventured to lie down without the -circle, and, in a moment, was seized upon by Satan, who disappeared -with his spoil to a little distance. Then commenced the tearing -up of the stones; and so speedily was this part of the engagement -finished, that Jeremiah remarked, with much warmth in his -approbation, “that the devil would make an excellent quarryman, -and that he must have been employed in digging and building his own -pit.” All the fiends of hell seemed to be let loose, so loud was -the noise, and so wide and deep the shaking. Whenever the stones -were heaved up too large, lightning leapt upon them, and they were -broken into smaller sizes. But what was still more surprising, -a deep smoke arose, and every object, for a short space, was -imperceptible, until it was rolled away by a vivid flash of fire, -furious as a tempest. The ground was no more covered with snow, and -Jeremiah found himself squatted on the mud. The enemy could not be -seen, but all the stones were placed ready for the builder. - -“He is gone over the moss,” exclaimed Gideon, “to the sand -hills. Ha! dost thou not, Jeremiah, perceive those wings of fire -fluttering in the distance, away towards the sea? And soon he will -return to finish his undertaking. I have no hopes.” - -“Would that his hoofs sunk in the moss,” ejaculated his brother, -“for many a better fellow than he, has met with his fate there. Oh, -brother, sustain your spirits, and your body likewise.” - -There was great propriety in the latter admonition of Jeremiah, -for Gideon’s body seemed a little off the perpendicular; and -accordingly he was assisted in removing himself to a tree, which -the sudden thawing of the snow had revealed, and there he was -stationed, leaning against its trunk, while the same precautions -for their safety were adopted as before. Minute after minute passed -on, and still the enemy came not. The stones lay exactly in the -same position. The doomed tailor could now listen, with a slight -portion of faith and hope, to the consolation which young Mauncel -gave; when a slight rustling was heard in the branches of the tree, -and something of a red colour was perceived. All strained their -eyes, but nothing more of shape, colour, size, or essence, could be -learned. - -“Ah!” Jeremiah began, “he is fond of trees. How he coiled himself, -as Dr. Mauncel observed, in the tree of knowledge of good and evil, -pointing to the apples, and smacking his own lips! But let him -stay there at present, and hatch a blackbird’s nest, if he be so -inclined. Gideon, you are now safe.” - -Scarcely had he finished these words, when a fiery cloud was seen -coming from the direction of the sand hills, and soon Satan stood -before his heap of sand, with a large trowel in his hand, ready -to build the wall. But first he looked around, and descrying the -altered station of the party, walked up to the circle, while his -mouth belched forth fire and smoke. - -“Think not,” he exclaimed in a horrible tone, “think not that you -shall escape, although, by your wiles, I have been detained; and -heavier shall be your punishment, for the trouble you have given -me.” - -“Do you sweat much?” kindly inquired William Mauncel; “then stand a -little to cool yourself. You have time enough to finish the wall. -Why have you returned so soon? Pray, let us have a friendly chat.” - -“Gideon Chiselwig,” continued the fiend, without noticing the words -by which he had been interrupted, “I tell thee that thy doom shall -be much more severe. Rejoice at my momentary disappointment, as I -detail it to you, and then think how much more I shall rejoice over -the torments which it shall cause you, as my subject, for ever. I -placed the first load of sand in your brother’s apron, and flew -away with it--(Gideon, you shall have wings too, in a little,)--but -when passing the moss, the cursed string broke,--” - -“Honesty is the best policy, friend,” cooly remarked Jeremiah. -“You are well served for a rogue. You stole away my apron, and you -have received a just recompense. Learn, Nick, to be more honest -for the future, at least on earth. You may escape the clutch of -a magistrate, as you and his worship seem to be on very intimate -terms, but believe me, that sooner or later, vice will be punished. -You know the proverb, I presume, ‘that those who begin with a pin, -may end with an ox,’ and I cannot exactly say, but that this apron -stealing might have brought you into very serious danger. Let it be -an example, Nicholas.” - -“Rejoice at present,” was the reply. “Mock me, Gideon, as well as -your brother does, and listen. The strings of the apron broke,--” - -“Bad thread, bad thread, Gideon,” again interrupted Jeremiah, “I -told you so when it came. It must not be used for the collar of a -coat.” - -“The strings of the apron broke,” patiently resumed the enemy, “and -all the sand fell into the moss, and there it lies, a large heap -and mountain. But, Gideon, beneath as heavy a mountain of my wrath -you shall lie, for ever and ever:” and he instantly departed to -commence his work. - -Soon the wall arose a foot or two from the ground, and Gideon’s -fears once more attacked him. A loud laugh was raised, at -intervals, by the infernal builder, and it seemed echoed by -millions and millions of the lost spirits. He skipped upon the -wall, and, revealing his awful proportions, gazed upon Gideon, with -eyes of such fiendish malice and revenge, that even the reckless -Mauncel shuddered, and covered his face to banish the sight. And -now the wall was nearly finished, the earth was shaking all around, -the hissing of serpents was heard, and strange forms were seen -moving beside the enemy. - -“Claim him! claim him!” shrieked forth innumerable voices. The air -seemed on fire, and dark masses were hastening through it, to the -hellish scene. Deep gulfs were sounding and lashing their fury -beneath the ground; and thunder seemed to bow the very poles of -heaven, and make them totter. A long and wide circle of fiends was -now made, dancing, and all pointing to Gideon with their black paws. - -“Hell claims him. Which part shall we seize? Yours, noble leader, -is the head. Give me the hand,--how fondly I shall shake it. -Give me the breast,--how fondly I shall lie upon it. Give me -the arm,--how confidently he shall lean upon mine. Let me kiss -him,--how he shall love my sweet lips. Let me wash his feet,--how -gently shall the fire dry them. Let me perfume his body. -Ha--ha--ha!” - -Their leader now raised two stones in his hands, and thundered -forth, with an awful voice-- - -“Friends, these are the two last--and the wall is finished! Wretch, -who art called Gideon Chiselwig--dost thou behold them? the two -last! the two last!” and the whole infernal host raised a laugh of -exultation, and poor Gideon fell to the ground. “Stay one little -moment, Gideon,” the enemy exclaimed, “and you shall be supported -in these loving arms. Stay--” - -At that very moment a deep silence pervaded the place, and a -loud crowing was raised by a cock, as it announced the devil’s -day break, who must, therefore, depart, without being allowed to -finish the wall. He stamped in fury, and all his infernal agents, -disappointed of their prey, shrieked, and fled away. Jeremiah and -young Mauncel comprehended the cause, and they shouted in joy, -and taunted the fiend, until they beheld him approaching. In his -hands he bore a large stone:--but his eyes glared not upon them, -nor yet on the prostrate Gideon. They were fixed upon some object, -which the branches of the tree seemed to conceal. Jeremiah, as he -regained courage, addressed him,-- - -“So, Nicholas--dost thou see an apple which courts that hungry eye?” - -There was no answer made, but a motion of the devil’s arm heaved up -the stone, and instantly a cock fell down dead at Jeremiah’s feet, -who, raising it, thus apostrophized it,-- - -“And thou hast saved my brother’s life, by losing thine own! But, -unless thou has contracted thyself to the enemy, he shall not get -thee, provided he does not invite himself along with us to dinner -some day soon. No, Nick, begone. A fortnight ago, that church-yard -clod, the sexton, told me that I was a brawny stripling, for I -could mount my grandmother’s cat with a stepping stone. Oh! the -fiend _is_ gone! Well, poor bird, thou art a martyr, yet I shall -commit thy sacred remains to my stomach, begging your young -reverence’s pardon, in hopes of a safe and certain resurrection.” - -They succeeded in raising Gideon from the ground, and when he was -sufficiently recovered to listen to his escape, and the death of -his preserver, the sadness of the latter news did not much take -away from the joy of the former; and he was altogether cured of his -mania for supernatural achievements. - -And here, as the devil left his work unfinished, we leave ours; -with the exception of satisfying a few longings, which the -antiquary, the lover, and the unfortunate husband of a termagant -wife, may feel. - -The first may yet see the heap of sand which the breaking of the -devil’s apron strings deposited in the moss. It is now called -“Shirley Hill;” and thus observation confirms tradition, for how -could a mountain of sand be native to a moss? He indeed cannot be -gratified with a sight of the apron; for Jeremiah on the following -day, escorted it home, and subsequently, exhibited it so often to -the good folks of Ormskirk, that the strings again broke, one dark -night as he was making his way through a lane; and he had his -suspicions that the hands of some old maid, and not the thread were -culpable. - -The Devil’s Wall still stands, but the acute Jeremiah had observed -that the infernal builder, could not, with any portion of justice, -have claimed Gideon, because the conditions of the contract, were -not fulfilled, as the wall had only been built with sand. The large -stone, some thirty years ago, could be seen firmly clasped between -the boughs of the tree, where the cock fell--a martyr to his love -of truth. - -And now, fair reader, what is the question which you wish to ask -the old man? Ah! concerning William and Mary Mauncel! A few weeks -after the adventure, the worthy Doctor joined their hands, and -as much happiness as thy own beautiful and romantic fancy can -imagine in future for thyself, fell to their lot. On the occasion, -Rehoboam and Jeroboam, with all their tribes, did not fail to -appear:--and for their loyalty towards the fortunes of the family, -they received marked attentions from the Reverend head; whose lips, -in an appropriate manner, confessed an attachment, by no means -slight. Jeremiah, in the course of the nuptial evening, stepped in, -to cry over the happiness of the young wedded pair, and, with his -accustomed propriety, wished that the bands of love might never -be broken, like his apron strings; however fortunate the last -circumstance had, most undoubtedly been. Years passed on, and -sweet laughing voices came upon the ear of the old vicar, as he sat -in his study; and rushing in, a band of beautiful grand-children -began, in innocent mischief, to sport at his knees. - -The unhappy husband is informed, that Gideon and Nelly Chiselwig, -were happy in each other: and that their only weapons of attack and -defence were sweet words, and fond caresses. - -Some represent the devil as having horns: if so, he must have taken -them from the head of Gideon Chiselwig. - - - - -THE PROPHETESS AND THE REBEL. - - -“Nay, Katharine, let us not return from all this quiet, to the -noise of the town, until, like a young widow who veils her face -from the past, and the relations of her dead husband, to go forth -to other scenes, there once more to unveil it,--twilight wraps up -the beauties of this vale, and then gives gentle and holy echoes to -the streets. The town is pleasant then; but now--a little further -on, and we shall seat us by the Hermit’s Well. On its calm surface -the first and brightest star of night will glimmer beneath our -feet. Heed not my laughing sister.” - -“My brother,” gaily answered the companion of the lady, whom the -speaker addressed, and whose arm was within his, “is pleased to -be poetical. But cannot you prevent that same widow of yours, Mrs. -Twilight, from leaving this vale, and entering the town in search -of a husband, by wedding her yourself? Perhaps you are engaged -already?--Is he Katharine?” - -“Really, Alice, do you suppose that your brother would make me his -confidant?” - -“Would that Mrs. Twilight,” was the exclamation of the mischievous -girl, “were here, to hide the blush on somebody’s face! Oh, look -angry, hate James and his sister. He has scarcely succeeded in -making you as sly a hypocrite as himself. My father sent him to -Cambridge, to devote himself to Mother Alma, but he soon found -another saint, who cared not for books and themes. The diligent -student, whose letters home spoke of nothing but long vigils, and -faint tapers burning through the night, was in love! He had met -with a beautiful lady of gentle blood, and high birth, whom I have -seen, Katharine,” and she looked archly up at her companion. “He -thought of nothing but love, and of no one but her, and yet he -counterfeited so well, that when he returned to us, he was pale in -appearance, and retired in habits.” - -“Alice,” replied her brother, laughing, “you are a rare vixen, and -will never be reformed, until love has caught you. You, indeed, pay -but a poor compliment to the imagination and heart of a student, -to suppose that he cannot be a lover. Ponderous tomes will crush -every feeling but love. Mathematics will measure and bound, with -their cold laws, every feeling but love. Amidst all his researches, -the image of one appears before him, bright and beautiful, even by -the faint light of his lamp. She is of earth, but holy; and the -more that learning and genius throw their rays upon his mind,--that -being the mirror in which she is reflected,--the purer and softer -does she become. But, Alice, you frequently cautioned me not to be -a hard student.” - -“And,” added Katharine, “did not your brother gain many of the -highest prizes?” - -“He has gained one, Katharine, has he not?” and the mischievous -girl smiled significantly to her companion, who blushed with a -deeper tinge than before, and seemed still more embarassed. - -“You mean the beautiful gold medal, Alice?” inquired her brother, -anxious to smooth over the hint. - -“Ah! do I?” returned his sister with a playful sneer. “But I have -a tale to unfold concerning it. I often observed you walking in -the garden, looking anxiously upon something suspended from your -neck, and when I came up, you quickly placed it again next to your -breast. Katharine, are you listening? Well, one day I surprized -you; you affirmed that it was the gold medal--I denied that it was. -It was a miniature likeness of one of my friends,” and she fondly -placed her arm around her companion, who drew the necklace closer -to her bosom, lest, perchance, some miniature might be discovered -there also. - -They wandered on, and they beheld the beauties of the setting sun, -only on each other’s countenances. They became more thoughtful, -but not less happy. The two lovers,--for such was the relationship -between James Dawson, and Katharine Norton,--frequently exchanged -kind looks, which the playful Alice did not fail to remark. -James and Alice were the only children of a wealthy physician in -Manchester. Their mother had died early, and this circumstance made -them cling closer to each other. Dr. Dawson was harsh to them: he -had been disappointed in the marriage-portion of his wife; and he -bade a very cold adieu to his son, as he left for Cambridge, and -chided Alice for crying and teazing herself many days after. Yet, -at times, affection arose in his breast towards them, for they were -the exact image of her, who had once been enshrined in his love, -until avarice hoarded up other treasures. Besides, he knew that he -could not, with justice, condemn his son as a mere bookworm, for -James excelled in every athletic and graceful accomplishment: and -he could not, on the other hand, taunt him as only a gamester and a -fencer, for he had carried off the highest literary and scholastic -honours. His endowments, both physical and mental, had frequently -drawn forth the admiration of his father, but it soon subsided into -indifference and neglect. Alice, occasionally, as she sung the -lays which her mother had taught her, and romped about his chair, -in all her beauty and innocence, could warm her father’s heart, so -that he pronounced a blessing upon her destiny. But often, all her -smiles and fond arts to please him were disregarded: she could not -relax, by all her attentions, the sternness of his countenance. A -tear would then start into her deep blue eye, and she would retire -to call up the remembrance of her sainted mother. - -Katharine Norton was an orphan, and her parents had been of -illustrious rank. She had travelled with a maiden aunt, and, as -they were residing for a few weeks in the vicinity of Cambridge, -she had met with young Dawson, and thus commenced an ardent -attachment between them. And well might her appearance have -inspired even a stoic with the most thrilling love. Smooth, and -fair as light was her finely-formed brow,--changing its expression -as a dark ringlet fell upon it,--or was thrown back. Her eyes -seemed to be souls in themselves, endued with the faculty of -thinking and feeling; their brilliancy their colour, and their -form, were as if they had been given by the emotion which then -ruled her mind. The features were stamped with a wild and noble -beauty. Nor was her form inferior to her countenance: majestic, yet -playful; like a vision with all the movements of music. She was now -spending the summer in Manchester, where Dawson had introduced to -her his sister, and they were seldom out of each other’s presence. -They walked together, and James frequently joined them. - -The shadows of twilight were now mixing with the fading light of -the western sky, and the hush of early eve was whispering silence -in the vale where they were wandering. At length they reached the -angle; on rounding which, at a short distance, was the Hermit’s -Well, not famed for any medicinal properties, but for the pure -water, which was said to have refreshed an old man (who, in olden -times, haunted the adjacent hills,) every morning, as soon as he -had left his hard couch to journey along with the sun. - -On a stone beside it, there sat a young female, dressed in the -rustic simplicity of a foreign country. Her age seemed only that of -a child. Yet there was a feverish rolling of the eye, a changing -tremor of the lips, and a gentle throbbing of the breast, which -speak the mystery of a hidden sorrow, or of a superior nature. Not -a blush of colour tinged the pure pallor of her face--like a statue -dedicated to thought, in the midst of fragrance and light. Her -hands were playing with flowers, carelessly,--for her thoughts, it -was evident, were on a less tranquil subject,--and although they -were, at intervals, raised to her face, yet it assumed a still -sadder expression. - -She was singing to herself in a low and melancholy strain, almost -modulated to the still hush of the vale: and the notes seemed not -so much to be proceeding from her voice, as her soul. Once or twice -she started up, held her hands towards the west, and then placed -them on her brow. Then she dipped them in the well, and with the -pure water bathed her eyes. As soon, however, as young Dawson and -his fair companions had approached within a few yards, her eyes -quickly moved in the direction of the spot where they stood, and -she became silent in her song. - -“Ah, brother,” cried the laughing Alice, evidently not conscious -of the merry tone in which she spoke, for her heart had quickly -sympathized with the youthful sadness, of which she had now, -unexpectedly, been a witness;--“is this your young and interesting -Mrs. Twilight? What a beautiful creature! She seems to enjoy all -the luxury of grief, and her heart refuses to lose a tear of its -sorrow. That brow might have been kissed by the last breath of many -a brother, sister, and playmate:--so pale, calm and holy.” - -“She is not of our country,” added Katharine Norton. “Her dress, -as well as her air, is foreign. How simply are those raven tresses -braided!” - -“Katharine,” said her lover, “dost thou believe in young spirits, -who are said to haunt solitary places? Here, you might almost -imagine, that we have intruded upon one of them. How beautiful and -thoughtful that girlish face is! Now she looks towards us. Let -us draw near, and entreat her to sing to us, while the stars are -taking their places in the sky.” - -The object of their curiosity and admiration arose meekly, as they -stood before her, and allowed the hand of Katharine to be laid on -her head. - -“A blessing on you, fair strangers! It is night,--and do you wander -abroad? It is night, for the dew is upon me. Ah! that hand now laid -on my head is gentle and soothing, as that which so often presses -it in my sleepless dreams, throughout the long night; - - Ah! it speaks not to me: - No face appears with smile, - Its light I could not see, - And trace the gentle wile, - But bathed in perfume from the far-off land, - Upon my head comes,--lies, a holy hand,” - -and she raised her face to the sky so earnestly. - -“But, my pretty child,” inquired Katharine, “why do you gaze -upwards? Does that hand, which visits you so oft, in dreams, appear -then, at this hour, from out one of those changing clouds?” - -“Do I!” the child exclaimed in intense emotion, indicated by her -livelier tones and brightened face,--“do I, indeed, gaze upon the -wide, the beautiful sky? Yes, it breathes upon my forehead! Feel -it!” - -They were bewildered at the strangeness of her words and movements. -She took Katharine’s hand, and held it to her brow, and then -resumed,-- - -“Now take it away. You would not deprive me of that sweet, sweet -influence. Oh! they tell me how glorious the sky is. I cannot see, -I cannot think of it, I cannot even dream of it. I know all the -flowers of earth by their touch and fragrance. I know, fair ladies, -that you are beautiful, but the sky is far, far above me. I hear -its sounds, but its face is veiled from me. Will the time never -come, when mine eyes shall open to a star, a bright-tinged cloud, -a fair expanse of love, to canopy and bound our dream? Must the -mean reptile be permitted to see them, although it prefers to crawl -amidst dust and clods,--and shall not I?” - -“God pities the blind, fair child,” kindly returned Dawson. - -“Have you seen God?” - -“No; he cannot be seen by us, now.” - -“Then I am happy,” she replied. “Oh! what a curse it would have -been on me, when all others could see the perfection of love, -wisdom, and power,--(for the flowers of earth, the sounds of -heaven, tell me that God must be that perfect being,)--I, I alone -was blind. Yes, I shall see yet. The little infant, for days awakes -not its eyelids to behold the mother, in whose bosom it is so -fondly nursed, and the rich stream by which its pouting lips are -fed; but soon they are opened to meet hers, beaming love upon every -movement. I never knew that infant’s joy. Oh! how I longed, in the -midst of soft whispers, to become acquainted with her who called me -child. But I am nature’s child, and when this short life is ended, -these eyes will be opened, and nature, my mother, shall be seen by -me. These sightless orbs! Oh! I know not what it is to see, even -in dreams. Dreams only hush me with sound, fragrance, and touch of -love, in a dark cradle, but never remove the covering, that I might -gaze upon the universe around. My little brother, far away in other -lands, was my inseparable companion, until he went to the tomb. He -led me to the river, and pointed my hand to the flickering light -on its ripple, and then bade me look in that direction. He made me -touch the sunbeam, resting and sporting alternately upon the bank, -and then asked if I did not see it. He placed me beneath the moon, -and bade me feel if I could not perceive its rays. He rowed me over -the still, placid lake, and then he would rest on his oars, and -point my finger to the stars, which, he said, were embosomed there; -and oh! what secret sounds thrilled through my silent soul. But I -never saw one object! He bathed his beautiful face, and flung back -his soft silken hair, and bade me gaze on a brother;--and I could -not!” - -Overpowered with the strength of her feelings, she sat down. Still, -she covered not her face with her hands, but looked earnestly up, -as if it were a sin to gaze away from the sky, which she longed so -much to greet. Katharine and her companion kissed the young child, -while Dawson kindly asked,-- - -“From what land do you come? You speak our language, but your -appearance and feelings betoken you a native of a more genial sun. -Why do you wander here?” - -“Wander! Is not life altogether a wandering? I have no friends but -flowers, and our home is the wide earth. I ever find them the same, -wherever I am, and, therefore, I think that I am the same; neither -changed in place nor time. My brother left me alone. Oh! was it not -cruel to commit the beautiful boy to the tomb? And yet, they told -me that his name and age were marked in white, innocent letters -upon his coffin! Oh! could the worms dare to crawl upon, or even -touch with their pollution ‘Henrico Fortice, aged twelve years.’ -Was it not kind to mention his name and age?” - -The two ladies took her hands in theirs, and kindly pressed them. -They gazed upon her large bright eyes, and almost, for the moment, -doubted that no light had ever entered them, until tears had come -trickling down her cheeks. They took a seat beside her, on the -mossy stone. She spoke not, and her hand returned not their touch. -They knew not how to console her. To their questions concerning -her past life, her friends, and native country, she had given no -definite answer: not because she seemed unwilling to detail all the -facts, but because she seemed never to have known them herself; -a creature of mere feelings, and thoughts, with no faculty for -earth. Her existence had, evidently, been but a dream, beautiful, -though troubled: and she had, hitherto, passed through it, like -a bird, through every land, feeling the sunshine of the laughing -sky, breathing the fragrance of wood and vale, at morn and eve, -and echoing a part in the universal chorus, but knowing no more; -careless of all things but flight and happiness. She raised the -hands of the two young ladies to her lips, and turning paler and -paler, at length dropped them, and shrunk back with a low and half -suppressed shriek of horror. - -“Disappointment, a broken heart, and death! Yes, such a lot will be -yours; and so beautiful! Ask me not, but I know:--these hands, they -tear from my soul the sybil leaves of awful prophecy, which fate -has given me, and my voice must scatter them forth to you. Would -that I knew not the dark characters!--that my mind was as blind to -your future destiny as these shrouded orbs!” - -“Hold!” exclaimed young Dawson, as he seized Katharine’s hand, -which the blind prophetess had, once more, taken. “Hold!--speak not -another word of thy frightful thoughts. Nay, touch not her hand. -Katharine, could you feel disappointment should nothing be spared -to us but love? Can your heart be broken when love encircles it? -Death,--name it not!” - -“Here, here is the cause. You ruin each other. Love and death are -linked together. But, sir, be peaceable and loyal in the midst of -rebellion, and happiness may yet be yours.” - -A faint smile passed over Dawson’s face, which had before been -clouded; and with an attempt at gaiety, he returned,-- - -“And am I not in the garb of peace? My cap has not the nodding -plume of war, but the quiet and simple flower of the valley. What -two beautiful shields I have secured for myself in danger, my own -Katharine, and sister Alice.” - -“Beware,” repeated the prophetess, “of war. Change not the flower -for the cockade; and let none be your shields but those whom you -now protect.” - -No longer did she seem the soft and mournful child, who had longed -so earnestly for the power of vision. She was altogether changed. - -“Follow me not. Detain me not. I shall weep for you all. Farewell, -until we meet again,” and she instantly withdrew, and darkness hid -her steps. - - * * * * * - -Two months have elapsed since the above interview and conversation -took place, and the scene is now laid in Manchester. No more is the -soft peace inspired by evening walks, in lonely and secluded vales, -to be breathed over the characters of our Legend. A rebellion, -fostered by no dark intrigues, but by romantic daring, had arisen, -and the youthful heir of the unfortunate house of Stuart had -returned from exile, and appeared to claim his own, in the country -which dethroned his ancestors for their imbecility, wickedness, -and tyranny. Prince Charles Edward had been educated at the court -of France; but unlike her, whom, in person, he was said so much to -resemble--Mary of Scotland,--his manners were untainted with the -loose and dissolute habits prevalent there. Although surrounded -with pleasure, revelry, and giddy pomp, his thoughts were of -England and its crown; and these tended to preserve him from the -enervating influence of French dissipation. Gallantry was only -the occasional amusement, and not the sole pursuit of his life. -Nature had given him an exterior on which no lady could frown, or -be disposed to deny her favours; but he frequently withdrew from -the attractive company, where many of the proudest and fairest -daughters of the land were fluttering around him, with attentions -for the prince alone; and in private, sighed over the ruin of the -name he bore, and of the royal family, of which he was the sole -representative. But buoyed up with the false accounts which he had -received from those in this country, with whom he communicated, -assuring him that so numerous and devoted would be his followers, -should he again appear at the head of them, to plead his cause by -arms, he was induced to leave France, and towards the end of summer -1745, landed in the Hebrides; in a few days raised his standard in -Invernesshire; assembled a number of followers at Fort William, -and proceeded to Edinburgh, which opened to his claims. In the -beginning of November he marched to Carlisle, where the ceremony -of proclaiming his father king, and himself regent, was foolishly -performed, and where the delay thus occasioned, seemed to paralyze -the courage of his highland troops, and by carousing, to divide -them into factions. - -Towards the end of the same month his troops, now amounting to six -thousand men, entered Lancashire, and passing by way of Preston -and Wigan, took up their quarters in Manchester, where they -hoped to secure provisions and ammunition, by free levies from -the inhabitants, as well as to recruit their numbers by English -soldiers. - -The twenty-ninth day of November was bright, and a slight breeze -had not only prevented the heavy fog peculiar to the season, but -had likewise cleared away the smoke which lay dense and dull upon -the town; when, early in the afternoon, towards the suburbs, -masses of people were drawn together, expecting the arrival of the -Pretender and his army. There were the mob, prepared to espouse -the cause of any who should tickle their hands with a coin, or by -sweet words, gain their sweet voices. But amongst them were many of -noble rank, who had sympathized with the hardships of the present -aspirant to the throne of his fathers; and whom his romantic -expedition had fired with visions of military glory and renown, and -high titles and long lists. They impatiently spurred their horses -to a short distance from the crowd, to obtain a better view, and -then returned disappointed. Fair ladies were leaning on the arms -of their lovers, forbidding them to share in the dangers of the -enterprize, and in the crime of treason, but resolving, themselves, -to get a sight of the handsome Chevalier, and praise his person. A -silent hush was over all; nothing was heard, save low and gentle -whispers from the fair, who began to doubt whether he would really -appear, when the notes of distant music were borne on their ears, -and the steady tramp of troops was, soon after, distinguishable. -The crowd rushed up to an eminence on the skirts of the highway, -and beheld the banner floating over the rebel soldiery, and the -gleam of broadswords flashing in the sun. A sergeant rode forth -from the ranks, and furiously spurred his steed to the town, when -loud shouts, arising from the people and the inhabitants, assuring -him of the ready reception which his master should find, induced -him, after waving his plumed bonnet in return, to halt, until the -troops came up, which they speedily did, and, in haste, advanced. -At their head, surrounded by a band of hardy mountaineers with -their left hand upon the dirk, rode the prince, with no traces of -fatigue on his countenance; and looking as well, after his short -sojourn in the Highlands, as ever he did when he was the pride -of the French court, where he was fed by its luxuries. He was in -conversation with the Duke of Athol, who was beside him. - -There was an interesting melancholy upon the otherwise gay -expression of his countenance, which suited well with the fallen -fortunes of his family. He was of slight and graceful form, and, -but for the noble enthusiasm beaming in his full blue eye, and the -firmness and decision compressing his thin lips, he might have -been mistaken for one who was better qualified to do honour to the -gaieties of a court, in the song and the dance, than the bloody -field of strife. His dress served to display, to advantage, the -beautiful proportions of his frame. His locks, of a light auburn -hue, fell in ringlets beneath the blue bonnet, mounted with a white -rose in front; and the snowy whiteness of his almost feminine -neck was but partially concealed by a plaid passing loosely over -his breastplate, and held fast by a blue-coloured sash. His -finely-polished limbs moving in all the elastic play and nerve of -youth, and in perfect ease, were attired in the Highland kilt; and -so small and beautifully formed was his foot, that no lady would -have refused her fair hand as a stirrup to the young Chevalier. His -dress was indeed plain for one who was now to strive for the crown -of Great Britain, but none could gaze upon the kingly form which it -enveloped, without almost wishing that soon he might be invested -with the purple robe of rule and empire. - -His companion, the Duke of Athol, with whom he seemed frequently -to converse as a familiar friend, was tall and muscular. Broad and -commanding was his forehead, seen occasionally as he raised his -bonnet, when the prince mildly gave forth his orders. Long dark -whiskers added to the sternness and fierceness of his countenance, -and large over-hanging eyebrows only seemed to arch in the fiery -keenness of his restless glance, and concentrate it still more -deadly. - -“Athol,” said the prince, as he beheld the crowd becoming pale and -horror-struck at the broadswords of his Highland troops, “sheath -your weapons.” - -“Where?” asked the fiery duke. “Where, my prince? In their cowardly -carcasses, and thus let out their base and craven souls? The -English say that those of our nation are cold and heartless. They -should know that the mountain breezes carry on their wings, fire to -the soul. Well, if we are cold, we are keen; aye, as these our good -and true weapons, which they have, at times, tried, if I mistake -not.” - -“They belie you, and that they know full well. My Scottish -troops--gaze upon them--are furious: a word will fire them, and a -thousand will fail to extinguish the flame. Nay,” he added gently -but firmly, “sheath your swords in their scabbards,--in their -scabbards. The inhabitants are loyal.” - -The last words, accompanied as they were by the sudden sinking of -the swords into their scabbards, called forth a long and loud shout -from the gazing multitude, though they perceived that at the sound -of the bagpipe, the soldiers often placed their hands upon the -hilt of their swords, as if they could, with difficulty, refrain -from drawing them. The streets were all lined with spectators, -the most of whom seemed to have forgotten their loyalty to the -reigning sovereign. The Chevalier dismounted from his steed, and -marched on foot. Many a fair dame threw pitying looks upon his -form, and, struck with admiration, silently implored a blessing, -and full success upon his romantic endeavours; and as the band -played merrily, “the King shall have his own again,” they chorused -and encored it, with fond eyes, and waving handkerchiefs. He -gallantly bowed to them as he passed on; and thus sent many a -beautiful creature home, to dream of him, and when she awoke, in -the intervals, to wet her pillow with tears, and pray for his -safety. Roses were thrown upon him, from some of the terraces; he -stooped to pick them up, but they were faded, for they were summer -flowers, and had been gathered under the setting sun, many months -before, and he sighed as he thought of his own fortunes. But this -did not prevent him from kissing his hand in return, to those who -had showered them down, and they, of course, thought that they were -much sweeter roses themselves; and perhaps they were. The crowd -enthusiastically cheered him all the way. - -“Athol, will they be as ready to give me assistance by money, as -they are to proffer their cheers?” asked the prince. - -“_We_ give our blood,” replied the duke. “We place our heads as -your stepping stones to the throne, which is your rightful seat; -and shall not Englishmen give their money? Appoint a few of the -brave men under my command, as beggars, and trust me, that swords -and dirks in their hands, will levy something considerable. Steel -can find its way through coffers, and, without much ceremony, enter -pockets. Can it not?” and the chieftain smiled darkly. - -“A freebooter still, Athol, although you have left your native glen -and castle. When shall I be able to make thee a courtier?” - -“When I shall assist to make thee a king. Nay, noble prince, frown -not upon thy humble and trusty subject. I am a little chafed. -Nevertheless, is it not my duty to assist in making thee a king?” - -“Thou hast, indeed, a true heart,” answered the Chevalier, -“though thy manners are not exactly so faultless, and may, with -much advantage, be reformed and amended. Nay, frown not in turn. -Montrose, are we yet within sight of our palace?” - -The marquess, thus addressed, stepped forward, and having paid his -marks of reverence, replied,-- - -“Yes, noble prince. The hundred of our troops, who arrived -yesterday in Manchester are now surrounding it, waiting for your -presence.” - -It was exactly as he said. In Market-street they stood around the -house of one Dickenson, which was thus converted into a palace, -and afterwards went by the name; though now it has fallen so -low as to become an inn. It had been given out that quarters and -accommodation would be required in the town for ten thousand men, -but now it did not seem, after they were all drawn up, that there -were more than six thousand. Amid loud and hearty acclamations, the -prince and the leaders entered the palace, while some of the troops -kept station and guard without, and the others dispersed themselves -over the town, after they had seen that the pieces of artillery -were in safe keeping. - - * * * * * - -The house of Dr. Dawson, who had, lately, altogether retired from -the duties of his profession, stood in a quiet and remote part of -the town. Alice was almost dying, through curiosity, to receive -the latest intelligence. But she could only observe others running -to _know_, and none coming to _tell_, her about the Pretender, and -his entry into Manchester; and this, certainly, was sufficiently -provoking for a young lady. James, her brother, had gone out early -in the morning, and had not returned, so that she had no one -to fret and teaze, but her father; and he was, alas, rather an -irritable toy, for a young lady to sport with. - -“Alice, you are restless and fatigued in my company. Get thee to -thy looking-glass, you are never weary of being there.” - -“It has a more pleasant face than you have, dear father, when you -frown,” playfully returned Alice. - -“There, there,--my children accuse and rebel against me! No matter, -their father is old and infirm. I must bring them up, support them, -only to listen to their impertinence and disobedience. Would that -God had made me childless, or that he had made my children blind -or dumb; or had given them a golden portion each, to support them. -Oh! you look pretty in tears, Alice,--quite irresistible, upon mine -honour. But do not waste them, they are so precious. Pray reserve -some: it will be prudent, Alice, they will all be in good time when -you get a lover!” - -“Would that he were come!” peevishly exclaimed Alice, “and I should -run off with him, at any hour of the night, and to any place!” - -“What! without looking in at my bank notes? Eh? Oh! mistress Alice! -And there’s your brother--what can he do?” - -“He can leave home, and I cannot.” - -“Yes, he _has_ left home,” said the old man, now beginning to be -affected. “And where is he?” - -“Ah! dear father, should he have joined the cause of the Pretender! -Oh! how you would repent of the harsh words you have often spoken -to him.” - -“Dear Alice, _I do repent_ already. Come and kiss your harsh old -father. Look upon the face that you confess to be less pleasing -than your looking glass. Ah, Alice, you are a sly girl.” - -They at length became impatient, when night came on, and still, -James was absent. They had heard the public crier announce that -a general illumination of the town was to take place, and Alice -thought that her brother might have appeared to assist in the -arrangements. And now, when lights, many and brilliant, arose in -the opposite windows, and crowds were passing in the streets, she -proceeded, with a heavy heart, to give directions to the servants, -and then anxiously sat down at the casement of her own apartment, -not to view any object--save James. Private disappointments, -however small, and in themselves contemptible, are fretted by -public rejoicings; and as the bells rung out a merry peal, and -music walked the streets, she only felt her loneliness the more. -A knocking was heard at the door, and Alice flew down herself, to -open it, and admit her brother to a well spiced scolding; if not -(she was in doubts) to a more violent demonstration of her feelings. - -It was Katharine Norton, who had come to enjoy the company of her -friend, as her maiden aunt had been so busy in asking questions -at her servants, relative to the Pretender, his dress, and his -general appearance, that she had entirely deserted the parlour for -the kitchen, and her niece was thus left alone. - -They spoke of James, although Katharine occasionally paused, and -introduced some other subject, lest he might arrive in the midst -of their conversation; and she too well knew, that her mischievous -companion would not scruple to inform him of its nature and -subject; but he came not. - -“Katharine, what can we do to know where he is? He is not well, or -it is not well with him. Something must have happened. Katharine, -‘_Beware of the Cockade!_’ The prophecy now rises to my mind. -It must be true. I feel that it is. My brother is ardent, and -romantic; and often has he expressed his sympathy with the -unfortunate house of Stuart.” - -Servants were sent forth to obtain some information concerning -James, and the causes of his strange absence. They returned, only -to tell their disappointment. No one had a tale--save the old -clock, which numbered the minutes and the hours; and although the -minutes seemed to move slowly, the rapid flight of the hours was -surprizing. The loud shouts of the crowd broke in upon the silence; -and the heavy tread of her impatient father, in the adjoining -apartment, fell upon the ear of Alice, but mournfully. She led -her companion into her brother’s study, and playfully threw his -dressing gown over Katharine, that she might behold a diligent -student: but as she met her own gaze in a mirror opposite, she -knew that she was but counterfeiting mirth and happiness. She -placed before her Newton’s Principia, and requested a display of -philosophy and learning, to support the great principle therein -developed, ‘that every particle of matter is attracted by, or -gravitates to, every other particle of matter, with a force -inversely proportional to the squares of their distances.’ “Oh!” -she exclaimed, as she seized upon a letter or two, concealed in the -pages, in which was the hand-writing and signature of her friend, -“so, my brother wishes to transplant beautiful flowers into such -barren fields, that when he is puzzled with problems and themes, he -may be refreshed with questions, and pretty soft confessions, which -he finds no difficulty in understanding? Blush, Katharine, and -close the volume.” - -“It is beyond my comprehension, Alice. I have no desire to be a -literary lady, to nib my quill for poetry, and glancing up to the -ceiling for inspiration, commence to abuse the innocence of paper; -indeed, I am not certain whether my patience would extend to the -act of counting my fingers, through the length and breadth of a -sonnet.” - -“Ah, Katharine,” returned Alice, with an attempt at mock pathos, -“you are insensible of the pleasures which a young lady feels when -engaged in literary pursuits. The pen in her hand, is the fair -fan with which she cools the fervid glow of her imagination and -affections. How interesting she appears when she has the requisite -strength of mind to banish toys, silks, and dresses, and introduce -on her dressing table nothing but long rolls of manuscript! She -dreams not of soft whispers, sweet glances, and handsome lovers; -but of that nice ode, that sublime epic, or the passionate drama, -which she made yesterday. She rises to stare at the sun, frighten -the flowers, and overflow the very Thames with ink, on paper. Or -should she be an astronomer, how becoming for a young lady to use a -telescope, instead of a quizzing glass!” - -She then searched the desk, and discovering some rude drafts of -verses, addressed to “a lady,” inquired of Katharine whether -she had yet obtained a fair copy of them. For a time she was as -mischievous as usual; but all her sport was evidently feigned. In -the midst of it, at length, she became silent, and snatching up -a light, hurried to the clock, and instantly returned pale and -breathless. - -“Katharine!” she exclaimed, while she grasped her hands, “it is -but a few minutes from midnight! He has become a traitor to his -home and his country. I have stopped the clock, that whenever -he returns, it may not disgrace him. Near midnight, and he -absent,--and at such a time, when all our fears are excited by -rebellion!” - -Her companion, who was, naturally, of a firmer and more heroic -cast of mind, attempted to console her, although she needed one to -perform the same kindly office for herself. - -“Nay, dear Alice, your brother is loyal.” - -“Is that loyal?” she returned with a shriek, as her eye glanced -over some of her brother’s papers, where the Pretender’s name -was mentioned in glowing terms of admiration. “I knew it. James -has long admired Prince Charles Edward, and frequently, when no -subjects but those nearest to our hearts have been introduced, he -has spoken so feelingly of the royal youth’s exile in France. When -the news of his landing in Scotland reached us, an involuntary -exclamation escaped James, and he prayed for his safety, aye, -even for his success. Nay, I cannot divine any other motive for -his absence from the University, than to obtain leisure to watch -the progress of the Prince, and, at a fitting time, to join his -standard. But hush, let us be cheerful, for I hear my father’s -footsteps, and he is impatient at my brother’s absence.” - -The old man entered. Katharine Norton rose to meet him, and he -addressed her kindly, as was his wont. But the smoothness of his -manner soon disappeared. In person, Dr. Dawson was tall and thin, -though very much bowed down by age, but now his form became erect. -He had a lofty forehead, on which a few white locks were sprinkled. -His hands were palsied, but now, by the strength of his feelings, -they were nerved, and he stood forth, firm and collected. He had -dark eyes, which had not lost the fire of his youth; and which -seemed to become brighter and brighter, by looking at his gold. -He was not altogether a miser, for he, as we have already stated, -loved his children occasionally, and even displayed bursts of -tenderness and affection; but his idols must be of gold, as well -as of flesh and blood. Ever since he was married, pretty fingers -must have gold rings, before he could admire them, and in his -profession, he had often been prevented from feeling the pulse for -some time, so much absorbed was his attention by the diamonds which -glittered. - -After addressing Katharine, he turned to his daughter, “Alice, -where is your brother, has he not returned yet? I must wait for -him, considerate youth, although these aged limbs should long ere -now, have been reposing on my couch! I have no staff but this cane, -and money bought it. Money can do any thing but make children -obedient, except to close a parent’s eyes, and that they gladly -attend to. Come, affectionate youth, and see me die!” and he -laughed hysterically, in scorn and anger. - -The two ladies supported and caressed him fondly, compelled him to -sit down, and almost smothered him with kisses. The old man could -not forbear smiling. “Ah, innocents, you would sooner heap them on -my son.” - -“Nay, dear father,” returned Alice, in a merry tone, “a different -treatment from us awaits him, when he arrives.” - -Her father heard her not, for he had relapsed once more into a fit -of passion, and he walked across the room, stamping violently. - -“And I must totter on my cane, at my kind son’s inclination, and he -must dance so merrily, to give me pain. Oh! how fondly he is now -speaking to his fair partner, and doubtless requesting her not to -allow herself to be too much fatigued. He takes her to a recess, -lest she be weary with the dance; but his poor old father must -watch for him all the night. It matters not how weary I be. No, no, -I do my son wrong, great wrong. He wishes me to be at rest,--in -my grave. How kind! Nay, daughter, speak not in his favour. Hark -to the sounds of revelry around him. Sweet they are to his ears, -almost as sweet as my dying words.” - -He looked around the room as minutely as if he had anticipated -conspirators and ruffians to start forth, at his son’s commission, -and take his life. He examined the desk, as if he expected to -discover poison purchased for him. He trembled as he took out a -brace of pistols, and scarcely dared to ascertain whether they were -charged or not. He dusted the books in the library, and glanced -over many of the title-pages, as if he were certain to lay hold of -a treatise on the duty and necessity of parricide. He would not -allow the ladies to speak, but he harshly interrupted them. They -seemed to be like thoughts in his own mind, which were unwelcome, -and which, therefore, he had the power and the right of forbidding -and preventing. - -“If he should not return,” he muttered as he paced more calmly -across the room, “my executors will not be troubled with his name -in the will, and this may ease the dog of a good bone; yes, very -prudent of the young man to stay from home, very.” - -“Father!” exclaimed Alice. - -“Father me not,” he returned furiously, “or mock me with the name -but a little longer. Oh--” and tears flowed down his cheeks as he -went to the door, “no dreams of gold to night, no money bags; a -halter around my son’s neck, and that son a rebel!” - -“Father, weep not. All shall yet be well with James. I cannot -endure these tears, you once told me that you had not one; that -although your hopes were gone for ever, you had not a tear to give -them; that you had not mourning apparel to attend them to their -grave!” - -He harshly repulsed her, and retired to his own apartment. - -The hour of midnight was now chiming. The drum and music had ceased -for a few minutes, and the town clocks were distinctly heard; but -instantly, upon the stroke, the revelry in the streets commenced -afresh, and the mob became still more noisy than before. The light -of torches glared in upon them, and for a moment they hid their -faces from it, as from something unpleasant and unwelcome. Alice -started up, and proposed that she should lead her companion to -their room for the night, where she promised soon to join her. -Katharine consented, although her fears were so much excited, that -she knew sleep to be hopeless and impossible. As Alice returned, -she wrapped herself closely in a cloak, and was descending to the -door, when she listened at that of her father’s room, and hearing -no noise or motion, entered. She beheld him asleep on the sofa, -and his breathing was difficult. A table was drawn to his side, -and on it lay a portrait of his son, in the character of Hamlet; -taken when he bore a prominent part in the histrionic displays of -the University. It was in the scene when the Prince of Denmark has -become thoroughly convinced that his uncle is the murderer of the -former king, and when he glories in the idea, that by the players -he has forced conviction into the villain’s heart, and when his -mother appears to charge him with his conduct towards that uncle. -Her words were written (and the ink was not yet dry) beneath the -portrait, “Hamlet, you have your father much offended,” and old -Dawson’s shrivelled and white hand was placed pointing to them. -This proof of affection, revenge, and imbecility, all mingled -together, overcame Alice. For a moment she sunk down upon the couch -beside her father, and gently kissed him. She then removed the cane -from his grasp, and covered his venerable head. He started up in -his dreams, but his eyes were shut. - -“My son! oh! will none save him. None? Take my gold--yes all of it. -It will forge chains as heavy and as long, as these dismal iron -ones, which now bind his tender limbs; aye the body which my own -Helen gave me, is shackled. Take my gold, there is the key to my -chests, ransack them, and sell me. The gold will make a chamber as -large as that horrible cell! Oh! will none save my beautiful boy?” - -“I will, I will,” exclaimed his daughter, and she rushed out of -the room. She summoned her own waiting maid, to watch over the -old man, and then she herself, alone, unattended, left the house -to seek her brother through the crowd. The night was beautiful and -clear in the sky above, and its lights were brilliant, yet soft; -but the illuminations of the town, threw their glare over all -around, and completely shamed the stars. Not a breeze was felt, -but the wafting of the flames. As the lights in the windows were -now almost expiring, and pale faces were seen within, watching by -them,--to the imagination an ominous fate for the Pretender seemed -to be predicted. But bonfires were blazing in every street, and -figures were crowding around them, and rubbing their hands, and -dancing in extravagant mirth. The gleam of arms was reflected from -soldiers, mingling along with the mob. Crowds were perpetually -hurrying past, to behold and make other sights. Not a child, or a -woman was to be seen; but all were men, intoxicated and raging, -or moving on, more helpless than infants. This almost served to -frighten Alice, as she held her way through the midst of them, -coming into contact with the rude touch of daring strength, or the -feeble clutch of old age; yet none interrupted her, save to stare -upon her earnest countenance, so young, beautiful, and innocent. -Many even seemed disposed to join and escort her to the place of -her destination, wherever that might be. Some rather loud whispers -were heard, asserting that she must be a friend of the Pretender, -proceeding on the errand of blessing, and cheering him, on his -dangerous expedition. Still she moved on, apparently indifferent to -every thing which might otherwise have been annoying, when some one -gently took her by the hand. Suppressing a shriek she started back -in terror. But it was a young female who had ventured upon such -a liberty, and Alice immediately recognized the young and blind -Prophetess of the vale, who said in a quick but low tone,-- - -“I cannot, young lady, see your face, but your hand is feverish, -and your heart is throbbing. And the hour is so late, and the -street crowded. Yes, my prophecy will be fulfilled.” - -Alice felt that it would, as she listened to her voice, and gazed -upon her face. Her features seemed altogether to have lost their -happy expression. They were still sweet; but clouded, and sad. -“This light,” she resumed, “is not pleasant. It is not that of -mountain, vale, and stream. Ah! I heard the young chieftain’s step, -so gallant, light, and free; but the cockade waved over his head. -Royal was his voice, for I knew something of courts, in another -clime. And your brother?--you are now in search of him. I need not -inquire. Darkness and death are around all his relations. Start -not. He is a rebel, and now pledges, in the presence of Charles -Edward, his allegiance to the family of Stuart. Oh, why should I -know names and events? Happy I was, when life for me was but to -think and feel. But fair one, come on, embrace your brother once -more, Come,” and she almost dragged the sinking Alice forward, to -hasten her steps. They soon arrived at the Pretender’s palace, but -it was guarded by a close band of Highland soldiers. They made a -passage however, for them, when Alice shortly explained the purpose -of their coming. - -“Ay fair lady,” said one “step in, your brother is now Captain -Dawson, and a brave and gallant Southern he is.” - -“It is true then!” Alice exclaimed with a shriek, while she hid her -face in her hands, “he is a traitor and we are all ruined.” - -“A traitor!” fiercely exclaimed a kilted mountaineer, whose fiery -eyes peered through his shaggy eyebrows, as he rudely grasped her -with his left hand, while his right sought the deadly weapon--“Be -canny, noo, my leddie, lest Tonald’s tirk may pe seeking te right -side o’ te question. Tat pe te way tat Englishers speak of der -lawfu Sovereign, tat day must call his gude friends traitors!” - -Alice Dawson looked unmoved upon the specimen of barbarous -brutality. Her eye gleamed indignantly; which the Scot observing, -drily rejoined, by taking his hands from off her and saying, “Is -she after wishing to frighten Tonald? Hech, hech! She canna tak te -preeks off te Heelandman: and faith Tonald canna tak them off her.” - -“She’s a traitoress,” exclaimed one of the Lowlanders, whose face -might have been mistaken for a smoke-dried ham, for he was the only -ill favoured soldier in the company. - -“Hold,” thundered forth one of their leaders, who came out from -the palace, and his fiery eye rebuked the rude soldiers, who had -gathered round to support their comrades, in whatever they might be -pleased to do, against the unprotected Alice, and her companion; -“cowards, to attack and frighten a lady! It would be gallantry,” -he added, turning to the Lowlander, “were you to show your back to -a lady, and conceal that face of yours. She would excuse you, for -in your case it would not be considered as a breach of manners. -Manners! but what know you of manners? Fair lady, my sentinel -informs me that you seek your brother, who is a captain in the -Manchester regiment, this day enlisted, as volunteers, in the -Prince’s cause. See, they make a way for you. Step in.” - -The young soldier who spoke, was Hector McLean, a leader of the -north, and one of the many Scottish gentlemen of rank, who, for -their ready attachment to his cause, had been knighted by the -Pretender. The accent of his country was slightly perceptible, -and there was something so friendly in his voice, that Alice -halted, to obtain some further information concerning her brother, -or some directions by which she might be guided to him; and her -companion, who had been altogether silent, seemingly absorbed -in her own thoughts, did not urge her on. But as her eyes fell -upon the handsome form of the knight, so martial in his bearing, -although but of slender proportions, she blushed deeply, and half -repented that she had not forthwith entered. He doffed his bonnet, -gallantly, and respectfully, as she stood before him,--announced -his name, and offered her his services. “Fair lady, you appear -to have been in tears. Are they shed for your brother? Think not -by any eloquence, aye, even that of affection, to turn him from -his purpose, and make him insensible to his duty. His sovereign -has a claim prior to his sister. And could you deprive the brave -Chevalier of a hope of victory?” - -“He has left an aged and infirm father,” sobbed Alice, “and we are -unprotected. He himself is not inured to war, for the cloisters of -a college have been his only camp. Oh! gallant knight,” and she -looked up, with a countenance, as innocent and artless as it was -mournful, “entreat my brother to return!” - -“I must deny you,” he gently replied. “The captain is an -acquisition, and already has gained the confidence of the Prince. -Your fair brow, may be soon encircled with honours, won by your -brother, from a grateful master. When you have seen him, you shall -return home, and pray for his safety, and that of the Prince.” - -As he spoke, Alice felt her companion shudder. The young Prophetess -knelt down, and muttered some words in a low, but wild tone. Rising -up, she drew Alice closer to her, and madly exclaimed,-- - -“Almighty One, keep her alone, join not their fates--but ah! it -cannot be! Brother and lover will ruin her, and death, death is her -lot. The poison is to lurk in every sweet rose, for you. I know it. -And she, the beautiful one, your companion in the vale, now too -must see her dream vanish. Oh, _their_ heads mount the poles in the -public streets. I cannot see them; thank God, yours shall be spared -such scorn, but languid for many a night shall they lie on the -pillow, and then, they must find rest in an early grave.” - -She twined herself around Alice, kissed her cheeks, and wept. - -The chieftain stood silent and astonished, not being able to -comprehend the scene; but Alice trembled, and almost sunk to -the ground. He placed her hand within his. “Come, and you will -straightway have an interview with him. He is now closeted with the -Prince, and his officers, consulting together upon some military -plans.” - -They entered:--the inside of the palace was fitted up with great -magnificence; and the spacious hall of audience was adorned with -portraits of the Stuart family, on which the lights were gleaming -brightly, and but for the gilded and embossed frames, they might -have been mistaken for the living sovereigns, who, by nature, were -endowed with the highest talents to sway an empire, but whose -imprudence and licentiousness expelled them from the throne. The -beautiful Queen of Scotland shone forth with a loveliness which -none but a royal old maid and prude, could have doomed to death. -She, who had been the wife of three husbands, still seemed to -have more love and affection in those bright features, than the -Holy Virgin of England, who never had a lover. The first Charles -was painted there, as he stood on the scaffold, and his eyes were -raised joyfully from the block, to see, in vision, the crown of -heaven, which no weapon could take from the Lord’s annointed. The -light threw a beautiful longing of immortality over his features. -At the further end of the hall, hanging from the ceiling to the -floor, was a green silk curtain, behind which was the door leading -to the Chevalier’s apartments. This was the only screen from the -face of royalty. Sir Hector, however, led Alice through a sliding, -at the right wing, and stood, for a little, opposite to a door, -above which were the Prince’s arms. At that moment it opened, and -Charles Edward, with young Dawson, appeared. The latter rushed into -the embrace of his sister. She beheld the uniform, and her hand was -upon the sash by which he was belted, still she clung fondly to -him, although she could not utter a word. Sir Hector McLean gave -the Pretender an explanation; who, stepping up, gently took the -hand of Alice. - -“Lady, bless your brother, and the cause he supports. Blame him -not; you cannot call me a rebel, and he must, therefore, be loyal. -Captain, comfort your sister.” - -“And who shall comfort thee?” sadly asked the blind child. “Oh, -never, never, can you mount the throne.” - -“Who is she? She is pale for me and my woes. See, the tears are -trickling down these cheeks. Perhaps blood, the blood of my -friends, may flow freely in my cause. God knows that my own heart -is sad, even for a tear on the face of another, for my sake. -But hark, my leaders are gay in the dance!” So kindly did the -Prince soothe the feelings of Alice, that when he retired, she -was prepared even to give comfort to her brother, when he spoke -of Katharine. She could not, however, persuade him to accompany -her home, and obtain their father’s forgiveness, and Katharine’s -blessing. - -“I dare not. I could not leave you all alone and unprotected. How -could I part from you, in the home of our past life? I must see -Katharine once more, but not there. But you, oh, what dangers you -have undergone this night for me, Alice! My heart breaks, awful -forebodings creep over my soul, at the sight of this blind girl. I -dare not see you home, and yet, to expose you--” - -“Nay, captain,” kindly rejoined Sir Hector, “I should feel -honoured, would your fair sister accept of my protection.” - -“Thanks, my noble friend; watch over her. The clock strikes the -hour of one. Sleep, Alice, and think not of our woes. We shall meet -again in happier times. One more embrace, dear girl; give my love -to Katharine, and my obedience to my father. I may see them before -the Prince leaves Manchester. Farewell. Sir Hector--” - -“Say not a word, captain. I shall guard her as I would the -Chevalier. Now, fair lady,”--and he almost dragged her from the -arms of her brother. - -As they reached the door, she looked round for her companion--but -she was gone! - -When his sister left him, Captain Dawson in vain sought comfort -in the room where all the officers were assembled for mirth and -the dance. His spirits were sunk, and into every bright scene -which hope conjured up, his aged parent and his unprotected -sister entered, and stood looking upon him, and yet he could not -approach them. He believed, however, that to his country he was -not acting the part of a traitor, for he wished to restore to it -the descendant of its ancient rulers. Sometimes, too, the quiet -retirement which he had formerly enjoyed within the cloisters of -the college, arose to his mind, and now, when surrounded by arms, -with the glory of strife before him in all probability, the arts of -peace appeared more noble and worthy of attainment. He retired to -the apartment which was assigned to him; but there, grief almost -reached the point of delirium, and the young soldier wept on his -pillow. He heard a knock at the door, and then Sir Hector McLean -entered. - -“Hast thou seen her home in safety? Oh! Alice, I have broken -your heart, and murdered my father; aye, and myself, and my own -Katharine too! Could I stay for months at home, to watch this -opportunity, and mutiny against the peace of all whom I love!” - -“Your sister,” was the reply, “is safe in her father’s house, nor -is her anguish so wild as when you saw her. She fondly believes -(and may it prove true, Dawson,) that soon the strife shall be -finally settled; and then comes the soldier’s home, after all his -hardships and dangers; then come tears of joy, so different from -those at parting for the present.” - -Young Dawson took the hand of Sir Hector, and pressed it in -gratitude. He was almost deceived for a time, it felt so like the -touch of Alice, and when he mentioned this, his friend laughed, and -said,-- - -“Perhaps I may have held her pretty hand within mine so long as to -catch its virtue. Nay, let not a suspicion cloud thy brow, I would -not pay one act of unmeaning gallantry, to betray; you do me wrong, -Dawson. Yet, how beautiful she is!” - -“Beautiful!” exclaimed Dawson, as he sprung from his couch in -madness. “And must I listen to hear my sister called beautiful, -by a soldier? If thy craven soul has dared to breathe one word -of lawless feeling to mine Alice, tell me--and let us choose our -weapons.” - -As he spoke, he moved to the table on which his sword lay -unsheathed, and passing his hand hastily over its edge, put himself -into a posture of attack and defence. But McLean’s sword still hung -by his side, and his hand was stretched forth in friendship. And -yet, at the first movement, his eye had flashed, and his right foot -had been violently placed in advance, for the combat. - -“Dawson,” he said, in a solemn tone, “you force me to reveal to you -what, perhaps, I ought to disguise at present. Could I put that -hand to the hilt of my sword, against Captain Dawson, when it has -been pledged in fondest love to his beautiful sister? Beautiful -I must call her--keep off, and hear me out. Will you compel me -to draw? I had a sister, fair as Alice Dawson, but she died in a -warmer clime, amidst the breezes of Italy. Had she lived, I should -have watched over her as suspiciously as you protect Alice. But I -am true. Is there falsehood in my countenance? Believe me; for with -you I cannot appeal to the sword to support my veracity.” - -The anger and fury of young Dawson had fled. He knew that Sir -Hector’s oath was that of a chieftain, and he was certain that -Alice would be happy. He coloured highly, threw his sword upon the -couch, and embraced him as a brother. Long did they speak of Alice -and Katharine; and the two young soldiers unbosomed every thought -to each other, and disclosed their respective arrangements. McLean -agreed to be a message-bearer to Dawson’s house, and to Katharine -Norton; for the captain dared not visit them. He left his companion -to rest a little before day break. - -Just about the same time Dr. Dawson awoke. The object of his dreams -had been James, and his first waking thought was concerning him. -But all was dark in the room. He only knew that his children were -not near. His memory failed to tell him whether James had returned. -In the morning there is something cold and blighting in fear, for -all the powers of the mind are more awake to it. He started up at -the earliest gleam of light, and shuddered, as he saw, for the -first time, that he had slept on a sofa. In all his affectionate -thoughts of his children, he did not forget self; and he cherished -it, in general, with a regimen, the strongest which his profession -could provide or sanction. - -“Death, death!” he exclaimed, “my children make me to commit -suicide, by sending me, grieved and senseless, to my couch, to my -sofa. My obedient son,--many thanks to you, dear James; dear James, -many thanks to you. Oh, dear and loving he is to me!” - -But in the midst of this invective he paused, as his eye met the -portrait of his son. He hurried on his clothes, but his palsied -hands were feeble and slow. His daughter came not, as was her wont. -He looked out from the window, upon the street, and how still, -compared with the revelry of the last night! There was scarcely -a wreck of it. The fragments of wood, black, and half consumed, -strewed the streets. These had been bonfires, a few hours before, -and now, a few miserable and poor wretches were gathering them up, -to carry them to a home, where there was little comfort blazing -from fuel. The doctor closed the window, and violently threw -himself down on the sofa, and cursed all whom he knew. He arose, -and silently proceeded to the door of his daughter’s apartment. -He heard no noise. He knocked, and instantly his daughter’s voice -was heard; when he knew that she was well, he stopped not to speak -to her, but in anger traced his steps again to his own room. He -had not closed the door behind him, when Katharine Norton came in. -He was always kind to her, and taking her by the hand, led her to -a seat. Her raven tresses were hanging over her cheeks, and her -voice trembled. She attempted to divert his thoughts from James’s -disappearance--for she dared not reveal the awful truth--and for a -time she succeeded. He even jested, playfully with her, and asked -her to name the day when she would become his beautiful and dear -daughter-in-law. He took her hand, and begged to know by which of -the pretty fingers James had protested to love her. - -In a little, Alice appeared. She was pale, but occasionally her -cheeks glowed, and her eyes sparkled with some emotion, to which, -hitherto, she had been a stranger. She seemed more absorbed in -thought than usual, and her lips moved tremulously, as if she were -speaking to herself. She thought of her brother, and the thought -spread a pallor over her features. She thought of her lover, and -blushed. She ran to embrace her father, but concealed her face in -modesty, lest he might read, and be an interpreter of her heart’s -fond love, which, she knew, was as strong, and would be as lasting, -as it had been sudden. Her father repulsed her. - -“Good child,” he said in mockery, “I am obliged to you for this -soft, soft couch. Do you see the thick coverings which have -oppressed these limbs! Oh! how warm they kept me! Give me your -hand, Alice, what a good and loving child to her old father. James, -too,--” - -“Father,” interrupted Alice, in a quick and almost angry tone, -“you may mock me, but you shall not mock my brother. Does a young -soldier, far from the comforts and happiness of a domestic life, -and exposed to hardships, danger, and death, need to be mocked, -even by an old man? Would you mock our James, should he be brought -to a gibbet?” - -“Soldier!--young soldier!” exclaimed her father in mad phrenzy, “my -James a soldier! Oh God! be merciful!” and he knelt, “Forgive all -mine unkindness to the children of my Helen! A soldier! Alice!” and -he fell down, apparently lifeless. Upon the screams of their young -mistress, the servants rushed into the room. They, by degrees, -recovered the old man to sensibility, but he continued wildly to -rave about James. - -“Son, your sword is bright and gleaming. Yes, James, you wear it -proudly. Hush, come quietly at night, when Alice has retired to -rest. Enter by the pannels near to my bed. Say father, and then do -your work. Strike home, to the very heart. Oh! would it not animate -your courage to behold my blood upon that flaming weapon? James, -you strike hard. Shew me that face once more, and, dear child, I -will bless it. Wilt thou bring me the gold from my secret desk, -that I may give it thee? Ah, it matters not, you know where it is. -Hush, hush, slay Alice too, when you have broken her heart. Twine -your hand in those beautiful curls, and kiss that sweet and gentle -forehead. Listen to her, as she murmurs love to you in dreams, and -strike as she utters your name. A soldier! Oh! what a soldier can -do!” - -He glanced wildly around him. He started up, and all signs of age -were, in a moment, obliterated from his face, and had left his -frame. He stamped, and loudly ordered all from the room. - -“Bring Helen to me, I am an impatient bridegroom. Shall I be -prevented from kissing my beautiful wife. She is mine, and who can -keep her from me? Helen, you are pale!”--and he sunk down, dead! -Alice could not utter a tone of lamentation. She longed to weep, -that her heart might be eased of her sorrow, but she could not. How -still were the lofty features of her father! In his fall, not a -single white hair had been disarranged, and his golden-headed cane -was firmly grasped in his hand. What a melancholy sight. A dead old -man, and yet a cane to support his steps, as if he could expect -that he should once more rise, and need its assistance! Alice -gently disengaged it from his grasp, and put her own hand in its -place, and thus, for hours, sat beside her dead father. - -Katharine Norton, like a sister attempted to comfort her, but -her terms of consolation frequently assumed something of her -own heart’s sorrow, as she thought of James. Yet she was too -high-minded and heroic to condemn, even in her grief, the step -which he had taken. - - * * * * * - -Meanwhile the Pretender’s army was again marching through the -streets, and in front of it, was the Manchester regiment, under -the command of Colonel Townley. The Prince, on this occasion, was -attended by the renowned chieftain, Cameron of Lochiel, who was his -best and bravest supporter. His eagle eye glanced proudly upon all, -save on his master, and his full muscular form, was the pride and -boast of the clan, of which he was the head. They rode together, -between the Scottish and English troops. The inhabitants of all -the towns in Lancashire, through which the Pretender had passed, -trembled at the sight of his brave Highlanders, and it is reported, -that it was the general belief, that the bodies of infants formed -their repast after a victory. The good people of Manchester, -likewise, turned pale, at their fiery glance, and the easy and free -manner in which they at times, when any obstruction was made to -their progress, laid their hands upon the broad-sword, while they -placed their dirk between their teeth, thus awfully prepared to -resist and overcome. But their fiery spirits, were at that time, -altogether within the control of their young leader. They had not -a glance for all who crowded the streets and balconies; their eyes -when he was in view, were fixed upon the Chevalier. As they were -turning a street, a ball whizzed by his horse’s head, and an uproar -was excited. A detachment of troops, under Lochiel, who had spurred -forward instantly, as soon as the report of fire-arms was heard, -dashed down a lane, from which the smoke issued, and they returned -instantly, with the assassin. The soldiers raised a loud howl, as -if they wished to sacrifice the wretch, by tearing him to pieces. -He was brought before the Prince, whose face was a little flushed -by the incident, but who was perfectly composed. - -“Death, death,” exclaimed many a voice from the streets. The ladies -had left the terraces, and had come forth among the crowd to learn -whether the Prince was at all hurt. He gallantly thanked them -for the interest they took in his welfare, and, all covered with -blushes, they again ran in. He then glanced upon the assassin, from -whose pockets a dagger and two charged pistols, had also been taken. - -“Poor man,” he calmly said, “you are desirous of murdering the son -of your sovereign. Soldiers, take him to the civil authorities of -the town, and order them to keep him in custody, until we are gone.” - -He then turned to the soldiers, and addressed them. “Be merciful, -as well as brave. Should I come to the throne, as the heir of my -father, I would grieve to think that blood had been too profusely -shed, to receive it. My enemies offer a large reward for my head. -But I only wish the crown, and not the head of George Guelph, the -Elector.” - -The crowd, although they had been disposed to condemn the poor -wretch, now applauded the mercy which forgave him, and this, -perhaps, tended more to warm the affections of the mass of the -people to Charles Edward, than his true descent from the house of -Stuart. - -The magistrates met them, and humbly offered their homage to the -Chevalier. The Colonel of the Manchester troops had been long -looked up to by the respectable community of the town, and when he -joined the rebel troops this exerted no inconsiderable influence, -even over the authorities. The principal streets were all adorned -with tokens of attachment, and from every house almost, colours -were flying, and handkerchiefs waving. Music from the town joined -the noise of the bagpipes, and the Prince was elated by what he -considered as demonstrations of loyalty to his father. - -The crowd attended the Prince back to the palace, before which, -during all the day, they stood, and greeted him, as he appeared -at the window, and smiled at the Highland soldiers, who presented -their arms. - -Early in the evening, Captain Dawson, accompanied by Sir Hector -McLean, was proceeding to his father’s house. He had resolved to -see him, that he might obtain his blessing, as the troops were to -set out on the following day. Dressed in the Prince’s uniform, they -received much attention as they passed on. Dawson was well known -as a young gentleman of great promise, and the reports which had, -in some circles, been spread respecting him--how that he had left -the University, where he was distinguished only for gaiety and -debauchery, were not believed--for they had been proved to have no -foundation. They reached the house, and were instantly admitted. -But the old servant, who opened the door, was unusually taciturn -and sad. Katharine Norton was sitting with Alice as they entered. -Painful was the interview. The Highland chieftain in vain attempted -to console Alice for the loss of her brother. - -“Dear Alice,” asked young Dawson, “how is our father? does he know -of my conduct?” - -“Yes,” was the reply. - -He became pale, and dreaded lest his father should have cursed and -denounced him. - -“Did he--condemn me?” and he gasped, as he spoke, “was he much -irritated?” - -“Yes, James, awfully agitated.” - -“There, there, Sir Hector, see my folly, my madness, my infamous -cruelty, to an aged parent. But Alice, was he long in such a state?” - -“No,” and she turned a look of concealed meaning to Katharine. - -“Thank God, thank God,” exclaimed Dawson, “then Alice, is he calm -now?” - -“Calm,--so calm, he must be happy.” - -“Then, dear sister, lead me into his presence, and give him a kiss, -to induce him to grant me a full forgiveness. Alice, you move not, -is he asleep?” - -“Yes, dear James, and you would but disturb him in what seems to be -a very pleasant sleep. But he _has_ granted you his pardon; or, if -you doubt, you may come to morrow, to dinner, and then--” - -“Yes, Alice; and may not Hector McLean come with me?” The last -words were spoken in a playful tone, and intended to probe, what -Alice thought was a secret. He rallied, and endeavoured to enjoy -himself, and seemed to succeed. Katharine forgave him, and agreed -to walk with him, for a few minutes, in the garden. He looked -smilingly upon Alice, and by his glance attempted to hint that he -knew very well that she did not regret to be left alone with Sir -Hector. - -The next morning arose fair and bright. The birds, even in the -streets, forgot the silence of winter, and cheered the crowded -abodes of men with their songs, as they fluttered about the -leafless trees, in the squares of the town. The Manchester regiment -of volunteers was marching through the streets, to the sound of -the drum. At their head was Prince Charles, attended by Colonel -Townley. There was an unusual melancholy resting on the features -of the former, which was increased by listening to the Scottish -song now chanted in the streets, “Bonnie Prince Charlie.” His pale -hair fell carelessly over his forehead, as he frequently raised -his bonnet, to allow the sun to fall upon his face. The smoke was -not yet arising from the chimneys, so early was the hour; and he -thought how slow and idle the inhabitants were in their loyalty -towards him. The colonel halted. - -“Where, noble Prince, will you review my men?” - -“In the church-yard,” was the reply, “yet that is an ominous place, -and may remind them of a fate they may, by and by, share. It is -well, nevertheless, to know what our end, sooner or later, must be. -The churchyard, colonel.” - -It was nigh at hand. The graves were not crowded, and the Chevalier -forbade the troops to violate the abodes of the dead, by trampling -upon them. They drew up, and went through their various exercises -in military discipline. As their swords flashed in the sun, the -Prince thought what a slight chance of fortune these would have -with the scythe of death. They were about to retire, when a small -company of mourners was seen, attending a dead relative to the -grave. They moved sadly and slowly, unlike the quick pace with -which the troops had entered. A closely veiled female was at the -head of the coffin. The Chevalier raised his cap, and desired his -men to approach, and honour these funeral rites. Young Dawson -started, as he beheld the blind Prophetess, with faded flowers in -her hands. He approached,--the veiled lady gave a shriek, and fell -down on the coffin. He sprang forward, drew aside the veil, and -beheld his sister Alice! He raised her from the coffin, and there -beheld his father’s name upon it! - -She had resolved to spare him the heart-rending news until, the war -being over, he should return; and thus she, herself, had undertaken -to attend to the last rites due to the remains and the memory of -a dead father. But here, providence had determined otherwise, and -James met his father,--for the first time since his leaving home, -to ask his forgiveness,--at the grave. He had formerly entreated -Alice to kiss their father, so that he might be induced to pardon -him, but now, what token of affection could obtain for him such a -blessing! And there was the young Prophetess, with words boding -still darker ruin on all the family, and on Prince Charles. - -On the first of December, the Chevalier and his troops continued -their march, and towards evening reached Macclesfield, with the -intention of proceeding to London, and thus terminating the -struggle for the crown in the capital of the kingdom. In a few -days, however, having reached Derby, where a council of war -was held, all the members, save the brave Prince himself, were -of opinion that, since, in all probability, they would soon be -surrounded by three armies, the only way of safety was to return -to Scotland. Accordingly, against the urgent remonstrances and -entreaties of Charles Edward, the retreat was commenced, and -pressed on by the forces of the Duke of Cumberland, on the -nineteenth, they reached Carlisle. All the army spent a night -there, and it was resolved that a garrison should be left, -consisting of the Manchester regiment, and a few of the Lowland -troops. - -In the morning they attended the Prince to a short distance from -the town, and on an eminence, where his movements might, a little -longer, be seen,--halted to take leave of him, with tears in -their eyes. The few Highland soldiers who were to form a part -of the garrison left behind, approached, and knelt down, their -shaggy heads uncovered, heedless of the wintry blast which raged -around them, while they prayed for a blessing upon “Bonnie Prince -Charlie.” They seemed disposed to follow him back into their native -mountains and fastnesses, and they turned many a look of envy and -regret upon their more fortunate clansmen who were to guard his -person. The Chevalier dismounted, and his tall graceful form was -closely, yet respectfully, surrounded, in a moment, by the faithful -mountaineers. He smiled, as they gazed in wonder on his kilted -dress. - -“My friends,” he said, “my limbs, naked though they be, can meet -the storm. Have I not, after the fatigues of battle, contended with -you in wrestling and leaping, stripped and bare? And yet,” he added -to himself, as he glanced at his small white hands, now exposed -to the cold, and his half covered thighs, “the ladies of Paris and -Edinburgh have fluttered round and embraced me.” - -“Canna she!” exclaimed a tall Highlander advancing,--“canna she -shake te tirk in her ain land, for Charlie? Fare pe te use o’ -keepin it be her side, and no kittlin te hainshes o’ te enemy. Nae -bluid, nae bluid on its shinin blade!” - -“Here, my good fellow,” answered the Prince, “give it to me; it is -the weapon of a true Highlander, and Charles Edward will be proud -to strike with it himself. Here,” and he took the dirk, and drawing -it from his half-worn sheath, and examining some dark spots on it, -appeared thoughtful. - -The Highlander rejoined, “Tat pe te bluid o’ te enemy, and might -she ask tat her Prince would not wipe it away?” - -The Chevalier buckled it to his side, and this act endeared him -to the Highland soldiery still more. But the sun was now arising -on the snowy eminences where they stood. His officers reminded -Charles of the long march which they had, that day, to accomplish. -Still, he moved not; he was wrapped in thought. His back was -turned gradually upon his troops, and he made a few steps in the -direction of Carlisle, for he cursed himself inwardly for the -consent which had been wrung from him, to retreat from England. In -the enthusiasm of the moment, which was heightened by despair, he -exclaimed,-- - -“Why do I retreat from the throne? _There_ should have been -our march; and our faces should have answered the questions of -Cumberland. But ah! we fly from him!” - -A simultaneous shout was raised throughout all the ranks, but, -in a moment, the chief of each clan looked upon his men, and the -threatening look was understood; Charles drew his sword, and turned -round, almost expecting that the troops were ready to follow him, -wherever he might lead; but their bonnets were over their brows, -and they were silent. He understood the cause. Lochiel and the -other chiefs advanced, and humbly kneeling before him, whilst they -uncovered their heads, implored him to think no more of England, -until a fitting time, when he should be able to contest, with equal -strength, in the country of the Elector. He mastered his feelings, -and with some of his usual gaiety, raising his plumed cap from his -head, waved his farewell to the garrison, assuring them that he -would send them speedy assistance. Sir Hector McLean retired for a -moment, in company with Captain Dawson, but in the midst of their -conversation, the command was given to march, and after taking the -last look of their brave companions and the Prince, the Manchester -regiment returned to Carlisle. - -There the castle was soon invested by the royal army, under the -command of the Duke of Cumberland. The garrison held out for some -time, aided by the inclemency of the winter, which prevented the -duke from taking the most active measures, and cheered by hopes of -the aid which the Prince had promised. But, at length, when these -hopes were disappointed, they were obliged to surrender, upon the -hardest terms, and Colonel Townley, and his captains, were sent to -confinement, in London, there to await a trial for sedition and -treason. The miseries of a dungeon were rendered more awful by the -news of the total defeat which the Chevalier had sustained, in the -fate of the battle of Culloden. The captives had held communication -with their relatives, who were busy in making every exertion to -obtain their pardon. James Dawson heard frequently from Katharine -Norton; and although her letters seemed to be written in tolerably -good spirits, he could see the trace of many a tear. She encouraged -him to hope, and stated that a mutual friend had resolved upon -obtaining the king’s forgiveness, and that she trusted much to his -efforts. The bearer of these letters was the young Prophetess; -and the sight of the messenger, so sad and mournful, was almost -sufficient to dash and cloud the joy of the message. She answered -no questions, but every time placed her hands upon his brow, and -gave a low and suppressed shriek. Her thin and emaciated features -were never lighted up with happiness, even when she told Dawson of -the hopes of Katharine. He asked her of Alice, for, lately, she had -ceased to write to him, but the blind girl, waving her hands above -her head, exclaimed with enthusiasm, - -“She is well; yes, and intercedes for her brother,--the beautiful -and happy lady!” - -James understood, by her motions, that his sister had even ventured -into the presence of royalty, and there presented her petitions; -and he blessed her, and Katharine, more and more. - -The day of trial arrived, and as soon as the commission entered the -court, Dawson thought that the countenances of the judges frowned -their doom, and indicated a fixed resolution, on the present -occasion, to dispense with mercy. The brutal mob without, were -shouting for justice to the king, and the country; and the crowd -within were so unfeeling as to hiss the prisoners when they were -led to the bar; but these hisses were answered by a calm look of -contempt. Colonel Townley arose, and objected to a trial brought on -by a usurper, and affirmed that it was unjust to be cited before a -court called together by George the Elector. He defended himself, -and his brave companions, but in vain; for ere he had finished -his speech, the jury retired, and soon the verdict _guilty_ was -returned. The presiding judge looked around the court, but a -thrill of horror was expressed, for sympathy had been excited by -the gallant appearance of the rebels. As he put on the black cap, -Dawson, to shew his contempt and indifference, turned his back; but -presently recollecting that there were ties to bind him to life, -he changed his posture, and attentively listened to the sentence -of death. For a moment his firmness forsook him, as he heard the -awful accompaniments of his execution. As he and his companions -were being removed, the cries without were increased, and he caught -a glimpse of a female form entering the court. That glimpse was -enough to reveal to him his own Katharine! He had not seen her -since they parted in Manchester, but oh! how sadly she was changed! -She gave a wild shriek. Dawson struck down the officer who had -charge of him, and the crowd retreated and made way for him, as he -rushed forward, clanking his chains. - -“My own Katharine!” he exclaimed, as he clasped her in his arms, -“Are we not safe together?” For a moment she looked on him; but, -turning to the judges, who had left their seats, she cried out-- - -“Stay--hear me--as you would hope to be heard in the very moment of -death. Save my James!” - -The judge placed his hand upon the black cap, and his features -did not diminish the awful effect of such a motion. He instantly -retired. - -“Heed him not,” slowly muttered James, “they cannot separate us.” - -“No, no,” returned Katharine, whose reason, for a time, had -departed, whilst her eyes glared wildly, “they cannot. Put these -chains around me. You could not break them, James. Put them -round my neck, just there, where your arm is, and we are secure. -Can they break them, when you could not? Now, my love, let us -go home. I told you, in my letter, that the day appointed for -your--your--ha! shall I name it,” and she even smiled as she spoke, -“your execution, would be the day for our marriage. We are bound -together. Now, dear James.” - -The keepers approached, but they dared not to touch their prisoner, -as his masculine form raised itself to ward them off. - -“Are these our friends, James? Welcome,--welcome all! Now for the -dance. Ah, you won my heart in yonder recess, where we rested.” - -Her dream of madness passed away for the awful reality. - -“You die, James!” - -And she sunk her head on his breast, in silent despair. He twined -his arms round her, to support her trembling frame, and kissed her -brow, which, although pale, quivered with intense emotion, and the -large blue veins swelled on its surface. - -“A few days,” he said, “and your lover is no more.” - -The keepers took advantage of his posture and seized him, he -was torn from Katharine, who fell on the floor. She awoke to -conciousness, after a long fit of delirium, but she spoke not. She -answered not the many kind questions, which some of the spectators -put. She accepted not the invitations which they offered, to -accompany her home. She looked wildly around. She started back -as her eyes fell upon the bench, where the sentence had been -pronounced, and where still lay the black cap. But the coachman, -who, half-an-hour before, had set her down, at some distance, now -appeared and supported her to her carriage. Her kind aunt, when she -reached home, watched by her, and consoled her with the thought -that the friend who had gone to sue for Dawson’s pardon, might in -the end prove successful. She gently chided her for having gone to -the court, without her. - -The night before the fatal morning was beautiful, even in the -cell, and on its grated window, a bird had for a moment alighted, -like a messenger of hope. Dawson paced up and down, absorbed in -gloomy reflections. He thought of Katharine, and then of Alice. -Henceforth they were to be friendless and alone. He knelt down in -anguish, and prayed for them fervently, as the two innocent and -beautiful sisters. He arose, and placed his hand without the bars, -and then, fanned his forehead. Once he had imagined that it was -glorious to die as a martyr, for his prince, before all the world; -but now, the scene when real, and at hand, had gradually narrowed -and narrowed, until in dying, he felt that, save two, he had no -one to sympathise with his fate. His fellow prisoners spoke to -him, through small apertures in their separate cells; but he was -meloncholy and alone. He heard footsteps approaching, and the heavy -iron door turned slowly upon its hinges. A gentleman was admitted. - -“Oh! Dawson,--no hope, no hope,--art thou prepared?” - -The prisoner looked anxiously upon him who spoke, but as it was -twilight, he could not distinguish the features, or the person. He -was dressed in black. Dawson started up, and dragged him to the -window. He gazed upon Hector McLean! - -“My friend!--and is it even so? Your dress is proscribed; no more -that of a chieftain.” - -“Speak not of me, speak of yourself. It is true I am in mourning -weeds, and now no clan can raise the wail of their chieftain.” - -“How is Alice?” quickly exclaimed Dawson, but he received no -answer. “What! a lover, and knows not of his fair mistress; cannot -speak of her, to her brother! Is she well, Sir Hector?” - -“Hush, rave not;--she is in heaven! and these are weeds for my -wife!” - -The deep stupor and silence of grief was over Dawson’s soul. - -“Brother,” said Sir Hector, “my only brother, but whom I must lose -on the morrow, spend not the time thus. Prepare, prepare for death! -It is different from the chance of war, and although we have left -the ball for the deadly field, now let this cell be the auditory -and penitentiary of heaven!” - -“But tell me,” exclaimed Dawson, “tell me how Alice died. Yes, she -is in heaven. A week ago, I dreamt that angel feet passed rapidly -along my cell, and I knew that they were Alice’s. Where, and how -did she die?” - -“I must be brief; your fate and welfare demand every moment for -other subjects. During the interval after our retreat to Scotland, -when hostilities were ceased, I came over to England, and Alice -became my wife. I took her to a quiet home, removed from the seat -of war, where an aged mother cherished her new daughter. Oh, -how anxious we were, and grieved, concerning you. She wrote to -Katharine Norton, and enclosed letters for you. Meanwhile, the -royal forces drew near the Prince, and I joined him, at the head of -my clan, on the Heath of Culloden. Had that battle been gained, you -would have been free; and believe me, Dawson, that many a stroke -given by me, was for you. But it was lost. I fled to Alice. The -news--but I cannot wring my heart by relating my woes--overpowered -her. In these arms she died, my fair Alice, speaking to the last, -of her brother, her husband, and our unborn babe! I came to London, -was received kindly by Katharine Norton and her aunt, and have been -exerting myself ever since, to obtain your pardon,--but in vain. -I had rendered some important services to one of the Elector’s -ministers, but his private feelings are subdued by other motives.” - -“Bless you! Heaven bless you for your efforts, but more as the -husband of my Alice. But--Katharine, how does she endure my -approaching execution?” - -“She hopes that your pardon will arrive, and she has arranged every -thing for her marriage, on the morrow, when you are set at liberty. -Oh! how must I break the awful truth to her! When I left her an -hour ago, she was singing some of your verses. Her mind seems -to have lost some of its power, for she wandered out alone this -afternoon, to the Common, where, on the morrow, you must die, and -gathered some of the simple daisies, to deck her hair. She protests -that these will be all that her dear James shall know of Kennington -Common!” - -Sir Hector remained an hour with him, and took his last farewell! - -The morning came, after a sleepless, restless night. Dawson attired -himself in full uniform, even to the Highland bonnet. At an early -hour the officers entered, and led him, along with eight of his -companions, down to the court yard of the prison. All who were to -suffer, greeted each other kindly, but no one had need to cheer -each other, and inspire them with firmness. For themselves, they -were indifferent to their doom, and were prepared to meet it with -the conciousness of what they considered innocence in a good cause; -but they had relatives, and this clouded their minds. Still they -appeared bold and undaunted. - -“Townley,” said one to the Colonel, “you were always,--forgive me -for the hint,--fond of dressing your head, when it was about to pop -in at the door of a ball room, to be inspected by the ladies. Now -that it is to be seen more conspicuously, will you not bestow more -attention? There, upon mine honour, that fine curl has left its -sweep.” - -After finishing breakfast, their chains were struck off, and their -arms pinioned. - -“Stay,” exclaimed one, “give me the freedom of my hands, to -arrange my neckcloth, that should the Hanoverian Elector himself -be present, I may render the man all possible honours. Help me to -laugh Dawson. Captain, is my neckcloth nice? See,--but here is the -groom of my bedchamber, the master of my wardrobe, he will assist -me.” - -The Executioner now appeared, with the halters carried behind him. -He was dressed in white, and his black and hideous face, although -of a cadaverous hue, was a striking contrast. Although Dawson -scorned the fear of death, yet life was dear to him for Katharine, -and a shudder passed over his frame, as the executioner approached -him. - -“Young gentleman,” said the grim official, “your neck is the first -for the halter. But the first shall be last, in order that the -Scriptures may be fulfilled, and your heart shall be the last in -being thrown into the flames. Ha! ha!” and he laughed at the awful -blasphemy. With the greatest coolness and composure he removed the -scarf from Dawson’s neck, and was substituting the rope, when he -observed the golden chain, to which was attached the portrait of -Katharine Norton. He raised it. - -“Young sir,” said he, as he attempted to smile, “shall I remove the -miniature? Pretty, pretty,--the lady smiles so beautifully upon the -rope!” - -“Touch it not, wretch,” thundered forth Dawson, in tones which -made the barbarian tremble, and interrupted him in his chuckle. -“Never,” he added, “shall the resemblance of her whom I love, be -exposed to a profane gaze.” - -“Nay,” returned the executioner, “you have no command over it, -young rebel. Your clothes are my property, as soon as I perform my -kind offices to that carcase, and, of course, the miniature amongst -the rest.” - -“Shall it!” shouted Dawson in a rage. “Never. Officer, remove it -from my neck, and place it on the floor.” His request was granted, -and he ground it to atoms beneath his tread. - -The prisoners were then brought out, and placed on hurdles, -surrounded by a body of foot guards. There, also, was the -executioner, with a naked scimitar. The “dead march” was now played -by the military, and its music was sad and slow, unlike that which -had roused the courage of the rebels when they assembled under the -standard of the Chevalier. Gradually it swelled, until, towards the -conclusion, it died quietly away, and expressed the true condition -of the prisoners, “who were wearing away to the land of the leal.” -Some of them gaily beat time with their feet, but others would not -counterfeit mirth, although they needed not to counterfeit courage, -for they all possessed it. - -When they arrived at Kennington Common, they beheld a dense crowd, -for the London mob had assembled, to feast on the horrid spectacle -of hanging, embowelling, burning, and beheading. But as the hurdles -passed them, they were quiet, and some words, as well as many -looks, of commiseration greeted the prisoners. A large pile of -faggots was heaped up close to the gallows, and as they left the -hurdles, and entered the cart from which they were to be turned -off, they were set fire to, and threw a fitful glare over the faces -Of the guards around, as well as those of the prisoners. Colonel -Townley turned to the magistrates, who stood on a small platform, -and asked whether a clergyman had been brought to attend to them. -On being answered in the negative, he exclaimed,-- - -“What mercy is shown to us! You are generous enemies! Morgan, my -good friend, read us appropriate prayers, before we suffer for King -James. Let us die, trusting in God our Saviour. It is well that I -reminded you to bring your book.” - -His fellow-sufferer began to read in a solemn manner, kneeling, and -with his head uncovered. Not a whisper was heard among the crowd, -but they stood silent, as if hushed by the true spirit of devotion, -and as if the angels, whom the prisoners invoked to surround them -with their fiery cars, would have been frightened away by the -noise and commotion. They were also in the suspense of expectation, -when these religious services should be ended, and the dread signal -given. Then a carriage was seen rapidly approaching. - -“A pardon! a pardon!” shouted the mob, as they made way, at first -sight. The prisoners’ devotions were interrupted. For a moment -they gazed anxiously, but, as the carriage took its station behind -the dense masses of people, their hopes fell, and once more they -engaged in their religious exercises, but with paler countenances, -and the reader’s voice, at first, was observed to tremble. Dawson -looked up. From the window of the carriage he saw Sir Hector -gazing, and waving his farewell; and beside him was his own -Katharine! A violent shuddering seized him, but, at that moment, -Morgan was repeating the words, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit,” -and now he felt that he had, for ever, done with earthly things. -The signal was given by a loud shout, raised by the prisoners, “God -save King James,” and the cart was driven from beneath them! - -All the other horrible accompaniments were gone through, and the -executioner, on throwing the heart of Dawson into the flames, -exclaimed, “Long live King George!” - -The carriage was that of Katharine Norton, and thus, attended -by her aunt and McLean,--who had failed in all their attempts -to dissuade her from witnessing such a scene,--she gazed on -her lover’s tortures to the last. She had seen him suspended, -then stripped, in order that he might be embowelled; and as the -executioner announced that he had performed his office, she clasped -her hands together, and meekly laying her head on the bosom of her -aunt, said, - -“Dear James, I follow thee.” - -“Not yet, my Katharine, not yet. Put your throbbing heart to mine, -love.” - -Throbbing heart! Alas, it throbbed no more! Katharine Norton was -dead! Hector McLean took one hand, to console her, and, as the -other was placed upon the window of the carriage, it was seized by -the blind Prophetess, who now appeared, strangely and unexpectedly, -as before. - -“Dead! dead!” she exclaimed. - -At that moment the shouts of the mob frightened the horses, who -dashed furiously away; and the young Prophetess was left a mangled -corpse! Her life was all a mystery--her power of knowing the -future, and her sudden appearance! - - - - -THE SPECTRE COACH OF LIVERPOOL. - - -In one of the squares at the extremity of Liverpool, some sixty -years ago, there resided a young orphan, called Elizabeth -Woodville. She had no relations surviving; her parents had long -been dead, and an only brother, a few weeks previous, had, by -youthful excesses, been brought to an untimely end. The latter -event preyed upon her spirits and constitution, not only from -the mere fact itself of his death, but also from the horrible -circumstances connected with it. He had been conveyed home a -corpse, after his nightly revel; and at the moment when Elizabeth -was dreaming of her parents, in the far off happy land, she was -awoke to listen to the awful tidings, and view their confirmation -in the ghastly features of one who, whatever, and how many his -faults and crimes were, had always loved her. She seemed now to -be alone in the world, with no acquaintances save the flowers -which her fair hands fostered every morning, and the toys of her -brother, when a boy, which were all collected and arranged before -her. There was the pencil, with which he and Arthur Govenloch -alternately sketched her own features, in puerile art; and along -with it were the silken cords which bound her to a seat, when she -was refractory. That seat was still there, with the green faded -cushion, and in it, for hours, she often sat, held by the illusions -of memory. His fishing rod and basket kept their old places, fixed -to the ceiling. Even the marbles of the boy had been preserved, and -she thought of their sports in the garden, and remembered a long -and successful chase, through amidst the trees and over the grass -plot, into the arbour, which Arthur, followed by her brother, had -after her, when she stole away their marbles. His Holy Bible, too, -with the three names inscribed on the fly leaf, lay with its gilt -edges; and she pictured once more to her fancy, the beautiful and -happy sabbath eves, in summer, out on the flowery lawn, when their -young minds drank in the holy words of peace and life. She fondly -hoped that the solemn, yet sweet truths of mercy therein contained, -would have been so strongly impressed upon her brother’s heart, -that all the infidel thoughts which had latterly sprung up, and -effected his temporal ruin, must have failed to uproot them. It -had never been conned by them as a task book, but had always been -opened by them as a holy romance of truth from heaven, pointing -to Eden as the cradle, and the skies as the home, of our race; -with the lovely and the wise Jesus as the hero of every scene, -reflected above or below. Her whole heart was among these objects -of remembrance, and her happiness was in the past. She played -delightfully, and her sweet voice accompanied the harp, but only -the songs and hymns which had pleased her brother, and his friend. -She often thought of that friend. There was only one of the dead -who engrossed all her thoughts, and that one was her brother, even -to the entire exclusion of her parents; and there was only one of -the living, and he was Arthur Govenloch. Since boyhood he had been -in a foreign country, but he had never gone from the affections of -Elizabeth Woodville. - -It was May day, towards sunset, as she took her seat on the -terrace. She was engaged in working a piece of embroidery,--a -history of the family, and of her childhood; and the last rays fell -sweetly upon the names of those she loved. An unusual buoyancy -had been imparted to her spirits, and she leaned over to view the -sports of children, as crowned with the first flowers of summer, -they gaily and enthusiastically tripped about the door. They all -departed, save one beautiful boy, who sat down beside an old -statue, on the grass plot, and by turns, for very happiness, sung, -clapped his hands, and shouted. He started as he heard footsteps -near, and seeing Elizabeth, ran up the outer flight of stairs, -leading to the terrace. She came down to meet him, when a stranger -appeared. He suddenly halted, and became deadly pale. He turned -round, for a moment, to conceal his agitation, when he heard a -half-suppressed shriek. - -“Arthur Govenloch!” - -Although many, many years had elapsed, and foreign climes had -embrowned his features, Elizabeth recognized him. She had loved -the boy, and when he was absent her imagination had pictured the -man, and there stood the living resemblance, unchanged. On hearing -his own name pronounced, he rushed forward. There was a beautiful -lady in mourning. Could it be his own Elizabeth? There was the same -slight figure, which he had so often clasped, as a boyish dream, -and the deep light of her soft blue eyes, which he had so often -braved for hours, when lying on the grass, and could he forget it? - -“My own Elizabeth!” he exclaimed, “in mourning? But hast thou been -faithful and true, as I have been? There, there, that boy again.--A -shudder passed over me, as I first beheld him here. Art thou the -wife of another? That boy,”-- - -“Arthur, I know him not, he is the child of a neighbour. Oh! hast -thou come at last! Arthur, I am alone. My brother is--” - -“Hush, dearest, _now_ thou art not alone. But let us enter the -house, where I have been so happy, and tell me all.” - -Their love had been preserved through many years. It had commenced -early, and was hallowed by memory, as well as brightened by hope. -Innocence had lighted it, and the daring boy, and the gentle -girl, would leave their task to romp with each other, but not for -romping’s sake; for when the sport was ended, then came the soft -look, the soft touch, and the soft confession. Boys and girls are -the quickest, the warmest, the holiest, and the most successful -lovers. The God of love plays best with children; and,--mischievous -urchin--when the little scholars are rambling about, or seated, -teaching each other their tasks, taking hold of fingers, to -point out letters, or words, figures, or sums, then he lets fly -the arrow, touching their young and pure blood. Such lovers had -Elizabeth Woodville and Arthur Govenloch been, and their affection -was preserved, warm and strong, until the present. Both wept -over the death of their old companion, and all his books were, -once more, affectionately handled and looked at. They walked out -together upon the terrace, and brightly did the stars shine upon -them, like the glorious and happy types of that future, concerning -which they spoke. Happy were they now in each other, and long ere -Arthur left her, Elizabeth’s face was beautiful with smiles. She -accompanied him to the garden gate, leaning confidingly upon his -arm. - -“Elizabeth--I must introduce the custom of the country which I have -left; and the square is so retired, and the nights, of late, have -been so beautiful, that I must come and serenade you beneath your -window. But arise not; only for a moment awake to listen to my -lute, and then, dearest, dream of me.” - -He looked upon her, and saw that she was pale. Her slight frame -trembled. He pressed his hand against her heart, and it beat -violently. - -“Nay, Arthur, do not.” - -“I will not disturb your rest. No, Elizabeth; but the night is so -beautiful, that I cannot refrain from coming to the house where my -own love dwells, and serenading, in company with the angels, the -abode of the beautiful Orphan. You know that I won’t serenade you, -when you are my dear little wife. Henry, your brother, will thank -and bless me for coming.” - -She became still paler, and leaned for support on the gate. - -“You are not well. Walk back to the house. Come. Now, farewell -dearest,” and he fondly embraced her. Her brow was cold as he -kissed it, and she softly said,-- - -“Oh! Arthur, come not to night.” - -But he thought that, although he might not serenade her, there -could be no harm in passing, at the hour of midnight, and looking -at the house, as it lay in the pale moonshine. For, be it observed, -that lovers are not so very unreasonable as some represent; and the -mere sight of the house where the adored one lives, can satisfy -them. - -A little before midnight, Arthur was once more in the street, on -his way to the abode of his mistress. All was silent and lonely. -The glare of lamps was feeble and sickly, mingling with, while -yet distinguishable from, the light of the moon. The breezes -blew gently, and carried perfumes, as tranquilizing as they were -sweet. Few persons were abroad: and save the light dress of -the unfortunate and the guilty, revealing itself occasionally, -at a corner of the street, as he passed, and the song of the -bachanalian, coming from cellars, and greeting him, Arthur found -nothing to turn his attention from the thoughts and love which he -cherished to the fair Orphan. All boyish feelings, save one, had -been forgotten, and, as he trod his native town, he felt that in it -he was a stranger. But the brother shared his thoughts, as well as -the sister, and he wished that he had enquired of Elizabeth where -his grave was, that even there he might pay an early visit, after -his return, to the friend and companion of his boyhood. He reached -the lane which opened into the square. It was a dark, close, and -filthy way. Trees were on every side, but the leaves appeared to -be beds of worms and reptiles, and a sharp breeze coming from the -harbour, blew some of them against Arthur’s cheek, and they were -damp and polluting to the touch. - -Suddenly he heard shouts of revelry behind, and the sound of a -coach starting. The whip was loudly urging on the steeds, and -their hoofs clattered fast and furious. He looked back, and to his -astonishment and terror, saw nothing. Still the noise came near and -nearer, and at length he distinctly heard a coach dash past him. -At that moment a loud shout was heard, and the whip was cracked -close to his ears. The blood curdled within him. He could not be -deceived. He ran on, and the nearer he came, he heard the rolling -of the wheels, the pawing and breathing of the horses, the cracking -of the whip, and even the oaths and tones of those who sat in it, -with greater assurance. He seemed close upon it, when all at once -it stopped, and then he found himself at the house of Elizabeth -Woodville, and there, horrible to think, the Spectre Coach was -waiting, unseen! He moved backwards and forwards, and fancied that -he heard whispers near the place, and occasionally the stroke of a -hoof, on the flinty road. A flavour of wine and tobacco was in the -air around. In a little, the door of the house was half opened: -a light and merry step was on the pavement, and instantly a loud -holloo, in the tones of one, quite familiar to his ear, arose, and -once more the coach dashed away. Arthur stood motionless, what -could this awful prodigy mean? He looked at the door, and there -stood Elizabeth! He rushed forward. Her eyes fell upon his form, -enveloped in a cloak, and shrieking, she fell. He raised her from -the earth, bleeding and senseless. He shouted for the domestics, -and committed her to their care. He entered another room. In a -short time, one of them returned, and announced that her mistress -had recovered, and was desirous of speaking with him. - -“My young lady,” she added “every night watches for that coach. -It comes for her brother regularly, as usual. Oh! Sir, would you -persuade her to retire before the hour? It renews her grief.” - -Arthur started at these words: and truths of an awful nature -flashed across his mind. But he heard Elizabeth’s voice, and he -hurried into her apartment. She sat, reclining on a sofa; her -countenance was pale; her eyes bright, but an expression of horror -and wildness in them. - -“Did you not, Arthur,” she exclaimed, as she wrung her hands, and -with them covered her face, “did you not hear Henry’s voice, so -free and merry. What an awful apparition of his last ghost! I have -gazed for months, and hoped that I would see him, but in vain. The -tale is one of horror, and one which I have realized.” - -She paused, and leaving her seat, went to the window, and listened -eagerly. - -“It comes not yet--no--it is not the appointed time, and I may -proceed with the relation. But for God’s sake, Arthur, if you hear -a noise, if you hear the rolling of the coach, interrupt me not! I -must answer his call. Nay, rise not. I am calm, dear Arthur. You -knew my brother Henry--None could be more innocent and happy. But -after you left us, he listened to wicked men, and imbibed their -poisonous doctrines, and Henry Woodville, the beautiful and the -good, became a dark infidel! In place of the Holy book, from which -you read to us--was the accursed text book of the wretch, Paine. -You knew that when he read, he placed a chair for me, and with his -cheek against mine, invited me, laughingly, to examine whether he -read correctly. One evening, out on the terrace,--thus we sat -down to read, and mine eyes fell upon the words before he uttered -them; “There is no God, and christianity is all priests’ fables.” -I warmly told him to throw away such blasphemy. He laughed, and -added that it was his bible, and that he would sell the old one for -a penny! From step to step he went on, and became a drunkard and -a debauchee. He was so entangled with companions, that he would -not abandon their society. Still he loved me, wept as I wept, and -said that he was sorry for his conduct, and then laughed like a -fiend. Every night his associates came, in a coach, and took him -away to their foul orgies. In the outskirts of the town,--for, -Arthur, I have followed, though concealed--they lighted a fire, -burned the Bible, and then drove to the haunts of depravity. -Henry’s handsome form became emaciated, and almost loathsome; but -I embraced him more fondly than ever. His full bright eyes were -sunk and bloodshot. One night, he promised to stay with me at home, -and all my hopes revived. What happy hours we spent! He led me to -my apartment, and kissed me. He even implored God’s blessing upon -me. I saw him kneel before his Maker. I heard him plead love for -his sister, aye, and forgiveness for himself. I sank to sleep, -overpowered with a delirium of joy! And yet, Arthur, he deceived -me. He joined his companions, and in the coach, they repaired to a -vale, and there began to make a sacrament to the devil! Prayers and -praises to him were made in the midst of mirth and wine; and they -literally took the cup of damnation in their hands, and quaffed -it off. They invoked the enemy. The inhabitants of the suburbs -were aroused from their repose by awful noises. They went to the -place whence they seemed to proceed, and my brother, and two of -his associates, were found dead, and horribly mangled. A black -form was said to hover near them. What a corpse Henry was! And -yet, I watched every minute beside it, kissed the hideous lips, -until he was taken to the grave. Every night that coach comes for -him as usual. It is a Phantom Coach. On a beautiful night, it has -the sound of a light coach; and on a stormy one, that of a heavy -coach. The first night after his funeral, it came. I started up, -thinking that his associates had resolved to insult me. I rushed to -the window, but saw nothing. It tarried the usual time, and then -dashed away. I heard my brother’s voice distinctly! I stood for -hours, unable to move,--when it was heard returning. It halted, the -door opened, and a light step mounted the staircase, close by this -window, and struck against Henry’s door. In mad phrenzy I followed, -but saw nothing! All his associates have died; still, the Phantom -Coach calls regularly upon them, and takes them to their place of -rendezvous!” - -She again arose, and went to the window. - -The horrible tale had fallen like a nightmare upon the energies -and happiness of Arthur Govenloch. He sat motionless;--when his -mistress returned, and resumed the subject. - -“One night--this is the anniversary of it, the first of May,--he -went out early, and told me to admit him when he knocked, without -delay. Long I watched. Mine eyes, or the bright moon, became pale; -and, at last, I fell asleep. In the midst of happy dreams I was -awoke by a loud knocking at the door. I rushed to the staircase, -and, in my hurry, fell down. I could scarcely arise to open the -door, but my love prevailed, and as Henry entered, he struck me! -yes, struck his sister! cursed my delay, and threatened worse -punishment for the next offence. This is the night when I should -have been asked to watch for and admit him, and those awful words -follow me! I knew that he afterwards wept over his cruelty--but -these words!” - -In vain did Arthur attempt to turn away her thoughts from the -subject, and when he failed, he requested permission to bear her -company until the morning. Often did she express a wish that she -could only see the coach and her brother. - -“I hear his voice, and sometimes it sounds like the tones of his -boyhood, happy and free; and yet, I cannot see him!” - -The night was far advanced, and they went to the window. The sky -was dark and clouded. The moon could no longer be seen. - -“Arthur!” Elizabeth exclaimed in a voice of terror, “I hear the -coach; it dashes furiously along. Nay, do not hold me.” - -The noise was distinctly heard;--it became loud and louder. Henry’s -voice was above all, laughing, shouting, cursing. It halted. A -knocking was instantly made at the house door. - -“It is my brother; I cannot delay. Arthur, I must go alone. I will -speedily return to you. But I must admit Henry. Will he give me -worse than before?” - -She rushed out of the door as the knocking was redoubled. The door -opened, and the next moment a step was mounting the stairs. Arthur -tarried for a time; still, Elizabeth came not. He snatched a light, -and when he reached the door, there she was lying with her head on -the pavement,--dead! dead! - -The Spectre Coach of the Infidels, at the hour of midnight, -stopping at their old abodes, is said still to be heard. Coachmen -have anxiously looked before them, expecting to come into collision -with it. Dogs commence to howl, and yet are frightened; and many a -traveller has heard, but none ever seen “the Spectre Coach.” - - - - -THE CROSS AND LADY MABEL. - -[Illustration] - -THE CHRONICLER, IN THE FOLLOWING LEGEND, ADHERES TO THE STATEMENTS -OF THE GENEALOGICAL ROLL OF THE BRADSHAIGH FAMILY, IN REFERENCE TO -THE KNIGHTLY HERO’S EXPEDITION TO THE HOLY LAND. - - -The banner was waving over the goodly mansion of Haigh Hall, on the -twenty-sixth anniversary of Sir William Bradshaigh’s birth, and all -the retainers, from the scullion to the seneschal were boisterously -enjoying themselves, in a hearty eating, drinking, and laughing. On -every eminence in view, small flags had been placed, and some of -these sported their colours on the loftiest trees, in the adjoining -woods. But, although much good cheer had been placed near these, -to attract a small company, they were left solitary, as tokens to -strangers, for all the knight’s men were assembled at the porch of -the Hall, quaffing the foaming goblet to his honour and prosperity, -and to his success in his intended expedition as a Crusader. With -earliest morn the appropriate demonstrations had commenced, but -they became more ardent and joyous towards sunset. A chair was then -placed on the threshold, for the minstrel whose chivalrous strains -were to be heard by all, in praise of his noble master. One burst -of merry applause greeted him, as the aged man took his seat, and -as he gently touched the strings to Sir William’s glory, within, -the fair bosom of Lady Mabel, heaved with answering sympathy. She -embraced her children, and looking upwards, prayed that they might -be good, and brave as their father; and when Sir William joined -her, she added, as handsome and beautiful. - -Sir William Bradshaigh, in person, enjoyed the aristocracy of -nature, as well as of birth. His stature was not tall, neither was -his frame muscular; yet not a limb, not a feature, seemed out of -keeping with the impress of his mind. His was the true nobility -of face and form, and as he appeared sheathed in armour, with the -cross embroidered on the scarf over his breast, he brought along -with him ideas of the mournful and weeping spirit of Palestine, -trusting to his arm for relief, from the scourge and the tread of -the daring Infidel. On gazing at some persons, you feel convinced -that they are entirely fitted by nature for that which has given -them fame. The very hands, as well as the features, seem to be -stamped with it, and the soul, visibly looks through every part -and limb. Thus was it with Sir William. You could not doubt, on -beholding his form, that he was a knight of unequalled bravery -and skill, although young and slender. The small white hands were -locked in those of his beautiful Mabel, but they seemed as well -fitted for grasping the sword. - -Well might Lady Mabel be his match. The faultless symmetry of her -majestic person, added to her raven tresses, and brightly glowing -eye, were for the wife, a perfect counterpart to the husband. -A meek beauty rested upon her countenance, which every thought -and feeling, gently disturbed. She was naturally pale, and this -circumstance tended to make her features better interpreters of -her mind; for colour, although it be the most pure and delicate, -frequently hides under its roses the play and change of the -passions. She was now emerging from the sprightliness of the -maiden, into the holy serenity of the matron; and as the mother of -his babes, the knight loved her more than as his young mistress. -Her locks were braided simply over her brow. - -“My own Mabel,” said the knight, “where are thy jewels? Shame on -their beauties that they dread a comparison with the light of those -eyes!” - -“Sir William,” answered the lady with a sigh, “would you have a -widow deck herself with the mimicry of gladness?” - -“Yes, love, in order that she may wile another to take away the -dark veil of her loneliness.” - -“Another,” shrieked Mabel faintly. “Cruel.” - -“Nay,” returned Sir William, “you are not yet a widow;--you are my -wife. Nor will I doubt your constancy when I am gone to the wars. -These” embracing his children as he spoke, “are the pledges of your -faith. But, Mabel, where are the jewels for your forehead? ’Tis -meet that for the banquet you appear among the other ladies as the -most beautiful.” - -“Give my brow a few kisses,” replied his lady, as she threw her -arms around his neck, “these Sir William, are my jewels.” - -“But for thine absence, love, I would have been completely happy -in Palestine, with all the dreams of its former loveliness and -greatness haunting me, beside its still fountains and on its -heavenly hills. Could the breezes of the Holy Land but fan my -Mabel’s cheek as they will do mine, there I could die. But we must -go forth, and greet our trusty retainers. Ho! hither, page, and -lead my children!” - -Lady Mabel took her husband’s arm, and the page followed with the -children. She appeared fonder than ever, and frequently gazed on -the Cross which Sir William wore, with something of pride, but more -of sorrow; and at this, many of the retainers were for a moment -silent, and passed a rough hand across their eyes, to wipe away the -tears which had gathered there. But the minstrel’s lay became loud -and thrilling, and they rushed forward, with less respect than -otherwise, and took their master by the hand. He warmly responded -to this expression of their attachment. He passed them and wandered -on to the highest peak on the range of elevated ground adjoining. -Nature, too, kept her holiday, and revelled in smiles. She was -attired in her richest dress of summer. Her music, filling the -air, was sweet, and echoed from her very throne, amidst the depths -of the grove and vale; and her breath was bland. Before them, and -around them were deep glens, and towering mountains in miniature. -Ay, there seemed to be the miniature of the world itself; for the -prospect of many counties was stretched out, and the far off sea, -with its blue waves, leaping to the sun. - -But night’s curtain fell over the scene, and to it Sir William -then pronounced his farewell, and to ease his heart lifted up his -youngest child in his arms, and fondled him playfully. - -All was song and mirth in the evening banquet. The minstrel assayed -his art, and ladies fair crowded around him, whilst lords gazed -upon their wine-cups unemptied, as they listened to his strains. -He played of the dark eyes, gazing in the pale light of the moon -at the lattice, for the expected lover. But as he met the downcast -and pensive eye of Lady Mabel, he changed his notes, and the harp -tuned the following ditty to her praise. - - Age, quit the strings: a vesper song--all sweet, - Not for the dance, let moonlight’s spirits wake, - With wild, yet modest touch, from snowy feet, - As they fly o’er, with music-shells the lake - Has coloured and attuned, to Mabel fair, - Sounding of happiness beyond all care-- - And let the song be given, - To pure Reserve--the child of heaven. - - In the gay hall of dazzling light, - There is a seat apart from all; - Where radiance, soothing, yet not bright, - And music soft, so gently fall;-- - It is the calm recess:--no nerve - Is needed for the light, and sound; - Such is to love--the heart’s reserve, - Where truth and peace are ever found. - - Reserve is the heart’s own home, - Where music oft for One has swelled, - Where the heaving bosom breathes “come,” - Although the fair hand was with-held - From a stranger: it is the veil - Over Love’s holy temple, I wist, - Through which no bright eyes look a Hail - To any save to the high-priest! - - It gives a dole to the pilgrim lone, - And to him a threshold seat; - It turns an ear to his troubled moan, - And stoops to bathe his aching feet! - But its sanctuary is for one, - For one! Sir William of Haigh Hall, - And Mabel there leads you alone! - Gentles, God’s blessing on you all. - -Mabel arose from her seat, and with her own hands poured forth a -cup of the rosy wine, and placed it in the hands of the minstrel, -as his grateful reward. Meanwhile, the proud dame, Sir William’s -mother, had entered. She motioned him out of the room. He followed -her into the large winding gallery. The window at the eastern -extremity, seemed of the moonshine, and the rays mingled with -the dim light of the tapers. There were all the portraits of his -ancestors, and their faces were turned upon their youthful heir. - -“My son,” said the dame, “thou hast now to leave a mother, a wife, -and a home, for the Holy Land. Gaze upon these faces of your race, -whilst I recount the deeds for which they have been distinguished. -Catch courage, from the tale, and let a mother rejoice in her boy.” - -“Mother,” the knight replied, “I am my father’s son, and I wear my -father’s sword; but more, I am Sir William Bradshaigh! I need not -to seek, at present, courage from the valour of my forefathers. I -have long known their faces, and can sum up their achievements. I -have played here in boyhood, but, in their hallowed presence, never -could I play with any thing save a sword. From all their stern -array of features, I have turned to look upon that sweet lady, who, -so I have heard the worthy friar say, was not one of our race.” - -“My son, wouldst thou know her history? But see here, Mabel has -followed thee. God bless ye both, my children.” - -“Sir William, why hast thou uncourteously left the feast and me?” -asked Mabel, in a fond and chiding tone. - -“Hush, Mabel, our mother is to rehearse the fate of the beautiful -girl.” - -He led them to the middle of the gallery, and pointed to the -portrait of a young female. There was nothing but enthusiastic -beauty and love, beaming on her countenance, and her bosom was -exposed, after the fashion of the times. Her brow was noble and -open, and although the ringlets were thrown back all around, there -was nothing stern; all was so gentle and sweet. Her lips seemed -to open a promised heaven, and the moonbeams flickered around and -gleamed upon them like the fiery cherubim at the gates of Paradise, -to guard the sweet fruit of the knowledge of good and love. There -was a mingled expression of archness and simplicity, and the bright -head seemed to toss itself in coquetry, and deny what the loving -eyes confessed. A light drapery covered the arms, to the elbow, and -the under part was naked, whilst the pretty fingers might have been -thought to be playing with the rays, which danced upon the canvass. -Oh! Beauty! how powerful are thy charms, even by the painter’s art! -Whilst living in thyself, thou commandest the worship of genius, -wisdom, and valour, and all their trophies are laid at thy feet. -Their hand is placed upon the sounding harp, their hand turns over -the records of old sages, their hand is died in blood, only to win -a smile from thee! The Angel of death, is heaven’s painter of thee, -and he sketches thine undecaying form, in the light of our dreams. -And even in the illusion of a noble art, for ages thou receivest -homage, as free from hypocrisy, as from sinister motives, and in -the sigh and the tear, accompanying our glance, thy memory speaks -and moves! - -Sir William and his lady, could have knelt and prayed for happiness -on the fate of that young female, as if it were yet in the future. -Their mother, after a short pause, seated herself opposite, and -began the tale. - -‘When the lion-hearted Richard of England went to the Holy Land, -not a braver and more handsome knight was in his train, than the -youthful De Norris, your grandsire, Mabel. He was accomplished -in all the arts of peace and war. His trophy of the one, is that -Paynim standard, which hangs on the wall in decayed tatters; and of -the other, the love and the heart of that beautiful girl, Magdalene -Montfort, his young cousin. - -‘Her residence, since her orphan childhood, had been the hall, and -William De Norris, her sole companion. Often have they wandered -together in this gallery, by moonlight, and the ghosts of the -warriors of her race, could not frighten their young love.’ - -“Mabel,” softly whispered Sir William Bradshaigh to his lady, “is -not this our own tale?” - -The dame proceeded, ‘He took her to the neighbouring woods, and -there they passed whole days--he the shepherd, and she the rustic -maid. She often sat on his knee, while he combed her long golden -locks. But the crusade inspired in De Norris’s mind, thoughts and -desires for glory. He dreamt of nothing but the lakes and holy -mountains of Palestine, where the daring Richard should pitch his -camp, afterwards to become his court. The cross was ever before -him, and a warrior’s arms were glorious to behold, dipped in the -Saviour’s blood, and consecrated to his cause. Was the licentious -prophet to hold the inheritance of the meek and lowly Jesus? In -vain did Magdalene weep, and by tears and caresses, entreat her -William to stay in his father’s halls. He vowed that the cross must -seal their marriage, and that he would be faithful to his love. -Yet, proud was she, as the morn of parting came, and De Norris -mounted his fiery charger. He was so beautiful and gallant! He had -pronounced the tender farewell, as the trumpets sounded, and his -followers rallied around him. But a sudden thought brightened over -his features, and he spurred back to Magdalene, and sprang from -his steed. - -‘“My own Magdalene, give me thy portrait that hangs in my -apartment, that in my tent, before and after our engagements, I may -think of thee, and implore thy blessing.” - -‘“Nay, William De Norris,” she replied, with a feint sigh, “should -you be faithless, how would that silent resemblance, recall to thee -our past vows, and bitterly chide thee for thy falseness. I would -not even then, give thee uneasiness. But William, think of me as -fondly, as I will of you! Farewell!” and she threw her arms around -him, and wept on his neck. - -‘Cœur De Lion, honoured your ancestor by marks of his favour, and -once embraced him in the royal tent, after a victory, in which De -Norris had distinguished himself. Four years he had been absent, -but Magdalene forgot him not, and as every palmer appeared at the -hall, she kindly led him into her own bower, expecting to hear of -the Holy Land, and her lover. She became sad, and pale, spoke of -none but William, and of nothing but his return. - -‘One evening towards sunset, the family banner was suddenly raised, -for news was afloat that De Norris had returned, and was on his -way to the hall with a bride! Magdalene heard it, and from that -very moment became a maniac. She rushed out to meet him, among the -retainers. - -‘Through the shady wood she beheld De Norris approaching. Banners -were floating over his head; and by his side rode a beautiful -lady, in white bridal robes. They were conversing together, yet -was the knight’s cheek deadly pale, and his lips quivered, as he -cast furtive glances around, which told that he expected to meet -One whom he had forsaken. But trees concealed her. To change his -emotions, he dashed the spurs into his furious steed, in order that -his spirit might be chafed in curbing it, when a loud shriek was -given, and the horse plunged madly on. A rush was made to the place -by his immediate attendants; and on looking back De Norris saw his -own Magdalene prostrate and mangled. He leaped down; a shudder -of despair and frenzy passed over his whole frame, and he flung -himself beside her. He called her by her name, kissed the bloody -brow, and threw back her disordered tresses. - -‘“My own Magdalene, forgive me; still am I thine!” - -‘Her eyes opened upon him. A convulsive heave of her panting -breast, a sudden grasp of her false lover’s hand, and then a -wring of bodily torture followed. The cold sweat of death was -already upon these beautiful features. They were not in the least -distorted. The hoofs of the horse had left their mark on the neck -and bosom torn and bloody! She cast one look upon him, raised her -head, and faintly muttered, - -‘“William--am I faithful? Tell me so.” - -‘She heard not the mad reply, and De Norris spoke to the dead! - -‘His bride had fainted, and was, forthwith, carried to the hall. -Hours had passed, and the retainers dared not approach their lord. -But those stationed at the porch, at length beheld him approach, -with the shattered corpse of Magdalene in his arms. - -‘“My bridal couch! Shew me the way. Dost hear me, knave. Oh no, -what sorry attendants on hymeneal delights!” - -‘His bride met him. She kissed the cold features of the dead, and -forgave the living. William knelt at the feet of his wife, and -sought pardon for his treachery. - -‘Again there were sounds of revelry, and by all, save the -bridegroom, poor Magdalene was forgotten! To a late hour the -banquet and the dance inspired them with pleasure, and wine and -song made them gay and merry. - -‘De Norris and his bride retired to their apartment. The tapers -were extinguished, when a dim and beauteous light filled the room, -and Magdalene stood at the foot of their couch, attired in the -same dress as when William parted from her for the Holy Land. She -stood, her fair hands clasped together, as if earnestly imploring -them for some favour. Her air was slightly reproachful; but deep, -unending love was expressed. De Norris, in tones of horror, -addressed her,-- - -‘“Spirit of my Magdalene, why tormentest thou me and my innocent -bride? I have been faithless, but she saved my life, and how could -I repay her kindness, but with my heart’s love! Still Magdelene I -have not forgotten you--nor can I ever!” - -‘“William,” a low and sweet voice uttered, and De Norris felt a -cold, yet loving kiss, upon his trembling lips--“William, grant me -but one favour, and I will bless you both. My portrait, which hangs -in the gallery, take it down, and every night when you retire to -rest, oh! lay it between you! Do this William, and I am yours in -the other world!” - -‘He started from the couch, and sought the gallery. A strange light -glowed on the portrait. He knelt, and prayed to heaven. Deep peace -descended upon his troubled mind, and he arose, calm and happy. -He took the portrait down, kissed the mimic lips, and then sought -his bridal chamber. Magdalene’s request was complied with most -devoutly, and they were happy; but they did not forget Magdalene. -The retainers affirmed that they had seen her wandering through -the wood, and singing, as in other days, when De Norris was by her -side. Her light step was occasionally recognized, ascending the -corridor, and dancing in her own apartment. - -‘De Norris, to perform fitting penance for his treachery, erected a -Cross, at the eastern gate of Wigan, where Magdalene had often sat, -and there he paid his stated pilgrimages. That, my children, is the -portrait: the light over the features seems prophetic!’ - -Lady Mabel shuddered at the tale, and some dark forebodings crept -over her soul. Yet these were not fears lest Sir William Bradshaigh -should prove false; something more criminal on her part, which she -dared not think of. - -They left the gallery, and once more entered into the mirth of the -banqueting scene. - - * * * * * - -Ten years have passed; and in that epoch, what changes visit man! -Wisely did the ancient dramatists give to tragedy, the unity -of time, the briefness of a day; to denote that a few hours -are sufficient for the developement of awful, and unexpected -consequences! How much more will the lapse of ten years mark the -mutability of every lot, but that of the dead; and the altered -condition of every home but the grave! Time decays not; it is only -man. Speak of “Old Father Time:”--but is his step more sober, than -when he rode over the unformed chaos of earth’s materials, or flew -over the fragrant shade of Paradise? Does his pulse beat more -slowly? Do moments become days; or days, years? - -Ten years have elapsed, and Lady Mabel had arisen early. She sat -alone in a room, which might have been more appropriately called -a cell. Grief had anticipated the silvery touch of time, and grey -hairs were visible amidst her raven locks. Yet, there was the -same sweet and majestic countenance as before. Bathe the human -countenance in heaven’s own dew, or in the gentle and clear stream, -and it will beam joyfully; but bathe it in the heart’s tears, and -it beams so sweetly! She counted her beads, and then looked up -for pardon, as fondly and anxiously as a wife numbers the minutes -before her lord’s return. She heeded not the fragrance which stole -in at the small casement; it neither assisted nor marred her -devotions. The sun was bright, and joyous, still she turned not her -pale face to its cheering influence. She laid aside her rosary, and -sat like a statue of sorrowful thought, if statues can be stamped -with such an expression. At length she slowly arose and looked out -of the casement into the deep wood, and sighed. Overpowered by -disagreeable reflections, she wished to fly from the place, where -she had no other view. But the door refused to give way to her -repeated attempts. It was early noon, and all the day, so long and -weary, must she remain there! She clasped her hands together, and -bitterly exclaimed, whilst she gasped for breath, at the discovery, - -“Gracious heaven! why, am I then a prisoner, and in mine own -mansion! Ha! the very banner of my family waves over this tower, -proudly; and yet I, the mistress of Haigh, must be confined, and -denied the privilege of the meanest servant! It is but just, though -I deserve it not from Sir Osmund. But hush, I hear footsteps. -My soul, rise brave within me, and tell the usurper what he is, -although he may be my--husband,” and she raised an hysterical laugh -at the word, and drew herself proudly up. - -A hasty scuffle was made in the passage, and an angry voice was -heard; it was Sir Osmund Neville’s. - -“Dost hear me, boy! Back to thy crib! Dost wish to suck thy -dam--the wolf? Back--” and a heavy stroke enforced the words. But -no cry of pain was raised; it might have fallen on the wall, but -for the loud laugh of joy, raised by the tormentor. The scuffle -continued, when a weak, but firm voice was heard-- - -“Strike on, Sir Osmund; strike hard. I care not, for I _will_ see -my mother! This is a Bradshaigh’s resolution!” - -“A Bradshaigh!” was the reply, “I have put horns upon the noble -head of the family, and have written Sir William a cuckold, by -marrying Mab!” - -“Hold,--not a word,” returned the boy, in tones fierce and daring, -“a few years make me a knight, and then chastisement for the fat -and cowardly Welsh! Stand back, Sir Osmund, and let me see my -mother.” - -The voice had gradually heightened until all the boy had vanished, -and the accents sounded manly and defying. - -Lady Mabel shrieked, and exclaimed-- - -“My brave boy, the son of his father! Heaven bless and protect him, -to plead my cause, in fitting time and mode, and assert his own -rights!” - -But the voice of the knight became louder and louder, - -“Boy, minion! son of an ape! whose father pretended to bear the -cross, when he should have hung for his villanies, on the highest -in England! Go to my groom, and learn thy duty to my horse. He -reports to me that you are refractory. Well, your wages are due. -Take that, and that, and that,” and thrice the lash fell fiercely -on the noble boy. “Well” he resumed, “dost hear thy mother’s -voice? You know a mother’s shriek; that is her only tone! Oh fond -fool! Well, you wish to see your mother, fillial fool: my strokes -have given you a prettier face than a father’s art could patch up. -Come beautiful child, and shew yourself to the proud gaze of a -mother, on your cowardly father’s birthday.” - -“Cowardly! He would have driven you, Sir Osmund, from this nest. -Cowardly!” - -The door was burst open, and Lady Mabel beheld her eldest son (a -youth of fifteen) dragged in by the Welsh knight, her husband; his -face was bloody, and there were marks of a livid hue on his cheeks -and neck. - -“Mother,” exclaimed the knight, laughing at his -blasphemy,--“mother, behold your son.” He approached, bowed his -unwieldy form in mock reverence at her feet, whilst his sinister -eye attempted to express sarcastic admiration and love. His hair -hung, matted, over his Welsh outline of a face, and his ill-formed -mouth, in smiling, became a hideous gash--gash! - -The boy rushed to his mother, and fondly placed his hand beneath -her chin, to raise her countenance from the knight, kneeling in -mockery. She kissed his forehead, and with her lips wiped off the -blood, and hugged him to her bosom. He was a noble boy, and never -had he crouched to his mother’s husband. - -“Mother, now I am safe.” - -“It is the fool’s birth-day,” said Sir Osmund, as he left his -recumbent posture, “yes, it is, my sweet Mab. Rejoice, rejoice; -shall I send my jester to help thee to a laugh?” - -“If in doing so” replied the spirited boy, “you send away yourself.” - -Once more he was struck to the ground, by the enraged knight. - -“Oh! Sir Osmund”--exclaimed Mabel, “save him! I shall tutor him to -love thee fondly!” - -“That would be a difficult task, dear mother” answered the boy, -with great indifference, as he arose and fixed a stern look of -defiance upon Sir Osmund. - -The knight paced the room in boiling wrath, but his rage dared not -meet the glance of that boyish eye, so powerful is innocence. He -turned abruptly upon Lady Mabel, and said, - -“Harkee, Lady. Here you must be confined; these are my jailors, -four in number, trusty fellows,” and he pulled out four keys, as he -spoke. “Content yourself, good wife, and pray to Sir William to be -relieved from Sir Osmund.” - -Mabel threw herself down on her knees, humbly before him. - -Her locks fell from the slight silken band, which passed across her -forehead, as if to strengthen the power of her supplications. They -concealed the noble expansion of her brow, as if dignity ought then -to be lost in condescension. Her eyes were raised so mournfully, -although no tears were visible. But she might as well have -addressed herself to the stones, and the echoes would have given -a kinder reply. The knight stamped furiously, and impatiently, as -Mabel spoke. - -“Sir Osmund, confine me not here. It is too, too near the picture -gallery, and I have been lately visited by such awful dreams and -sights there, that I shudder. For your own sake, my wedded--nay, -Sir Osmund, I will not speak falsehood; I cannot call you -husband;--Sir William, forgive me!” - -In a moment, she forgot that she was supplicating a favour from the -ruffian knight. Her eyes were turned upon vacancy, but with such an -earnest expression! Her bosom heaved, her lips slightly quivered, -and a strange light gleamed from her eyes. In a hollow voice she -whispered, whilst her hands were clasped together, - -“Spirit of the departed! forgive me for my treachery to thy memory. -No--no; I have not been faithless to thee for ten long years, if -silent and lonely vigils can conjure up what thou wert; if penance -dark and painful can change me to thee, from what I am, to what I -once was! Oh! cannot that which withers all the bloom and freshness -of my youth, on the cold, cold stones, likewise efface every other -name but Mabel Bradshaigh: dear, dear name! Our noble mother was -gone to thee before I consented to be another’s, in name; and even -then, but for our children, thy grave should have been my second -nuptial couch!” - -“Would that you would hasten to its delights, then” interrupted -the brutal knight, as he approached and patted her head in scorn. -“Call on your torch bearers, for Hymen’s light; bid them be quick, -and consummate the ceremony. But to turn from this fine reverie of -your’s, sweet Mab, you must leave this room and follow me into that -frightful gallery. You may then make orisons to all the painted -heroes; and improve yourself so much as to become a holy father. -But, methinks that you are here visited also by strange sights, -and you will have more space, in the other room to fly from them. -Come, not a moment’s disobedience, and there dream of Sir William. -It is his birthday, and he ought to appear unto you, as a matter of -courtesy. And oh, do not be faithless, and treacherous to him! Go -after him, and leave me Haigh! Ha, ha! And as for the young fry, it -matters not where he be confined; he may go to the devil, and dance -on the holiday of his father’s birth. Come Mabel; aye, you may kiss -the boy, wipe the blood from off his face, and he wont pollute the -clear fountains before the porch. Come, sweet Mab.” - -Mabel embraced her son, and followed Sir Osmund into the gallery, -and as he retired she heard the heavy bar secured on the outside. - -Meantime, the boy found his younger brother, and they wandered -forth, together, into the wood. They sat down and gazed upon the -window of the room, where their lady mother was confined, and long -and affectionately they spoke of her wrongs. The younger, clapped -his hands and shouted, as he beheld her handkerchief waving from -the casement; a sure proof that she had observed them. It was a -pleasant day, in the most pleasant season; and soon their young -hearts became free and happy, and they thought of some knight -of romance spurring forward on a black steed, with glorious and -shining arms, to free their mother from her shameful durance. They -found their bows, and gay archers, shot through the wood, making -it resound with their gladness. Oh what a blessing a young heart -is! It has in itself a balm for all its grief! Spring and summer -have many flowers, but childhood and youth have as many hopes; and -they even descend from a mother’s arms into the grave without being -withered. - -They rambled, hand in hand, down the steep hill, which by a -circuitous rout, leads to Wigan. The way was then romantic, and -all around, beautiful glens were lying in the arms of majestic -eminences, and every thing bore the stamp of feudal and chivalrous -days. The Church turrets were seen against the cloudless sky like -the pencillings of Hope, and Charity; whilst the quiet vales were -sprinkled over with tamed lambs. The boys, at intervals, on their -way looked back to the hall of their ancestors, admiring the broad -pendant which floated over the stately tower. At length they -reached the Cross, erected on the outside of Standishgate. There -the town guards were in conversation with a holy palmer. He seemed -to speak little, and only put a few questions. His piercing eyes -glanced from beneath his large cowl. His hands played with the -crucifix which was suspended from his neck; and on his sable cloak -were embroidered Peter’s keys. - -“Here, reverend father,” said one of the guards, “here are Sir -William’s boys; they will shew thee the way to the hall.” - -The palmer started at the words. He eagerly looked upon the boys, -and raising his hands above their heads, implored a blessing. - -“Yes, yes,” they both exclaimed, and took hold of his hands. - -“Is it near the hour of vespers at the Haigh?” inquired the palmer. -“Many, many years have elapsed since they were chanted there in my -hearing. How sweetly the hymn stole up through the little echoes. -Who, then, sat beside me? Ha! who now will? But, boys, how is your -lady mother?” and he waited breathlessly for the answer, with his -eyes intently fixed upon their countenances. - -“Holy father,” the eldest replied, “she is well, but needs comfort.” - -The noble mansion of Haigh was now seen through an opening in the -woods. Long and anxiously did the palmer look thereon; yet his was -not the gaze of a stranger; for many emotions, arising from many -recollections, were marked in the motions of his head. - -“My boys, why does the banner float over Haigh?” - -“It is our father’s birth-day,” was the reply, “and oh, in your -nightly orisons, pray for his gallant soul,--he was slain in -battle.” - -“Slain in battle!” exclaimed the palmer, with a fierceness half -concealed. “Who bore the message:--who told you that you were -orphans?” - -“A friar had shrived the soul of one of his retainers, who -confessed that he had seen his noble master die, and a Welsh knight -confirmed it.” - -The holy men paused, and struck his hand violently against his -breast. - -“But your mother--how did she receive the news of your father’s -death?” - -“Oh, father, do not ask me to think of her sorrows. For a year she -walked not forth with us, as before, to speak of Palestine and him. -We were clasped to her bosom: still we dreaded the embrace, for -there was a violent heaving of her heart, which made us shudder, -and the black, black robes of her widowhood, were close upon our -cheeks: we could not endure her kisses, for, as she raised us to -her lips, tears fell upon our faces.” - -The reverend palmer put his arms kindly around them. - -“Oh,” cried the elder boy, “you pity my mother and us. Heaven bless -your affectionate heart! I was not old enough, when he departed, to -tell him how brave I would be, and perhaps he died in doubts, lest -I might disgrace his name.” - -“Brave boy;” and as the palmer spoke, he took the youth’s hand and -shook it, as a warrior would the hand of his brother, “you will not -disgrace his name. But let us sit down beneath this tree, for I am -wearied with a long pilgrimage.” - -He had before walked slowly, and now proposed to be seated, as if -he wished to delay the time. And who does not pause, when, after a -long absence, he returns home, and fortify his bosom to know the -worst. We dare not open the door, as if that would disclose too -wide a scene to our view; but we gaze in at the small lattice, -just to recognize one object, and know that all is not lost. We -refuse the light of day to shew us home, and eve is the time of our -welcome to all its hallowed joys--if these still survive. - -He took the bow from the hands of the elder boy, and examined it -long. - -“It is my father’s bow,” said the youth, “and, at a long distance, -he could pierce the first arrow with the second. My mother loves -it. See, their names are carved upon it.” - -The palmer laid it down, and leaned against the tree. - -“Father, art thou weary? Alas, Haigh Hall, now cannot afford thee a -shelter. Sir Osmund Neville--” - -“Who is he?” said the holy palmer, starting up. His cowl fell from -his face, and gave to view a calm and manly forehead, with auburn -locks curling on it. It was pale, but commanding. “Who is Sir -Osmund Neville?” - -The boys looked with astonishment. - -“Hast thou been a warrior?” asked the younger. “Thou resemblest -what my mother tells us our father was; and he was a brave warrior. -But, holy man, Sir Osmond is my mother’s--” - -“Husband!”--exclaimed the palmer with a faint shriek. He turned -aside. “Good God!--what a return! My own halls cast me forth. My -wife’s pillow refuses to give rest to my wearied head! Sir William -is a stranger in Haigh! Would that the report had been true. Yet -now I will dare the worst.” He replaced his cowl. “Where is Sir -Osmund?” - -“He is now a hunting, and has confined my mother to an apartment -where none can visit her. He struck me wantonly, but I shall yet -repay him for my mother’s wrongs.” - -“Couldst thou conduct me to thy mother, to give her holy comfort?” - -“Thank thee, heaven thank thee! I know a secret passage to the -picture gallery, where she is now in durance. All the retainers -keep to their duties, and they love me for my father’s sake. They -would not inform Sir Osmund. Come on, holy father, the brow of the -hill is soon passed!” - -They hastened their steps, and soon arrived at the hall. - -“There my mother stands at the window.” - -The palmer gave a quick glance upwards, in the direction, and then -turned away. - -The boys took each a hand, and led him to the left tower, where was -a small entrance, communicating by a long and intricate passage -with the staircase which led to the gallery. Before them, a few of -Sir Osmund’s men were lying, with their faces, broad and bluff, -turned upwards. They were sunning themselves, in imitation of -the cattle in the park, and, certainly, there was no reason why -they should not follow such an excellent example, especially for -kindred’s sake. Their large eyes were shut, but had just as much -expression as when they were open. Their mouth, however, the use of -which they were not altogether so lazy as to abandon, was stretched -out, covering their cans of ale, which, by no common strength of -suction, they were fast emptying. Their breasts were heaving with -the zeal of the application, and the delight of the fermentation. -At length a pause was made. They turned to each other. They spoke -not by words, and yet their thick, ruddy lips, bedewed with the -liquor, were very expressive. A loud laugh followed, which was -feelingly responded to, and prolonged by, the lowing oxen. They -looked round upon the holy palmer, as his steps were heard. - -“Ho!--ho! take a cup,” exclaimed one of them. “Drink on Sir -William’s birth-day, a long health to his ghost! Here,” and he -thrust an empty cup into the palmer’s hand. - -For a moment the holy man’s cowl was raised from his flashing eyes, -as if to make some discovery, and his arm was stretched forth -from the cloak in which he was so closely muffled, with the hand -clenched, and the veins almost leaping through the thin dried skin -which covered them. The next moment, he courteously declined the -Welshman’s proffer. But his cheek was deadly pale, and a livid hue -flitted over his lips. The elder boy started forward, and grasped -one of the short swords lying naked beside the men, and, like their -masters, sunning themselves. - -“Cowards,” the youth white with rage cried out, “insult the holy -man but again, and I shall fill the empty cups with your blood.” - -But his arm was arrested by the palmer. - -“Nay, nay,” said he meekly, “thou art headstrong and rash. But our -Holy Mother inflicts a penance upon these men, for their irreverent -and unbecoming treatment of her humble son and servant. What! -profane wretches, do you laugh? Beware. If this crucifix brand the -curse, woe, woe unto you. Boy, lead them to the penance room, and I -myself will release them. Come.” - -They dared not disobey; for then, every man, noble, or knight, or -menial, was the priest’s retainer. The ministers of the altar were -more powerful than the satellites of the throne, and beneath the -single pall and crosier of the one, lurked a vengeance which could -scathe and destroy the proud tiara of the other. How mysterious and -yet real was the influence concealed in the slightest external of -the Church! - -The Welsh retainers groaned as they were compelled to rise, and -proceed into the dark and cheerless apartment, which, in later -times, served for a dungeon. The palmer turned the key, and -fastened it to his belt. - -“They are safe,” he whispered to himself. They were now met by some -of Sir William’s old retainers, who bowed low to the holy man, and -seemed inclined, by their looks and haltings, to ask concerning -their dead lord. - -Feudal times might be the times of slavery on the part of -retainers, but they were those also of fidelity and strong -attachment. These retainers might be treated as brutes, but if so, -they were treated like dogs, and in return they yielded a service -which no hire could have extorted. Their love for their lord was -powerful, and yet instinctive; their happiness was genuine, and -yet animal,--far from the happiness of man. Their privileges were -extensive; not scullions of the kitchen, they were the genii of the -old halls. Their attachment to places and domains,--was that of -the dog. As they were fond of loitering in old paths, or glancing -at the proud mansion, or seated at the porch, their feelings were -those of that animal, licking every part of the house, and lying -down on favourite spots. And when their lord departed they drooped -and pined; not as men sorrowing. - -These reflections might have been awakened at a sight of the old -servants of the Bradshaigh family, as they gazed so anxiously and -inquiringly. Go to a house where the master has been long absent. -An affectionate dog answers to your knock, and whines so piteously, -and looks so fondly, as if begging to know tidings of him who has -gone. Such was the appearance of the aged retainers of Haigh. - -The palmer blessed them, in low tones, but feelingly, and then -passed on with the boys. - -They crept through the entrance, and were soon threading their way -through the dark labyrinth. They gained the staircase. The palmer -had taken the lead, evidently familiar with the place. He paused, -and listened to the gentle tread of Lady Mabel. He strained his -ears, as if expecting to hear the music of the voice, as well as -of the foot; not for the sake of the future, but of the past. The -setting rays, rich from the golden west, were streaming brightly -on a little lattice, which lighted a recess in the long gallery, -and meeting those which entered by the wide casement, they threw a -dull haze around. They prevented him from seeing distinctly, as he -looked through it; but the fluttering of a white robe, and the soft -motion of a fair hand at the further extremity could be perceived. -At that moment a horse was heard approaching the hall. - -A suppresed shriek arose from within. - -“It is Sir Osmund,” exclaimed the boys. - -“Well,” returned the palmer in firm accents, and he seemed to -unbuckle some of his garments, whilst unconsciously he stamped in -fury. - -The boys tapped at the lattice. - -“Mother, open unto us. Here is a holy priest, and he will comfort -thee. He hath already blessed us, and so kindly. He hath wandered -in far-off lands, and his voice speaks a foreign tale, and speaks -it gently.” - -Her small white hands opened the lattice. - -“Stay for a moment, and the holy man shall be admitted. Long is it, -since religion was allowed to enter mine apartments, to cheer my -sadness; and now it has come to my cell. Cell!” - -The lattice closed. The palmer stood in strange bewilderment. -Her face seemed to be a vision, and her voice a song of other -days, and all--not a dream. And why should _he_ think of other -and former days? Have priests and palmers boyhood and youth? Are -they not trees without a leaf, on which no bird of heaven alights -to charm the solitude? Do they know of the earthly transports of -love and hope? Beautiful is the holy Virgin--but cold and hard -are the stones where they kneel to worship her. And why should -England be the country to excite his feelings? He had travelled -through lands more fair. Greener was the earth’s bosom, and more -beautiful the sky’s face. Why should he be moved at the sorrows of -the noble matron? At the same hour of twilight, when bathing his -wearied feet in the little stream, afar from the glistening tents -on the mountain tops, he had listened to the mournful song of the -wandering Hebrew maid. He had passed by her and laid his hands upon -the high and noble brow blessing her beauty and her sorrows. And -why should he feel the ideal presence of romance, as he looked -upon the woody hills of Haigh. From the gorgeous mosques he had -beheld the Mount of Olives, and the feet of the prophet-girls -dancing there, while their light scarfs were hung, floating on the -trees which crowned the summit, like the garments of angels--the -airy clouds. - -The door was slowly opened. Lady Mabel, as they entered, greeted -her boys, and kindly welcomed the holy man. As he took her extended -hand, a shuddering seized him; he averted his face, and caught a -glimpse of Sir Osmund dismounting, under the casement. For a few -moments, overcome by some strong emotions, he leaned upon his -palmer’s staff. - -Meanwhile, gentle readers, be pleased to shut the door of the -gallery behind you, and walk down, leaning, as gently as possible, -on the Chronicler’s palsied arm. Do not extinguish the light,--else -we are left in total darkness, on the dangerous corridor. Let us -approach to serve the Welsh knight, who is now shouting lustily for -his servants to appear, and take his horse. - -“Ho! my Welshmen,” and he blew his hunting horn; but they appeared -not. - -“My other hounds,” he muttered, as he turned the horse, and lashed -it away to bound forth at perfect liberty, “my other hounds know -the horn. I shall see, presently, if these do not understand the -whip.” - -He entered the porch, and was there met by Parson Cliderhoe. The -knight bowed reverently, and would have passed him. - -“Sir Osmund Neville, will you grant me a short interview, upon a -matter of importance to both of us?” - -“Please your reverence,” rejoined the knight, with a mixture of -humility and haughtiness--“is it to breathe a pater-noster over my -hunting expedition? You cannot return thanks for my success, as I -have run down nothing.” - -Cliderhoe took him by the hand, and led him into a private -apartment. As they entered, Sir Osmund, who was fretted by his bad -luck in the chase, could ill brook the authoritative air which the -parson had assumed; and when he was angry, he usually expressed -himself in light blasphemy. - -“Adam Cliderhoe, although your namesake Adam, was placed at the -head of the creation, and had all power and authority over it, -still, you have not the same, and have, therefore, no right to lead -me about wherever you list. And, reverend father, (by the way, -although you are sworn to celibacy, you have got, by some means or -other, a very large family of children, for every one calls you -father,) you, I say, have the advantage over Adam. Ah! then there -were no church lands. A pretty comfortable place that paradise--but -then he had to work, and it could not afford him a better fleece -than a few dry leaves. Now, father, these are warm robes of yours.” - -“Child, do not blaspheme. You have done very little, you know, to -merit Haigh Hall, and yet you are the owner.” - -“Not altogether,” returned the knight. “There is one exception. -Your very large demands.” - -“We’ll speak of that further, Sir Osmund. Are we safe from ears and -listeners? because these do not suit secrets. Well, be seated,” and -he fastened the door. - -Parson Cliderhoe was then dreaded throughout all the country. By -wiles and deceits he laid a firm hand upon property. But he was as -intriguing as he was avaricious, and his plots had been treasonable -in the highest degree. These would have involved him in utter ruin, -had not gold, that potent being, redeemed him. In consideration of -large sums of money, he had been released from prison, and restored -to his living and life, when both had been justly forfeited. - -He had lately become an inmate of Haigh Hall, and might have been -considered its master. Sir Osmund Neville, it is true, could make -the parson the subject of jest: but the knight, in return, was the -subject of rule and command. To Lady Mabel and the boys, Cliderhoe -paid no attention, either in the shape of flattery or scorn. - -On securing the door, he laid aside his priestly robes, drew -the table back from the view of the window, nearer to the Welsh -knight’s chair, and seated himself opposite. He was of tall -stature, and nature, in this specimen of her architecture, had not -been sparing of materials, although, certainly, she might have put -them better together. If we may be allowed the expression, she had -not counted the cost with arithmetical accuracy. The head bore no -proportion to the other parts, as if her extravagance in these had -caused her to be penurious to that. Although the bones were well -cemented by fat, yet the structure was far from being elegant. It -was difficult to decide upon the true figure; and Euclid himself -must have abandoned the problem in despair. His head, which was -not shaven, but clipped closely, could not be compared to a globe; -neither was it like Atlas’s, between his shoulders. It moved -backwards and forwards with such velocity, and describing such -a large parabola, that one moment it seemed to be a few feet in -advance of the breast, and the next, its retreat was as distant. -His large ears (a true mark of villainy and vulgarity) were left -altogether exposed, stretching their wide shelter over his flabby -cheeks. His legs were not elastic, they might have been glass; -but his arms were electric, and they jerked about at every roll -and wriggle of his mis-shapen trunk. He took large strides, as if -his feet were not friendly to each other, save at the distance -of two yards. His complexion was dark. His eye, when it gazed on -vacancy, was dull; it only became bright from the reflection of -gold. But still, in spite of all these deformities, there was a -conscious power breathed over the appearance of Father Cliderhoe; -and, although villainy, deceit, and guile, are generally allied to -a more dwarfish form, you could not hesitate, upon seeing the man, -to pronounce that he was a habitation for such dark spirits. - -Sir Osmund Neville looked suspiciously towards him, as he sat -silent on his chair, occasionally moving it about, as if anxious -for something which might introduce the subject he wished to be -considered. - -“Father,” said the knight, “the room is but poorly lighted. Shall I -order the chandeliers to be trimmed?” - -“Nay, Sir Osmund,” returned the parson with a hideous leer and -smile; “nay, we have light enough. You could sign your name by this -light, Sir Osmund? I can read my prayers then. Eh? You could sign -your name?” - -“Sign my name!” furiously exclaimed the knight, whilst he arose and -stood upon the hearth. “Sign my name!” - -“Sir Osmund, you are not, surely, ashamed of your name,” meekly -returned Cliderhoe. “A valiant knight is proud of it.” - -“But to what, good father, must I give my name?” inquired the -knight, who, after the flash of first passion was over, thought it -most prudent to be calm, for he knew the character of him with whom -he had to deal. - -“To this little document. Written in a fair clerk’s hand; is it -not? Ah! but you warriors write in blood! Yet, which is most -durable? Read the papers. You appear exhausted, Sir Osmund. Ah! -hunting is so fatiguing; to be sure, to be sure. Who can doubt -it? The couch, brave knight, should receive your wearied limbs -forthwith. Nay, nay, I will not trouble you with listening to these -papers. Just sign your name; a few strokes of the pen, and then you -may retire. I must have a care, brave knight, over your body: you -are so reckless, and should any accident occur, chivalry would lose -its brightest lance, and the church its firmest prop. Sir Osmund, -here is a pen; affix your name below that writing.” - -In speaking, the parson had come nearer and nearer to the chair of -the knight. The latter started, as from the coil of a serpent. - -“Never, never, Cliderhoe:--thou hypocrite,--base born!” - -“Hush, hush,” said the parson, in tones which struck terror, from -their very whisper, into the knight’s soul, “do not give me any -more names than my natural father, and my spiritual mother the -church, have conferred. Beware. _I have never absolved one sin -against myself, during a lifetime! Beware!_” - -Sir Osmund took the papers. His eye glanced quickly over them. He -laid them aside, and arose to leave the room. - -“Father Cliderhoe, next time make proposals a little more -extravagant, and you shall precede me in my exit from this room!” - -“Well,” thundered forth Cliderhoe, “bid adieu to Haigh Hall. Your -rejection of my proposal makes it necessary. But hear me, before -you go to ruin. I would yet spare you. Without my favour, you never -can lay claim to one tittle of this property. Hush, come hither,” -and he whispered earnestly, and smiled as he saw Sir Osmund’s cheek -grow pale. - -“What!” Sir Osmund exclaimed, “Sir William was not slain! Then he -may return?” - -“He may--he may; nay, he _will_! Haigh Hall is too goodly a mansion -for him to leave to strangers. False was the word which reported -him dead. But sign this document, giving to me the half of the -estate--and let him return--we are safe. The pilgrim shall find a -resting place, though I should be compelled to take my sword, and -secure it for him. Sir Osmund, there’s light enough to sign the -name. You are a knightly scholar; spell it quickly, else, you know, -you know. Every letter will be a security against Sir William. Ha! -the large O of your christian name will be his grave!” - -Sir Osmund complied, and Father Cliderhoe added, - -“Now, knight, you must get Lady Mabel’s name too. I’ll come in an -hour--have her signature by that time. Adieu for the present, Sir -Osmund.” - - * * * * * - -Let us return to the gallery. We have already noticed the -overpowering emotions which shook the frame of the palmer, as he -turned from Lady Mabel, and his eye fell on Sir Osmund, dismounting -at the porch. - -“Holy pilgrim,” said the lady, “thou art fatigued, Be seated. -Alas! now, Haigh Hall is no home for the weary and the aged;--aye, -not even for its lawful owners. For me, it is now a cell. In other -days, there was not a room, however dark and gloomy--so happy was -I,--that I did not call my bower. Then you would have found rest -and refreshment, and your blessing in return, might have been felt -to be no mockery. Now, the ministers of religion and charity are -driven forth. But where hast thou been wandering?” - -A long gaze, and a short verbal answer was the reply, - -“Lady,--in the Holy Land.” - -Mabel’s paleness, which had hitherto expressed so beautifully her -resignation to sorrow, was now indicative of that breathless fear -which longs to know more of danger and evil, or good and happiness; -and yet dares not. Its sweet light seemed doubtful whether or not -it should be turned upon the palmer to know more. She shaded her -face, whilst in low and trembling accents she meekly inquired, - -“And in all thy wanderings didst thou ever hear of a gallant -English knight, who fought beneath the banner of the Holy Cross? He -was once the lord of this mansion, and my--” - -“Brother?” interrupted the palmer, in a tone of melancholy, mingled -with scorn and severity, as he supplied the word “your brother?” - -“Brother!” exclaimed the lady, “no, no. Nearer he was than the -twin brother of infancy, childhood, and youth. Yes, for we were -ever One,--One! Holy Father, thou knowest not the meaning of these -words; but every moment I have realized their truth. The marriage -of the heart, no earthly ceremony can constitute. Our relationship -was formed in heaven, and Heaven dropped down bands upon the holy -altar, to encircle and bind us to each other for ever and ever.” - -“For ever, lady, dost thou say? And who dropped Sir Osmund’s bands -upon the altar? Nay, noble lady, be not offended, for I know that -all affection is changeable, and short-lived, dying with a glance -or a word; and husband is but a fashion, which to suit your taste -may be changed, like any other part of your apparel. Changes are -pleasant. Sir William to-day, Sir Osmund to-morrow! Woman’s love is -not like man’s. Man’s love is the sea, infinite and exhaustless. -It may ebb, and its sands be discovered, but soon the wave rolls -over, and again there is the mighty deep. Far down, in unfathomable -waters, are the crystal caves, for the heart’s whispers and -embraces. Woman’s love is the streamlet. Bathe in its pure waters -to-day;--return to-morrow, and it is dried up. Let the husband -leave his halls, and in ten years he is forgotten, and his spirit -would be driven from his own hearth!” - -Mabel’s eye had flashed with indignation, and her majestic form had -become erect, and commanding. There was the proud heaving of her -bosom, and the compressed resolution of her lips. But all symptoms -of anger passed away, as a sigh escaped the palmer, and as his hand -was raised to brush away a tear. - -“Holy man, these words are unkind; they are not the balm of -comfort. I have not been faithless to Sir William. He is enshrined -in my heart still, the holiest earthly image, which death alone can -break. And oh! in penance how I worship him now, as sincerely as -once I did in joy. Gaze upon all the little knolls of green, where -we sat together, on summer days. I know them, and there I have -gone, and asked pardon of my beloved, many a cold and dreary night. -But here, in this room, I suffer agonies which might atone even for -a wife’s infidelity to a living lord. The night before he left for -the Holy Land, our noble mother told us of an ancestor’s perjury -to the maiden of his troth. That is her portrait, holy father, on -which you are gazing. In my waking moments, for past weeks, I have -seen Magdalene Montfort (that was the beautiful maiden’s name) -walking with Sir William. They were both sad, and looked upon me -scornfully, for my treachery. They had been unfortunate, and, -therefore, were in each other’s company. I knew that it was but -fancy, but it had all the power of reality. Oh! is not this penance -enough! But, say, holy palmer, didst thou ever see Sir William -Bradshaigh?” - -The palmer sighed and shook his head. “Many a gallant knight I have -known, who never reached his home. Some died, others were reported -to be dead, and their noble heritage, aye, and their beautiful -wives, became the property of strangers.” - -“_Reported_ to be dead! Reported! Were they not dead? Was _he_ not -dead?” - -“Mabel. Mabel Bradshaigh--_is_ he dead?” - -And the palmer’s cloak was removed, and there stood Sir William -Bradshaigh! - -“Come to mine arms, my faithful wife, dearer to me than ever. Come! -Thank God that we meet, never more to part. Awfully have our dismal -forebodings, the last time we were in this gallery, been fulfilled.” - -“Sir William--reject me. I am unworthy. Nay, let me kneel at thy -feet.” - -“Both together then, and at the feet of the Most High. Hush, Mabel, -here come the children. My boys, do you not know your father? Kiss -me. _I am_ your long-lost father.” - -After the embrace, the boys exclaimed in terror, “Sir Osmund comes.” - -Lady Mabel shrieked. Sir William unloosed a garment which was -closely wrapped round him, and unfurled a Paynim standard which his -arm had won. - -“Stay, Mabel, I escape here, by this door. My old servants will -rally round me. Yet no, I cannot leave thee defenceless. William, -my brave boy, fly with this to my servants. Tell them that Sir -William is returned. Bid them arm for me. Haste.” - -The boy disappeared through the concealed door, and Sir William -stationed himself beside his lady, his sword drawn. - -“Ho, lights,” exclaimed Sir Osmund. “Must I fall, and break my -neck? Mab, take hold of my hands, and bring me to thee.” - -The next moment he entered. But the twilight was so shady, that he -saw not the presence of the returned knight. - -“Mab, sign this paper. Cliderhoe, come hither.” - -“Here’s one,” replied Sir William, “who can do it. Ruffian, do you -know me. I am Sir William Bradshaigh.” - -“Indeed,” sneeringly responded the parson. “You have got the name.” - -“And the sword, thou hypocrite.” - -“Very likely,” was the retort, “very likely. That proves thee a -thief, and not Sir William.” - -“Sir Osmund Neville, I challenge thee to deadly combat for the -wrongs thou hast done me, and for thy cowardly and cruel treatment -to Mabel and our children. Come forth, else I will smite thee to -the death. Equal weapons, if thou willest: if not, I will stab thee -where thou standest.” - -He rushed forward as he spoke, but instantly the door was secured -on the outside, and he and Lady Mabel were alone. The wily parson -and the Welsh knight had fled. The door resisted both foot and -sword, and stubbornly refused to give way to any forcible attempts. -Sir William distinguished the clattering of hoofs in the distance -becoming fainter and more faint, and he burned for the pursuit. -Mabel led him to the window, and gazed long and fondly upon his -noble features. Age had scarcely touched them. The bloom of youth -had, indeed, passed away, but there was the calm and mellow hue -of manhood. The locks were not as profusely clustered over his -brow as before, but the expansive forehead was more dignified -when unshaded. Tears came into her eyes, for, although he was but -slightly changed from the husband of her youth, and although no -feature was a stranger, still she thought why should she not have -been allowed to witness all the daily changes effected upon him. It -is painful, after a long absence, to return to the home of other -days. It is no longer a home; for new inmates have introduced new -arrangements. Humble may have been the household gods: only an -old chair standing in a corner, and a small table at the patched -window; yet they were the gods of the heart, and, although they -may have been replaced by the most costly and splendid furniture, -we refuse to call the house our home. Cover the bird’s nest with -leaves of gold, and after its flight and wanderings, would it then -take up its abode any more than it would although there were no -nest at all? But more painful is it when the loved one has changed. -The features may be more beautiful than before, but if all their -former peculiarity be gone, they are those of a stranger; and -as we would refuse to cross the threshold, much more to sit down -in the house, once our home, but now altogether changed, so we -cannot take hold of the hand, we cannot kiss the lips, we cannot -embrace the form of that one, once the idol of our heart, but now -a stranger. But Lady Mabel’s feelings were not akin to these; -although they were painful as well as extatic. He whom she now -gazed upon was Sir William Bradshaigh, every look, every movement, -every accent told her. Soon, however, loud steps were ascending the -corridor, and louder shouts announced them. - -“Sir William! Sir William! welcome to Haigh Hall!” - -The bar was removed, and a cordial greeting took place between the -returned palmer and his faithful retainers. - -“Thanks, thanks my men. But the cowardly knight has fled. Help me -to horse! Haste! Mabel, my love, I return as soon as the wretch is -slain. Thou art more beautiful than ever, my own wife. But how can -you love the aged palmer? Farewell, Mabel.” - -Proud were the retainers, when their lord stood among them with his -sword. - -“Now,” as he mounted his steed, “follow me not. Alone I must be -the minister of vengeance. Hark! the Welshman’s horse has gained -the eminence. There is the echo of his hoofs. He must be passing -the steep descent.” - -He dashed his spurs into the flanks of his horse, and without a -curvet or a vault, it bounded forward. The influence of twilight is -mysterious, both upon man and beast. It gives speed and energy to -body as well as mind. In advance before him, there was a part of -the horizon beyond the trees which seemed rings of molten gold. The -sunset had not yet left it. Against its bright and radiant surface, -in haste, a horse plunged on. The rider, Sir Osmund, was lashing -it, for the motions of his arm were seen. The next moment it had -passed. Sir William furiously spurred his steed through the dark -wood, and, as a flash of his eye was shewn by some concealed light -of the sky bursting upon it, he seemed the very spirit of revenge -riding on the storm. His horse’s head was stretched forward, -eagerly and impatiently. He himself crouched down to the very mane, -and his eyes gleamed wildly upon the place where he supposed the -Welsh knight would be passing. - -Swiftly did the noble courser paw the leaves, strewn on the path, -and soon he reached the highway, steep and rugged. The lights were -now reflected from Wigan, upon the air around. He drew near the -gate. The guards started up with their torches, and fixed them -against the wall. - -“Stay, who art thou?” and they presented their halberds, whilst -they seized the reins of his horse. “Who art thou, thus pursuing -Sir Osmund Neville to the devil? He’ll lead thee wrong.” - -“Stay me not, I am Sir William Bradshaigh.” - -They started back. They had heard of spectre horsemen, who rode so -furiously, and they trembled. Taking advantage of their terror, he -struck up their halberds with his sword. The gate was open, and he -spurred through. A few of the townsmen who were loitering at their -doors, and in the streets, shouted after him; but none attempted -to prevent his course, and soon he had left Wigan far behind. The -moon arose brightly; he leaned forward anxiously, and thought that -he could descry the object of his pursuit, long before he heard the -hoofs of the steed. But soon, he had both heard and seen him. Fleet -was the Welsh knight’s courser, but that of Sir William gained at -every turn in the road, and their voices were heard by each other, -urging them on. Sir Osmund at an angle, avoided the highway, and -leapt his horse over into the large park, at Newton. Sir William -followed, and soon the sword of Bradshaigh revenged his own, and -Lady Mabel’s wrongs. - -The dead knight was thrown from his horse, as it dashed on. As soon -as the deed of vengeance was over, Sir William’s enthusiasm began -to leave him. While in the act of striking, the happiness which -should now be his of once more being the lord of Haigh, the husband -of his Mabel, and the father of his gallant boys, passed vividly -before his mind, and forbade him to spare. But when the blow was -given, so strange is man’s nature, all these prospects faded. He -seemed to feel that now he had agreed to a miserable compact. -He almost wished that he had never returned to claim the little -which was left. Death as the arm of vengeance, could not bring him -back the past, although it had taken away the cause of change. -Sir Osmund Neville lay lifeless before him, never more to claim -ought;--but polluting traces were upon all he held dear. As long -as Mabel lived, there lived also the evidences. Nay, when she must -die, and repose along with him in the tomb, calumny might say, “it -was not always thus, for, side by side, when alive, she lay with -another.” As long as Haigh Hall stood, the family disgrace would -survive. - -He writhed in agony at the thought. - -“Mabel,” he exclaimed, as if she were present, “I cannot forgive -thee! Thou hast been faithless. I must touch thy hand, and know -that it was another’s, long after it had been pledged in love, -and given in marriage. Thy couch a ruffian’s kennel! This Welsh -bullock’s blood cannot wash out the stains which rest upon my name. -Oh! can it even purify my Mabel’s lips? Whenever they touch mine, -I feel that they have been polluted. My children alone survive for -me. Ha! merciful God, thanks unto thee, thanks most sincere, that -Mabel has no children, who cannot call me father. But when I call -her wife, methinks this Welshman’s spirit comes between us, and -breathes the same word;--and to whom will she then cling?” - -The air was balmy, and the moonshine rested gently upon the green -meadows where he stood, and lambs, aroused from their slumbers by -the prancing of the horses, bounded past him. But they bleated -not to disturb the silence, and Sir William heard the violent -beating of his heart. Gradually, however, he relapsed into a state -of tranquility,--not the tranquility of joy, but of deep grief. -And as before, when under the excitement of intense revenge, he -spurred his steed to keep pace with his fiery spirit, so now, when -his feelings were different, he curbed the animal to a slow walk, -as he began to return. But he soon discovered that it was jaded -and weary, from the speed of the furious pursuit. He dismounted, -and led it for a mile or two. In the distance, so flat was the -surrounding district, then unbroken, save by towers and halls, -rising aginst the pure silvery vault of the moonlight sky, he -beheld lights in his own mansion at Haigh. He thought that he heard -sounds of mirth borne thence on the airy breezes. - -“_She_ may rejoice,” he bitterly said, “but can I? She may be -merry, for I return the same, as when I departed, ten long years -since; though beautiful maidens there have been, who tried my -fidelity in Palestine. Ah! this night has made me an old man! Would -that my days had been spent amidst the holy tombs at Jerusalem, -and I might there have prayed for Mabel, my Mabel, all ignorant of -her frailty. But I must remount my steed. Poor Mabel, she has done -penance for me, and cannot that atone? Forgive her? Yes, and she -shall receive my blessing in a few minutes.” - -He vaulted upon his horse, but in vain did he spur and lash. The -animal staggered, and but for great caution, would have fallen. -He again dismounted, and slowly led it to Wigan. The lights in -the town were extinguished. He passed the church. He stood, for -a moment, to gaze upon the venerable structure. The clock was -striking the hour of one, and within the low and grey cloisters, -which are now destroyed, a late vesper was tuned. The notes seemed -to be sung by some virgin-spirits. Heaven bless those whose sweet, -sweet voices are heard by none else, for oh, none else can bless -them; whose soft knees which a gallant husband might have gartered -oft and oft, in pride and sport, bend on the cold stones, at no -domestic altar, through the long night. - -What a holy calm fell upon Sir William’s troubled spirit! - -“Here Mabel and I may sleep peaceably together in death, if we -cannot in life. God bless our union then. No blood will be the seal -of the renewed covenant. If we cannot live happily now, since she -has been--no, I cannot say faithless, but oh! frail, frail;--why -the grave may hush our discords.” - -He turned into the Hall-gate, with the purpose of leaving his horse -at an hostelrie, for he knew that it could not proceed to Haigh -hall forthwith. He still kept his eye upon the holy place, when he -was suddenly seized by two armed men. They were the sentries of the -gate. - -“So, nightingale,” exclaimed the stoutest, “we have caught thee. -Resist not. We have orders to bear thee to the Mayor, and, by and -by, you may expect to be caged.” - -“Stand back, knaves, and keep your distance. What would ye with me?” - -“Aye, aye, bold enough,” was the reply. “Thou art the horseman who -passed our fellows at the other gate, in pursuit of Sir Osmund -Neville. They called thee a ghost. Ho, ho. But” and he brought -the lamp which he carried to bear closer upon the person of Sir -William; “here is blood, blood. Come in, else we strike thee to -the ground.” - -It was in vain, the knight saw, to remonstrate; vainer still, on -account of his weakness to assault. He gave his horse to the charge -of one of the guards, who soon obtained accommodation for it; and -allowed himself to be conducted, without resistance, to the house -of the mayor. - -At that moment his worshipful worship was fast asleep, all save the -nose, which buzzed as if it were filled with flies. His slumbers -were so deep that his worthy rib might have been taken from his -side without his knowledge, and a noted shrew given to some man. -But, gentle reader, why hast thou broken into the Mayor’s house, -and entered the private chamber of him and his dear spouse? Let us -make a speedy retreat, else we may be tried for burglary. - -The house stood solitary, and at the door two halberds were bravely -stationed, either to assist or repel thieves or murderers. The -guards knocked; after a short interval, voices in loud dispute, -were heard, and a window on the second story was thrown up. A long -bright sword, slowly peeped out of it, very politely inquiring what -was wanted! A female head (the gender was known, _a priori_ by -the cap on it; and _a posteriori_ by the volubility of the tongue -within it) followed, and after reconnoitering for some length of -time, good substantial shoulders ventured out to assist the head. - -“Madam,” humbly said one of the guards, “is my Lord Mayor at -liberty, to examine this man, whom he gave orders to take into -custody and bring hither?” - -The sword was brought into a dangerous line with the anxious -inquirer’s head; but he started more at the shrill voice which -greeted him. - -“Impudent rascals, begone. At liberty! No,” and she exhausted -a pretty good stock of abuse which she had acquired with all a -woman’s skill, and expended with all a woman’s generosity. - -“Yes, yes,” exclaimed another voice, without a head however, “I am -at liberty.” - -The sword was drawn in, and it remains a matter of doubt until -this day, whether it was not called upon to exercise its functions -against the last speaker. At least the noise of a considerable -bustle was made, which ended in the door being opened; and Sir -William, with the guards, was shewn into a room by a servant boy. - -An hour had almost elapsed before the wig had been arranged, and -the spectacles disposed on the frontispiece of the Mayor, so -properly as to allow him to be seen. He entered with a slow step to -convey notions of a solemn dignity, and a pretty strong calf was -by no means a bad interpreter. After mounting the glasses on the -higher regions of the head, he rubbed his eyes as hard as if they -were flint, and as if he wished them to strike light, in order -to enable him to see. His face was good-humoured, and had no more -expression than a well-stuffed pudding. He then looked gravely upon -Sir William, when the knight addressed him, - -“Why am I brought here? I had no desire to be regaled with a breeze -of thy far sounding nose,” (the mayor, be it observed, was snoring -even then) “nor to behold thee in undress.” - -The Mayor started at the sounds of the knight’s voice; - -“Sir William Bradshaigh thou art. It was no ghost. I know thee -well; and no wonder that thou pursued the Welsh knight. Where is -he?” - -Sir William slowly unsheathed his sword, all bloody. - -“That is the best answer; is it not intelligible?” - -The worthy Mayor held up his hands in nervous terror. - -“Come up with me to my own apartment, Sir William. We must consult -upon your safety. You will be outlawed for murder. Come, and allow -me to introduce you to my lady. She wont frighten you as she -does--.” - -The look which accompanied the pause and omission well supplied the -personal pronoun. - -“You cannot return to Haigh Hall until the morning. Guards, you may -depart. Do honour to Sir William.” They raised a loud shout, which -brought the lady down in a quick dance. - -Early in the morning, after an hour’s sleep, Sir William left the -Mayor’s house. It was dull and rainy, and his spirits were more -melancholy than on the previous evening. There was none of that -longing desire to see a home and a wife, although for many years -they had both been strangers. The atmosphere was oppressive. -Nature had neither beautiful sights, nor fragrant scents to please -him. The street was muddy, and the houses were darkened with the -overhanging clouds. - -He had passed the gate leading to Standish, when his attention was -arrested by a female kneeling at the Cross which De Norris had -erected. She looked upwards with an eye of sorrow, and prayer. -He started as he recognized the beautiful features of Mabel -Bradshaigh. Heedless of the rain, and exposed to the cold, she had -assumed the lowly posture. He heard the words breathed earnestly, - -“Oh! heaven, and Sir William, forgive me, and accept of this my -penance!” - -She raised herself as his steps were nearer. What deep delight, -tinged however with penitence, glowed on her countenance as she -beheld her returned lord. - -“Thank heaven! but oh! let me kneel to thee. Wilt thou forgive me, -Sir William? This cross, was raised by a faithless ancestor to the -shades of the maid whom his perjury had destroyed, and here I must -do penance thus. But oh, look not upon me, exposed as I am,”--and -she blushed as her eyes fell upon her naked legs and feet. - -“Mabel, this penance is cruel to both of us. What! those beautiful -legs, and small feet, must they trample upon the mud and the -stones! Remember, Mabel, that I will wash them myself this morning, -in the fountain. Nay, no more penance.” - -“It must not be, Sir William. I have made a vow that every week I -will travel thus, from Haigh, to this Cross. And oh, do not prevent -me;--you must not, otherwise I cannot be happy in your company. -Penance is necessary for love injured.” - -Mabel spoke the truth. Injured love requires it, though it only be -paid with a tear, a sigh, or a sorrowful look. Yes, penance, thou -art holy, and necessary; for where is the love which is not injured? - -All the discontent and melancholy of Sir William passed away. -He loved Mabel more fondly than ever, even for the self imposed -penance. She might have decked herself in splendid attire to meet -her lord, but the lowly garb secured his affections more firmly. -The rich sandals of the time might have confined her feet, but -naked as they were, Sir William gazed more proudly upon them. - -They walked on together. Mabel knew Sir Osmund’s fate, by the very -air of Sir William, but she questioned him not. A full bright cloud -now began to widen and widen over the stately towers of Haigh Hall. -Sir William in silence pointed to it as a happy omen, and as its -deep tints were reflected upon the structure, glory and fortune -seemed to hover over it. They were passing a narrow winding, into -the plantations, when their younger boy rushed forth. - -“Father, father, bless your little son.” - -“Hugh, my beautiful and brave boy, dost thou know me?” - -The knight looked oft, in sorrow as well as pride, on the boy’s -countenance; it was so delicately fair, that the very life seemed -trembling on it. - -“Father, I could die this morning, I am so happy.” - -The knight started. - -“Die! my little Hugh. No, no, you will live to be a warrior.” - -Loud were the acclamations raised by the retainers, as Sir William -and his lady appeared. A whole week was devoted to festivity and -merriment, and all were happy. - -Regularly every week, Mabel repaired barefoot and bare-legged -to the Cross, which still stands associated with her name. The -penance gave happiness. For months she had her sad moments, and -Sir William, with all his love and attention, could not wile -away the dark spirit of grief and remorse. But, by degrees, time -and religion banished the evil spirit, and even in her solitary -moments, no longer did it haunt her. - -In a few weeks after the brave knight’s return, little Hugh -Bradshaigh was taken from earth. One morning, as the sun was -shining brightly, and the birds were merry of note, his mother went -to awake him to receive her blessing; but he had already received -the blessing of angels, and Jesus:--he was dead. The treatment -and the sorrows which had befallen him, in his former years, had -been too much for his young soul; and as a bird, which has with -difficulty braved the sternness of winter, dies when genial spring -comes, with its blossoms and hymns, and its last note is faintly -raised from its green bed of leaves, up to the laughing sky; so, as -soon as happiness visited him, little Hugh pined away, as if every -touch, every voice of affection raised him from earth. So strange -is life, that he might not have died so soon, but for his father’s -return. Yes, affection kills the mournful young. Every gentle -stroke, as his mother sheds the fair hair of the boy, is a touch -of death; languid and slow, but sure. Hugh Bradshaigh’s pillow -was, ever after, unpressed by any head, and for hours Sir William -and his lady sat by the little white couch, as if his spirit were -there. - -He lay in no cloister, chancel, or vault. Verdant was his grave. An -evergreen was the curtain of his little bed, and the feet of birds -were all that trod upon the flowery sod. - - * * * * * - -Reader, wilt thou for the sake of the aged Chronicler, pay one -visit to “Mab’s Cross?” If so, go at earliest morn, or latest eve, -and all noise and bustle being hushed, your thoughts may pass over -centuries, and return invested with the remembrance of Magdalene -Montfort, and Mabel Bradshaigh. The cross stands apparently no -greater object of interest, than an indifferent structure of three -stones. Yet, when the beautiful Mabel did penance there, flowers -were growing around its sides. And even, for four generations -after, a small plot of grass was trimmed and cultivated around it. -But when Wigan became the seat of the civil wars in Lancashire, -Mab’s Cross being considered as a popish relic, a tooth of the -beast, suffered at the hands of Roundheads. It has since been -reconstructed, but stands entirely destitute of ornament, on or -around it. - - - - -LANCASTER CASTLE - -[Illustration] - -“A TRADITION PREVAILS THAT THIS FORTRESS HAD BEEN PREVIOUSLY TAKEN -BY CROMWELL, AND THAT HE PLANTED HIS CANNON ON A CIRCULAR MOUNT -AT THE SOUTH-WEST SIDE OF THE TOWN, ON HILL MEADOW.”--_Baines’s -History of Lancashire._ - - -Well does Lancaster deserve the name which the Romans gave to -it, of the green city; and the beautiful scenery, for many miles -around, may be considered as its delightful gardens. There are -no huge rocks frowning, like tyrants, in the country which they -have ruined, and blighting with sickness and poverty, all that -is healthful and rich. Such mountain scenery only affords an -observatory, whence we may gaze into the distance, upon other and -more charming spots,--the home-glens of the happy and free--where -every noise, even of the world, is hushed into sweetness, and -the forest of the recluse and the hunter, where light and shade, -all the day, agree to make a religious twilight. Often has the -wanderer, on the majestic hills of Cumberland, looked down in -rapture upon the north coast of Lancashire, stretching out like a -gentle surface and web of ether, on which, at sunset, the shades -fall, as if they were kindred to each other. - -Nor is the scenery around Lancaster tame. There are beautiful -eminences, which may be termed the voluptuous breasts of Nature, -on which thin mists from the river float for a covering. Amidst -all the undulations of the glens also, harsher features may be -seen, which the deep woods have not altogether concealed. At the -distance of five miles from the town, there is a rugged mountain, -at the foot of which a cave, called Dunald Mill Hole, formed of -natural rock, and vaulted with great strength, may well attract -the curiosity of the stranger. A brook falls into it;--in one part -it forms a terrific cascade, and in another, small lakes in the -cavities. Above it, on a cliff, stands a mill, to which a neat -cottage was attached. In the vale below, sheep were browsing, and -no human feet ever disturbed the solitude, except those of some -wandering patriarch coming to Dunald Mill upon business, or walking -out, on Sabbath eve, in a holy, contemplative mood, and treading -gently for the sake of the flowers, which taught him of the Great -Being who gave them beauty. - -But why should we speak of beautiful scenes, when civil war has -been let loose, and when the dew, falling there at morn and -night, is blood, the blood of brethren? Cannot spring and summer -be barren, when they are only to weave garlands for war? Why speak -of a delightful retreat, when the tramp of soldiers, the clash of -arms, and the fierce engagement have chosen it for their theatre? -Let the altar of home be dashed down, when it can no longer give a -shelter to the holiest worshiper! Let the holy shade become a waste -heath. Oh! if war is a game which must be played, let it be in -large cities. There its ravages may please the Antiquary of after -ages. The mark of a cannon ball may become and dignify the noble -fortress, and the splendid palace; but, when it is found on the -wall of a white cottage, it is sad and disfiguring. Curse him who -launched it there! Send forth soldiers among the rabble and mob of -a town; but keep them from the patriarchs of the vale. - - * * * * * - -A dark September evening had even darkened the beautifully -white-washed cottage of Hans Skippon, which stood at the distance -of a few feet from Dunald Mill, where, in happy content, he earned -his bread, by grinding it for others. The loud fury of the tempest -had silenced the flowing of the Meerbeck, which turned the mill, -and the changing noise of the cascade, which it incessantly formed -as it fell into the deep cave below, at the foot of the mountain. -Nature seemed to be acting the part of an arrant scold, who first -puts all the fretting children to bed, and then commences the storm -herself. The spray which had gathered on the brook was driven -against the window by continual gusts, and, occasionally, angry -and sullen growls of thunder rolled up the wide and sweeping glen, -against the eminence. The thunder might have been a fearful angel -speaking to the wind a rebellious mortal. Had Hans’ mill been put -in motion by all the “Lancashire Witches,” with their own tongues -to boot, as the worthy miller himself remarked, the noise would not -have been heard amidst the wrath of the tempest. - -Hans and his dame were snug within. They crept close to the fire, -which blazed upon the clean hearth, but closer to each other. They -were well advanced in years. They were older than the cottage that -sheltered them: it had been built when they were made man and wife. -But no change had been wrought by time upon their affection, and -Rachel could gaze upon the furrowed countenance of her husband, -with as much fondness as she had ever displayed when it was -smoother. Nay, we ought to have said with more, because three times -a day she induced Hans to wash off the meal and flour, which was -plentifully sprinkled there, in order that she might be proud of -his natural appearance. - -“The white flour, my dear Hans,” she would say, as she gave him a -salute, “covers all the red flowers of your cheek, and, although -the first is good for the teeth, the second is better for the -lips,” and she smacked her lips with great relish. - -On the present occasion, however, his face was just as it had left -the mill, and no white sweep could look more enticing. But Rachel, -by and by, assisted him in his ablutions, as, to her imagination, -heightened by the loud raging of the storm, he appeared rather -frightful previously. She had drawn him towards a small mirror -at the window, to satisfy himself, when a furious gust drove the -latter in. They started. An awful flash of lightning gleamed into -the room! - -“Hans, what a night! Blessed be God that we are alone. We see each -other, and know our fate. Had we been blessed with children, as we -often, often wished, aye, prayed to Him who ruleth all things, they -might have been abroad at this very hour. At least they could not -all have been here. God is merciful, even in his trials.” - -“He is, Rachel. Let us take a seat beside our comfortable hearth. -Well, well, I never knew what the word window meant before. It -signifies, I suppose, a place for the wind to come in at. Some of -the old witches, who were executed at Lancaster, on the day of our -marriage, may have come to the cave, to raise such a squall. The -mill is safe, and so is this house. But oh, how many there will be -who are shelterless!” - -They again sat down, and, for a time, their conversation was -inaudible. The wind raved louder, and went to the highest note -in the maniac gamut. At intervals, when the storm subsided into -low meanings, and dying sounds, the lightning flashed vividly, -as if the glances of nature were still angry, although her voice -was hushed. The miller and his dame crept closer together. When -they could not speak, they listened to the wind tremblingly, like -children over some fireside tale of terror. Rachel rested one hand -upon her husband’s shoulders, and the other, sometimes, sought his -neck. Both shuddered, as they turned their eyes to the window, but -had perfect confidence when they gazed upon each other’s face, -illuminated by the cheerful light of the hearth. There is magic -in that blaze to man and wife. Not even sunset, with its gorgeous -hues lighting up the window beside which they sit, much less the -soft artificial rays thrown from the finely polished marble of the -ceiling, can reveal the same sources of inexpressible domestic -happiness! Wealth, laugh not at the affection of the poor. Love is -within the breast, and flutters not on spangled garments of costly -quality and workmanship, or haunts palaces. Love dwelt with the -first pair, when they were driven from Paradise, and were only -covered with leaves. The language of the poor to you may appear -rude; but there are some to whom it is music, as sweet as it is -sincere. Their touch to you may appear hard, but there are some -who thrill under the beating of its every pulse. And youth, laugh -not at the affection of the aged, for the heart is never leafless -and sapless! When they are about to step into the grave, they walk -closer together, and every movement is an embrace. - -Accordingly, no young couple could have been more loving than Hans -and Rachel Skippon, and the storm led them to speak of their many -comforts. - -“Rachel,” replied Hans, to a remark of the dame, upon the pleasures -of their retired life, “it is even so, and I would not exchange -places with the proudest lord in the land. Nay, I would not sell my -miller’s coat. This morning, as I walked into Lancaster, a stout, -stiff-necked lad came forward, and asked me to become a soldier, -promising great distinction. Says I, white is the colour of my -flag, and the only coat of of mail I shall ever consent to wear, -must be a coat of meal!” - -“A soldier!” ejaculated Rachel. - -“Aye, aye,” was the reply. “War is soon to be played. The governor -of our castle has gone to the High Court in London, to give -evidence against traitors, and many such traitors there are said -to be, whom the Parliament refuses to put down. I heard that the -king’s throne and head are in jeopardy.” - -“Woe, woe to the land!” groaned the dame. “A handsome lad, and yet -to lose his crown and his life.” - -“Well, well,” said Hans, “his majesty may thank his silly father. -What good, even to the tenth generation, could the race of the -ungodly man expect, who gave orders that the people should sport on -God’s holy day? Rachel, hast thou forgot the proclamation which he -caused the parson to read? I was but a youth then, and oft I could -have liked to visit you on Sunday. But the wish was blasphemous. -The parson said we were not to think our own thoughts, and as my -father thought I should not visit you, I took _his_ thoughts.” - -“Not always,” returned the dame, as she took his hand, “not always, -even upon that subject.” - -“Well, well, I give in to you, Rachel. But on that Sunday, after -the service was over, the parson drew from his robes a long roll -of paper, and, wiping his mouth very unmannerly, as he always did, -before his eyes, read that it was the King’s most gracious will -that the people, on leaving the church, should enjoy themselves in -all manner of recreations and sports. He added, that our Solomon -might well give laws to all his subjects. My father and I went -to a friend’s house, and there solemnly bewailed the state of -the country; the rulers of which scrupled not to enact the most -awful iniquity. As we returned home, in front of the church there -were dances, and games of archery, in which the parson himself -joined most heartily. His croaking voice shouted lustily, and his -stick-shanks leapt up in the air, while his broad skirts flapped -like a swallow’s wings. A smile was on his face, which was thrown -backwards as we passed. My father, in his righteous wrath, struck -the hypocrite to the earth. In the crowd we escaped, but never more -did we darken that house of prayer by our presence.” - -“Yes, Hans, the Lord will be avenged for that proclamation of sport -on his own day. A silly King James was, indeed. My father saw him -as he passed through Preston, and he never spoke highly of kings -afterward.” - -So interesting was the subject of their conversation, connected -with old remembrances, that for some time they were not aware -that the storm had altogether subsided. It was now a beautiful -calm, and soft breezes stole in at the opened window. Hans walked -forth to the mill, and thence gazed down upon the vale. A dim -reflection of the moon, pale with weeping, as she struggled through -the clouds, to gain some of the clear azure sky, which here and -there appeared, was resting on the swollen brook. A sound from the -distance fell upon his ear. He strained his eyes, and, at length, -recognized a form on horseback entering the vale. - -“Rachel, Rachel, what can it be?” and there was terror, mingled -with curiosity, in the tones. His dame suddenly appeared, but to -her it was an equal mystery; not long to remain so, however, for -speedily the horse was reined up at the foot of the mountain. - -“Ho!--help!--help!” exclaimed a man’s voice. - -“Nay, nay, Hans, dost see that which he carries in his arms! My -God, look there,--that pale face, lifted to the moon. He is a -murderer! He gazes on it. Well may he shudder.” - -“Help, good folks,” the voice repeated, in earnest tones. “Give -assistance to a lady. Good heavens, must my Mary die and follow her -father!” - -A female shriek was heard, and the face raised itself to the -horseman, and small white arms were thrown around his neck. Hans -and his wife instantly hastened down the narrow winding path which -led to the barred entrance. - -“Thank heaven, and you, good friends! Bayard, do not stir, as I -descend with my sweet burthen. Dame, will you give her shelter?” - -“Aye, aye, sir. Beautiful creature! she seems asleep. Yet why -should she be abroad, and in your care, on such a night?” - -“You must not question me,” was the reply, “at present; shew me -the way,” and he carried his companion, as gently as he would an -infant. “God bless thee, Mary,” he frequently muttered, as he put -the small face closer to his breast, and drew his cloak around her -form. - -Rachel preceded him into the warm and comfortable room, and drew -a large easy chair from its place in the corner, to the fire. He -slowly bent on his knee, and seated his burden there. Her head -fell back, but her hands still grasped those of the horseman. She -was deadly pale, and might have been thought a corpse. There was a -mingled expression of madness, sorrow, and love, on the beautiful -outlines of her face. So long had they rode in the darkness, that -she could not open her eyes when the light fell upon them, and even -her finely pencilled lashes were still and motionless. Her little -feet, raised from the floor, quivered and trembled. - -The good dame bustled about, and amid all her offices of kindness, -attested by her looks that she was plunged into a mystery, from -which she had no objections, instantly, to be extricated; only -she did not, in so many words, implore help. As she removed the -wet garments from the fair stranger, she gazed anxiously upon her -companion. He was young and handsome. He was nobly attired in a -cloak of deep mourning, and as it was thrown back in his motions, a -sword, belted by his side, was seen. His locks, as the fashion of -the times required from young gallants, were long, and they curled -gracefully down his shoulders. Since he entered, his eye had never -turned from the face of his companion. - -“Mary, my Mary,” he at length said, as he played with the black -ringlets on her forehead, “look upon me, Mary.” - -“Father, dost thou call? I’ll soon come to thee, soon, -soon--wherever thou art. But, I must see thy face. Oh! a headless -father to come to! yet, father, I _will_ come!” and she gave a loud -shriek of madness. - -“Hush, Mary,--am I not spared to thee? Cannot we travel through -life together; and if we have no home through the wide world, all -in all to each other?” - -No reply was made. He cast a look of anguish towards the dame and -her husband, who had then returned from sheltering the horse. - -“She understands me not. Oh! who can comfort her now?” - -“She is asleep,” said the dame, “and oh! young gentleman, if, as -I believe from her words concerning a father, you have removed -her from a father’s roof, you never, never can be happy. She is, -indeed, a beautiful creature to lie in your bosom, walk by your -side, and sing to you her own sweet dreams. But does the young bird -sing any more when taken from the nest? In every look, however -fond, you will behold a silent reproof for tearing her away from -her duties to an old father, without a blessing. The husband may -give the ring, but unless the father gives his blessing, she is -cursed. Oh, must that young head bow before a father’s curse? Look -at her slumbers, they ought to have been beneath the roof of her -own home. She might have perished in this awful night, and murder -had been added to your crime. Take her back to a father’s arms.” - -“A father!” was the sorrowful reply. “She has no father; nor can -I as yet, claim over her the protection of a husband. Her father -perished, yesterday, by the order of a tyrant king, under the -false evidence of the governor of your castle. I had endeavoured -to convey her away from the scenes of her grief, and had engaged -a boat at Lancaster. But I dared not venture my precious freight -on such an awful night, and I have wandered, I know not whither. -Providence has brought me here to kind friends.” - -“Young gentleman,” replied Hans, while tears were trickling freely -down his withered cheeks, “God will reward thee for thy care and -love to the orphan one. But whither would you bear her? Here she -may find a home, until happier days come, for I know that you will -seek the wars. She cannot depart at present.” - -“No, no,” added the dame, “you must agree to leave her, and I shall -be a careful and affectionate mother, though an humble one.” - -“Thanks, my good friends, both from the dead and the living! I -could not have hoped that so secure a home was awaiting her. O -nourish her for my sake, and when she speaks of her father, mention -my name, Henry Montressor, and assure her, that he will be father, -husband, all! I must leave her this moment. Should she awake, we -could never part. There is a purse of gold. Use it freely.” - -“Not for ourselves,” replied the generous miller. “Although she -be of gentle blood, we make her our child. Her sorrows will be -lightened in our home, in this peaceful retreat.” - -“Now,” said Montressor, and he gently disengaged his hands from -the grasp of his sleeping companion. He softly kissed her lips. He -started up, dreading that the tear which had fallen on her cheek, -would awake her. He raised his hands to heaven. - -“God of mercy, if thou hast one whom in all the earth thou lovest -more than another, for innocence and misfortune, let that one be -Mary Evelyn! Let angels guard her, under the direction of her -sainted father. Send peace to her sorrows. Let thy balm drop into -every wound, thou gracious Being.” - -“Amen,” responded the miller and his wife. - -And surely God himself repeated the same Amen; for a sweet -beauty, shining in quiet happiness, rested upon the features of -the sleeping one. Montressor pointed to her, whilst he said in -anguish,-- - -“And should she wander in her mind, oh, soothe her. When she -awakens, tell her that I am safe, and that soon I am here again. -One kiss more, my Mary.” - -Hans conducted him down to the pass, and soon the sound of the -horse’s hoofs were unheard in the distance. The moon was shining -brightly. - -“Never,” said Hans, “were the rays so sweet here before. And well -may they, such a beautiful face lies in our house!” - - * * * * * - -The weary months of winter passed on, and Mary Evelyn was a gentle -maniac. Unremitting were the attentions of her humble friends, but -she heeded them not. She was always, when awake, playing with the -counterpane of her little bed; starting up, and shrieking in her -sport. - -“Arthur Montressor,” she would say, “why do you go forth alone -to gather flowers for me? Must I not accompany you, and gather -the most beautiful for your own auburn locks? Ah! there is an old -venerable man enters. How beautiful are those white locks, and that -meek, meek face. Go, Arthur. I must stay here, alone, with the -headless man! headless, look at him,--gory neck! Ha, ha!” - -Spring came, and the good dame brought flowers and strewed them -upon the pillow. They were steeped in the morning’s dew, and as -Mary applied them to her burning forehead, and parched lips, she -smiled and seemed to be pleased. But she played with them, and -their heads came off. - -“Yes, yes,--he was beheaded!” - -After this she daily became calmer, until she was herself again; -the beautiful and blushing Mary Evelyn. Yet, think not that the -madness had departed! Reason is like a mirror; break it,--you may -replace the fragments,--still it is broken. She loved to wander -forth along the glen, or into the cave. Her soul was like a harp, -which every spirit of Nature could touch. Madness had sublimed many -a thought and feeling, until they seemed to hold converse with -the spiritual world.--Nature is more personal than is generally -thought. She has a soul as well as senses. The latter are the -pleasant sights, the sweet fragrance, and the music of voices, -but the soul of Nature is that deep internal working every where, -whose will operates upon the senses. Have we not felt the throbbing -of its pulse of life, and can she live without a soul? Nature, -therefore, is earth’s best comforter to the lonely, because she -feels and acts--a free agent. - -Mary Evelyn could now also enjoy the conversation of the miller and -his wife. - -“Miss Evelyn,” Hans once in good humour remarked, “we thought that -you never would speak to us. But, as my mother used to observe, -‘persons may carry an egg long in their pocket, and break it at -last.’” - -Whenever Miss Evelyn wished to be alone, she could retire to her -own little apartment, which opened into the back of the glen, or -wander into the cave, where the various sounds of the brook falling -amidst the rocks and cavities, and the notes of the birds, whose -nests were there, beguiled her melancholy. - -Meanwhile active hostilities between the King and Parliament had -commenced. The sword had been unsheathed, and blood was already on -its edge. Counter acts, threats, and impeachments, ceased, and the -field was taken. Lancashire, echoing the voice of Lord Strange, -declared for Charles, and engaged in the struggle. A few of the -principal towns had been seized upon, and held by the Royalists, in -spite of the assaults of the Parliamentary forces; but the latter, -under the command of the most able generals, and fresh with the -enthusiasm of a new-born liberty, were soon to be successful. - -The inmates of Dunald Mill were not altogether ignorant of these -troublous times. The clapper made a constant noise, and Rachel’s -speech, of which she naturally had a great fluency, was incessant: -still, these combined agencies could not deafen their ears to all -the reports. On the sabbath, when they repaired to Lancaster, -although it was the day of peace, there were no subjects of -conversation afloat, except rumours of war. In the church, many a -seal had the parson opened, amidst thunderings and lightnings, and -black horses, and white horses, and red horses, and riders bearing -bows, conquering and to conquer, had spurred forth. Then he would, -from Scripture prophecy, delineate the character of the opposite -leaders in the war. When Lord Strange planted the royal standard in -the county, the parson’s text was, “Who is this that cometh from -Edom?” Edom, he very judiciously considered, as synonymous with -Lathom, the family seat of his lordship. When Oliver Cromwell was -reported to be marching into Lancashire, at the head of a body of -men, whom he had himself levied and disciplined, he travelled into -the Apocalypse, and gave out the following;--“And they had tails -like unto scorpions, and there were stings in their tails, and -their power was to hurt men, five months. And they had a king over -them, who is the angel of the bottomless pit, whose name in the -Hebrew tongue is Abaddon.” - -“Abaddon!” the parson exclaimed. “Yes, Cromwell is a bad un, a -thorough bad un!” - -Often did he descend into the valley of vision, and take a view of -the dry bones; or enter the field of battle called Armageddon. He -would then pray, and the clerk held up his hands and stayed them, -lest Amalek might prevail. And truly for the length of an hour -he prayed, as some of the dissolute Royalists remarked, without -ceasing or sneezing. Alas! cavalier parsons could quote and apply -Scripture language as ludicrously and blasphemously as roundhead -ranters! - -Thus, war had lately been the constant theme. It seemed to be -pleasant to Miss Evelyn; and when all the tender and the beautiful -of her sex were imploring success on the handsome king, she -supplicated a blessing upon the arms of the fierce republicans, and -when news came of victory on the side of the Royalists, the cloud -which passed over her brow betokened that she considered herself -as one of the vanquished. - -One Sunday morning, Hans, after donning his holiday attire, entered -the little room in front, where they generally sat together, and -found his wife and Miss Evelyn unprepared to attend him to church. - -“So, Rachel, you intend to preach at home?” - -“Yea, Hans,” was the reply, “my lady and I have agreed to stay at -Bethel, and not go up to Zion. It is not safe for females to travel -in such dangerous times. Nor can I enjoy the privileges of Zion at -present. Whenever I enter the church, my thoughts are disquieted -within me. It is so near the castle, and I think more of cannons -and soldiers, than any thing else. Nor is the parson clothed with -salvation, he speaks always of war. God will indeed make this a -Bethel, and Rachel Skippon shall sing aloud for joy.” - -“Yes, my dear friends,” said Mary Evelyn with enthusiasm, “how -delightfully shall we spend the Sabbath! the little glen behind, -shall be our church, where no roof but that canopy above, can -intercept our ascending praise. The flowers shall be our hymn -books. Nay, nay, they whisper of a Creator, but not of a Saviour. -Even the lilies which he pointed out so beautifully when on earth, -are silent of Him! How calm is every object around! In what a holy -and sabbath repose do the rays fall, as if they were the feet of -angels, dancing so lightly upon our earth!” - -“Yes,” replied Hans, in true christian feeling, “the sabbath was -made for man, and not man for the sabbath. Take away this day, -and we could not tell what heaven is. And yet that profane prince -proclaimed sports thereon, and appointed that his book should be -laid on the pulpit, along with the book of life. But, I must away -to the public ordinances. Should war come to Lancaster, which side -must I fall into? Alas, Evelyn speaks so beautifully of the holy -puritans, who hate a tyrant over their consciences, that for some -time I have ceased to pray for him who is called King.” - -“Hans,” replied the dame, with some warmth, “if I thought you could -be so foolish as to take the sword, as truly as I live, I would -this moment disable you from leaving the house. But you could not -mean this;--no, no. Well, you can go, and to entice you home, -I shall prepare some savoury meat, such as thy soul loveth, of -which you may eat in abundance, and praise the Lord. Wont you bid -farewell to your wife?” - -She threw her arms around his neck, but the old man seemed offended. - -“Do you intend to disable me?” he asked, as he put her arms from -about him. “Thirty-five long years have I lived with you, and -never listened to such language. But since you have become Job’s -wife, I must be Job, and shew patience. Come, wife, kiss me,” -and he gave a loud and hearty laugh, which he suppressed when he -remembered that it was the sabbath. - -“Fie, fie, Hans, to speak of kissing before a young lady! It is -unseemly.” - -“Verily, dame, Miss Evelyn knew what kissing meant before. She -blushes--Good morning, Miss Evelyn. Good morning, dame. Hush, just -one, do not make a disturbance; it is the sabbath.” - -The miller walked up the glen, and soon gained the highway. At -every step he beheld proofs of the bad effects of the “Book of -Sports.” No crowds were to be seen moving to church, but they were -loitering by the way, engaged in mirth and games. - -“Ha!” exclaimed Hans, as he beheld an old man tottering on before -him,--“who can this be? I should know his gait, but then, his -apparel is changed. It is old Sir Robert; but before, he was always -dressed as a gay cavalier.” - -The old knight turned round. His white locks hung over a -plain-fashioned coat, and his hat was stripped of the proud plume -which he had once sported. His age might be seventy, although his -face was rosy. - -“Well, well, good miller,” he kindly said, “art thou alone also? I -left my beloved daughters at home, for I am fearful of the times.” - -“You have nothing to fear, Sir Robert,” replied the miller, “in -Lancaster, since you are a Royalist.” - -“A Royalist!” echoed the knight, and he shook his head. “Not much -of that now; no, no. The king has become a tyrant, and I disown his -cause. A gallant nephew of mine, a roundhead by principle, in a -battle of last month, was made prisoner, and the king gave him no -quarter--but death!” - -“The taking away of life,” rejoined the miller, “Charles seems to -consider as his kingly prerogative.” - -“His turn will come at last, Republicans say it _shall_, Death says -it _will_. And what is a King? The meanest beggar. The poor man may -only have one morsel of bread,--the king demands the half of it, -and he is not frightened, for all his pride, and by his thoughts of -dirt and scab to eat it. He,--a great man! Go to the treasury, and -there you will see the widow’s mite, and the starving man’s alms! -and Charles puts forth his white hand and takes them!” - -“Yea, truly,” said Hans, “I am more independent in my cottage, -than Charles in his palace. I earn my bread by labour, but he just -puts on a few robes which we have all patched up with our own rags, -blows a whistle which we have bought for him, and plays with a toy -which he calls a sceptre, and for all this he receives his million.” - -“Nay, good friend, you scorn a king too much. A king _can_ work, -and deserve all his salary, by ruling well, and peaceably. But as -for Charles, he has taken the sword against that country, which he -solemnly swore to protect. He sets his royal head up against all -the sage senators of the nation. One man laughs at a Parliament! -If his father deserved the name of Solomon,--Charles has much more -justly earned that of Rehoboam: for under him all the tribes of -Israel have revolted. He has bound on the nation, grevious burdens, -which cannot be borne, and which he himself could not move, even -with his little finger. And as for my poor Lord Strange--of the -Derby race--why he’s a black hearted Papist. Were Cromwell to -sweep down upon him, the vain nobleman would gladly hie away to -the Isle-of-man. I wish no evil to him, but merely pray ‘the Lord -rebuke him!’ would that the Eagle which brought a child to the -family, were again to descend and take this _child_ wheresoever he -lists!” - -They walked on together. As they entered Lancaster, they were -struck at the unusual stillness and quiet of the streets. There -were no games and sports. The doors were shut, and no longer were -children sitting on the thresholds. The town seemed deserted, -until they came to the church gates, where crowds had assembled, -all in earnest conversation. The venerable structure arising to the -morning rays from the green hill, near to the castle, seemed like -an angel pleading against the uses and employments of the other. -They are both, evidently, of the same high antiquity, and standing, -also, upon romantic elevations, it might be imagined that they had -been founded to oppose each other. The parson, in one of his just -similies, had called the mount of the castle--Sinai, of which the -flashes and reports of the cannon were thunders and lightnings; -whilst he designated the mount of the church--Zion--where his own -notes were the still small whisperings of mercy, to listen unto -which the assembled tribes came up. - -The crowds were gazing intently upon the castle, where the -sentinels had been doubled. A few were gay, and vapoured out jests -against the enemy, in the cavalier style of affected blasphemy and -dissipation. - -“So,” said one whose hat was shaped in the fashion of one of the -turrets of the castle, high and tapering, but foppishly off the -true perpendicular, and who was lord of a neighbouring mansion, -“those cannons peer out from the loopholes in front like the -piercing eyes of a buxom damsel at the window, ogling and smiling. -They’ll riddle the breeches of the enemy. The governor assured -me, yesterday, that as the roundheads are so fond of Scripture, -whenever they come, he shall put a whole Bible in the mouth of the -cannon, thus to quiet them in the name of the Lord, and give them -holy promise, precept, and threat, line upon line, all at once. -They shall be left to digest them at their leisure.” - -“Good, good, ha, ha,” replied a neighbour cavalier, “but then it -will scarcely be the Book of Life, you know.” - -“Nay,” was the rejoinder, “you are out there. Come, let us reason -together. The Bible is the sword of the Spirit, it can kill, -especially if it were bound in a lead case, and thrown with fury. -It is the savour of death unto death, as they themselves would say. -Savour! aye there will be a pretty strong savour of powder on its -pages! Nol himself, although he had three warts at the end of his -nose, instead of one at the side, would smell it!” - -“Could not the Royal Book of Sports,” slily said Sir Robert with a -smile of scorn on his aged features, “of which his present Majesty -has printed a new edition, be substituted in its place?” - -“Good,” was the reply, “most excellent! Eh? would it not make -rare _sport_ amongst the roundheads? It would verily enforce them -to join in a few games, such as dancing till they fell down. But, -old knight, be on your guard how you recommend that measure again. -It has been seconded and carried by a majority of affirmatives in -parliament with this amendment, of being burnt by the hands of the -common hangman, instead of being vomited forth by the cannon.” - -“See,” whispered the knight to the miller. “Parliament does its -duty nobly, by purging itself from that mass of pollution. I -attempted to do my duty when the king wrote it, and it nearly cost -me my head. The crowned fool fumed like the smoke of that tobacco -against which he blew ‘A Royal Blast.’” - -The church was crowded, and many were obliged to stand, for lack -of better accommodation. A few soldiers from the castle took their -place in the aisles, and during the reading of prayers, at every -Amen pronounced by the clerk, and responded to by the congregation, -they clashed their sheathed swords on the echoing pavement, and -then laughed to each other. - -The parson arose to commence his discourse. His face had got a -rueful longitude, which assisted him to read his text with becoming -effect. - -“And there shall be rumours of wars.” - -His divisions, theologically speaking, were striking and -impressive. He mentioned, in regular succession, all the rumours -which had been afloat! - -“First, my brethren, when I was in the neighbourhood of Manchester, -the skies had darkened, and all was still around, when I heard a -warlike drum. But greater woes were to succeed,--and I fled.” - -He had proceeded through the divisions, and had come to the last. - -“Lastly, my brethren,”-- - -He was interrupted by a loud report of a cannon fired from the -castle. All sprung to their feet. The soldiers rushed to the gate. - -“Lastly, my brethren,--there is the cannon bringing rumours of -wars.” - -His voice was drowned by another and another awful peal rumbling -over the church. - -“The enemy! the enemy!” was the general cry. Hans was borne -irresistibly along with the crowd to the castle; and from its -ramparts they beheld a strong body of troops encamping at the -distance of a few miles. - -The governor of the castle stood with his glass. After gazing -long and anxiously, he exclaimed, “Soldiers, haste, prepare for a -siege. The enemy will be strait upon us. They are Oliver Cromwell’s -troops.” - -“The cry was raised by the multitude, ‘Oliver Cromwell!’” - -What terror seized even the bravest royalist at that plain name! - -The military cleared the court of the frightened citizens, and all -the gates and avenues were strongly barricaded. The royal banner -was unfurled amid the shouts of the inhabitants, who now resolved -to rally. - -“We are safe for one day,” exclaimed some. “Cromwell was never -known to be such a ruffian as to commence an attack, much less a -siege, on the Lord’s day.” - -The miller, along with the knight, as speedily as possible -retreated to the extremity of the town, and proceeded homeward. - -Sir Robert Bradley’s mansion was near the romantic vale of -Lonsdale. He was not a native of the county, but had retired there -after a life spent at the court of James, when he observed that -that sovereign’s successor, although young and inexperienced, could -not brook anything but honied words, and pleasant flattery, from -his councillors; and that to be faithful was to make him their -enemy. Nursed by two lovely and affectionate daughters, he enjoyed -a peaceful happiness he had never known amidst all the bustle, -intrigue, and rivalry of his younger days. - -A few weeks ago, his nephew, who had joined the Parliamentary -troops, without his consent, and against his expressed wish, had -been captured in the field of battle, and the fate decreed by the -king, was death. The old knight had cursed the youthful roundhead, -but now, even more than his ancient fondness had returned for his -brother’s son, whom he had educated from a boy; and an uncle’s -blessing was given to the memory of the dead, whilst he imprecated -vengeance on the king. But there was one of the family to whom the -tidings came a darker message, and a more bitter loss. Not only -were the hopes, but the very existence of that one--dependant. -Sweet Madeline Bradley, the knight’s younger daughter, had been -betrothed to her cousin from childhood. They had tripped the same -path in the vale many a morn; and as many an eve they had bent to -unbuckle the old man’s shoes, their loving hands touching each -other, and their luxurious tresses failing together. And when -Madeline grew up into beautiful womanhood, when love mingles with -awe and worship, bashfulness and timidity only served to explain -their intimacy better. When she heard of his death, she started -not. Amidst the tears of her sister Sarah, and the grief of her -father for him who had been the family’s favourite, she wept not -for him who had been her lover. She raved not. Sir Robert thought -that she bore it lightly, till one evening at sunset, about a week -after the mournful news had been told her, he was seated in the -arbour. He heard a light step approaching, and then a low sweet -voice, as if afraid to be heard, making such a request, breathed -its silvery accents. - -“Cousin, the night is so beautiful. Come, let us to the vale, if -you would rather not be alone, Cousin.” - -And when her father stepped forth, the truth came to her -remembrance. Still she fainted not; but she became deadly pale, and -leaned for support against the young trees at the entrance. Alas! -her’s was a broken heart, although unknown; and the knight as he -blessed her in fondness at every return of the hour of rest, might -have read something in her deep blue eyes, raised so earnestly, -that would have told him that she was not certain whether she could -awake for him any more. With what regret she then parted from him! -She followed him to the door of his sleeping apartment, that a -latest farewell might be allowed. But the good knight saw not the -awful progress that death was making. - -The miller and the knight, on their way home, conversed about the -arrival of the enemy. - -“My good friend,” said Sir Robert, “trust me, that if the troops -be headed by Cromwell, the Governor of Lancaster Castle may yield -at discretion. What a deep, a burning enthusiasm, there is in that -wonderful man, although he be turned on the wrong side of forty! I -cannot but believe that it is the fire of heaven.” - -“Verily,” replied Hans Skippon, “it will soon destroy the temples -of Baal. But here is the footpath leading to my quiet cottage. God -grant that the soldiers be not near it.” - -They parted. The miller, on entering into the wide glen, started -as he beheld the roundhead soldiers there encamped. They were -engaged in religious services. A solemn hush, disturbed alone by -the shrill notes of the curlew and the plover, as they arose from -the long tufted grass, was over the band as they listened to the -exhortations of one of their preachers, who stood on a mass of grey -rock. Hans was inclined to join them in their sabbath employments, -but he dreaded lest he should be retained by them, and pressed -into their lists, although he might have been free from all fears -upon the latter point, as he would have been no acquisition to -the disciplined veterans of Cromwell. He, accordingly, avoided -them by a circuitous rout, on the back of a neighbouring hill, and -without hindrance or obstruction, at length reached his cottage. -He paused at the door. He heard a stranger’s voice. It was low and -husky;--but, unaccountably, by its very tones, he was spell-bound, -and compelled to listen. - -“Maiden,” were the words, “thy sorrows and thy history, are those -of our mother country. I know that thou wert formed by God for -happiness, and was not England? Now she is bowed in the dust,--but -there is an outstretched rod for the oppressor, and an outstretched -arm of deliverance for the oppressed. Both gleam from the clouds of -her adversity, and soon, soon they reach those for whom they are -destined! Liberty cannot die while man has one heart-string. My -maiden, cheer is for thee. Thy father lost his head, sayest thou? -Others may lose theirs also.” - -Hans, after these words were uttered, turned the latch, and walked -in. At the little window a soldier, not in the uniform of an -officer, but well accoutred, was sitting. He was gazing upon the -vale without, and his dark grey eye glowed, as it moved restlessly -on all the objects. The features were not finely formed: indeed, -they might be called coarse, though not plain, for a wild power -was expressed. From his broad and prominent forehead, the light -red locks were put back. His countenance, one moment, was so calm -and sanctified, that he might have been set down as a preacher of -the gospel: but the next, it was so troubled and fiery, that he -appeared a fierce and ambitious warrior. - -Although his eye seemed upon the full stretch of resolution and -thought, his hand was placed softly upon the bending head of Mary -Evelyn, whom he had, evidently, been attempting to console. Old -Rachel was seated at a short distance from him, with a bible -in her hand, but many a look was stolen from its pages to the -countenance of the stranger. Her ears caught the sounds of her -husband’s footsteps. - -“Hans,” she exclaimed, “is all well, that you have left the church -so soon? You have only been gathering crumbs beneath the table, -like a graceless dog. Woe, woe unto short sermons, and impatient -hearers! You have come home before the pudding is ready. What’s the -matter, Hans?” - -But the miller neglected to answer the queries of his dame, being -employed in obsequiously bowing to the stranger. - -“Friend, kneel not to me; I am only thy fellow-servant. See that -thou do it not. I am _but_ Oliver Cromwell!” - -As he pronounced the word _but_, there was a proud smile passed -over his features, and he arose from his seat for a moment, in -that air of command which was natural unto him. His proud bearing -attested that though he refused to receive homage, he considered -himself entitled to it. - -Hans Skippon, on hearing the name of the stranger, bent down on his -knees. - -“Nay, I kneel not to thee, but to the Most High, who hath raised -thee up for a horn unto his people.” - -“I am, indeed, but an instrument in the Divine hands; and an atom, -created for working out the Divine counsels. I am but a small -stone, cut out of the mountains, to break down the image of the -beast. Good miller, arise from thy knees.” - -“A very sensible advice,” muttered Rachel, who was not altogether -pleased with the lowly posture of her husband. - -“Didst thou pass my troops?” inquired Cromwell, “and how were they -employed?” - -“They were listening to the exhortations of a preacher, and the -very horses even seemed attentive, for they stood silent.” - -“How different,” exclaimed the dame, “from all other soldiers, who -make the sabbath a day of wanton sport. They curse and swear like -the king himself. They stay at the wine-cup till their eyes are -red, and their great toes cannot balance the bulk above them. Put -a cap sideways on a monkey, teach him to say ‘damn,’ to look and -be wicked; take him to the king, and get him knighted, and he is -a good cavalier. Knight him with a sword! Bring him to me, and I -should do it to better purpose with a rough stick!” - -Cromwell _smiled_ at this ebullition of feeling. Throughout all his -life he was never known to _laugh_. - -“You speak warmly, dame,” said he. “But since a sword is the only -weapon of knighthood, they shall have one. Here,” and he pointed to -his own, lying sheathed on the casement, “is the sword of Gideon. -That sword has been blessed as often as the food which I partake -of. But, miller, thou wert at church to-day. ’Tis well; yet I have -a few things to say against thee; I would thou wert either cold or -hot.” - -Rachel was looking in at the large pot on the fire, in which the -pudding was boiling, as she thought, too slowly. Her temper was -provoked, and she muttered, as she raised the pudding on the end of -a stick; - -“I would _thou_ wert either cold or hot.” - -“I have a few things to say against thee, my trusty miller,” -repeated Cromwell. - -“A few things to say against Hans,” exclaimed Rachel with much -warmth, while she left the pot, and faced round to Cromwell. “Take -care what thou sayest against Hans!” - -“Pooh!” was the contemptuous answer. “Thou fumest; but I know how -to cork every bottle of ale, brisk though it be. I carry stoppers, -even for a woman--but beware.” - -“A few things to say against Hans!” continued Rachel, but in a -lower voice,--“why, he’s a good husband, a good christian, and--” - -“Too _good_ a subject to King Charles,” added Cromwell with a -frown. “Woe unto you that still dwell in the tents of Ham. God -shall enlarge us and our borders; but woe be to you. And yet, you -have kindly given refuge to this lovely maiden, whose history I -have heard, and whose wrongs, God be my witness, I shall revenge. -Because Rahab kept the spies, she was allowed to enter the promised -land, and because you have kept this persecuted daughter of a brave -man, God will reward you!” - -He paused, and then continued,-- - -“And wherefore should I induce you to leave this peaceful retreat, -and your rural occupations? A Sunday spent in the country would -almost suffice to put an end to war, and to make brethren of all -mankind!” - -He turned his head, seemingly absorbed in his own reflections. His -eyes could not be seen. They were altogether buried beneath his -eye-brows and his massive forehead. - -“In church,” replied Hans to the repeated inquiries of his dame, -“we were disturbed by the noise of the cannon firing from the -castle. Ah! it is no longer true that we can sit under our vine and -fig-tree,--none daring to make us afraid.” - -“Fig-tree!” exclaimed Rachel, whose memory had not retained the -passage, and whose reason applied it in a literal sense, “why -we cannot even sit under the cherry-tree in the garden without -somebody troubling us. Miss Evelyn and I--draw nearer, Hans, and -I shall whisper it--were seated there, when this noble officer, -attended by five or six troopers, came to the gate. And yet, he -has not disturbed us much. I feel proud that he has come to our -dwelling. As he entered, his sword was clashing on the threshold, -but he said, ‘Peace be unto this house.’ But go on; you mentioned a -disturbance in the church.” - -“Yes, cannons were fired from the castle. They drowned the piping -of the parson. We all rushed out, and made for the castle. The -governor stood on the battlements, as motionless as a sack of -flour. But his eyes were fixed upon some distant object, and he -exclaimed ‘Cromwell, Cromwell.’” - -These words were repeated by the miller in a loud voice. Cromwell -started up. Hans turned his back and busied himself with an -examination of the pudding in the pot. - -“Who called me by name. Who called me?” - -No one answered. - -“Yes, it was an angel’s voice! Stay,” and Cromwell took his boots -from off his feet. “Now speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth.” - -His eyes were wildly raised. Not one of his enemies could have -laughed at his grotesque appearance, for the face was expressive of -an unearthly communion. It was pale; the very breath of the angel -whom he imagined to be there, might have passed over it. - -“Nay, thou wilt not stay! It is well. I could not execute a -commission of vengeance on the Sabbath.” - -It is singular that this great man was often deluded by visions, -and communications from the other world. His sudden conversion -from extreme dissipation had invested him, in his own eyes, -with something of a wonder and a miracle. It was the same with -Mohammed. But although this was a weakness, it was the source of -his energies, and inflexible resolution. He could not believe that -these fancies were the dreams of youth; for he had already passed -the meridian of life. He knew that his bodily senses were becoming -blunted, and he therefore was willing to think that his spiritual -senses were more acute and could distinguish sounds and sights, -which were strange to all but his gifted self. But let not his -enemies mock him. He might assert and believe that he heard sounds -urging him to go to the field of battle, to dare more than any -other warrior, and usurper; but did he ever hear any urging him -to fly, to leave undone what he had resolved to do? Nay, had he -actually heard such, he would have rejected them. Religion,--the -tones of every angel above,--nay, the very voice of God himself, -could not have made Cromwell a coward! - -At length they sat down to dinner. A large substantial pudding was -placed before them. In those days, the guests of the poor had not -each a knife and fork; nay, they had not each a plate. All things -were in common. The miller clasped his hands together and looked -up for a blessing. And here, let not our readers expect something -long and very piously expressed. The spirit of the times was too -much debased by blasphemous allusions, which are only redeemed from -condemnation by their quaintness. - -“Hans,” whispered Rachel, “give us your best blessing. Let it be -the one in rhyme.” - -A pause was made. Cromwell’s eyes were shut, and Hans solemnly -began,-- - - “Lord bless us! Devil miss us! - Rachel--bring the spoons to us!” - -The good dame was hastening to comply with the request, when -Cromwell cried, - -“Nay, miller, thou hast but asked a blessing on us. Let us ask a -blessing on the provisions. Your’s is but a vulture’s blessing,” -and he himself poured forth thanksgivings to God, for all his -mercies. - -After the repast, Cromwell spoke but little, except to Mary Evelyn, -to whose lot he promised better days. But the miller was a little -curious to know his intended movements, as it was not every day -which brought him such opportunities for looking into the future. - -“They expect you at Lancaster, General,” said he turning to -Cromwell. - -“And yet,” was the answer, “I shall prove that although they expect -me, they are not quite prepared for my reception. The walls of -Jericho must fall down. And saidst thou, pretty innocent,” as he -looked upon Miss Evelyn with a kind eye, “that the Governor of -Lancaster Castle, gave evidence against thy father, even to the -death?” - -“He did, noble warrior. My father was an old friend of Charles. -But he could not support him in his tyrannic measures with the -Parliament. Whisperings went abroad that my father had agreed to -assassinate him. The Governor of Lancaster Castle was reported to -have heard him say, that if the king went further, the nation must -purchase a block, and that no nobleman who loved his country, would -refuse to be the executioner; and such evidence was given; it was -false. Oh! my poor father.” - -Her eye rolled wildly around, as when in her moments of madness. -The miller and his dame perceived it, and went kindly to console -her. But the voice of Cromwell, though neither sweet nor full -toned, seemed to exercise a charm over her grief, as if he had been -some superior being; and instead of raving, she only fell into a -fit of insensibility. - -“Leave her to me, good people. Now my pretty one, put your hands in -mine.” - -He looked up solemnly, whilst he whispered, - -“God above, heal her mind, and heal our mother country. Affection -may yet smile upon her, and kindness may cherish her, but she is a -wreck. The delapidated temple may have the earth around, as green -as ever, and the sky above, as holy and beautiful, but it is still -a ruin. Ho! my good friends, here, she breathes not. Her heart has -stopped its pulse against my breast. Throw the spring water upon -her face. Now she recovers. Look up, then, innocent one.” - -In a few minutes she was able to thank him for his attentions. - -“It is a painful subject, but although I hear it not mentioned, -it is ever present to my mind. Oh! it is wicked in me to cherish -revenge towards that man. I almost hate him. I almost wish him -dead.” - -“Blame not the wish. I have myself wished, nay prayed fervently -for hours at the still approach of midnight, that the man, Charles -Stuart, should die by our hands. He has braved the Parliament, and -why should the judges spare him?” - -And yet this was the man who, in after years, dissolved the -Parliament by force, and took the keys home in his pocket. Charles -might not order his attendants in as eloquent and strong language, -to seize the offenders, as Cromwell used, when he told his servants -to take down, “that bauble,”--the mace; but the king was guilty of -a less constitutional crime than was the protector. - -He continued, in tones of scorn, while malice darkened over his -face,-- - -“If Charles be bad, why, he deserves death; he is unfit to live. -If he be good, it is but meet that he should leave this vain and -wicked world for another more congenial to his piety, where he may -inherit a heavenly crown. Let him bid adieu, and there is no honest -man who could object to a monarchy in heaven! Often has Charles -called the crown, a crown of thorns. We shall ease him of it. Pity -that his tender and royal flesh should be scratched! Often has he -called the throne of England a cross. We shall take him down from -the cross, _and bury him_. Pity that he should, any longer, be a -spectacle to angels and to men! We shall free him of both his crown -and his throne!” - -“But surely not of his life?” inquired Miss Evelyn, and the -question was repeated by Hans and Rachel Skippon. - -It was unanswered:--and Cromwell relapsed into one of those silent -moods which came frequently over him, even at the commencement -of his public career, as well as afterwards, when he became Lord -Protector. - -In all his conversation, Mary Evelyn had observed that there was -something of an innocent hypocrisy about him. He counterfeited -tender feelings, when it was evident, from his face, that he -had none; and at other times he restrained tender feelings, -and appeared what he was not--cold and indifferent. But in his -expressed hatred of the king, there could not be a doubt of his -sincerity. The awful sarcasm was in deadly earnest, and the very -words hissed, and hissed, as if they were coming from a full -furnace of burning wrath. Neither was his love for England at -that time insincere. Had his life been of as much value to it as -his sword, instead of taking up the one, he was willing to have -resigned the other. - -A knocking was now made at the gate, and when Rachel went to it, a -soldier of the common rank inquired,-- - -“Tarrieth my lord in the house? Verily he hath chosen a peaceful -spot. The lines have fallen unto him in pleasant places. Lead me -the way.” - -“Dost thou preach in the army?” inquired the dame. - -“No madam; verily, verily I say unto you, that many shall be called -unto that work, but few chosen. But thou wonderest at the fluency -of my speech. Ah!--out of the abundance of the heart the mouth -speaketh. I only edify and exhort in private.” - -The good dame could, with difficulty, refrain from laughing at -the uncouth soldier. He was tall and thin, and she afterwards -remarked,--had Goliath been still alive, the soldier would have -been an excellent sword for his huge hand. But he opened his lips -so oracularly, and strode so gravely, that these circumstances -being taken into consideration, along with his leanness, he was -termed by Cromwell himself, with no little blasphemy, when in an -unusual fit of jocularity and good humour, “the holy _ghost_!” - -When they had gained the house, he made a low reverence to -Cromwell, repeating the words, “honour to whom honour is due, fear -to whom fear.” - -“Well, my good soldier, what wouldst thou?” - -“Will it please you, my lord, to walk forth in the cool of the day, -and commune with thy servants, our captains and officers?” - -“Yes, in a few moments I shall be with them.” - -The soldier retreated to the door slowly, whilst he said, - -“Now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.” - -Cromwell, in a little, walked forth alone. The miller looked at -his form. It was muscular, but not strong, and well built, but not -handsome; but all its movements were expressive of power. - -“He _will_ save the nation,” exclaimed Miss Evelyn, “and for all -his greatness, he is yet so pious and devout.” - -“I could trust that man,” replied Rachel, “but I could not feel -any attachment or affection to him. He might perish to-morrow, and -yet, but for our country, I would not mourn at his loss.” - -The good dame here expressed what was the universal feeling of all -Cromwell’s supporters towards him. He had their confidence, but not -their affection. His own daughters, at one time, were proud of him, -but they were never fond. And in the glowing panegyric of Milton, -we can but trace a high admiration of Cromwell. - -“Arthur Montressor,” said Mary to herself, “must not belong to -Cromwell’s troops, else he would surely have come to see me. He is -not false or faithless. Oh! when shall civil war be at an end, and -we know a home?” - -Cromwell returned an hour before sunset. His step was slow. He was -in a quiet contemplative mood, evidently not thinking of war. His -head was uncovered, and he allowed the air to breathe its fragrance -upon it. He paused at the threshold, as if it were painful to enter -a dwelling after having wandered about the vale. - -The night was beautiful and still. It was early in the month of -May, and the sunshine had all its young summer innocence. In mirth -it seemed now to rest upon the little green knolls, and then to -retreat to the mountain. The shadows were passing over the white -cottage, as if chiding the bright rays which shone within. - -“My good friends,” said Cromwell “it is now time for our evening -devotions. Let them not be performed in a house made with hands, -but in the open air. And yet I would rather worship in your -dwelling, than in all the gorgeous temples, which speak too much of -man, to say any thing of God. But, let us to the garden.” - -His eye beamed with a love for nature. He is said often to have -dwelt with rapture on the beauty of external objects, and to have -wished that his lot, however humble, had been cast in a pastoral -retirement, far from bustle and care. Nature had first given him -thoughts of liberty. It was not the lightning and the storm, which -inspired them. He cared not for the cold mountains, with their -terrific heads mantled in the tempest. He looked around upon lovely -nature. He called himself her son. It was not because she was free, -but because she was beautiful, that he swore never to be a slave. A -beautiful mother, and a son with a craven soul: it must not be! - -They went forth to the garden. A pleasant arbour at the extremity, -topping the eminence, and shaded with trees, was their temple. -The balmy fragrance of eve rested on the bushes, and the glow of -coming twilight floated in the sky. Cromwell for a moment listened -in silence, as if the song of spirits, keeping their sabbath, was -borne on the gentle west wind. - -“What a temple is this,” he said, “to worship God! I cannot endure -to enter churches, and there to gaze upon the gay gilded fluttering -sons of pride, clothed in purple and fine linen. But here, I can -gaze upon objects still more gaily adorned, and I dare not call -them vain.” - -“Oh!” exclaimed Miss Evelyn, catching fire and animation from the -republican. “Churches teach so much the lesson of our mortality. -Many graves are around us. But this temple teaches us of -immortality.” - -“Thou speakest well, beauteous maiden. Mortality is a great -lesson, but immortality is one greater and more useful. Mortality -teaches us to trace our connections and relatives in the worm. But -immortality in God and angels! Sin brought the first to light, but -Christ the other.” - -They all joined in singing a psalm. Mary Evelyn’s sweet voice, with -its low and tremulous sounds, occasionally induced Cromwell to be -silent and listen, while he kindly placed his hand upon hers. He -next read a portion of Scripture,--one of the Psalms--which he -afterwards commented upon, in his address to Parliament, as Lord -Protector of the Commonwealth. He then knelt down on the grass and -prayed, “Father above, we come to thee! We now bow at thy feet: -soon we shall lie in thine arms! Far above us, still thou hidest -not thy face. Excuse us in this act of adoration, for opening our -eyes to see the heavens, and for sinking our hands on the ground -to feel thy footstool. The moon and the stars may not arise, but -the clouds which conceal them, tell their tale. The flowers of the -earth may have withered, but the clods of the valley, beneath which -their fair young forms are buried, take their place, and speak to -us of thee!” - -Here he paused, as if overcome by the greatness of the Being whom -he addressed. But soon it was the strong republican who prayed, and -he raved about Israel; Israel’s God, and himself the deliverer of -both, as he presumed. - -When he had concluded, he abruptly arose and left them. They -followed him into the house, after a few minutes, but he had gone -to his apartment for the night. As long however as they themselves -were awake, they heard him walking up and down. - - * * * * * - -On the following morning, the sun was not earlier in arising upon -the turrets of Lancaster Castle, than were the soldiers of the -garrison. They were in armour, and the cannons were all charged and -manned. The Governor was walking about to every post and every -circle, encouraging them to do their duty to the king and country. - -His eyes were occasionally turned to the vale where Cromwell’s -troops were encamped. - -“Do they yet move,” said a noble youth who now approached. “Father, -shall we able to hold out a siege against such a famed general?” - -“Is my son a traitor,” bitterly asked the governor. “If he be, -then my first duty of vengeance is against him. No! a king has -blessed thee, and wouldst thou fight against him who once took -thee, an infant, in his royal arms, and swore that thou wert like -thy beautiful mother? Thy mother! Ha, the subject and the name are -unfit for me. Let me not think of them.” - -“Father,” proudly replied the youth, “thou doest me wrong. Not only -my sword, but my very life is pledged for the king’s interest. But -to war with Cromwell is to war with destiny. He can pray and he can -fight.” - -“Let his troops come,” was the scornful answer, “and we shall -quickly send them upon their knees, to attend to their devotions. -See, there is spare room for a few thousands to pray upon the -ground out before us. They shall find room to stretch out their -full length carcass, and they may breathe out groans which cannot -be uttered, because they are dead!” - -“They pray before they come to the battle. During it, you will not -find them once on their knees.” - -“Ha! doubtest thou?” exclaimed the governor. “If they refuse to -kneel in loyalty to Charles while living, why, we shall allow -them, in death, to kneel to their mother earth, which they love so -fondly, ‘dust to dust,’ as they themselves would say.” - -“Not before their garments are rolled in blood!” - -“Art thou a canting hypocrite too? Hast thou been baptized with the -said holy fire. It is the fire of rebellion. Satan was the first -roundhead. He spoke of liberty. He mentioned it in the high court -of parliament, but royalty conquered, and the good cavalier angels -pushed him and all his troops over the battlements. Let Cromwell -scale these turrets, we shall explain to him a precipitous descent. -Let him come.” - -“Thou hast thy wish,” was the reply. “His troops are advancing. Now -for the action.” - -“My brave boy,” said the governor, as he placed his hand upon the -head of his son, “forgive me for my harsh words. Thou art my only -child, my sole hope. Heaven bless thee and shield thee! But haste -my men, is all in readiness?” - -In half-an-hour Cromwell’s troops were posted upon a neighbouring -hill, opposite the castle. A flag of truce was fixed. - -A herald from the Roundheads now advanced; and being admitted -into the town, proceeded to the castle. The persons usually thus -employed were half preachers, and half warriors, who threatened -with the sword of the Lord, and of Gideon. The present messenger of -peace, belonged to this class. Obadiah Cook was his name, and as he -announced it to the governor, who appeared at the drawbridge, all -the soldiers gave a loud laugh. - -“Friend,” said the governor, “is thy name Obadiah Cook?” - -“It is, Sir Governor,” was the reply, “I am like that famous -prophet, who sheltered God’s servants from the wicked Ahaz. Oh! for -a place in the wilderness, that there my soul might fly away and be -at rest!” - -“What prevents it from flying? Surely not thy body, for it is -so weak. Indeed, Obadiah, thou seemest too like thy namesake of -old, and art too fond of _cooking_ for the hundred prophets. Man, -consider your own wants.--But your errand, Obadiah?” - -“He that hath ears to hear, let him hear. Are ye so deaf? The -very loop holes of that idolatrous castle, of that high-place of -iniquity, condemned by the Psalmist, take in my words. My master, -Cromwell, in the name of the Parliament of England, demands you to -surrender the castle, else it shall be razed to the ground, and -there shall not be one stone left upon another, which shall not be -thrown down. Last night, when I had retired to sleep, in the midst -of my meditations, I heard an angel flying through the sky, and -crying with a loud voice ‘Babylon is fallen, Lancaster Castle is no -more.’” - -At this moment a ball whizzed over the head of Obadiah. - -“Is that the angel which flew through the sky?” inquired the -sentinel, who had discharged it, and who, with curses regretted -that it had not gone a little nearer in order that the herald might -have known more accurately. - -“Darest thou?” exclaimed the governor, as he turned to the -sentinel. “Another time, thou receivest thy punishment.” - -The herald continued,-- - -“You are cut off from all provisions, you shall soon be compelled -to eat your wives, your little ones, and yourselves. Then surrender -in time.” - -“Not so,” replied the governor, with a laugh, “we have better -dainties than that. We have as good ale, as ever Oliver himself -brewed at Huntingdon. Nay, I should like to have a chat with him, -over some of it. Sentinel, throw Obadiah a loaf.” - -The herald, who did not seem by any means over-fed, caught the -descending bread, and stowed it about his person. - -“Now, fool, return and tell Oliver that we despise his vengeance, -and laugh at his mercy.” - -“Then,” exclaimed the angry and indignant messenger, “a voice -against Lancaster, a voice against the Castle, a voice against--” - -“Yourself. A voice against yourself,” and a well aimed ball, from -the governor’s pistol, brought him to the ground, from off his -steed. - -The report could not have been heard from the hill, where -Cromwell’s troops were posted, but the herald’s fall must have been -noticed, as instantly active preparations for the attack seemed -to be making, and soon several pieces of cannon opened their fire -upon the castle in close volley. From the upper batteries it was -returned, and from the loop holes over the strong arched gateway, -muskets were fired upon those of the Roundhead soldiers, who had -broken down the gates of the town, and were advancing furiously. - -“Prevent them,” cried the governor, “from recovering the dead body -of their comrade. Let him at least be useful in his death, and be a -meal to the crows and the vultures.” - -But although the musketry wrought havock among the Roundheads who -approached, they bore off Obadiah, whilst they put to the sword all -the inhabitants whom they met scouring the streets in their fear. -They returned reinforced, in spite of the cannon, which was now -also turned against them, and they entered the church, and from the -broken windows took aim at the besieged with their muskets. - -Cromwell remained with the soldiers on the hill, and was seen -whenever the dense smoke was occasionally rolled away by sharp -breezes which arose, walking from cannon to cannon, encouraging and -giving directions. Many a ball was aimed at him, but he seemed to -escape unhurt. - -“Old Noll, is invincible,” said one of the soldiers, “for, now, I -loaded my musket with a silver coin, and took such a correct aim, -that I could have wagered that the very wart on his nose would -receive the charge, and yet, there he is moving about, and raising -his prospective glass. He is the son of a witch!” - -Throughout the whole summer’s day the cannons thundered. They -had taken effect upon the highest battlements, as well as on the -gateway, for these were sadly shattered. Many of the Royalists had -fallen as they sallied forth upon the Roundheads, in the church; -and a few had been wounded, as they manned the castle walls and -served the cannon. But the governor, a brave old man, refused to -surrender, as long as one stone of the fortress was left. - -“See, my soldiers, the flag of Charles, still waves true to him, -although it be in rags. Let us be as faithful.” - -At sunset, a signal of truce was displayed, on the hill, and -the cannons ceased; but the party who had occupied the church -still kept up the fire, and the governor directed his men not -to cannonade the church but to retire to the turrets, where the -roundhead musketry would be harmless. As night came on, the inmates -of the church, however, found that there was little good cheer -to be had in Zion. The vestry had been ransacked, the communion -cups examined, but no wine could be found, and there was not bread -enough to supper a church mouse. - -“Well,” exclaimed one, “it is of no use firing, let us barricade -the doors, and compose ourselves to rest. I choose the pulpit for -my bed. Soft cushions to dose on!” - -The same spirit of sleep had descended upon the soldiers of the -castle, and even some of the sentries were stretched out on the -battlements. The governor and his son, did not awake them, as they -walked together. Their eyes were fixed upon the enemy’s camp, when -suddenly a wide flash was seen, and a cannon shot struck against -the turrets. The firing continued, and soon, it was as regularly -returned, when loud shouts arose within the lower courts. The next -moment a party of roundheads were among the governor’s men, headed -by Cromwell and Captain Birch, who had just arrived to act in -concert with the general. The governor was seized and bound, and, -along with his son, placed under a strong guard, while his men were -put to the sword, overcome by the unexpected attack. The Royal flag -was lowered, and in a short time the castle was in the possession -of the roundhead troops! - -“Captain,” said Cromwell, “our stratagem has succeeded. By playing -the cannon, we diverted their attention to the hill where we were -posted, and thus we advanced unseen. But where is the gallant -officer of your department, who led the way, and clambered up the -gateway?” - -“Here he is, general, and true stuff he is made of. He was captured -by the royalists a few months ago: but last week he effected his -escape. Montressor, stand forward, and receive the thanks of -General Cromwell, for your bravery.” - -It was Arthur Montressor. Cromwell warmly extolled his services, -even whilst he reminded him, “that not unto us, but unto God’s name -be the glory.” - -“General,” said Montressor, as he humbly bowed, “might I ask a -favour, which can be of no interest in you to deny. Will you grant -me leave of absence from the troops, for this night?” - -“Absence!” returned the general, in a harsh voice, “and for what -would you take absence? For some nocturnal appointment with a fair -one?--young man you are silent: it must be as I have guessed. Then -take my unqualified denial. No such license here,” and he turned -away abruptly. - -“Montressor,” said Birch, as he was about to accompany Cromwell, -“you remain in the castle all night. Should you disobey, our -sentries have the same liberty to treat you as they would the -captive governor. Good night!” - -Montressor stood for a moment motionless. - -“The governor!--thank God that I have not left the castle!” - -Early on the following morning Cromwell, attended by his officers, -entered the apartment where the governor was confined. They found -him asleep. Cromwell put his finger to his lips, and motioned -them to the window, where they stood in silence. It commanded a -wide view of the lawn in front, where the hill was almost a flat -plain. Sheep and kine were browsing on the grass, and suggested -images of rural peace and retirement, as if it had not been the -seat of war a few hours previous. From their own thoughts they were -aroused by the door of the apartment being cautiously opened. -As they themselves stood in a recess, not directly opposite the -door, they could watch without being observed. Nothing but a hand -groping the way, and two bright eyes gleaming in the shade of the -staircase, could be seen. The next moment a tall form, shrouded in -a horseman’s cloak, moved silently in. He looked at the sleeper. -His hand trembled as it was raised to the brow. He started, as if -moved with some sudden resolution, drew forth a pistol, and fired -it in the direction of the governor. He threw back his cloak, and -perceiving that the ball had not been true to its mark, drew his -sword, and rushed forward;--but Cromwell and his officers stood -before him. - -“Montressor! Beware!” thundered forth Cromwell, as he seized the -youth’s arm. - -The report had startled the governor. - -“Ha! traitors! cowardly traitors! Do I see aright? Is it Cromwell -who has played the ruffian? Cromwell,--after pledging my life to -myself in the most solemn oath? And that whilst I was asleep! -Base,--cowardly, was the act. And why shouldst thou have made the -young man your tool? Could not your own withered hands have been -stained with my blood, and not the white hands of innocent youth? -Base, cowardly!” - -“Thou doest me wrong,” replied the general, as calmly as if he had -been rebutting a slight and unimportant accusation, “as these my -officers, and as the assassin himself can testify. I had entered -to propose to you my terms of a negociation with you. You were -asleep, and, old man, I had no desire to prevent you enjoying a -transient solace. This assassin,--villain I will call him, though -he belongs to my troops, entered and fired. Wretch,” and he turned -upon Montressor, whilst he stamped in fury, and the sweat broke out -on his massive forehead for very anger, “why hast thou dared to -inflict death, when I, your general, gave my oath that he should be -in safety?” - -He became more calm, but his eye relaxed not its awful sternness, -although his voice was low as he added, - -“Young man, allow me to unbuckle thy sword,--nay, no scruples--and -prepare to die!” - -All started. Cromwell turned round upon them with a look that -forbade remonstrance. - -“I refuse not,” proudly answered Montressor, “to die. But listen -to my motives for attempting the life of that man. I loved. Oh! -she was fair, gentle, and happy, as a spirit of heaven! General, -smile not in scorn. Does a dying man rave in a foolish and romantic -strain? She was more than an angel to me. She would have been -my wife! But her father was murdered, and she was an orphan, -deprived of her home; herself,--almost a maniac. Yes, she was mad -when her condemned father placed her hand in mine, and betrothed -us together, for ever and ever. And who was the murderer? Sir -governor,--tell me who caused the death of Sir John Evelyn?” - -The governor covered his face with his hands. Cromwell started up -from the chair which he had taken. - -“Sir John Evelyn! Where is his daughter? Young man, be brief, and -answer me. Is she in the care of a miller and his wife, at a short -distance from Lancaster?” - -“There I left her. But I have been, ever since, a captive, and when -I asked permission to leave the castle last night, in order that I -might obtain information concerning her fate, you denied me. She -may be dead. It would be well!” - -“She is alive,” muttered Cromwell, as he again seated himself. - -“Young man,” said the governor in a kind tone, “you would forgive -me if you knew all. I have, since the death of Sir John, learned -with inexpressible regret, that the evidence which I gave against -him had been artfully arranged, so that I might be deceived. I -have often declared his innocence. And, General Cromwell, if you -will listen to the prayers of a Royalist, and one whose life he -has attempted--for which offence you have condemned him; oh! -grant him a pardon, and his life! It was but natural, nay, it was -praiseworthy to seek my life!” - -Cromwell shook his head. - -“It cannot be. Discipline must be enforced. I saw the maiden of -this youth’s affection and troth. She is a very Rebecca, beautiful -and discreet. I promised to avenge her father’s death. Yet my oath -of safety to you has been pledged;--and woe be to him who attempts -to make a word of mine of non-effect! Captain Birch, order five of -the musketeers to load; and bring out the troops in the front of -the castle. I give you half an hour.” - -The captain, as he went out, frequently turned round to see whether -Cromwell might not relent, and forbid such a stern order from being -carried into effect--but no!-- - -“Not for my own sake,” pled Montressor, “but for that of the -orphan, do I ask my life. For my own services in a just cause, -I esteem them as nothing; but to die such a death, seems a poor -recompense even for a faithful dog. General, grant me life for Mary -Evelyn’s sake!” - -He knelt,--and along with him the governor and all his officers. - -“It cannot be,” was the decisive reply. “But, young man, you shall -have writing materials, if you have anything to charge to the -living. Let them be brought.” - -Montressor, with a trembling hand, wrote a letter to Mary Evelyn, -and as he finished it, the drum was heard without. - -“To whom can I assign my last duty?” - -“To me,” replied the governor. “Trust me, that if I can make any -reparation for the past, I shall.” - -“It is well,” remarked Cromwell, in cold-hearted cruelty,--“If any -man wrong another, let him return good, fourfold.” - -Montressor, after this, was firm and collected. But for the slight -quiver on his lips, it could not have been known that he was going -to his death. - -“Sir Governor,” he once more asked, “wilt thou be kind to her? Hast -thou a daughter, to love her as a sister?” - -“No--I have but a son, and he--” - -“Cannot, cannot comfort her,” interrupted Montressor with some -bitterness. - -“Yet I know a knight,” returned the governor, “whose daughters are -well known for kindness and charity. Sarah and Madeline Bradley, on -knowing her history, will find her a home with them.” - -“A home! Poor Mary, her best home will be the grave! There is my -letter. Were it not that the sight would be horrible, I should die -with this letter in my hand, and you would send to her, that she -might receive it from myself! Farewell! I entered this room, a few -minutes ago, with the intention of taking your life, and now I -leave it to lose mine own!” - -Cromwell opened the door. - -“There is your way. Young man, I trust to your honour, therefore -you remain unshackled to die.” - -Already the soldiers were drawn out before the castle. The five -musketeers who were commissioned to carry the sentence into -execution stood in advance, their muskets in hand. Montressor took -his place. - -“Kneel,” said Cromwell. - -“Yes, to heaven,” was the reply. - -“Stay,” exclaimed the general, as he rushed forth in a burst of -tenderness. The condemned youth started joyfully up. Hope was -kindled. - -“Young man, I love thee as a son. Take my embrace,” and he threw -his arms around Montressor. “Look--for no other but you, a dying -man, must see Cromwell weep!--Look at these tears. Now, my son. -Yes, my very son, farewell!” - -Montressor sunk upon his knees in despair. He waved his hand to the -musketeers, and soon their duty was performed. - -Cromwell himself raised the lifeless body, and sternly said to the -soldiers, - -“Let all, let each beware! Justice and duty are unrelenting, even -to the brave and the beloved!” - - * * * * * - -Well did the governor perform his pledge. The fatal news were -communicated to Mary Evelyn by Madeline Bradley, who, heart-broken -herself, knew how to feel for a sister sufferer. Sir Robert’s -mansion was the orphan’s home. She and Madeline took short walks -together, sat together in the same easy chair, and slept together. -Hand in hand they were bound for the tomb, and the foot of the one -seemed not to be before that of the other. - -The governor, every day, (for he had no longer the charge of the -castle,) came, and conversed with her, whose father he had been the -innocent cause of betraying to death. His son attached himself to -the company of Sarah Bradley. The heart-broken sufferers, saw their -mutual affection, and kindly fostered it. Often too, did the worthy -miller and his wife make their appearance, and they were always -welcome. - -It was near midnight, and Madeline and Mary were alone in their -apartment. They lay in each other’s arms, gazing, at times, -involuntarily upon the white counterpane, on which the moonshine -fell. They spoke not, but the gentle and low breathing assured -them, that they had pined away together, and were now almost spent, -and ready to go. - -“Madeline, sweet Madeline,” said Mary, “Sarah will be a bride, in -a month--we shall both be brides in a few hours, nay, in a few -minutes. Let us be calm, for soon we meet our lovers.” - -“Yes, my Mary, kiss me! We need not call for my father and Sarah. -We are very happy alone. Another sigh, and all will be over. Kiss -me again.” - -“Yes, Madeline,” and a gentle breeze came in at the casement, and a -sweet ray of the moon came to these gentler and sweeter faces--but -the maidens were no more! - -We may mention, that, in a few days after the siege, Cromwell left -Lancaster Castle in the charge of a part of his troops. Soon, -however, it was recaptured by the exertions of the gallant Earl of -Derby. - - * * * * * - - _R. Cocker, Printer, Market-place, Wigan._ - -The Publisher, when the foregoing preface was in type, and when, -in the midst of active preparations to commence another volume, -received a communication from the Author to the effect, that his -pen was of no more service. How it has been taken away from him it -can do the public no good to explain:--suffice it for the Publisher -to assert that circumstances have been forced on, which are -infinitely more painful than a want of ability, or material in the -author; a want of encouragement from a kind and numerous public; or -a want of determination on his own part to continue and extend the -work. - -The Author had intended, as will be seen in the preface, to write a -series of historical scenes,--scenes of surpassing interest:--the -Subscribers, numerous at the very first, were continually -increasing, especially among the higher classes:--the Publisher was -opening new agencies, receiving new congratulations, and employing -new resources, when an event occured totally unexpected, which -compels him, most reluctantly, to withdraw the pledge so often -given, that other Legends were to issue from his press. - - _Wigan, May 22, 1841._ - - - - -Transcriber’s Notes: - - -Page numbers 273 and 274 were used twice by the printer. The first -set of pages is left unnumbered in this eBook. - -Missing and extra punctuation probably introduced at printing -corrected. Period punctuation, spelling and inconsistent -hyphenation retained. - -On page 30, “strange” changed to “stranger” (health and safety of -the stranger) - -On page 53, missing hyphen added (not to-night; the air is chill.) - -On page 59, missing hyphen added (changed parties to-day) - -On page 107, capitalization corrected (discourse last Sunday) - -On page 136, “dissaude” changed to “dissuade” (tried all her arts -to dissuade) - -On page 156, “mischievions” changed to “mischievous” (the -mischievous girl) - -On page 247, capitalization corrected (pensive eye of Lady Mabel) - -On page 261, “Hs” changed to “He” (He was a noble boy) - -On page 264, “frighful” changed to “frightful” (into that frightful -gallery) - -On page 285, missing space added (beside his lady, his sword drawn) - -On page 286, extra word “the” removed (instantly the door was -secured) - -On page 294, “siezed” changed to “seized” (seized by two armed men) - -On page 295, missing word “of” added (the charge of one of the -guards) - -On page 299, extra word “as” removed (exposed as I am) - -On page 316, “Montresser” changed to “Montressor” (said Montressor -above, and he gently disengaged) - -On page 348, missing hyphen added (He might perish to-morrow) - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Legends of Lancashire, by Peter Landreth - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEGENDS OF LANCASHIRE *** - -***** This file should be named 51177-0.txt or 51177-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/1/7/51177/ - -Produced by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/51177-0.zip b/old/51177-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 0b11970..0000000 --- a/old/51177-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51177-h.zip b/old/51177-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index db42b54..0000000 --- a/old/51177-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51177-h/51177-h.htm b/old/51177-h/51177-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index e83f5e7..0000000 --- a/old/51177-h/51177-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10058 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Legends of Lancashire, by Peter Landreth. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - - body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; - } - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; - } - - p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; - } - - hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; - } - - hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} - hr.full {width: 96%; margin-left: 2%; margin-right: 2%;} - hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - hr.tiny {width: 10%; margin-left: 45%; margin-right: 45%;} - - table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - } - - td.p2 {padding-top: 2em;} - - .pagenum { - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - } - - .center {text-align: center; } - .hang {padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -1em;} - .large {font-size: 1.25em;} - .p2 {margin-top: 2em;} - .p4 {margin-top: 4em;} - .small {font-size: .8em;} - .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - .tdc {text-align: center;} - .tdr {text-align: right;} - .xsmall {font-size: .7em;} - .xlarge {font-size: 1.75em;} - - .figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; - } - - .poem { - margin-left:10%; - margin-right:10%; - text-align: left; - } - .poem br {display: none;} - .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} - .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Legends of Lancashire, by Peter Landreth - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Legends of Lancashire - -Author: Peter Landreth - -Release Date: February 11, 2016 [EBook #51177] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEGENDS OF LANCASHIRE *** - - - - -Produced by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h1>LEGENDS<br /><span class="xsmall">OF</span><br /><span class="xlarge">LANCASHIRE.</span></h1> - -<table class="p4" summary="center text"> -<tr><td style="padding-left: 10px; padding-right: 10px;">“Round the fire such Legends go.”</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdr smcap">Sir W. Scott.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p class="center p4">LONDON:</p> -<p class="center small">WHITTAKER, AND CO., AVE MARIA LANE,</p> -<p class="center xsmall">AND</p> -<p class="center small">R. COCKER, MARKET-PLACE, WIGAN.</p> -<hr style="margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;" class="tiny" /> -<p class="center small">MDCCCXLI.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<table summary="center text"> -<tr><td class="p2 tdc small">TO</td></tr> -<tr><td class="p2 tdc">THE RIGHT HONOURABLE</td></tr> -<tr><td class="p2 tdc xlarge">LADY STANLEY,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="p2 tdc">THE “LEGENDS OF LANCASHIRE”</td></tr> -<tr><td class="p2 tdc small">ARE,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="p2 tdc">WITH HER LADYSHIP’S KIND PERMISSION,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="p2 tdr">RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED.</td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<table summary="table of contents"> -<tr><td></td><td class="tdr xsmall">PAGE.</td></tr> -<tr><td>The Battle of Wigan Lane</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_6">6</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Witches of Furness</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Devil’s Wall</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr> -<tr><td style="padding-right: 10px;">The Prophetess and the Rebel</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Spectre Coach</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_229">229</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Cross and Lady Mabel</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_243">243</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Lancaster Castle</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_303">303</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE">PREFACE.</a></h2> -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>A <i>Preface</i> before an Introduction seems sufficiently impudent.</p> - -<p>It is like popping our <em>face</em> in at the door for a short -reconnoitre, before we introduce ourselves. Be it so!</p> - -<p>The Chronicler of the “Legends of Lancashire” has no apology to -offer, except to his palsied hands, for taking up the pen. He is -not a Paul Pry, appearing before the public, with his perpetual -non-intrusion plea. He imagines that his motives for writing the -Legends are distinctly enough stated in the following Prospectus.</p> - -<p>“Lancashire, of all Counties in England, is the most interesting -to the antiquarian. Its rivers once flowed with blood;—its houses -were towers, castles, or abbeys;—its men were heroes;—its ladies -were witches! But now, what a change! The county is commercial. -Where the trumpet of war called Arthur to his victories, the noisy -engine is roaring. The fortresses have become factories; the -abbeys—workhouses;—the heroes—clerks, merchants, and bankers. -The ladies, indeed, profess to be what they were in former ages, -and still call themselves ‘Lancashire Witches.’ It may not be -safe for the ‘Chronicler,’ aged as he is, to speak lightly of -the power of their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span> spells; they may <em>yet</em> be of a deadly nature -to him—for witches love revenge. Report says, however, that -they cannot use the broomstick on which their ancestresses were -accustomed to perform their nightly wanderings in the air; but the -Chronicler is not so ungallant as to conclude, that it is because -they have broken it over their husbands’ shoulders. The witches -of a former age were accustomed, with awful incantations, to mix -their drugs:—pooh!—those of this age infuse a cup of comfortable -tea—but surely not to chatter scandal over it.</p> - -<p>“Alas! the age of chivalry and romance is gone from Lancashire. Its -bones are in the tomb of history;—but some are too gay for such -<em>grave</em> meditations. Legends alone can bring it to view, amidst all -the light of poetry; and their wand of enchantment may call into -existence a creation, beautiful yet real.</p> - -<p>“The Chronicler of the forthcoming ‘Legends’ undertakes to present -his readers with a series upon individuals, events, and places, -all connected with a former age. Charles, with cavaliers of every -shade:—roundheads, from Cromwell down to his groom:—the old -tower, wherein were gallant soldiers and fair ladies:—the field -of battle fiercely contested;—all shall appear, described, he -flatters himself, with accuracy and faithfulness. He shall never -sacrifice historical facts, or characters, to fiction. History, -accurately sketched, he believes to be the truest and most -beautiful romance, and there is enough of that in Lancashire to -dispense with false colour and glitter. Places, dates, and names, -as well as characters, shall be accurate.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span></p> -<p>“He begs leave to say one word of himself. He is an old man, and -this he conceives to be an advantage. The torch of tradition is -most becoming in a trembling hand; and its light falls with a -strange harmony over the white locks of the Chronicler, while he -totters on through the regions of the past, long forgotten; and of -which he himself seems to be the genius.”</p> - -<p>He candidly confesses that he has not yet fulfilled his promise. -That could not be done in the first volume. But the next shall be -a continuous series of Legends connected with the civil wars, and -illustrative of the characters of the opposing leaders. And in -these he shall avoid all discussions about the merits of Roundhead -and Cavalier. Vandyke might have given immortality to the features -of Cromwell, as well as those of Charles, without deciding on the -questions—ought Charles to have been beheaded, and was Cromwell -an usurper. So the Chronicler undertakes, even in his portraits -of leading characters, and in his sketches of events, to steer -clear of party spirit. Still the pledge does not prohibit him -from weighing the military and other talents of their respective -leaders. Should he say that Cromwell, beyond all comparison as a -man of genius and a soldier, was above Charles, it must not be -inferred that he is a Roundhead. Or should he paint Charles as a -more handsome and attractive man than Noll with the wart, he must -not be called a Cavalier.</p> - -<p>The Chronicler had no such design as has been attributed to him, -of “mercilessly blackening the character of Cromwell.” The critic, -evidently, had been gazing long upon some very sunny portrait -of the Protector, and, therefore, when he came to a more sober -one, his eyes being still dazzled, naturally thought it dark and -“black.” Besides, really the man of the newspaper must not get -deadly angry at the hint that his eyes are none of the best.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span></p> - -<p>That the Chronicler is free from any such design may be seen by the -high character which Cromwell sustains in the Legend of “Lancaster -Castle.” If it be thought that there is any contradiction between -that and the “Battle of Wigan Lane,” it is sufficient to reply, -that the Cromwell of 1644, and the Cromwell of 1651 are very -different personages indeed. When first he came into notice, none -of his enemies could suspect the sincerity of his profession of -republican principles, but before the above-mentioned battle, even -some of his friends had abandoned their confidence in his honesty.</p> - -<p>There now only remains to say a few words regarding the contents -of this volume. The Legends are all founded on authenticated -traditions, and at the end of the work the documents shall be -given. It is singular that the most improbable of them—the -“Devil’s Wall,” although a most perfect tradition in all its parts, -has never been known beyond the immediate vicinity of Ormskirk. The -Legend founded upon it follows the tradition without one deviation -except in the name and occupation of Gideon Chiselwig. The wall may -still be seen. The “Witches of Furness,” are the only two ladies -whom the Chronicler knows, that are unlike to the real Lancashire -Witches, and yet, the Legend is true. The neighbourhood of Furness, -it may be supposed, could produce a more noble kind of Witchcraft, -than the far-famed Pendle-hill. The latter abounds with nothing -but witches, the down upon whose lips might have formed the brooms -on which they careered through the air, when they had failed to -throw their bridle over some sleepy wretch, and transform him into -a horse. But a Legend of this kind of witchcraft shall afterwards -be given. The “Cross and Lady Mabel,” although founded on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span> same -genealogical account as Mr. Roby’s “Mab’s Cross,” is essentially -and altogether different in its details; and besides, gives the -tradition of the erection of the cross, which has, hitherto, -been unknown. And here the Chronicler returns his thanks to that -gentleman for the pleasure which his “Traditions of Lancashire” -have afforded him. Lancashire abounds with so many traditions, that -five or six Chroniclers might each glean a few volumes. This forms -the only excuse for following Mr. Roby.</p> - -<p>To the County Press the best thanks of the Chronicler are due, for -the high approbation they have bestowed on an anonymous work.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2><a name="INTRODUCTION" id="INTRODUCTION"></a>INTRODUCTION.</h2> -<hr class="tiny" /> - - -<p>The Chronicler of the forthcoming “Legends” is, perhaps, more of -an Antiquary, in disposition and habits, than many whose names -are well known in Societies, which have been formed for objects -of interesting research. He inhabits an old castellated building, -which was both a fortress and a mansion, in some former age. Time -has passed roughly over its proportions: he has even broken the -dial, which marked out his own flight. Still, many relics of the -past are left: and limbs of warlike images, and rude inscriptions, -partly effaced, may yet be seen. The chisel, or even the plaster -of modern art, have never approached its walls. No flower has -sought shelter amidst its mantling ivy:—shelter, it should never -find,—it would instantly be rooted up. Within, no partitions have -been erected, to silence the sacred echoes of the spacious hall. -The spirits of sound, which tenant the dwelling, would take flight -upon the slightest change. No carpet of richest manufacture, has -dared to cover the silent footsteps of the fair and the brave, -who once to the minstrel’s harp, and the sigh of love, trod many -a gallant measure in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> dance. The windows on the terrace, when -opened, receive no sound from the distance, save the old echo -of the lover’s lute, greeting the maiden as she listened in her -chamber, with fluttering heart, to the fond tale. When seen from -without, her handkerchief seems to float—the signal of peace and -hope. To the Chronicler, there is no silence in these deserted -scenes. From him, the sixteenth century has never departed. The -echoes are still of merriment and war. Knights and squires, -successful in wooing or fighting, move before him. He mingles, -with the delight of reality, in the banquet and the dance—and -then rushes to the siege and the battle. Could the reader obtain -admission to his apartment he would, as by a flash of lightning, -be favoured with a glance—it might be transient to his eye, but -it could never be darkened in his mind—of olden times. He would -converse with one, who has never lived for modern change, and in -whose white locks, and obsolete dress, he should behold a living -specimen of a former century, as if it had literally descended from -that time. The Chronicler must be excused for speaking of himself. -Who <em>could</em> forbid any of the followers of Cromwell, or Charles, -to arise—the one to recite with solemn countenance and lengthened -drawl; and the other with a dissipated air of pleasant vice—their -respective achievements, whilst their manner, and costume are -thoroughly scanned? What cavalier would ban<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> the Protector, even -Nol with his nose and ominous wart, from again appearing, to -reveal to us those stern and inflexible features, and to discourse -to us, in one of those intricate speeches, which none could -understand,—for, like his own dark and wily spirit, they baffled -all knowledge? Or what republican could say “nay,” as the king’s -court was brought into view, with the handsome, though melancholy -martyr, at its head, surrounded as he was, unfortunately, by -gilded butterflies? In like manner, the Chronicler hopes, that no -one <em>can</em> be inclined to prevent a specimen of these times from -intruding himself, for a little on the attention of his readers.</p> - -<p>He is now seated, writing from an inkhorn said to have been -the property of General Fairfax; and leaning on a table, once -heavily laden with a feast, of which royalists and republicans -alike partook, on a day of truce. Other relics of that time are -around him; but there is one dearer than all besides—a lovely -daughter—a descendant, by the mother’s side, of an ancient family -of distinction, from whom Charles II., during his wanderings, -received shelter, and subsequently, assistance to mount the throne. -She sings to him the ballads of other days, and they revive again -in the echo of her music. For her, as well as for her father, this -is but the sixteenth century; and though only in her seventeenth -summer, she rejects all the amusements of more modern times.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> -He has resolved, out of fondness for the days that are gone, as -well as affection for his daughter, that no lover fresh from -the approbation of his tailor, and the flattery of his mirror, -practised in bows and compliments acquired at the theatre—shall -ever find admission to his beloved Jane. He would sooner give her -to an ourang-outang than a fop. The favoured suitor must, indeed, -be handsome, learned, and brave; he must breathe a song of love -in the good old style, beneath her lattice, when the moon and -stars are shedding their light over the old mansion. Nor must he -be an Antiquary, in the modern sense of the word. He may enter -with the long essay, which he read to the British Association, in -his pocket, peeping out instead of the handkerchief of the dandy; -he may drag behind his name, all the letters of the alphabet, as -honorary titles; the Chronicler shall lead him to the door by -a way, to detail the curiosities of which, must obtain for him -additional laurels. He shall, to a certainty, likewise qualify him -for describing the strength of an oak cudgel. Nor must he be a -silly Poet, a thing distilled of sighs, flames, water, and earth, -who should have lived in the moon to address sonnets to her, and -not on earth, since the envious clouds prevent her from seeing and -reading them, as well as the brown paper of a garret window. Should -any such find his way here, the Chronicler promises to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> compliment -his head with a salutation from a good round of old England’s beef. -No, no, the favoured suitor must be of a different genus; and his -lute, moreover, must have no resemblance to the sighing guitar of -Venice, or the rude whistle of England. And the Chronicler has -sometimes been of opinion, that his daughter has made the same -resolution. Of late, he has caught the sound of a manly serenade, -and he has observed her blush, and occasionally leave the room. -Nay, he has met her rambling through the adjoining thickets, with -the son of an old friend, whose romance is in the past, and he -has blessed them both. Yes, handsome and talented is ——. He had -written the name, when Jane, looking over his shoulder in womanly -curiosity, beheld it. Shrieking, she immediately snatched the pen -from his hand, and scratched through it the above stroke, and gave -her fond old father a playful blow: yet now she seems thoughtful -and sorry for having violated that dear name, by blotting it, and -is half inclined to rewrite it herself. Fear not! Fate will draw no -such ominous mark over it, and all that binds it to you is love and -happiness.</p> - -<p>To confide a secret to the reader, since the last sentence was -written, the Chronicler has received a hint that the proof sheets -of the following “Legends” may be read by his son-in-law! Nay, this -very night, the lovers shall be formally betrothed, over a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> Bible, -which has been stained by the blood of its former possessor—a holy -martyr—and the sword of an old English patriot shall be placed in -the young man’s hand; therewith to defend religion—a wife—and a -country.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The ceremony is performed, and both press the old man to read the -first Legend. He gives his assent, and, at the same time, orders -chairs to be set for his dear friends, the Public; whom he has -respectfully invited, and whose attention he now humbly craves to</p> - -<h2><a name="THE_LEGEND_OF_THE_BATTLE_OF_WIGAN_LANE" id="THE_LEGEND_OF_THE_BATTLE_OF_WIGAN_LANE"></a> -<span class="xsmall">THE LEGEND OF</span><br />THE BATTLE OF WIGAN LANE.</h2> -<hr class="tiny" /> - - -<p>Few battlements now remain, of one of the best fortified castles -that ever defended Lancashire, and the King. But two centuries ago, -and Houghton Tower, situated at the distance of four miles and a -half to the west of Blackburn, stood proudly, and seemed in itself, -without the assistance of garrison or artillery, to be capable of -maintaining a successful struggle with the power of any enemy. All -around were peaceful vales, where primitive simplicity dwelt; and -often has the traveller, at eve, laid himself down on the green -knolls,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> beside the gently flowing stream of the classic Darwen, -in order to become as happy as every object near him; to enjoy the -gambols of the lambs frisking about; and to view the milkmaid, as, -with a light step, and a merry heart, she tripped across the glen. -He has then fancied himself, not only retired for ever from the -theatre of war, but likewise from the mart of commerce; and happy -has he been that there was an Eden sacred to his imagination, at -the very time when the face as well as the heart of his country was -blighted by civil strife, and stained by the blood of its own sons, -shed by the murdering hand of their brothers. But suddenly—to -jar upon all the rural sounds by which he was greeted—the shrill -trumpet was heard loud and near, startling the silent echoes of -the green woods on the banks of the river, and on emerging from -the vale, the fortresses of Houghton Tower were seen, dark and -sullen, against the fading light of the sky. The challenge of the -warder, and the fastening of the draw-bridge, were of war, and -entirely dispelled the previous calm. Who could have imagined -that in the bosom of such beautiful vales there could be a mass -of frowning rock, so huge as that on which the castle was built? -or, that amongst a class of venerable patriarchs, distinguished -for simplicity of manners and life, there could be the restless -spirits of war to fortify and maintain it? And yet it seemed to be -a castle of nature’s building, and not of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> art’s; for tall trees -over-shadowed its turrets, and around its base the Darwen flowed -over its deepest channel.</p> - -<p>It had been erected by Sir Thomas Houghton, towards the beginning -of Elizabeth’s reign, and the gallant knight had always supported -a garrison in it, evidently for no other purpose than to fire a -salute, at every anniversary of his birth day. But he died, and -so did his queen: and upon the accession of the learned James to -the throne, folios became the only battlements. His descendant, -Sir Gilbert, was honoured with a visit from that monarch, in -his celebrated “Progress” through Lancashire; and from the -tower of Houghton, the modern Solomon fired his wit from an old -Latin mortar. “Our opinion” said the grave fool and the merry -sage, “whilk hath been kept for some time, as our jester Horace -(the oyster eater should have lived in our court) recommends, -in our desk,”—and here he pointed to his brow, with his usual -self-complacency—“our opinion is,” he continued, “that Houghton -Tower is just like a Scotch pudding—ha!—ha!—Sir Gilbert;—your -castle is a pudding, and you are chief butler, and all your men are -cooks! <em>We</em> say so.”</p> - -<p>But another reign brought different scenes. Upon the disputes of -Charles and the Parliament, a strong garrison was again supported -in the tower, and the costly velvet which had decked the “Progress” -of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> James, through the ponderous gateway, was removed from the -trampling hoof of the war steed. The Parliamentary army besieged -it, but it made a bold defence, until, by accident, the magazine -of powder in the strongest battlement, was ignited; and as the -assailants were making a vigorous effort, all at once three of the -buttresses were blown up, and Cromwell’s troops were masters of -Houghton Tower, having taken all the garrison as prisoners. Their -governor, Sir Gilbert, had fallen in the assault. His son Richard -was heir, and the rightful lord of the tower, but he was confined -in a dungeon, along with his youngest daughter, Anne—for all her -sisters were married. But the wily Cromwell, when he was compelled -to lead his troops to Ireland, secretly advised his officers in the -garrison to give out that they were willing to conspire against -the Parliament, and to return to their allegiance, in order that -he might be privy to every intended movement of the Royalists. -The plot was successful. As soon as Cromwell had departed from -England, (he never had resided in the tower,) this resolution was -made known, and to prove its sincerity, Sir Richard Houghton was -restored to his claims as governor of Houghton Tower, which was -once more considered as a strong-hold of the Royalists; while -virtually it was in the power of spies, who secretly conveyed -all intelligence of any loyal movement which was, or had been -concerting,—to the General.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p> - -<p>The scene of our Legend opens in the year 1651, on a beautiful -evening towards the end of August, when the setting rays of the -autumn sun fell, with a luxurious light, on the grey fortresses, -and the floating banner. The fair Anne was walking alone, on the -eastern battlement which overlooked the valley. She was of slight -proportions, and her age could not have exceeded sixteen, though -she was possessed of a mind nobly accomplished, in which genius -and passion were now beginning to develope themselves, in beauty -and power. Her features were eminently noble, and beautiful; yet -changing to every expression, as if they themselves thought and -felt. In one mood, she might have sat to the painter, for a true -image of the laughing and innocent Hebe; one who would have danced -away an immortality in smiles, with no other wreathes than her own -beautiful hair, and no other company than her own thoughts and -love: more gay and gladsome than a child of earth,—the genius of -witchery. In another, for that of Melancholy, her long dark locks -hanging over a face so pale, with the colour and the life of hope -dashed from it, as was hope itself, from her mind. Her form was -moulded in the most perfect symmetry of beauty,—not luxurious, but -spiritual.</p> - -<p>The weeds of mourning for her mother, who had died a few months -before, had been thrown aside;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> but the paleness of her cheeks, and -the tremor of her lips, spoke the sorrow of her heart. Her locks -waved to the breeze. Her eye kindled with enthusiasm, as, quickly -placing her small hand upon her marble brow, she exclaimed, “how -tranquil and how beautiful is earth now. Yonder cottages, with -their ivy porches, around which children are sporting, appear as if -they were the habitations of young spirits. England is blessed in -her cottages—but ah!—in her palaces!—no crown for the sun’s rays -to fall upon! Once the sun gleamed upon the crown placed carelessly -amidst the state ornaments, in the palace:—without, upon the gory -head of the king, which had once been invested by it; and last of -all, upon his headless trunk. Oh! that his son—now returned, might -be blessed with conquest.”</p> - -<p>At this moment, her eye was arrested by a reflection of light -in the distance. It was the gleam of arms, from a small body of -soldiers; over whom the banner of Charles was waving.</p> - -<p>In her joy, Anne Houghton clasped her hands, and fervently said, -“Thank God! all are not traitors.” She turned round, and met the -searching glance of Colonel Seaton, one of Cromwell’s spies.</p> - -<p>“Fair lady—yonder troop is a loyal body. But—” and his -countenance darkened with thought as he spoke,—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>“they have now -encamped, and three horsemen leave the line, and are galloping in -the direction of the tower. Well—for their reception!”</p> - -<p>There seemed to be a concealed meaning in his tones, and in haste -he strode away. Three men were now seen approaching the avenue -which led to the gateway. The foremost seemed to have no armour, -but a sword. He wore no helmet, but a low cap, with a white -plume. He was clad in a mourning garb, and over his left arm his -cloak was flung, as for a shield. Keen was his eye, though he had -evidently passed the meridian of life, and the fair lady of the -tower almost believed that she only stood at a short distance from -him—so quick was its flash. Behind him was a handsome youth, -equipped in light panoply, who seemed fitted either for contesting -the battlefield—or for sighing, not unpitied, in a lady’s bower. -Light was the rein which he passed over his charger, and yet, as -it plunged furiously, the rider sat with indifference. The third -horseman, who seemed altogether absorbed with papers on which he -was glancing, was the most stalwart. His coat of mail was clasped -over a breast, full and prominent, and his horse startled whenever -his mailed hand was placed upon its mane, to urge it forward. His -eye never sought the fortress of the tower, until they had arrived -at the drawbridge—when the warder’s horn sounded the challenge, -and Sir Gilbert appeared on the walls. The first horseman called -out,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> “The Earl of Derby, with two friends, in the service of -Charles.”</p> - -<p>The drawbridge arose instantly, and, as they entered, Sir Richard -gave the Earl a warm welcome. “In mourning, my noble friend? Is the -Countess of Derby in health?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” was the reply—“But I wear these weeds for my late -unfortunate master: and never shall they be exchanged—unless for -a court dress, to appear with my heroic lady, in the palace of his -son.”</p> - -<p>“Never,” was the ejaculation of Colonel Seaton, who now bowed his -homage to the loyal nobleman and his companions. The word seemed -ominous—but it was intended to be <em>more</em> than ominous. A tear -trembled in the Earl’s eye, and, although delicate was the hand -which brushed it away, that hand seemed formed for the sword. -“Excuse my weakness,” he added. “Loyalty costs me much; but for -every tear which falls on the ground, that ground shall drink, till -it be glutted, aye, dyed with the enemy’s blood.” This was said in -no threatening tone, but, from its very mildness, was thrilling -with the sternest revenge, and breathing the spirit of the -deadliest resolution; as the still calm, sometimes truly announces -the darkness and fury of the tempest.</p> - -<p>“Sir Thomas Tyldesley and a distant relation, whom he calls his -nephew;—dear to me for themselves, as well as for their loyalty, -accompany me,” said Derby, introducing them to Sir Richard;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> “we -met at Preston, in the royal name, once more to try the cause of -Charles.”</p> - -<p>“My sword,” replied Sir Thomas to the praise of the governor, “once -intervened between the king and death; and gladly would I have -intervened myself, to save him from his shameful end. I can do the -same for his son: my nephew will support me,” and he looked with -emotion upon his young relative. They informed Sir Richard, that at -the head of six hundred men, they were on their march to possess -themselves of Wigan, and then to join the army of the king. Colonel -Seaton councilled them to delay their march till the morrow, and -then some of the garrison might be prepared to accompany them. -Meanwhile, he assured them that a messenger should be sent to the -camp, to make known this resolution. He stepped aside to one of his -men, and, in a low and firm voice said, “Mount horse ere another -minute is gone, and meet Colonel Lilbourne, and bid him haste to -seize upon Wigan. Stay—” as he bethought himself, “your course -may be seen at present; in half-an-hour you will be favoured by -the night,—and ride, as from death!” “Perhaps,” he muttered to -himself, as he moved on to join the Earl, “Lilbourne may give them -a welcome, if his friendship be hasty, in these very walls.”</p> - -<p>Sir Richard Houghton had now conducted the new comers up to the -battlements, through ponderous arches, and had asked Derby’s -blessing upon his beautiful daughter. Kind was the Earl’s language<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> -to the maiden, as, gently taking her arm, he put it within that of -young Tyldesley; “Let the smiles of beauty always honour and reward -the young and brave royalist!”</p> - -<p>“Old soldiers likewise honour the youthful royalist,”—interrupted -Colonel Seaton, who had joined them—“and perhaps high honours -await him on the morrow.” These words were not heard by young -Tyldesley, who was gallantly paying his compliments to the lady. -Her eye never wandered from the ground, even to gaze upon the -handsome cavalier, until they had entered the great hall, and she -was led by him to a seat in the recess, with the casement opening -upon the woody precipices of the tower. She then stole a glance at -him, as he gazed upon the scene without. He seemed agitated with -some remembrance newly awakened. Anne’s eyes were still upon him, -until, at length, he broke from his reverie.</p> - -<p>“Excuse my rudeness, fair lady:—the times prevent us from giving -the attention we are proud to show. In the midst of courtesy, -aye, and of tenderer duties, the trumpet calls us away, or some -painful remembrance comes, like a cloud, over our joy. Three -years ago I was cloistered within the walls of Oxford, striving -successfully for literary honours. My sister,—fair and beautiful -as the lady-love of a poet’s dream; and pure as an angel—for she -transformed earth into a holy spot, and then fondly clung to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -every flower which grew there, of hope and love—came from home -to visit me. It was towards sunset, in summer, when she entered -my apartment. She rushed not forth to meet me, as was her wont. -She was pale, and her golden ringlets were disordered;—but her -countenance was intensely thoughtful, and she assumed all the -affection of an elder sister, kissed my brow, and asked God to -bless her brother Henry. Cold were her lips, as I fondly pressed -them. I put her hand within my bosom, and encircled her slight -frame with my arm. I begged her to tell me her distress. I had -not a friend to inquire respecting; we were two orphans; and, -therefore, I knew that the causes of her anguish were bound up in -herself. ‘Oh! Eleanor,’ I said, ‘how different is this meeting -from our last; in this very room, when you bounded in, all fondly -and playfully, and gave me a kiss for every medal of honour I had -won.—See,’ and I showed her many which I had won since—‘will -you refuse me a sister’s reward?’ She bent forward—her arms were -twined around my neck, when her head sunk on her bosom. ‘Oh! tell -me!’ I exclaimed with an earnestness almost frantic, ‘why are -you thus disturbed?’ She slowly raised her face, with a strange -expression, and asked, ‘Does a nerve of my frame tremble, brother? -do mine eyes drop one little tear? why, then, should ye suppose me -distressed?’ Here a bell tolled suddenly—it was no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> requiem for -the dead—but for a noble youth who was shortly to be so.</p> - -<p>“She started up, and exclaimed, ‘it is time!—brother, ask me not a -question, but silently accompany me.’</p> - -<p>“‘Where?’ I inquired.</p> - -<p>“‘To the place of execution!’</p> - -<p>“The truth now flashed upon me. She took my arm and we left the -room. It was a beautiful night, so like the present. I lamented the -fate of him who must bid adieu to earth, when it was so lovely, -and on a scaffold! and I longed to know the tie which bound my -sister to him, but I dared not question her. We had already left -the suburbs of Oxford, and the dense crowd was in sight at a short -distance. She broke the silence, ‘Henry, do not hold me, when I -quit your arm; do not, for my mother’s sake. That vow is sacred to -us both!’ We had now reached the place of death. The sun gleamed -upon the block. I thanked God that he was to be beheaded as a -gentleman, and not hanged as a dog. He came upon the scaffold with -a proud step, and a haughty mien. His head was uncovered, and dark -were the beautiful locks, which hung over his neck;—but that head, -which might have lain on my sister’s bosom, was to be as a piece -of wood for the axe of the executioner! My sister never trembled, -but gazed upon him. He started as he looked upon the block! He -approached,—the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> executioner was about to unbuckle the sword of -the condemned cavalier, when, with a proud glance, he forbade him. -He knelt:—his lips moved in prayer. His eyes fell upon the marks -of military honour on his breast. ‘Sir William,’ he said, ‘thou art -no more.’</p> - -<p>“At his name, my sister gave one scream of madness; he started -up at the sound, and his eyes were upon Eleanor. ‘My Eleanor!’ -he exclaimed: she rushed to the scaffold; but in a moment he was -bound down to the block, and the axe fell, but not before a loud -shout came from his lips, ‘God save King Charles!’ and there was my -sister kneeling over him, and then attempting to snatch the head -from the executioner, in her frenzy. I sprung forward—I heard a -fall—Eleanor was dead upon the headless trunk! I rushed home with -the lifeless body in my arms, and there pronounced a vow of revenge -upon the rebels, by whom I had lost a sister.</p> - -<p>“My books were disregarded, and I joined my brave uncle. But—this -night is the exact type of that awful night! and I—have no sister!”</p> - -<p>He buried his face in his hands. In sympathy, tears were flowing -down the cheeks of Anne. He raised his eyes, and blessed her for -one tear shed over the memory of Eleanor. He even ventured to -take her hand—and it was not withdrawn—“Excuse me,” he said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> “I -cannot leave the subject soon, as I cannot leave her grave when I -visit it, until the dews are falling upon my prostrate form. It -is sacred. You remind me of her. And will the fair Anne Houghton -refuse to be unto me what my Eleanor was?”</p> - -<p>At this moment the warriors entered the hall, and a council was -held, as to their future movements, when Sir Richard bade his -daughter give orders to the domestics for the feast. In an hour the -entertainment was ready, and the hall lighted. Sir Thomas Tyldesley -sat at the table in full armour, and at every movement which he -made, the clang of his armour was heard, amidst the sober mirth -of the feast. Colonel Seaton inadvertently remarked “The Lord’s -people of old were commanded to eat the passover with their staves -in their hands, ready to depart; and his people, now, must eat with -their swords in their hands.”</p> - -<p>“Friend,” replied the knight,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> “that speech savours too much of a -roundhead, who must always be quoting scripture. I once knew one of -them, whom Cromwell advised to read carefully the account of Jael -and Sisera; and after he had done so, he would inquire at every -old woman whom he met, whether she had got such articles as a long -nail, a heavy hammer, and a strong arm; and told her to operate -upon the head of a cavalier, assuring her ‘that the Lord had -delivered all such into her hand,’ and that she would henceforth -be a mother in Israel. No, no, colonel,—I do not say let soldiers -leave piety to monks, but let them, I say, leave sermons, homilies, -and long faces.”</p> - -<p>“Well spoken,” said Sir Richard Houghton, “but our friend hates the -roundheads.”</p> - -<p>“I do,” replied the Colonel, “God save King Charles.”</p> - -<p>At this moment a blast was heard, and Sir Richard arose, when -Seaton again interrupted them. “Keep your seat, worthy knight, and -entertain your guests. I will go and parley with the new comer; it -is the blast of a royalist.” He strode away saying in his heart, -“God save Cromwell.”</p> - -<p>In a short time he returned with the stranger, who was of an -athletic frame, altogether destitute of grace, though not of -dignity; for he strode into the hall with a commanding air. His eye -moved restlessly over the forms of the warriors, when the Earl of -Derby started up, with his hand on his sword.</p> - -<p>Colonel Seaton stepped between them, “You behold a friend, noble -Earl! the governor of a loyal castle, who has come to deliberate -with Sir Richard Houghton, in reference to their garrison: not -knowing whether they ought to join the King at Worcester, or keep -to their castle.”</p> - -<p>The Earl was satisfied, and only remarked that “he had been -deceived by a resemblance.”</p> - -<p>The stranger was invited cordially to partake of the cheer; during -which he spoke but little, and yet seemed interested in the -conversation. At length Sir Thomas Tyldesley proposed that a song -should be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> sung, adding “that amongst royalists there were to be -found the only true poets.”</p> - -<p>“Nay, Sir Thomas,” replied the Earl of Derby, “the republicans can -boast of one whose name shall be the boast of our country to latest -ages, whose lays are wild and majestic. When in London, I was -desirous of seeing the man who wrote so bitterly against the king; -expecting to see a fiend in human disguise. His house was mean: I -thought that he surely had not taken bribes, otherwise he might -have lived in a magnificent mansion. As I entered, two females were -writing, and the sound of an organ came from the further end of the -room. I turned there, and beheld a beautiful man, seated behind -the faded hangings, with a countenance so serene and angelic, and -his eyes looking up to heaven, as if his soul was ascending on the -breath of the music. He was dictating to the ladies, who called him -father. He moved not his eyes: his face was pale, but every muscle -seemed to vibrate with thought and feeling. His hair was parted in -front, over a beautifully formed brow, and fell in brown ringlets -over his shoulders. He could not be young—there was so much of -thought:—he could not be old—there was so much of happiness. -‘Dorothy,’ he said, ‘I have given you the last sentence:—subscribe -Joannis Miltonus.’”</p> - -<p>“Milton!” exclaimed the stranger with enthusiasm.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> “John Milton!”</p> - -<p>“His daughter,” the Earl continued, “beheld me; they told their -father that an armed stranger was present. His sword was on the -table—he grasped it—but instantly laid it down. ‘He is welcome, -though I cannot see him. All is dark—dark—not even shadows. But -your errand, sir stranger?’—and his sightless orbs seemed to turn -upon me, with the sweetest, and yet most dignified expression. I -dared not announce with what views I had come, but I went close -to his side, and took the hand (it scarcely touched as if it were -human) which was stained with my master’s blood, and I kissed it -in profoundest admiration. I remained for hours, happy, useful -hours. He arose, as I prepared to depart; I yet see his form; I yet -hear his step. He led me to the door, and blessed me. I have often -thought of the interview, and as I passed the Darwen a few hours -ago, I repeated his lines—though they were commemorative of the -king’s defeat,—</p> - -<p class="center small p2">‘And Darwen’s streams with blood of Scots embrued.’”</p> - -<p class="p2">Here the stranger was much moved, and frequently repeated to -himself, “my Milton! my Milton!”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” added Sir Thomas Tyldesley, “it was on such a night as this, -three years ago, that Cromwell defeated the Duke of Hamilton.”</p> - -<p>“It was,” replied the stranger, averting his gaze.</p> - -<p>The conversation now began to turn upon their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> warlike plans, -and Henry Tyldesley, conceiving that he might be more agreeably -occupied, led Anne to a seat in the recess, where our fair readers, -we doubt not, have been frequently wishing them to be, together and -alone.</p> - -<p>Music was heard from the battlements, through the casement; the -moon shed her softening light upon the young hero’s armour, and -he almost fancied that the rays were the fingers of his beautiful -companion. They spoke not, though their eyes had met, and though -the emotions with which they were lighted up, could not be -mistaken. They loved fondly, and to them both it was that holy and -rapturous thing—first love—which is for ever remembered, even -in old age, as something more beautiful and real than a dream of -earth. In war, love is seen only as in a glimpse, yet then it is -most interesting. Does the dove ever appear so much the spirit of -peace and hope, as when her silver wings are seen, like eternal -types of light, through the darkness of the storm, ascending to -heaven? How beautiful then is every flutter! Darkness is over all, -except these wings, and they appear purer and whiter than ever! -Thus is it with love, when it clings, fonder and fonder, in the -midst of danger; and when slender arms twine themselves around the -martial form, as if they could give a charm against wounds and -death, which reach through corslet and shield.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> - -<p>Young Tyldesley had taken her hand, and she had not withdrawn it, -when a shadow was reflected from the casement, at which they sat -within hearing of the Darwen. Anne started, and on turning round -beheld her maid, who motioned her to leave the hall. There was -an unusual earnestness in her manner as she whispered “for God’s -sake—for your own—not a moment’s delay, my lady!”</p> - -<p>Her mistress silently obeyed her.</p> - -<p>They were now both upon the battlement, at the eastern extremity.</p> - -<p>“We are out of hearing,” said the maid, looking cautiously -around; and gazing upon Anne, whispered with terror, “you are -betrayed!—betrayed—and in the power of false hearts, but daring -hands!”</p> - -<p>“Never,” replied her mistress with energy, “who dares asperse his -character and motives?—the stranger is true—”</p> - -<p>“My young lady thinks of love,” returned her maid,—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>“but I refer -not to a lover. Nay, blush not; I meant not, that falsehood, either -to his king, or his lady-love, is in the heart of that young and -handsome cavalier; no, he and his companions I could swear over my -dead husband’s bible, are loyal and noble. But the new comer, whom -Colonel Seaton admitted, is a traitor!—nay, start not, my fair -mistress,—and Houghton Tower is now in the hands of Charles the -First’s murderers!”</p> - -<p>There was a fearful reality, thrilling in the voice of the -attendant; so different from the gossiping tone, for which she was -somewhat noted.</p> - -<p>“Gracious heaven!” exclaimed her mistress, “and are we betrayed? I -doubt the fidelity of Seaton. He had the countenance of an honest -man until this day; but I now fear me, that his heart is deceitful -and villainous. The stranger, too, seemed sullen; still, there was -an expression of cunning. Yet why should we tremble? Let their -heads grace the walls of Houghton Tower!—my father shall see it -done.”</p> - -<p>“Hush, hush, my lady,” replied her maid, “other heads than those -of traitors may, ere long, grace the turrets. They are supported -by the garrison. I learned as much from one of the sentinels, and -a high admiration he expressed for the stranger, whom my husband, -heaven rest his soul! would have addressed as an ungainly butcher, -such is the villain’s appearance.”</p> - -<p>Here she was interrupted:—she beheld two forms in the distance, -approaching, and she whispered to her mistress, to screen -themselves from view, behind the enormous engine posted on the -battlements. Scarcely had they done so, before they heard steps -near them, and instantly a dead pause was made. A stern voice now -lowly broke upon the silence, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> Anne recognized it to be that -of the stranger, only it seemed more authoritative, even in its -whispers. “Is all safe? Is every thing in readiness?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” was the short reply of his companion, Colonel Seaton; but it -was given in an obsequious and reverential tone.</p> - -<p>“But Derby, and his companions—”</p> - -<p>“Your excellency,” returned Seaton, “they shall be taken care of. -Though the night is not dark, still, dangers beset their way back -to the camp; and since their health is valuable, we must not expose -them beyond the limits of Houghton Tower. We are good nurses, and -are generally able to lull all whom we love, into a long and sound -sleep. Fear not—they are safe;”—and he laughed in scorn.</p> - -<p>After a moment’s pause, the stranger replied,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> “Seaton, you speak of -sleep; let us then think of a bed for them. I have heard of a deep -draw-well in the court; they would not be disturbed there. ’Twill -but keep them from a sea of blood, into which, heaven assisting me, -the royalists must soon be plunged, and drowned, like Pharoah’s -host, in the red sea,—aye, red indeed! But, Seaton, see that these -three men do not quit the tower; their troopers shall be an easy -prey—they are sheep without a shepherd.”</p> - -<p>“Fear not,” the Colonel again said; “they are safe. They have -been men of blood, and it is but befitting them, that they should -undergo a cleansing. The ruffian Tyldesley pointed out to me some -stains of blood upon his armour—aye, the blood of our companions: -the well shall wash them out. Your excellency shall triumph over -all your enemies.”</p> - -<p>“Again,” interrupted his companion, “I charge it upon you. I am not -wont to come unattended, but, at present, I have run every hazard, -encountered every danger, to learn how our cause prospers. The -enemy is in our power. Seaton shall defeat Derby at Houghton Tower, -and his general shall defeat Charles at Worcester.”</p> - -<p>The stranger here spoke in a soothing and flattering tone. He added -a few more words, but they were inaudible. The speakers then trod -to and fro, upon the battlements, conversing with each other in -whispers. Sometimes the stamp of the stranger was heard enforcing -his words.</p> - -<p>The fair Anne, concealed with her attendant, behind the engine, -had listened in terror to the preceding conversation. She saw that -they were surrounded by the most artful plots, managed by powerful -and experienced agents; that the cause for which she had so long -implored the assistance of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> heaven, was in the greatest danger; -that her father, and young Tyldesley, whom she did not now blush -to think of as a very dear friend, with his uncle, and Derby, -must perish; and that she herself was at the mercy of stern and -unflinching ruffians. But how could she inform them of treachery, -when the traitors were walking near the place of her concealment? -Every moment seemed an hour; and, perhaps, it was then being -determined that every royalist in the tower, should be dragged by -the garrison, to a disgraceful end! She was almost frantic with -impatience, and she knew, likewise, that one slight movement of her -posture, as well as a whisper, might betray her.</p> - -<p>Again the two republicans stood opposite to the place where the -females were concealed, and their conversation could be heard.</p> - -<p>“All is safe,” said the stranger. “A few hours will bear me to my -men, assured that no enemy can annoy me in the rear; and before -me is the hungry skeleton of a wandering king. Pity that the -royal fool will not become my groom. He should be fed and clad, -and I might, eventually, raise him to hold my stirrup.” There was -intense mockery in his tones. He continued,—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>“aye, and when his -time allowed him to sport, I might procure him a gilded staff for -his sceptre, and he might crown himself, with straw from the -manger—the Lord’s anointed!”</p> - -<p>Not a smile passed over the face of the speaker, and Seaton, -was silent. The words were too earnest to be taken as humourous -sallies. The stranger resumed,—“He returns again to England. Poor -fool! Nature seems to have <em>beheaded</em> him at his birth! and all -that the Lord’s people can do, is to bury him.” The speaker’s scorn -here seemed to increase, until he became silent. Colonel Seaton -ventured to inquire—</p> - -<p>“Your excellency departs early?”</p> - -<p>“In a few minutes hence,” was the reply. “I may be suspected;—as -I entered the hall, Derby seemed to recall my features. The dead, -methinks, have a better cause to bear me in memory, than the -living. Yet Derby should recollect me; I once crossed swords with -him, disguised in habit, but not in countenance; and to a singular -incident he owed his safety. He fought bravely, and I should have -dispatched him gallantly, had—but this avails not now. He seems to -know me.”</p> - -<p>“Nay,” replied Seaton, “he spoke kindly to you after I explained -the purport of your visit. Let us return to the hall for a little.”</p> - -<p>“Why?” asked the stranger proudly;—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>“to be discovered? and then the -stay of England’s army and England’s freedom would be broken! No, -I mount horse instantly.”</p> - -<p>“Your hasty departure may excite suspicion, and frustrate our -schemes.”</p> - -<p>“’Tis well. I go to bid them adieu, a long adieu; ’tis probable -that I may never see them more. I am not in the habit of searching -wells, there to renew old acquaintanceship.”</p> - -<p>They passed on. Anne started up from her concealment. Not a moment -was to be lost, after the republican disappeared in the distance. -But alas! she could gain admittance to the hall by no other way -than that which they had taken. She reached the hall door,—she -heard her father, in a loud and merry tone of voice, pledge -the <a id="Err_1" name="Err_1"></a>health and safety of the stranger. For a moment she stood -irresolute, when Seaton and his companion appeared. “Fair maid,” -said the stranger, “receive my wishes and prayers, as I bid you -adieu.” In a moment he was gone, and she rushed into the hall.</p> - -<p>“Speak not! ask no questions, noble warriors!” she exclaimed. “We -are betrayed! Yes, father, that stranger you have harboured as a -guest, is a republican, and Seaton has been acting as his spy. The -garrison are likewise traitors, and from us all escape is cut off—”</p> - -<p>“I knew that it was Cromwell,” replied Derby,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> as he started from -his seat, “but heaven grant that he is not yet beyond our reach; -I’ll die in capturing him! My friends, let us pursue!”</p> - -<p>He drew his sword, and every sign of feebleness left his frame. -Attended by his two companions, and the governor, he rushed forth, -exclaiming “treason! treason!”</p> - -<p>Fiery and impatient were their spirits, and as hasty their -steps. They came within sight of the drawbridge. It was up: and -as they rushed forward, a horseman spurred his steed across it, -and it again fell, and all communication was prevented. Cromwell -had escaped! and in the bitterness of disappointment Derby and -the governor stood bewildered, and thought not of securing the -traitor Seaton. They returned to the hall without perceiving that -Sir Thomas Tyldesley had left them, until the inquiries of Anne -rendered them aware of his absence. When they were alternately -expressing their disappointment at Cromwell’s escape, and their -surprise as to what had befallen the knight, a shriek was heard, as -coming from the nearest turret. Anne exclaimed, “the garrison are -traitors, and they are now slaying Sir Thomas.”</p> - -<p>“Nay, lady,” said the earl,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> “Tyldesley must first become coward, -ere a shriek escape him, though tortured beyond endurance. He would -express triumph even in death. But let us hasten. Fair lady, you -may be safer under our protection than in the hall. Lean on Harry’s -arm, it is the arm of a soldier—come;” and they hastened to the -place whence the noise proceeded. The moon shone full on their -faces, and gave them, to the gaze of each other, a strange mystery. -A step was heard in the distance, and soon Sir Thomas Tyldesley -stood before them, with his naked sword in his hand. He bade them -follow. He halted at the distance of a hundred yards, and raising -up an object which lay motionless, revealed the lifeless body of -Seaton. He tossed it down; and there it lay, with ghastly features, -all marked with blood, turned upon the spectators. A sword was -beside the body: the knight grasped it, and said,—</p> - -<p>“The traitor fell by his own weapon. Thrice through the heart I -stabbed him with it, for I would not wound him with a sword which I -received from our late master.”</p> - -<p>“He richly deserved a thousand deaths,” ejaculated the governor.</p> - -<p>“Richly indeed,” replied Tyldesley,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> “had all his villainy been -comprehended in this night’s treachery. He lowered the drawbridge, -and while we stood astonished and motionless with anger, attempted -to retreat. I followed him. He muttered to himself, ‘Cromwell is -safe, and now for the mutiny in the garrison.’ He reached the -highest battlements. Rushing past him, I presented myself full -on his path, and ordered him to stand on his defence, or die. -He hesitated; entreated me for his life; wished to be thought a -coward; and yet all the time was cautiously, and, as he thought, -secretly, drawing his sword. He knelt, and then, imagining that I -was bending over him, he made a furious thrust, which I foiled, and -struck his weapon from his hand. Ha! it seems to pollute my hand -as I now grasp it.” The knight approached the walls, and tossed -it over. In its descent it glimmered in the moonshine, and the -bloodstains were seen, until it fell into the river.</p> - -<p>He returned, and taking up the body of Seaton, said, “let its -master share the same fate,” and instantly hurled it over, and a -heavy splash was heard.</p> - -<p>“So much for a traitor,” said Derby, “but did not the young lady -say that all the garrison were traitors also? What then is to be -done? Let us leave the tower, for if they knew of the murder of -their leader, all our lives would be sacrificed, and my troops -could not advance to the assistance of Charles. What dost thou -advise, Sir Governor?”</p> - -<p>“I cannot leave Houghton Tower,” was the reply. “I am its owner, -and must either live or die in it.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps,” interrupted his daughter,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> “the garrison, since Seaton -is dead, and all other supporters are at a distance, may not openly -rebel for some time.”</p> - -<p>“Maiden,” said Derby, “thy counsel is good. Let them, moreover, be -informed of Seaton’s just death, and should they revolt, it would -be at the moment, and then Sir Richard might hang out a signal -from the walls, and in a short time my troops would advance to -the rescue. Meanwhile, Sir Thomas, it is necessary that we should -instantly be at the head of our men, prepared for every emergency. -Let us to horse!”</p> - -<p>This proposal met the sanction of the warrior. Our young hero, -however, turned pale; he was to be torn from the object of his -fondest love, never, perhaps, to meet again. He committed his -mistress to the care of her attendant, who now appeared.</p> - -<p>“Nay,” said Sir Richard. “We part not thus; let my noble guests -once more, in the hall, pledge the good old cause. Meanwhile your -horses shall be prepared for the way.”</p> - -<p>Young Tyldesley, as long as they remained in the hall, looked in -vain for Anne to enter. He was obliged to leave without pronouncing -farewell.</p> - -<p>They had now reached the gateway, where stood their horses. A young -page was likewise in waiting, who craved in a low, yet sweet voice, -to accompany<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> them, as he was of no use to his fair mistress, and -might be the bearer of warlike messages, though a very unwarlike -personage himself.</p> - -<p>“Does your mistress know of your departure?” asked Sir Thomas -Tyldesley.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” was the reply.</p> - -<p>“Then, nephew, he is but of slender form, and cannot burden your -horse. Mount him behind you.”</p> - -<p>When all was in readiness, the drawbridge arose, they spurred their -horses, the moon shone upon the armed horsemen, and the pale face -of the page, who clung fast to Henry Tyldesley, and soon from the -tower their march could not be heard.</p> - -<p>Sir Richard sat in the hall, considering in what manner he should -best break his message to the garrison. Wishing to consult Anne, -whom he fondly loved, and whom, young as she was, he used to -call his premier, he retired to her private chamber, but she was -not there. He was not at first alarmed, because he knew, that -on a moonlight night, she was in the habit of walking on the -battlements, and enjoying the sweet influences which breathed upon -her from so many sources. But after an hour had passed, and still -she came not, though she must have known the perplexed state of her -father’s mind, occasioned by the strange events which that night -had disclosed, he summoned her attendant.</p> - -<p>“Where is my daughter?” anxiously asked the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> knight. The woman was -silent, but some secret intelligence seemed lurking on her lips. -Sir Richard became enraged; at length, she muttered, “She is not in -Houghton Tower.”</p> - -<p>“Not in Houghton Tower!” exclaimed the knight, half frenzied. “And -she is lost to me! There she was born, there she has lived, the -only flower of my hopes and love, which my own heart’s blood would -have been willing to cherish; aye! and there she should have died! -The little chapel, where she has so often prayed by my side, would -have given her a holy grave, and the withered hands of her old -father before they were stiff in death, would have gathered a few -blossoms, and strewn them over it. She’s gone!—gone!”</p> - -<p>The woman stood speechless at the ravings of her master. His mind -had always before been calm, as the stillest lake embosomed in a -summer glen. Even when his lady died, the composure of a feature -was not disturbed. Amidst treachery and private grief he had been -unmoved. But now, what agitation amidst the silent thoughts of an -old heart! Beautifully was it fabled by the ancients, that should -the sleeping waters of Lethe, on whose fair breast, no breeze came -to silence the murmur of its loving waves, which were only heard -by young spirits revelling there—be stormed into fury by any -influence, no trident of Neptune could assuage them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> The young, -when their hopes are blasted, know nothing of the grief felt by -the aged, when their last hope dies, and when winter is over their -feelings.</p> - -<p>At length Sir Richard recovered himself, so far as to inquire where -his daughter was. “She has gone,” was the reply, “with the Earl of -Derby. The young horseman has avowed his love for her.”</p> - -<p>“Eternal curses on them all!” thundered forth the knight. “Thus -it is. These old men have conspired to ruin her. Derby pressed -her upon the youth’s notice, and has persuaded her to accompany -them. They are pledged against her innocence! aye!” his rage -still increasing,—“so have I heard of the unlicensed conduct -of cavaliers—but I will be revenged!—and henceforth, I am the -bitter enemy of all royalists!” In a moment, passion and love for -his daughter had brought him to this conclusion. He invoked curses -on Charles. Every prepossession in favour of the cause which he -hitherto supported, was gone, and in its place, inflexible and -active hate had entered.</p> - -<p>He left the hall, and acquainted the garrison,—who, we have seen, -were well disposed to Cromwell, with his daughter’s flight, and -instantly inspired them with deadly revenge. They all loved Anne; -she had listened to the tale of war which the very humblest of -them had to recite; and many of them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> had almost been compelled to -acquaint her with the plot of the Parliamentary officers. But at -present they were cool enough to observe, that it would neither be -prudent nor safe to make a sally upon Derby’s followers, to whom -they were inferior in number. It was, therefore, agreed, that at -the hour of midnight, fifty men from the tower should accompany Sir -Richard Houghton, to join the army of Captain Lilbourne, who was -then supposed to be marching from Manchester, to seize on Wigan, -and defend it against the royalists. Thus, Sir Richard Houghton, -formerly a true, though by no means an active, defender of Charles, -became a zealous supporter of Cromwell.</p> - -<p>Long before morning had dawned upon the camp, the Earl of Derby was -stirring about, and ordering all to be in readiness for departure. -No signal had been seen from Houghton Tower. It was, therefore, -concluded, that there had been no mutiny in the garrison. In a -short time, the trumpet was sounded, and all were mounted, waiting -the command to march. Derby rode into the centre, in full armour, -accompanied by his faithful servant, a Frenchman, who was proud to -behold his master once more arrayed for the field, where he should -distinguish himself. Every lock of his dark hair was concealed -beneath his steel-front beaver, and the mournful expression<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> usual -to his features, was now exchanged for that of sternness. A loud -shout was raised for “King Charles and Derby.”</p> - -<p>The trumpets sounded, and in triple rank, with the earl in front, -and Sir Thomas Tyldesley and his nephew, accompanied by the young -page, in the rear, they hastily marched on. Lord Widdrington, and -Sir Robert Throgmorton, with a few soldiers, rode in different -directions, to give the alarm, should the enemy appear, though that -was not considered as at all likely.</p> - -<p>The page kept close by young Tyldesley, in the march; yet he spoke -little, even when Anne Houghton, his mistress, was introduced to -be praised. Upon giving expression to a beautiful and earnest -prayer, that Charles might return to his own, young Tyldesley took -his hand; it shrunk timidly from his grasp. “Poor page,” and as he -spoke, he drew his arm around his slender form, “thou seemest to be -but ill nerved for this day’s work. Thou tremblest.”</p> - -<p>“I have left many dear friends behind me, and I am here alone.”</p> - -<p>“But not unbefriended,” was Tyldesley’s reply.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> “Keep by me; I will -avert danger from thee. Be merry, gentle youth, and thou shalt yet -dance a gay measure with your mistress,—when she is my bride.”</p> - -<p>“But—” the crimson colour which mantled his features, changing to -a deadly paleness as he spoke, “should you fall, what is for me?”</p> - -<p>“A safe return to your mistress.”</p> - -<p>No answer was given; the page turned away his head, but not before -a tear had fallen upon Tyldesley’s hand.</p> - -<p>They had now marched for two hours, and the town of Wigan was seen -in the distance. As they advanced, the reapers were busy in their -quiet occupations, amidst the richly waving crops. The Earl of -Derby was, in his own mind, contrasting the joys of peace, with the -miseries of war, when, all at once, Lord Widdrington and Sir Thomas -Throgmorton were galloping towards him. The earl spurred from the -lines, and met them.</p> - -<p>“The enemy is approaching—the day must be lost,—they are some -thousand strong.”</p> - -<p>Derby turned pale at the intelligence. He had hoped to possess -Wigan as a strong-hold, until he had cleared a way to Worcester, -to join his Sovereign. But his paleness soon fled. “Dost see,” he -proudly exclaimed, “these few reapers cutting down whole fields of -corn,—and shall we not take courage from them?”</p> - -<p>Without ordering a halt, he wheeled round to the Tyldesleys, and -announced to them the movements of the enemy.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> - -<p>“They have even taken possession of Wigan,” he said, “the -strong-hold of loyalty.” The earl then uncovering his head, looked -round upon his troops, and solemnly bade every soldier ask the -blessing of the God of battles. The helmet was raised from every -head, and every eye was fixed upward, as the small army prayed.</p> - -<p>“Let your prayers,” interrupted Derby, “be sincere; and even that -youthful page, whose cheek is pale for coming danger, may be nerved -to deal havoc among the enemy. Now let the march be sounded, and -let us, with all possible haste, scour to Wigan. And when we -encounter, as soon we must,—you have children,—there is strength -in your arm; you have wives—the thought is worth a hundred swords; -you have a king—fight, therefore, in their defence! Less than an -hour’s march must bring us front to front with the enemy, and they -are reported to be numerous.”</p> - -<p>“Front to front!” exclaimed Sir Thomas Tyldesley, “sword to sword! -let us meet them!”</p> - -<p>“Poor youth,” said Derby, as his eye rested on the pale face of -the page, “thou hast neither a soldier’s form nor heart, thou -shouldst have remained to amuse thy mistress. And yet” he added, as -if entirely absorbed in his own remembrances,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> “my countess never -required such a companion! heaven bless her, and guard her, should -I never see her more!”</p> - -<p>“Nor does my mistress, noble earl,” replied the page, quickly, -while his dark and beautiful eye glowed keenly: “and I too, -whatever my form and look may bespeak, am ready to lose a life for -my sovereign. I shudder to draw a sword, but I will not shudder to -receive it,—aye, in my bosom!”</p> - -<p>Never did the most herculean form appear more warlike, than did the -youthful speaker. His firmly chiselled mouth was pressed together -with a deadly expression of resolve, and the soft eyelash was -arched, as if it could slay.</p> - -<p>“Bravo,” exclaimed the elder Tyldesley, “a true knight; and yet -fair sir, a maiden speaks of bosom,—a hero speaks of heart!”</p> - -<p>Unconsciously, at this moment, the page had spurred his steed, -which plunged furiously. Like lightning, a slender arm reached -over the proud mane—grasped the bridle—and in a moment, he was -quiet as before. The strength of a giant horseman, could not have -so tamed him. In the suddenness of the motion, the plumed beaver -of the rider had fallen, and like some young and beautiful spirit -of power, with dark ringlets, curling over a brow of glistening -thought and love, and as if quelling the furious tempest, the page -leaned forward, on his steed.</p> - -<p>“Nay, nay,” said the earl,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> “spur on, and let us not delay to meet -the foe.”</p> - -<p>The gallant army marched on rapidly, and in a few minutes, as the -sun streamed from the eastern clouds, the rays fell upon Wigan, -seen in the distance. Only one sound was borne to the ear, and it -was the trampling of horses. “They come,” was the general cry. “On, -on,” exclaimed their leader, “let Charles’s banner be unfurled, and -soon we shall plant it, to wave over the church tower!”</p> - -<p>A few minutes more brought them to the entrance of the town. A -strong hedge skirted both sides of the road. The windings were many -and abrupt, and the sharp angular view, was over the rocky heights -on the banks of the Douglas, and almost suggested the appearance of -traitors, so unexpectedly were many of the scenes brought before -them. The scenery of the country around, was wild, and marked that -here, war would not be out of keeping. Young Tyldesley took his -uncle’s hand, to bid him farewell, for now the impression rested on -every mind, that from the unusual stillness, the stern sounds of -combat might soon be heard. Silence seemed to be the soft whispers -of a traitor! secret, but sure. A tear stole down the hardy cheek -of the veteran, as he blessed his companion.</p> - -<p>“This parting,” he added,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> “seems ominous. ’Twas thus your gallant -father bade me adieu, for the last time. Yet, Harry, another grasp -of your hand. Farewell, my brave boy.”</p> - -<p>They rode on without exchanging another word, when the young -soldier felt himself gently touched, and, on turning round, beheld -the page, who, with averted face, said—“Excuse me, but farewell, -Harry Tyldesley, should I see you no more.”</p> - -<p>“We part not thus, for your mistres’s sake. Ride by my side, and -you may command this arm to strike for your safety.”</p> - -<p>At this moment the small army heard some half-concealed -movement made, behind the hedges, and instantly a close fire of -musketry;—only a few were wounded.</p> - -<p>“The foe are in ambush!” exclaimed Sir Thomas.</p> - -<p>“Nay,” replied the earl, “the greater part are before us,” pointing -to a large army which now appeared. “Let us advance. Sir Thomas, -take the half of the band, and I shall lead the others. Let a halt -be sounded. We can do nothing against those who fire from the -hedges. Let us cut through the main body.—A halt!”</p> - -<p>Ere the signal had been given, many a brave fellow, had indeed, -halted, never more to advance, as a second volley, directed with a -steadier aim, was poured in upon them.</p> - -<p>Derby, in a moment, was at the head of his detachment. “Soldiers of -Charles!” he said, with energetic eloquence,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> “there are his enemies -and yours; and where are your swords? Be mangled—be slain—but -yield not. Hear your leader’s vow. Upon this good sword, I swear, -that as long as steel can cut, flesh shall wield.—Charge! Upon -them! The king! the king!” and they dashed on to meet the enemy.</p> - -<p>Colonel Lilbourne, who commanded the enemy, instantly arrayed his -men, to bear up against the attack, and a dense square was formed -from hedge to hedge, of the regular troops, while the militia of -Lancashire and Cheshire were formed into a wing, to close in upon -the royalists, when they engaged with the main body.</p> - -<p>Derby, with his three hundred men, spurred on with incredible fury, -until they found themselves hand to hand with the regular troops. -They were instantly surrounded, for the militia wing had wheeled, -and now assailed them in the rear. A shout from the Parliamentary -army was raised, as the three hundred seemed to be bound in their -power, when Sir Thomas Tyldesley, with his men, advanced; and so -furious was the onset, that the enemy were literally trodden under -foot, and Derby and the knight were riding abreast, at the head -of their respective bodies, fighting to cut a passage through -the dragoons. Heedless of danger, the royalists followed every -direction of their leaders, who, themselves,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> fought, as well as -commanded. They had now almost reached the extremity of Lilbourne’s -forces, and bloody was the passage which they had made.</p> - -<p>“One effort more,” said the earl to his men, “and all is -gained!—On!” The battle raged more furiously—Derby’s sword, at -every thrust and plunge, was stained with fresh gore; but, all of -a sudden, he stood pale and surprised—for there was Sir Richard -Houghton advancing to meet him, from Lilbourne’s guard, with drawn -sword. Could he have turned traitor? The earl’s weapon was as ready -for a blow, as his heart was for a curse upon a false knight, and -instantly they would have crossed swords, had not Derby’s steed -been shot from under him, while that of the recreant knight carried -his rider beyond him, safe and unharmed. On foot the earl fought -with as much execution as when mounted; but his voice could not -be heard, as he addressed his men, from amidst the hoofs of the -enemy’s horse. An officer of the enemy approached. In a moment he -was dragged from the saddle, pierced as he lay on the ground, and -as his dying eyes were raised, he beheld Derby mounting his horse. -Many blows were then showered upon the gallant nobleman, and some -deadly thrusts were made in the direction of his breast, but he -seemed to escape unhurt.</p> - -<p>The next moment placed Derby at the extremity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> of the opposing -lines. “King Charles and England’s royalty!” was the shout that -burst from his lips, and, although it was heard by the enemy, for -a few moments they fell back from the single arm of the loyal -nobleman. There seemed something supernatural in his bearing, so -calm, and yet so furious. Taking advantage of their inactivity, -he dashed through the rear. A gleam of sunshine flashed on his -armour, and hope entered his soul, as he found himself at the -top of the steep and sweeping descent which leads to the town. -It was then rocky and precipitous, but his horse never stumbled. -For a moment he wheeled round, and no followers were near, except -young Tyldesley, and the page. Stern was the expression on the -countenance of the former; but the latter, though pale, displayed -a heroism still wilder. And yet his sword had not, throughout the -battle, been unsheathed, and he had forced a passage without giving -a wound.</p> - -<p>“Brave page!” exclaimed the earl. “Still, thou oughtest to have -used thy sword; thine arm might have sent the blow with power -sufficient to wound—aye, to kill!”</p> - -<p>At this moment two of the enemy, who had pursued the leader of the -royalists, rushed on him. His horse plunged furiously, and turned -himself altogether on one of the assailants—thus exposing his -rider. Instantly that assailant sprung forward<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> with a loud shout -of joy; but that shout was ended in a dying shriek, as the sword -of the page passed through his body. The other fell by the earl’s -own hand. For a brief space the page looked with something of -satisfaction on the blood-stained sword. But as a drop fell upon -that small hand, a shudder passed over his frame, and his eye was -fixed, with unnatural light, on the spot.</p> - -<p>“It is of a foul colour!” he exclaimed. “Good God! and have these -fair hands been stained with human blood? What will Anne Houghton,” -he added in a low tone, “think of me now?”</p> - -<p>“Nay, nay,” hastily replied the earl, “repent not the deed at the -sight of blood. I thank thee, brave youth. But now, what movement -is to be made? Shall we rush upon Wigan without our followers?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll defend the church,” said the page, “as the brave countess -defended her home.”</p> - -<p>But before Derby had decided—for all that we have related took -place in a few moments—a cry arose from his men in the rear, -who, overpowered by numbers, could neither fight nor advance. -The dragoons, headed by Sir Richard Houghton, had so surrounded -them, that they must either surrender, or die to a man. That -knight conducted himself most valorously, for, in every enemy who -approached, he expected to recognize those whose perfidy (such he -thought it) he burned to revenge.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> At every attempt of the small -band of royalists to rally, by shouting “Derby and Tyldesley,” he -dealt his blows more fiercely. Still, the royalists did not call -for quarter; and soon, in this awful emergency, they heard the -voice of Derby cheering them on, as he came to their succour. So -sudden was the assault, and so much impetus was given to it, that -the enemy, in the terror of the moment, crowded to the hedges, over -which many of them leapt their horses. But Sir Richard Houghton -kept his station, at the head of a few followers, who remained -firm; when his eye, falling upon young Tyldesley, he spurred his -horse forward, aiming a blow at his enemy. A shriek, at that moment -arising from the page, arrested his arm.</p> - -<p>“No! no!” exclaimed Sir Richard, “it cannot be; and yet, so like -in sound!” Ere he had uttered these words, his arms were gently -grasped by the page; but a follower of the knight soon freed him -from the encumbrance, and the wounded youth fell into the arms -of Harry Tyldesley, who bore him forth, himself fatally wounded. -Bloody was the harvest which the royalists now began to reap, as -they charged the fugitives, with impetuous fury. The earl, and his -brave fellow-leader, Sir Thomas Tyldesley, met, having literally -cut down, and cut through the intervening troops of the enemy. -Several officers had been slain, and Sir Richard Houghton had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -carried from the field by his men, faint from wounds.</p> - -<p>“Again!” was the exclamation of the loyal leaders, as they -separated to lead their followers once more to the work of death.</p> - -<p>Success attended every blow, and many were the bodies which they -rolled over mounds, and charged into the river, entirely routing -their array. But soon they were vigorously repulsed by Lilbourne’s -guard, who closely engaged them. After a long struggle, the -gallant royalists made their way to the farthest line of the -enemy. “Again!” was now not only the exclamation of the leaders, -but likewise the war-cry of their men, and they wheeled and dashed -through the centre of the dragoons. Here the scene of battle -widened, the enemy had been driven from their ranks, and the -royalists had left theirs to follow them; and now the fate of the -battle seemed altogether changed. The combat was almost single, -and then six were opposed to one. Derby was unhorsed a second -time, and his brave and faithful servant, who had, in his youth, -followed him from France, fell in warding off some blows from his -master. Lord Widdrington was pursued by a whole rank of dragoons, -and slain on the banks of the Douglas. In vain did the royalists -attempt to rally. Their leaders saw that the battle was lost. The -earl had, himself, received many wounds, and was faint<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> from the -loss of blood. His sword was heavy for his arm, and he could attack -with difficulty, since he was on foot. He stood, for a moment, -bewildered, when he heard Sir Thomas Tyldesley, at the head of -about twenty men, exclaim, “through, or die!” Instantly the brave -knight was in the thickest of the engagement. His plume waved long, -and his arm plunged furiously. At length he fell, pierced by many -weapons, but his head lay proudly in death, upon a heap of those -whom his own hands had slain, forming a monument more lasting than -that which the gratitude of a follower has erected, on the same -spot, to the hero’s memory.</p> - -<p>Derby now stood alone:—after great exertions he could only rally a -few men. These persuaded him that he could only die, did he choose -to remain. He perceived then that his death should be in vain, that -it could not change the fate of that day’s battle. They mounted -him on a horse, and scouring over the hedges together, were hotly -pursued to Wigan.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Let us re-visit the field of battle towards sunset of the same -day. All was then still. The departing rays showed the ghastly -countenances of the dead, crowded together promiscuously, without -the distinction of roundhead or cavalier. They lay in such perfect -repose, that Nature seemed to have brought them there, without the -help of man, herself to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> bury them, with her own funeral rites. -The breeze sighed over them, and occasionally moved some of the -locks, which had escaped from the helmet, and these were thin and -silvery with age, or dark and clustering with youth. Here and -there a venerable head lay naked on the ground. Here and there -young lips were pressed to the cold and bloody sod, in the kisses -of death. Such a scene, at such an hour, when every thought is of -quiet peace, and love, with such a beautiful sun, shedding a mellow -light around, might have given rise to a notion entertained by -the Persians of a former age, that in some sequestered spot, near -to the gentle flowing of a river, the most highly-favoured of our -race shall undergo a transformation, and for days lie on the grass, -apparently dead, even with symptoms of bloody violence, until the -last touch shall have been given to the passive clay; and, amidst -the light and music of heaven resting there alone, with those of -earth, hovering like dreams about them, they shall rise up pure and -lovely spirits, above misery and mortality.</p> - -<p>Leaning upon the arm of a servant, who supported with much care, -his halting steps, one of the Parliamentary leaders was now groping -his way through the slain, and occasionally stooping to examine the -features.</p> - -<p>It was Sir Richard Houghton. His countenance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> was pale, bearing -traces of anguish within, more than of bodily fatigue. The -excitement which had sustained him in the engagement, seemed to -be gone. Years of sorrow, since then, might have passed over him, -without producing so great a change. His spirit seemed to have -been more deeply wounded than his body. Long was his search amidst -the slain. As he stooped, a shade of the deepest anxiety was over -his face, but the glow of his eyes showed that he looked for an -enemy, and not for a friend; and as he rose disappointed, his lips -quivered with deadly emotion.</p> - -<p>“Nay, nay, ’tis in vain. They have both escaped—uncle and nephew. -And I have left my couch, wounded and sickly, to come and gloat on -my own disappointment. But they must be found, dead or alive!”</p> - -<p>“But surely, Sir Richard,” interrupted his servant, <a id="Err_2" name="Err_2"></a>“not to-night; -the air is chill.”</p> - -<p>“Not for me,” muttered the knight,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> “revenge will warm it. I feel -not the blast. Is the tempest loud? Why, the night is calm, and -still as the dead; and though it raged as if every sound was the -united shriek of a thousand demons in pain or joy, I could not hear -it. No, no, my soul is on fire; cold!—cold!—mock me not. If my -revenge is not satisfied, I shall lie down here, stripped, naked, -and shelterless, in order that I may be cool.”</p> - -<p>“But consider your wounds.”</p> - -<p>“Aye!” fiercely answered Sir Richard,—“consider my wounds; a -daughter lost, deceived, polluted;—my hospitality returned by the -foulest treachery. Consider these wounds! aye, and revenge them -too!”</p> - -<p>“But still,” returned his follower, “the shades of night are fast -descending. We cannot remain here long.”</p> - -<p>No answer was given, and he perceived his leader kneeling over -a heap of bodies. The light was streaming upon that point. An -awful silence ensued, when in a tone which seemed the very voice -of satisfied revenge, Sir Richard exclaimed, “Here is the elder -villain!” He held his face close to the lifeless body of Sir Thomas -Tyldesley. No sound escaped him; but there he gazed, like a mad -spirit, exulting, yet miserable, that the object of his revenge -could not open his eyes, and know his fate. His face was pressed -close to that of the dead, as if the unholy embrace was sweet to -the very senses, and thrilling even through the frame of the aged. -Hate did not prompt him to trample, with profane foot, upon the -unresisting body, or to mar the calmness reposing on the stiff -features, but he even kissed the cold lips in ecstacy, and drew -the head into his bosom. At length he suffered himself to be led -away. “The young man,” after a short silence, he added,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> “the young -man must be here likewise, and I go not before I have seen him.” -They sought in vain, until reaching the banks of the Douglas, they -stumbled on two bodies, lying at the foot of a tree. They were -those of young Tyldesley and the page. What a shriek of madness -was uttered by the knight, as he recognized in the page, his own -beloved Anne! Her breast was naked, and on it lay the head of her -dead lover, while his arms were encircled around her, as if their -love could never die. Sweet and beautiful was the expression of -her countenance in death. Her dark ringlets were moved by the -breeze from the river, and richly they waved, under the radiant -moon, gleaming through the foliage. Calm they lay, as in the sleep -of love, which a single murmur may disturb, and affection seemed -awaking on their countenances, to assure them of each other’s -safety, and then go to rest. Sir Richard’s grief, was gradually -subsiding and ebbing, but only to feel the barren, dry waste, over -which it had rolled, and the wreck which its waves had borne along. -Without a word, he quietly prepared to sit down on the little mound -where the head of Anne was reposing. The father once more blessed -his child. Attempting to raise her lover’s head, and make them -divided in death, a shudder passed over him, and he again restored -it to its place, and put the cold, stiff arms, even more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> closely -around Anne, with as much fondness, as if, like a heavenly priest, -he wished to bind them in eternal wedlock. But over such a scene of -sadness we draw the curtain. Long after, that tree marked out the -spot where the young lovers died, in each other’s embrace. It has -now, however, entirely disappeared; but if the Chronicler has drawn -forth from his readers one tear for their fate, they still have a -proud monument.</p> - -<p>But softened as was the heart of Sir Richard Houghton, by the fate -of his daughter, the desire of revenge on the Earl of Derby, whom -he regarded as her destroyer, was now inspired above every feeling, -and he formed a resolution of immediately returning to Wigan, and -searching out the earl, who was reported to have found shelter -there, after his flight from the battle.</p> - -<p>An hour before midnight, the portly landlord of the Dog Inn, Wigan, -was roused from a comfortable sleep, beside the fire, not by the -cravings of thirst for the contents of a jug, which he held in his -hand, as firmly as if it contained the charm of forgetfulness, and -was the urn from which pleasant dreams vapoured out—but by a loud -knocking at the door.</p> - -<p>In those days, the inhabitants of the good town here mentioned, -were not so careful, as they are at present, of the digits of their -visitors, and had not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> substituted brass or iron knockers. Fair -ladies, however gentle in disposition, were obliged to raise their -hand in a threatening position, and, horror on horrors!—strike the -hard oak. Still the blow was generally given with a strength, of -which their sentimental successors must feel ashamed, and wonder -how they could venture upon such a masculine course of conduct, -degrading the softer sex. What! they will exclaim, did the lily -hand, which ought for ever to have slept amidst perfumes, unless, -when it was raised to the lips of a lover, in his vows, profane -itself by becoming a battering ram!</p> - -<p>The Dog Inn, at that time, presented a somewhat different -appearance than it does at present. The part of the building in -front, next to the street, was low, and seemed to be appended, -as a wing or covert, both to the interior and exterior of the -other parts, and was parallel to a line of small shops. Behind, -another story had been added, and there, on a transverse beam, -was placed the dog, which the landlord had, a few days before, -baptized as Jolly, in a good can of ale. The Inn was the resort -of two classes; the one consisting of those who were regularly -thirsty of an evening, in reference to wit and news; and the other, -of those who could only ask for a draught of ale, and then amuse -themselves by rubbing the bottom of the jug round and round a small -circumference,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> in full view of themselves, after quaffing the -contents. Their merry host could satisfy the appetites of both. But -he displayed a decided preference for the former class; and for -such, the door of admission was the one at the end of the building, -directly leading to the large fire, which generally burned bright -and long, in the hall, and it had been known to be open long after -midnight, to the visitors; while the others had only the honour of -the low one in front, and that not after nine o’clock.</p> - -<p>The knocking now made, was at the last-mentioned door. The landlord -awoke, and rubbed his eyes till they opened and expanded to their -proper focus; but they fell first upon the foaming ale in the -tankard, which tempted him to a draught. In the act, however, the -knock was repeated. Still, though his eyes gazed in the direction -of the door, it was also evident that his mouth was not altogether -idle in paying due attention to the liquor.</p> - -<p>“Ho! knave!” exclaimed he, as soon as he had obtained liberty of -speech—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>“a warrior and a roundhead, doubtless! So thou hast not got -a belly-ful of fighting in the lane, but must come to my door! Why -dost not thee speak, Jolly? Last week John Harrison painted thee -alive, and made thee as young as thy mother’s whelp, put thee upon -a beam over the door, to bark at those who might come at unseemly -hours, or for improper purposes, and hung a chain round thy neck, -lest thou might be too outrageous. Not one word, Jolly, for thy -dear master? But,” he added in a whisper, as he went to the door, -“all’s safe!—yes.”</p> - -<p>The door opened, and Sir Richard Houghton and his servant entered. -The latter announced the name of his master.</p> - -<p>“So,” said the landlord, addressing the knight, as he led him to -a quiet corner, near the fire, “you are the warrior who so nimbly -<a id="Err_3" name="Err_3"></a>changed parties to-day? Perhaps you are desirous of changing -occupations likewise, and would be glad to throw off your titles -and dress, for those of an innkeeper. I’faith, your lean face, and -what call you these?” as he pointed to the legs of the knight, -“would thank you for the wisdom of your choice. If so, I am ready -for the barter. There is my apron. Ho—ho—you’ll get a complete -suit out of it, and a winding sheet into the bargain! Be patient, -oh! wise knight—who must be knight no more—for I shall be Sir -John.”</p> - -<p>In truth he would have been a worthy successor to the knighthood of -the famous Falstaff, if any super-abundance of wit and fat could -ever embody Shakespeare’s prototype.</p> - -<p>“Where,” exclaimed Sir Richard, in a high passion,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> “where is the -Earl of Derby?—surrender him.”</p> - -<p>“So, so,” was the reply, “you are again disposed to return to your -allegiance, and be one of the earl’s party!”</p> - -<p>“Surrender him into my hands,” interrupted the knight, in a -soothing tone, “and a large reward shall be yours. You will then -be able to exhibit a golden dog on your escutcheon. Refuse, and a -strict search shall instantly be made, and woe to the wretch, who -has harboured the traitor!”</p> - -<p>“Search, brave Dick,” rejoined the merry host, “and I’ll assist -you. Here’s a bottle; can the traitor be within? search,—storm the -castle!” and here he broke it, while the contents were thrown into -the knight’s face. “Is he there, Sir Richard, is he there?”</p> - -<p>“To ensure our safety and dignity,” said the enraged knight to his -servant, “give the signal, instantly.” A shrill whistle was made, -and a number of armed men entered.</p> - -<p>“Search every corner,” exclaimed Sir Richard “and let the host -beware, lest a sword should search his person.”</p> - -<p>“Search my person!” rejoined the landlord, while he swelled himself -out to his fullest dimensions,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> “Sir Richard, could you walk round -me in less than twenty four hours, and without long rests? you -might as well think of searching the continent of America! Come -to me, before service on Sunday, when I have donned my great -coat, and then search me, or even walk around me, ‘Twould be, as -Cromwell’s servants might say, ‘a sabbath day’s journey.’ My good -wife was just my fellow, and her daily exercise, for some years -before she died, was to walk round me, and brush my coat, and then -she went to rest, satisfied with a day’s hard labour. She was, -truly, a help meet for me, and we became fatter with looking on -each other. When indisposed after travelling to the ale cellar too -frequently, she got me conducted to the chair opposite to her own, -and she smiled so lustily upon me, that I soon recovered. But Sir -Richard,” he added in a solemn tone, “how many gallons of oil, -shall I bring from the cellar, to light you in your search? ha! a -lucky thought now strikes me. Would’st be the better of a quick -scented hound?”</p> - -<p>“Aye,” exclaimed some voices, “where is he?” “standing over the -door;” was the reply, “shall I bring Jolly?” “if so, it is on the -express condition, that you nail him up, in time for to-morrow. A -ladder, friends; bring me a ladder. But I must keep my hands from -off his hide—not that he will bite—but since he is fresh from the -painter, and may be pleased, in good humour, to mark me with his -wit. A ladder!”—and Richard the Third, even assisted by the lungs -of a modern actor, did not shout forth more lustily for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> “a horse! a -horse!”</p> - -<p>“Regard not the laughing ox,” interrupted the knight, as he -motioned to his men, who stood bewildered at the conduct of the -landlord.</p> - -<p>The soldiers commenced their assigned duty, but, Sir Richard -expecting that, every moment, Derby should be apprehended in his -presence, kept his seat, thinking over the orders to be given, -in the event of such a discovery. Perhaps feelings of awe, which -would be awakened by a view of the loyal nobleman, likewise -threw their shadows, amidst other emotions of a sterner nature. -True it is, that he became paler; and the only expression on his -features seemed to be the most abject despair, and misery. Like an -exquisitely moulded image, when the light has expired which gave -the animation of life and thought to its coldness, no longer shows -what, but a moment before, seemed its only natural appearance; so -the events through which the knight had passed, and which served -to give a new character of feeling and action, left not a shade by -which it might be known, that he had been an avenger, a few hours -ago, and a mourner over his last hope.</p> - -<p>Meantime the host of the Inn, continued to annoy the men with his -wit. In the most serious voice he would exclaim “He is here;” when -all instantly rushed to the place where he pointed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> “Tarry but a -moment till I bring a light—my nose does not shine as a torch -to-night.” He then procured a light, and, as he hurried amongst -them, was sure to bring it into a disagreeable proximity with some -faces, and all that the light could fall upon, was a broken pot, -into which the host peered most anxiously. “Can he be there? I -fancy that I should not remain in it long.”</p> - -<p>After many similar tricks, he went to a black cupboard, at the -further end of a small room adjoining, and asked them to inspect it -also. “Can the rebel,” he said, “lurk in the butter?”</p> - -<p>From experience, this they thought to be a sufficient reason why -they should not search there.</p> - -<p>“Unwieldy bull of Bashan!” exclaimed one of the soldiers; “keep -within thine own enclosures—a prisoner of hope! The avenger may be -nigh!”</p> - -<p>“Ha! ha!” retorted the landlord, “where is he? Thankee, friend, for -pointing him out. He will, indeed, avenge my thirst!” and he seized -upon a bottle of ale, which stood solitary upon a shelf. “The -rogue’s a bachelor, friends;—he stood alone; and he is so cross, -that he may well be called ‘cut-throat!’”</p> - -<p>After an hour’s search, towards the end of which the landlord had -contrived, first to lull his tongue asleep, and then himself, the -knight commanded the soldiers to desist. They awoke the host, who, -starting to his feet, after a difficult balancing of himself, -looked eagerly around.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Where is the earl?”—and as he spoke, he approached one of the -men, and bringing a light to bear rather closely upon the grave -countenance of the roundhead,—“is this his lordship? take the -rebel from my house,” and he gave a hearty kick, so far as his -heart could reach, down to his foot. It was in vain to resent the -blow, for the humour of mine host had altogether disarmed them.</p> - -<p>But we choose to pass over the details of their unsuccess, not -being desirous that the mournful remembrance connected with -the young and the ill-fated characters of the Legend should be -obliterated from the mind of the reader.</p> - -<p>The tyro in Lancashire history knows well, that in that very -cupboard to which the landlord pointed, the earl was concealed; and -that early in the morning he left the Dog Inn, leaving behind him, -as a small token of gratitude for the shelter he had received, a -part of his armour.</p> - -<p>“I cannot wear it,” said the jolly landlord, when it was presented -to him, “though you are a warrior, yet, noble earl, you are not a -giant. But it shall be preserved as none of the least of the treats -for a traveller at the Dog Inn.” The earl shook his humble friend -cordially by the hand. Yet even then, wit and light repartee had -not forsaken the host.—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>“Wont shake a paw with Jolly?”</p> - -<p>Over the earl’s countenance, a melancholy smile passed, which was -unseen by mine host, who was not long in resuming, as he stepped -over the threshold and gazed up at the dog—</p> - -<p>“Well, well, Jolly will excuse you, and wont even bark; he’s a -sensible dog, and knows, or ought to know, how long your lordship -has been confined in the cupboard. So, you are bound for Worcester? -Well, for my sake, if you meet Cromwell, scratch the ugly wart on -his face. But stay, earl, for a moment; there your horse comes, and -you must take the stirrup cup, from my hands. My wife would have -been proud to have wiped her mouth for a salute, but it is not the -fashion of men, towards each other,” and he ran in, and in a minute -returned with a glass of wine, which the earl took, and quaffed the -contents to the luck of the Dog Inn, Wigan. There was a serious -expression on the landlord’s countenance, not as if it were caused -by the present farewell, but by some remembrance. “It was at this -hour, some years ago, that my wife died, and closed her eyes upon -ale, and a husband. I had broken up the best barrel in the cellar, -and was raising a jug of it to her lips, and I was obliged to drink -it myself.—But excuse me, farewell Derby.”</p> - -<p>We pass over the account of the earl’s escape to Worcester, and of -the literal overthrow of all the hopes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> of the royalists, by that -disastrous battle; of the earl’s capture, and subsequent execution; -all of which, like the rapids of the last act of a tragedy, passed -with heightened and speedy horror to the bloody end.</p> - -<p>One thing merely we shall notice, that amongst the names of those -who recommended his lordship to be beheaded, was that of Sir -Richard Houghton.</p> - -<p>All historians and biographers have agreed in speaking of that -knight as “the rebel son of a very loyal and worthy father,”—but -they have not thrown light over the circumstances and events which -dethroned Charles and all royalists from his affections. Tradition -gleams upon them with steadiness and fearful distinctness, and the -Chronicler has accurately detailed them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> - - - -<p class="small">For the sake of the Antiquarian, who may be desirous of reading -the Inscription on the monument which stands in Wigan Lane, the -Chronicler appends it. In his more youthful days, when passing -through Wigan, by the assistance of a ladder, and his grandmother’s -glasses, he obtained a transcript of it, which he vouches to be -accurate.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> -<img src="images/monument.jpg" width="200" height="503" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="center small">An high Act of Gratitude, which conveys the Memory of</p> -<p class="center large">SIR THOMAS TYLDESLEY</p> -<p class="center small"> -To posterity,<br /> -Who saved <span class="smcap">King Charles the First</span> as Lieutenant-Colonel at Edge-hill Battle,<br /> -After raising Regiments of Horse, Foot, and Dragoons;<br /> -And for<br /> -The desperate storming of Burton-upon-Trent, over a bridge of 36 arches,<br /> -<span class="smcap">Received the Honour of Knighthood</span>.<br /> -He afterwards served in all the wars, in great command,<br /> -Was Governor of Lichfield,<br /> -And followed the fortune of the Crown through the Three Kingdoms,<br /> -And never compounded with the Rebels, though strongly invested;<br /> -And on the 25th August, A.D. 1651, was here slain,<br /> -Commanding as Major-General under the <span class="smcap">Earl of Derby</span>,<br /> -To whom the grateful Erector, <span class="smcap">Alexander Rigby, Esq.</span>, was Cornet<br /> -And when he was High Sheriff of this County, (A.D. 1679,)<br /> -Placed this high obligation on the whole <span class="smcap">Family</span> of the <span class="smcap">Tyldesleys</span>. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2><a name="THE_WITCHES_OF_FURNESS" id="THE_WITCHES_OF_FURNESS"></a>THE WITCHES OF FURNESS.</h2> -<hr class="tiny" /> - - -<p>In a small recess, still deeper in shade than the neighbouring -valley where the ruins of Furness Abbey lie, there once arose a -well-proportioned mansion, of which, not a vestige is left. And -yet, the wand of no magician had summoned it to appear, as a tenant -of the retreat, without any materials, and then to depart without -a wreck,—for much toil, and many precious coins had been spent in -building and adorning it, by the first owners; and on its decay, as -much sighing, and as many lamentations, had been wasted by their -successors.</p> - -<p>Tradition says, that it was erected in the reign of Henry the -Eighth, by an Englishman of rank, whose name was Morden. Against -his earnest entreaties, his daughter had secluded herself from -the world, and taken the veil as a nun in Furness Abbey; but -when that religious house was broken up, by royal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> act, so much -attached was she to the spot of her vows, that to gratify her, a -family mansion was erected in the vicinity. To this, a considerable -extent of ground was added, as territorial possession. The owner -became enamoured of the pleasant solitude of such an abode, and so -did all his successors, whose feelings were in harmony with the -simplicity of the district, and the quiet beauties of its scenery. -Time destroys not the works of God, and the brook which trickled -beside the porch, still murmured dreams of happiness amidst the -nightshade which grew on its banks, or the lillies, which, in its -channel, courted its stream, in all their meekness and purity. But -time destroys the works of man, and the noble building, towards the -end of the sixteenth century, was but a decayed wreck of its former -self.</p> - -<p>The inmates exhibited a striking contrast to the ruined abode. -The echoes did not awake to the slow step of the aged, but to the -bounding tread of the young. The wind might rave around in fury, -but, at intervals, sweet voices were heard, joining in the music -of the heart. Sombre was the light which entered the apartments, -but there was no snowy head on which it could fall; shining was -every brow, and clustering the ringlets waving thereon. On the -rudely-framed seat, by the porch, no old man sat, like a dial, to -point out time’s flight, but a beautiful pair, with a little boy -sporting before them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p> - -<p>William Morden, and Emily Clifton, were the only survivors of -two noble families. The time of our Legend is six years after -their marriage, when their love had been pledged and crowned by -the birth of a boy. Sweet was their domestic bliss, but darkness -and death are prepared to enter upon the scene. The curse of -witchcraft is about to fall upon the holy beings, in all its -horrors and pollutions. The Chronicler shudders, as tradition -leads him to their tragic fate, and as it gleams upon the hellish -causes. The fair creatures have, in many a dream, for many a long -night, been cradled by his side, in beauty and love. Their voices -have whispered to him, their faces have smiled upon him, in the -mysteries of sleep. And yet he must now awake them to feel the -breath of unearthly enmity and power, withering their souls, while -serpents are even twined around their shroud!</p> - -<p>On a calm evening, towards the beginning of summer, Emily was -seated in the old hall, expecting the arrival of her husband, who -had rode out early that day, to hunt, when he entered, with marks -of agitation on his countenance.</p> - -<p>“William!” she exclaimed, as she arose to embrace him, “thou art -sad. It cannot be for want of success in the chase; you would not -dare”—and she gave him a playful blow on the cheek with her little -hand—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>“to appear before your wife so sorrowful, and with no better -excuse. But, love, you smile not. William, are you wounded? Have -you been thrown from your horse?”</p> - -<p>“No, Emily,” was the reply, “I am safe, but my horse, in passing -the cave of which you are so much afraid, sunk down, as if -exhausted, though a moment before, he seemed capable of the -greatest exertion. Thus is it,” he continued, as he yielded to his -wife, who forced him down to a seat, whilst she leaned over him, -“our cattle have died, though green is the meadow on which they -grazed. And now, my favourite steed—aye, the very one, Emily, -whose neck arched so proudly beneath your gentle touch, after he -had borne me to your abode, where I wooed and won you as my bride, -is now, I fear, stiffening in death. My servant shook his head, as -I left Ranger to his care.”</p> - -<p>“Poor Ranger,” interrupted the lady,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> “he was a proud animal, and -spurned acquaintance with others of his kind. Yet, William, dost -thou recollect how closely and fondly he trotted by the side of -my white pony, on the evening you brought me to your home, and -how the kind animals allowed me to be locked in your embrace, -although their bridles hung loose? Nay, more, did they not choose -a lonely path, with the moon shining all sweetly upon it, through -the hushed forest, as if there ought to be nothing known to us, -save each other; and that, orphans as we were, with the voices -of gone friends, as silent to us as the night, still, there was -hope shedding its rays over our common lot? Now both of them may -be lost. Still you could have visited me without your steed, and -I should, perhaps, have been less coy after your fatigues, and,” -she added, as her fair hands played among the curls which shaded -her husband’s brow, “I could have come hither without my palfrey, -leaning on your arm, William.”</p> - -<p>The sorrowful man could not reject the consolation of his beautiful -wife. Though unforeseen calamities had gathered thickly upon him, -as if there was some direct cause, separate from the general course -of Providence, yet every chain of human affection was unbroken; and -though his fold was now almost forsaken, on his hearth still moved -the beings whom he loved, and not a household god had been thrown -down. His little Edward had entered, and was climbing his knee, and -hugging his neck,—and could he refuse to be happy? He had regained -a portion of his usual gaiety, when his servant entered.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> -<p>“Master, Ranger is dead! I took the bridle from off his head, and -he could no more shew that he was at liberty. There was a strange -shriek after he fell down. He licked my hands, and his tongue was -black and swollen.”</p> - -<p>“Shriek, dost thou say?” returned his master, “I have heard that -horses groan when in pain, but that they shriek, I cannot believe.”</p> - -<p>“It could not be the horse,” was the reply, “no—no—nor was it a -human voice.”</p> - -<p>They gazed upon the servant. His tones were low, as if from secret -terror, and his countenance was deadly pale. He continued, “I have -heard the shriek before, master, when old Margery, who nursed you -when a boy—died. She raised her hands, drew herself up on the -pillow—as if escaping from some invisible spirit—and sunk down -lifeless. The neighbours said, that at that moment the witch of the -cave passed the window, with hurried steps.”</p> - -<p>Emily Morden looked upon her husband, and took their little boy, -and folded him closely in her bosom. Not a word was spoken, but -many, many thoughts were theirs. Their fears seemed to recognize in -the sweet blue eyes, the calm brow, and the golden locks, signs of -a dark fate. The little fellow, however, was unconscious of their -feelings, and darted forth to the lawn to pursue the shadows, which -were now fast settling, and to gambol with his favourite pet lamb. -Soon fatigued with his sports, he leaned upon the tame animal, -like a beautiful picture with a pure back ground. At that moment -an old woman stood before him. He saw not her dark and hideous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> -features, more frightful because she attempted to smile: he only -saw the tempting fruit which she held. He heard not the unearthly -tones of her voice, he only distinguished the words, “Shall I give -you it?” He felt not the touch of her withered, bony hands, as he -received it. He cared not, though these hands were placed upon his -brow, as he devoured the fruit. He clapped his hands, and shouted, -“Good,—good mamma! give little Edwy more,—more!” Oh! it was -horrible to see the beautiful boy playing with a foul hag, hand in -hand, cheek to cheek, and to hear him address her, as “kind mamma.” -The lamb had fled far over the glen, at her approach—but the boy -had even kissed her black and shrivelled lips! He was throwing his -arms around her neck, amidst the long locks of white hair, which -hung like serpents over it, when he was dragged away by his mother, -who had rushed forth with her husband, upon beholding the woman’s -familiarities. The hand of William Morden was raised, in fury, to -strike the hellish crone, whom he knew to be the witch of the cave, -when she disappeared to a short distance, where her form dilated -against the faint light of the sky, and then she glared with her -blood-red eyes, full upon him. She tossed her hands in the air, -then approached a little nearer, and pointed to Emily, while she -sung in awful notes—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> - -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Has early summer fruit for man?—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No, but for spirits:—yet the boy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has tasted! and the mother ran<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Too late!—too late, to shield her joy—<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Embrace him! so have I!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere the sun sinks, from him you’ll fly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor press a couch where he may die!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His mouth is sweet; beware his fangs!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kiss him, he bites in maddest pangs!<br /></span> -</div></div> - - -<p>The still calm all around, allowed every word and tone to be -distinctly heard. When she had ended, she gave a shriek of delight, -and slowly proceeded in the direction of the cave; at intervals -turning round, and raising her arms. All objects around her could -not be perceived, still those small malicious eyes sparkled in the -gathering twilight, and her voice could be heard muttering.</p> - -<p>“Nay, William, follow her not!” exclaimed Emily, as her husband -prepared to pursue the witch. But he was now maddened by rage and -despair, and he started forward, fully resolved to enter the cave, -and brave its unseen and unknown terrors.</p> - -<p>She anxiously gazed after him, until his form was altogether lost -in the distance. The many tales to which she had listened, of the -witch’s power and revenge, were unfolded again, and they seemed -scrolls of the future, written with the fate of herself, and all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> -that were dear. She led Edward into the hall, and soon perceived -a marvellous change in the boy. At first he was silent, and did -not acknowledge the attentions of his mother. He then shrieked in -terror, and laughed in joy, alternately. His features were, at -times, absolutely hideous, grinning, as if with malice, and then -they became more beautiful than a mother’s eye ever beheld.</p> - -<p>“Mamma! mamma!” he would exclaim,—and he looked from his mother -upon vacancy—“give Edwy more—oh! it is sweet, sweet. Heed not the -man, wicked man, who drives you away;—come back to Edwy!”</p> - -<p>At length she succeeded in hushing him to rest, and her thoughts -were of her husband. Darkness was now over the earth, and she -imagined that the hag’s face was gazing in upon her at the -casement, but she dared not rise to close it, lest she might -disturb the sleeper. Sometimes, too, another form, seen by the -moonlight, was there, and the witch dared to embrace the husband, -in sight of his trembling wife! Hour after hour passed, and the -next would be midnight, and William had not returned. In vain did -his faithful servant, whom she had summoned to bear her company, -suggest that his master might have refused to leave the cave, until -the woman had read the destiny of the family more distinctly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Nay, Roger,” she said, “something has befallen your master. Oh! if -he should return no more!” and her agony was too deep for tears.</p> - -<p>“My lady, fear not. It is said that all those who are bewitched in -the cave, have first listened to the love confessions of the old -woman’s daughter, and drunk the cup of unearthly beauty. But I will -instantly go to the cave.”</p> - -<p>Emily was about to urge him to make all possible haste, when he -shrieked out, and pointed to her breast; and there her boy was -gradually raising up his head, like a serpent, to her face, whilst -his eyes gleamed with the most fiendish expression, and his mouth -was grinning and distended. For a moment she was silent as the -dead, and gazed in horror; but she could not trace a touch of -kindness on the young features. All love and beauty, in a moment, -had been dashed from them. The boy’s eye never moved from hers, or -changed its emotion;—it was slowly meeting hers, in malice. His -breath was now close to her cheek!</p> - -<p>“Kiss me, kiss me,” were the first words he uttered; but the tones -were unknown, and seemed those of a young fiend. With a loud -shriek he prepared to dart upon her face. She started from her -seat, and threw him on the floor, and there the little monster -rolled—gnashing his teeth, and tearing with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> his hands, in frantic -fury. His eyes were of a glassy brightness, and coldness; and foam -was on his little black lips. His struggles soon became fainter, -and he lay motionless, and apparently lifeless. He then regained -his own beauty, but was pale and trembling, as if from an infant -dream of evil. His eyes were raised to his mother, and again they -were affectionate, as of old.</p> - -<p>“Mamma! mamma!” he cried, “take me to your arms, cover me up in -your bosom; you wont kill me, mamma? Oh! leave me not here to die!”</p> - -<p>There was a mournful upbraiding in the boy’s accents, and his -mother burst into tears, and rushed forward to raise him, when, all -at once, he sprang from the ground. Again he was changed; his hair -stood erect, his mouth was stretched to an unnatural width, and he -ran to her, howling like a dog. In a moment the servant struck him -down. Bitterly did the mother weep to see her child bleeding on the -floor, and yet, she dared not touch him. “He is possessed!” she -exclaimed, “aye, that is the fate which the witch foretold!”</p> - -<p>“My lady,” said Roger,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> “pardon me for what I am about to mention. -He has been bewitched into a disease which must be fatal to -himself, and to all whom he bites. Your security, and that of my -master, lies only in his destruction.”</p> - -<p>“Never!” was the indignant, but sorrowful reply.</p> - -<p>The boy once more regained his own appearance, and called piteously -for his mother. He put his little hands to his mouth, and when he -gazed upon them, they were all suffused with blood! He burst into -tears.</p> - -<p>“Mamma, kiss the blood away from my lips. Wipe this love ringlet, -or papa wont play with it. Oh! cool my lips. Take the fire out of -them. Mamma, mamma! must I die? Who took me out of your bosom, to -lie here?”</p> - -<p>Every word fell, like a child’s curse, upon the ear of Emily.</p> - -<p>“Oh Roger! good Roger,” implored the lady,—“what can be done?”</p> - -<p>The boy attempted to rise, but his strength seemed gone, and his -head dashed itself violently upon the floor. His mother fell down -senseless. Roger rushed from the room, to bring water to sprinkle -upon her face. In a moment he returned,—and there a scene was -presented to his eyes, which nothing in after-life could curtain -from his mind. Both lay lifeless. The countenance of the mother -was mangled and bloody, and her boy’s teeth were in her cheek. As -soon as she had fallen, the boy had crept to her, under the same -infernal influence as before, and, fortunately, she never awoke -from insensibility.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> - -<p>Meanwhile let us leave the dead, and follow the living. The reader -is not asked to dry his tears after the mournful spectacle, and put -off his sackcloth, and don singing robes and smiles, for soon the -curtain may be raised from the same scene, to exhibit on the same -stage, another victim.</p> - -<p>William Morden, when out of the sight of his wife, came in view of -the object of his pursuit. Unlike the aged, the hag avoided not the -many elevations of sharp rock, on her path. After passing them, for -a moment she would linger, and looking back, and howling, motion -him, with a wild plunge of her arm, to follow. The scenery became -more bleak and desolate, as if nothing in animal or vegetable life -could flourish near her abode. Not a sound was heard; her steps -were hurried, but silent. They were approaching the cave, which -was formed in the old channel of the brook, and which was supposed -to be the outlet of a subterraneous passage leading from the abbey -into a deep wood, which skirted and concealed the bank. Amidst the -trees strange lights seemed to move, and the witch, by their flash, -was enabled to expose her malignant and hellish countenance to the -gaze of Morden. She stood still and he advanced. From the folds of -the cloak in which she was wrapped, she drew her hand, and pointed -to a deep ravine, at a short distance from the cave. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> muttered -some incantations, raised her eyes, as if to invisible agents in -the air, and exclaimed, “Slaves! ye know my power! Shew him—shew -him what a word, escaping from my lips, has done. Now, fool!” and -she grasped his hands for a moment, “gaze there—and tremble.”</p> - -<p>Morden started, as lurid lights gleamed in a mass, over him. He -stumbled down the declivity, and fell, his head striking against -his lifeless steed! Unearthly shrieks of laughter saluted him, and -as he sprung to his feet, the witch, surrounded by flames, was -waving her arms in fiendish joy. He once more found himself on the -path close beside her. All again was darkness, and now he heard -the witch enter the cave. He prepared to follow her. The entrance -was small, and could only admit him by crawling through. His face -came in contact with the jutting rocks, and he imagined that around -his neck the hag had placed her hands, to strangle him. He crept -in, but saw nothing. No object could be distinguished, until, -on a floor far below him, he beheld a few embers burning on the -hearth, and a form walking around, and by its shadow intercepting -the light. The ground was damp beneath his hands, and the very -worms were crawling over them, and thus early claiming connexion, -by twining around them the marriage ring of the grave. He knew -not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> how to let himself down into the interior. The light from -the embers, meanwhile, was gradually increasing; and at length he -recognized the witch rubbing her hands over them. Her head was -uncovered, and her long grey locks were flung back from a brow -black and wrinkled. He could not remove his eyes from her, and -every moment he expected that she would arise, and curse him with -her arts. She lighted a taper, and placed it upon a small coffin, -and sung a death dirge; at every interval, when she paused for -breath, making the most unnatural mirth. The lid of the coffin -slowly arose, as she removed the taper, and a beautiful boy raised -his face, so pale and deadly, over which golden locks curled, -like young spirits. His sweet blue eyes met those of Morden; his -little hands were pressed together, and his lisping voice said, -mournfully,—“Father!”</p> - -<p>Morden sprang down, when, with a wild shriek, the witch turned -upon him, and attempted to mimic the tones in which the fond word -“father” had been breathed. He prepared to rush upon her, when -every limb was powerless. He could not move, and yet all his -senses were intensely active and awake. He beheld the coffin again -closed, and glad now would he have been, could he have returned -to his home, to assure himself of his child’s safety. The witch -began some awful and unholy rites, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> she lowered the coffin into -a hole dug beside the embers, and then over the spot, after her -incantations had been muttered, sprung up a mossy tomb-stone, with -this inscription,—</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> -<img src="images/inscription.jpg" width="200" height="226" alt="inscription" /> -</div> - -<p>She kindled another taper, when a larger coffin seemed to be placed -before her by invisible hands. The lid was raised; and there -Morden beheld his Emily, as beautiful now, amidst all the horrors -of witchery and death, as when that face was revealed in the -moonlight, on their nuptial night, slumbering so happily, to gaze -upon which he had kept himself awake. But soon the features became -clouded and black; aye, and blood—blood was seen upon them, and -horrible gashes.</p> - -<p>“Embrace her!” exclaimed the witch, “embrace her. How beautiful! -What a sweet crimson! Fool! thy wife blushes! fly to her!”</p> - -<p>He started forward, and fell upon the coffin, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> the lid was -closed. A long fit of insensibility was over him. Dreams still more -revolting than the realities he had now beheld, kept him bound.</p> - -<p>He awoke—but far different was the scene. A sigh which had been -nursed in the dream, now found expression, and instantly a movement -was heard, in a distant part of the cave; and a female bent over -him, and perfumed his burning brow. Wild was the beauty beaming -from her eyes; but soft and earthly was the hand which took his. He -gazed silently upon her. She seemed scarcely to have entered upon -girlhood, and yet Morden thought that she never could have been -younger, and never, for the future, could be older. She spoke not; -but her lips uttered strange sounds of the most thrilling music. -She gently raised and led him to a couch, as soft as dreams. The -air around breathed fragrance, and vibrated song. Invisible roses -seemed to fall upon his brow and hands. So brilliant, and yet -shadowy, was the light, that he could not gaze far around. Light -seemed to be a boundary to itself, and no walls intercepted the -vision.</p> - -<p>“Who art thou?” was the exclamation of Morden,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> “and where am I? -How have I been brought here? This is not the cave to which I -came;—and where is the foul witch who so tormented me with her -dark spells?”</p> - -<p>“There cometh light after darkness,” replied his beautiful -companion, “and joy after sorrow. What makes the love of one being -so pleasant? Because it is nursed amidst the storms of hate. Love -cares not for a palace; to sit, travel, and sleep, amidst gold and -diamonds. The tomb is the home where it is most beautiful; and were -two mortals, who cling to each other, to dwell there, it would be -love’s paradise. As they sat beneath the shade of the cypress, how -rapturous would their thoughts and words be; and oh! how true! At -eve, as they walked together over graves, how confiding would they -be! And at the midnight hour, when the wind howled, and ghosts -flitted around them, how sweet the sleep of the two lovers, with a -tomb-stone for their pillow!”</p> - -<p>Each word thrilled through the soul of Morden.</p> - -<p>“Mysterious angel!” he cried, “tell me thy name and abode!”</p> - -<p>The young being dismissed the melancholy which, whilst she spoke, -had rested on her countenance, and smiled. Her deep blue eyes gazed -upon him, and, in the intoxication of the moment, he recollected -not his own inquiry. But soon, thoughts of home and Emily, came -into his mind, and checked others which were rising. He turned away -from her, when she asked,—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Would’st thou see the past?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” eagerly returned Morden. “Oh! could I once more behold her -whom an untimely fate bore from me!”</p> - -<p>She took from the table a golden cup, encircled with flowers, and -throwing a liquid drop, which she had poured out on her hand, -away in the distance; instantly, amidst music, with the bass of a -profound calm, there arose before his eyes a strange scene. There -were the haunts of his boyhood, the bower in the garden, and even -the ivy-covered seat, on which was the plumed cap his mother’s -hands had made; the gentle stream, with his book and fishing-rod -lying on the bank; and last of all was himself, smiling, the actor -in each. A pure mist arose before him, as in the bower he was -placing the cap over his shining curls; bright eyes gleamed in it, -and as it vanished, there stood his only sister! She appeared to be -the gentler type of himself, and sweet was her beauty, though it -was the beauty of Genius and Power. The mist descended, and hovered -over them, as they were singing the lays of their own happiness, -and shrouded both. It once more rolled away. There was seen a -mourner, near a rose-scattered grave! The mourner was known to -Morden long before he raised his features from the earth:—it was -himself, at the grave of his sister!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> - -<p>He started up from the couch, and fell at the feet of his -mysterious companion, exclaiming,—</p> - -<p>“Perpetuate the scene! Give me boyhood again; give me the lost and -the beloved, and I’ll adore you,—aye, love you!”</p> - -<p>He arose calmly, after her lips had been pressed to his.</p> - -<p>“Drink,” was the reply. “Drink from this cup, Morden, and death -shall not separate the brother from the sister. Beautiful she -was a month before her sudden end, and that month shall never be -enrolled in your existence. Drink,—and the past is written over -with every drop of this liquid, on the tablet of your mind, and on -the objects of your external senses. Could inanimate things feel -its influence—and shall not the mind? Drink!” and the scene again -arose, in more thrilling beauty and truth. Sweet and long was the -draught, and he returned the cup, empty. Strange sensations shot -through his frame, and as strange feelings passed in his mind. -Emily, in a moment, was forgotten, and his arms were around his -companion, when a shriek was heard, and in place of the fading form -of his sister, stood the withered Weird of the Cave! Her daughter, -(for such the beautiful witch was,) now coldly repulsed him, and -shrunk from his embrace. As soon as he could move his eyes from the -hag, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> turned round to chide his companion, when he found that -she had disappeared. A loud laugh was raised by the old witch, and -he pursued her. Darkness fell over the scene, and once more he was -near to the dying embers.</p> - -<p>“Go home!” exclaimed the hag,—“go home, and die there along -with your dead wife and child! It is long past midnight. It is, -therefore, meet time that you should go to sleep with them. -Home—fool!”</p> - -<p>Her words drove Morden almost to madness. He climbed up to the -entrance, and as he left the cave, he heard the laugh of the two -witches. He rushed along the path. He saw not the lurid lights that -flashed around him, from the dark abode which he had left. Terror, -shame, and despair, were driving their victim to what he considered -as a sanctuary from evil. He was heedless of his steps, and as he -stumbled, it but increased his fury; when he felt himself suddenly -grasped, and on looking up, recognized his servant Roger.</p> - -<p>“Is all well,—is all well, Roger, with your mistress? Speak, -man,—speak!”</p> - -<p>The servant hesitated, and then replied, “Yes, master!”</p> - -<p>“Kind, dear Emily!” exclaimed Morden,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> “she has sent you to search -for me. Nay, Roger, I will outstrip you; and I can delay no -longer.—How anxious she will be! Death! no—no—it was but a -horrible dream! Yet, Roger,—am I agitated? would my looks frighten -Emily? Frighten—oh! no. Not a moment is to be lost,” and he darted -forward, and soon, all breathless, reached his abode. He trode up -the lawn with as heavy a pace as possible, in order that suspense -might be ended, and that she might know of his return, before he -appeared. A dim light was in the hall when he entered.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The faithful servant, when he arrived, heard no noise, and although -he felt keenly for the woes of his master, did not venture into the -hall before morning,—and there was his master lying, with his arms -around his wife. He spoke to him;—but he spoke to the dead!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A distant relation laid claim to the dwelling, with the land -attached to it; but from the awful scenes in the former, which we -have related, it became uninhabited, and was soon an entire ruin; -finally even without a wreck.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2><a name="THE_DEVILS_WALL" id="THE_DEVILS_WALL"></a>THE DEVIL’S WALL.</h2> -<hr class="tiny" /> - - -<p>“Jeremiah, read those directions and intimations once more; they -contain no less than a challenge to my valour. Truly his Black -Majesty seems to think that he can toss about the ball of earth for -his amusement; and that there is not a tailor who would venture to -‘measure him.’ Ah! Nick, give me a trial.”</p> - -<p>Thus spoke Gideon Chiselwig, tailor, in Ormskirk. Unlike the most -of his brethren belonging to that honourable profession, he could -boast of six feet of perpendicular matter; but conceiving that -even that height was too low a tabernacle for his giant soul, he -fixed to the one extremity a long red nightcap, whilst he made -the other move on tiptoe, much to the mirth of the quizzing old -maids, for which that town is noted. He was never seen with that -upper garment, commonly called a coat; unless to display<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> one of -fashionable cut, which he had just finished; and the absence of -this did not take from Gideon’s stature. Some conjectured that he -knew this; others had seen Mrs. Gideon, at home, arrayed in what, -evidently, had once been a coat; and they jocosely remarked, that -she had altogether monopolized the use of her husband’s apparel, -for now they had seen her with the coat, and Gideon himself had -confessed that she wore the breeches.—He had a vest, but the -pockets were only visited by his hands; silver and gold they had -never weighed; so that to all intents and purposes—the wife wore -the vest also.</p> - -<p>Nature, however, had denied him her average allowance of breadth -and thickness, so much so, that in a tour to remarkable places, -during the honey-moon, having entered a museum in the metropolis, -the blushing bride was asked by the keeper, what was the price she -fixed upon the piece of anatomy which she brought. Gideon, did, -indeed, convince the questioner of his mistake, by a powerful and -conclusive argument directed against his head: still people will -suspect, even in the face of ample evidence; and the report had -been afloat, that there was something altogether strange about him. -This only served to give a more singular character to the tailor, -and nothing short of the marvellous in adventure could win his -attention and occupy his thoughts.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> - -<p>Others hinted, that were Mrs. Gideon not to awake him so early; -not to rap his knuckles, when at table he was stretching forth his -hand to help himself; nor yet to allow the poker to fall upon his -toes and corns, when they ventured within a few yards of the fire; -not to compel him to perform the necessary ablutions on a cold -morning, a mile from the house, and then allow the sun, the wind, -or the frost, to dry him; not to confine him, for bedclothes, to a -sheet in winter, and his shirt in summer; nor yet, occasionally, -to exercise her hands, and a stick, upon his body; Gideon would -soon improve in appearance, and, at length, be a rival to the oily -priest. But the old maids (for Mrs. Gideon had formerly been one -of the numerous sisterhood residing there) considered such hints -as morsels of scandal;—and who can, with more propriety, condemn -scandal, than old maids?—and if, in the multitude of councillors -there be safety, their view of the matter, certainly, had every -assurance of being the correct one—that he was killed by too -much fondling and love. Ah! ah! poor Gideon knew better. He had a -scar on his face that he was proud to shew, for he had received -it in honourable combat with a barber;—but he had others, below -the night-cap, and many all over his person, which he was glad to -conceal; for these he received from his wife! At first he resisted -her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> encroachment upon the rights of man; but soon his noble spirit -disdained to contend with a woman. He had not lost a dram of -courage, and he burned for some supernatural achievement.</p> - -<p>His brother Jeremiah was made exactly in the antipodean style. He -was short and round; yet, as he himself pathetically said, when the -doctor, dreading apoplexy, had inquired about his diet, “tears were -his daily food, and misfortunes were the vinegar and salt.” His -eyes, in fact, seemed to have invisible onions always around them. -It was so when he was a babe, and his mother was in the habit of -remarking, that Jeremiah would not be troubled with water in the -head, because it would never stay there. When he entered upon the -profession of a tailor, Gideon had serious doubts that he would but -bring disgrace on it, himself, and all his relations; for, as he -very wisely reasoned, “How could he use the goose?—however hot it -was, in a moment his tears would cool it. And as for his needles—a -hundred would become rusty in a day.” However, Jeremiah passed -his apprenticeship with distinction, and became a partner in his -brother’s shop; where we introduce them, squatted on a large table, -to our readers, at the moment that Gideon had finished the sentence -which opens the Legend.</p> - -<p>Jeremiah had in his hand, an old and tattered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> book, which seemed -to have been read by the feet, and not the eyes. He raised his eyes -from it, as his brother spoke, and poured forth a fresh flood of -tears. “Ah! brother,” he said, “you’ll still be after what leads -to your destruction. I warned you against marriage. On the night -previous, did I not strike you sharply on the ankle, and then upon -the head, and ask you how you could endure to have it repeated a -hundred times, in the whole multiplication table of your life. And -now,” here tears impeded his words, “can I not read about Satan’s -tricks without your wishing—”</p> - -<p>“Resolving you mean; nay, Jeremiah, call it resolving to fight him. -I’m sure that he’s in Ormskirk. Yesterday morning, when I came from -washing myself, I traced in the snow a strange hoof to this very -door. There never was such a nunnery of old maids, in which he was -not found wooing them. But—but I’ll make a goose of him—I will!” -concluded the magnanimous tailor.</p> - -<p>“A goose! a goose!” exclaimed the simple Jeremiah, in horror, -“he’ll burn our hands, and the cloth. I cannot use him for a goose. -Oh! brother, only say that you will not make him either a needle or -a goose, and I’ll read the words over again.”</p> - -<p>“Well, well,” returned Gideon, a little pacified, as well as -elated, by the thought that there was one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> who really did think -that he was able to turn the devil into a goose, “sweep away your -tears. You’ll find the table cloth near you. Use the dirty corner -twice, and Nelly wont need to wash it.”</p> - -<p>Jeremiah followed his brother’s directions, carefully passed the -cloth over his face, and once more fixed his eyes upon the book. -Gideon laid aside a pair of gaiters, which he was making for the -comfort of his wife. The winter was severe—and the doctor, it -seems, had said at the house of some wealthy person that there -would be a great mortality that season, should females not keep -their feet properly warm, and the report had spread through all the -town, and had been pretty well circulated, both by the tailors and -shoemakers. In fact, shoes and gaiters had been exhibited under -the imposing titles of life-preservers. Towards evening the sexton -had been known to look suspiciously upon them, and even openly to -condemn the traffic; but the articles were still in great demand.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Gideon’s gaiters being, as we have said, thrown aside, the -tailor settled himself into the posture which was most becoming the -spirit of the reply, which he intended to make to the proposition -now to be propounded, and Jeremiah commenced reading—</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> -<p>“About midnight, let him go out into a wood, wherein there be -divers kinds of trees; let him stand behind a yew, and clapping -his hands together, cry out, come here, James, (such being the -endearing name by which he is known to his friends,) come here. -He shall then perceive a whisper from the top of the tree. Let -him instantly draw around him a magic circle, with the forefinger -of his right hand, lest his devilship, being angry, pettish, or -mischievous, may enter unawares, and suffocate him with his breath. -He must next name the conditions, upon the fulfilment of which, he -surrenders himself as a slave, then and for ever. He may ask any -thing, and his master is bound to perform it, or break the league, -and allow his hoof to be scratched with six pins or needles.”</p> - -<p>“I have it!” exclaimed Gideon, “the agreement shall be made -this very night,” and he looked terrible things to a portrait -of Apollyon, which he had torn out of “Pilgrim’s Progress,” and -plastered over the mantel-piece.</p> - -<p>But not contented with this manner of defiance, he sprung upon -his toes, hastily drew a needle from his waistcoat, and pinked -the enemy through and through the breast, in spite of scales -and hellish armour. Jeremiah, upon this, could not refrain from -weeping, and cried out, “poor dragon! poor dragon!”</p> - -<p>“Poor dragon! Poor, indeed!” returned the doughty conqueror.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> “But -see, how fierce he looks! The longer I strike, his eyes become -larger, and expand with rage.”</p> - -<p>When this announcement was made, Jeremiah quickly drew a circle -around him. This caution was unnecessary; for Gideon, seizing -the picture, threw it to the door, which Mrs. Chiselwig, at that -moment opening, received it full in her face. With a loud shout, -the enraged wife flew at her husband—we cannot say like a dove to -its mate. Nelly had a singular fancy and propensity for squinting; -and her visual organs seemed always, as if chiding nature for the -place which she had given them to occupy, and were just upon the -eve of taking their departure to some back settlements on the head, -as sentinels to guard a large neck-covering, which she wore with -some degree of pride. Jeremiah, who had a mixture of shrewdness -with all his simplicity, had long been of opinion, after careful -observation, comparison, and induction of facts, that squinting -was the property of old maids, and very philosophically, as well -as categorically, gave the following reasons. First—since they -always look back upon age, and, in their own calculations, never -become older, but sometimes younger; why should not their eyes be -in the posterior of their head? Secondly—female eyes ought always -to be in front, when their lips are in danger of being saluted; but -as old maids are not exposed to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> this danger, such a situation is -not necessary. But be this as it may, there could be no doubt of -the fact, that Mrs. Gideon Chiselwig did squint, and viewed every -thing at right angles. Perhaps she wished to avoid the labour of -her eyes travelling over a large nose. Still, squinting as she did, -she took a tolerably correct aim at the shoulders of her spouse. -In vain did he look pale, in vain did he attempt to kiss her, and -excuse the deed, by affirming that it was purely accidental: all -these circumstances did not stay the uplifted hand, or take away a -grain from its weight. She had frequently complained of being very -delicate, and when the doctor had been called in to feel her pulse -with his finger, poor Gideon wished that he could only feel her -fist with his head, as he must then have come to a very different -conclusion. She could faint, go vulgarly into hysterics, look as -pale as a drooping lily, and speak of consumption:—ah! Gideon knew -that she could likewise strike hard. It was not the mere “ego,” -tripping on his tongue, which said so: every rib, every bone, every -member told the same tale. On this occasion, Nelly did not abate -any of her strength.</p> - -<p>“Angel of my life!” Gideon cried out, “desist, oh! Nelly desist!”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> -<p>“You treat me as an angel, eh? Doff your nightcap then, in an -angel’s presence, and make your lowest bow of reverence.”</p> - -<p>Gideon silently obeyed, and very soon had his head scratched to his -wife’s content. We omitted to mention that Nelly’s figure rather -came under the definition of dumpy; so that had Gideon only been -able to read the classics, and to know that the face of man was -made to look towards the skies, or the ceiling, she could not, -without the labour of mounting a high stool, have reached him, so -as to inflict <em>capital</em> punishment.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, Jeremiah’s eyes were moist enough. We have our suspicion -that a <em>wave</em> of Mrs. Chiselwig’s hand deposited a few tears there. -Still, as this phenomenon was by no means unusual, the Chronicler -leaves the point without any further investigation.</p> - -<p>After “wholesome severities” had been administered to Gideon by his -wife, she dragged him to a seat beside the fire, where she also -seated herself, and began to examine the evidence of an exculpatory -nature, which the offender had to produce; and to the furtherance -of the ends of justice, called his brother to be jury in the case. -Jeremiah, in his own mind, had some doubts as to the equity of this -course of proceeding: but he was too wise to allow any private -opinion of his to contradict the wish of the judge. He thought, -too, that his brother’s heroism was much too pure and exalted, -since it led him to be passively submissive to the treatment of -his wife, lest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> he might use his weapons ingloriously, when their -edge was to be turned against Satan; and as he rose from the -table to occupy the jury-box, he was almost tempted to tell both -parties that he would be their mutual second, in a fair combat, -and then strength would be both jury and judge, and fists would -pronounce guilty or not guilty, and register the doom or acquittal -accordingly. But Jeremiah shewed his prudence by being silent. Mrs. -Chiselwig motioned him to his seat, when her eyes fell upon the -gaiters, lying unfinished on the floor.</p> - -<p>“So,” she began, “you thought I should not require gaiters after -you had killed me, and had resolved to be thrifty, that you might -tempt some other person to be your wife?”</p> - -<p>Gideon, in reply, raised his eyes. We have some doubt as to whether -this movement was expressive of his calling Heaven to witness that -he was innocent of any such design; or of his chiding Heaven, for -not having brought accidents to such a desirable issue.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Gideon’s head began to incline a little to her left hand, -which was opened to support it; her breast was heaving against her -right hand; her eyes were rolling in an interesting lack-lustre; -and her face, with the exception of the nose, was pale. These were -symptoms of hysterics. She seemed about to fall from her seat, and -Gideon once thought of helping<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> her to her wish, by removing the -chair from under her, but when he thought over the matter twice, -the idea was abandoned, for Nelly had been known to recover in a -wondrously short time, from her fainting fits. On this occasion she -contented herself with bursting into tears.</p> - -<p>“Oh! cruel brute, to be yoked to such a delicate little heart! Why -did I leave the holy state of single life. I might now have been -seated, eating gingerbread as I was when the wretch came with his -proposals!”</p> - -<p>Gideon gave a sigh, and thought that even Ormskirk gingerbread -should not tempt him, were he free, to bear her company.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Chiselwig continued,—</p> - -<p>“Was not my shop the most frequented of any in the town? Those who -could not pay to eat the gingerbread, stood gazing upon it at the -window, and feasted their eyes; those who were my friends, were -allowed to smell it; and those who ate it, thought that they would -never die. Where was the true lover that did not regularly, when -about to visit his sweetheart, buy a little of Nelly’s cake, in -order that he might have an agreeable and pleasant breath?”</p> - -<p>“And did not your own true love,” interrupted Gideon in an -appeal overflowing with tenderness,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> “pay your shop many of such -periodical visits, and did he not, in the slyness of the feeling, -pretend that he was about to visit such and such a damsel, and -then, after swallowing a cake or two, delicately and timidly -ask pardon for the liberty he was about to take, in wishing you -to decide, by allowing him a salute on your own sweet lips, -whether his breath was made agreeable enough? Oh! Nelly, have you -altogether forgot those days?”</p> - -<p>At this moment, when he was pursuing his reminiscences, he came -upon one which he passed over in silence. In “those days” to -which he referred, he had his suspicions that Nelly’s decision -was not quite disinterested, for after one salute, and frequently -two salutes, she was of opinion that Gideon’s breath was not -sufficiently flavoured to make it pleasant, and, of course, he was -under the necessity of purchasing a few more cakes of gingerbread. -Then, however, these suspicions were counterbalanced by others, -which whispered, that instead of wishing him to spend his money, -she was only anxious that he should spend his kisses. Woman is -said to be fickle and changeable: but some hold that man, after -marriage, changes his opinion much more than woman, adducing as a -proof, the existence of angels on earth in female form, to which -every unmarried man swears a hundred times, but which no married -man believes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> Gideon, accordingly, was not exactly of the same -opinion, in reference to Nelly’s motive for the course of conduct -described, and he recollected many a squint in the direction of his -pocket, confirmatory of the change. This one reminiscence, we have -said, Gideon omitted to suggest to Mrs. Chiselwig, and was about to -wander over others which might tend to warm her towards him, when -Jeremiah waved him to silence, and began,—</p> - -<p>“And, madam, you surely have not yet forgot how many times I -entered the shop, and made some purchases?”</p> - -<p>“No,” sharply returned Mrs. Chiselwig, “twelve times, and out of -these, five times you left the shop without leaving your money. -One of my reasons for marrying the fool, your brother, was, that I -might not lose your account. But, Jeremiah, finish my gaiters, and -you shall be quit for the interest due to me. So, Mr. Chiselwig, -you thought that I would never use them, but I shall outlive you, -and obtain another husband.”</p> - -<p>Jeremiah moved uncomfortably on his seat, but resolved in his own -mind, that <em>he</em> would never be that husband.</p> - -<p>“Another husband!” continued Nelly, after thinking over her last -words, “no, no. Why did I leave the virgin state?—oh! why—why?”</p> - -<p>Gideon listened eagerly, expecting to hear her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> assign a reason, -the “why,” and the “wherefore,” for when he asked himself the same -question, he could invent no answer.</p> - -<p>“I was a fool—a fool,” she concluded.</p> - -<p>Her spouse thought that the same answer would do for him likewise, -and that marriage had coupled them in folly. Mrs. Chiselwig then -left the room to retreat to bed, warning Gideon against making his -appearance there before morning.</p> - -<p>The two brothers drew closer to each other, and, in a short time, -our hero was “himself again,” and spoke of undertaking an adventure -with Satan that very night. And the first question to be settled -was, what should Gideon’s apparel be? Some philosophers, perhaps, -will say, that in strict logical arrangement, this ought not to -have been the first question, and that the time and place had prior -claims upon their notice. But, let it be remembered, that the -hero was a tailor.—Jeremiah was decidedly of opinion that Gideon -should not take a coat. “The book,” he argued,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> “gives directions -that a circle be drawn round your person. Now, should the slightest -movement on your part be made, the skirts of the coat might fly -over the circle, and the enemy might seize them, and thus draw you -from your strong hold of safety, and carry you away.”</p> - -<p>It was, therefore agreed upon, <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">nem. con.</i> that Gideon should not -take a coat.</p> - -<p>“And as for the night cap,” resumed the same subtle reasoner, -“since it is of a red colour, it may remind him of the hot place -which he has left, and then setting him to shiver and tremble, may -give you, his opponent, some advantage.”</p> - -<p>This, likewise, was carried unanimously.</p> - -<p>The next series of questions was concerning the place. The book -had mentioned a wood, and luckily it occurred to the remembrance -of Gideon, that there was a dark wood, at a short distance -from Ormskirk. But then, all the trees were of fir, and it was -distinctly stated, that the challenger should stand behind a yew. -Here seemed to be an insuperable objection.</p> - -<p>By agreement they divided themselves into two committees, to -deliberate upon the matter; and they placed themselves at opposite -sides of the fire, and hid their faces in their hands, lest the -other might know of their opinion. Once, indeed, they had started -from their posture, as they imagined that they heard Nelly’s foot -on the staircase, but as she did not make her appearance, it was -resumed: and certainly the expression of their countenance at that -moment would not have discovered any opinion about the question in -consideration. At length Gideon started from his seat.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I have it!” he exclaimed, rubbing his brow and scratching his -head, “yes: the priest, towards the conclusion of his <a id="Err_4" name="Err_4"></a>discourse -last Sunday, told us that the yew was a type of death. He said that -it was black, and so was death: it grew in the church-yard, and so -did death. Then he stated—”</p> - -<p>“Go on, go on,” interrupted Jeremiah impatiently,—“proceed, -brother. I fell asleep over that point.”</p> - -<p>“Then he stated,” continued Gideon, “that as the yew was the emblem -of the death of old men, so the cypress, being a much smaller tree, -might, with great propriety, be considered as an emblem of the -death of young men. Now I am a young man, Jeremiah, and the cypress -is, therefore, the tree for me!”</p> - -<p>“But is there a cypress in ‘the Rough?’”</p> - -<p>“No, no,” was the answer, “remain here for a little, and I will -bring one. Satan can have no objection, unless he be a coward, to -one standing without roots.”</p> - -<p>Still Gideon did not leave the house, and some uncomfortable -thoughts were evidently clouding his brow, at least that part of it -which the nightcap left uncovered.</p> - -<p>“Should Nelly come down, and find that I am out, she would leave -me to cool all night, on the wrong side of the door. But covered -with glory, from fiendish achievements, could she resist me?”—and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> -elated with the idea, he looked a few inches taller, and braver by -as many; strode with a martial air twice across the room, and then -strode out. Jeremiah was not fond of adventures: and the truth was, -that he had not asked where his brother was going for the cypress, -lest he should have been answered by another question, “would he -not accompany him?” He himself confessed that he was rather of a -<em>sedentary</em> disposition, and must, therefore, have declined to -leave his chair.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Gideon was threading his way to the churchyard, which -was at a little distance. The priest, it seems, had said, that -should any of his hearers have the curiosity to see a cypress, he -would, when the service was over, shew them one. A few had remained -behind: of whom, some not being very excellent herbists, had -expected to find winter apples there; because, as they reasoned, -the tree was an emblem of death, and the eating of an apple had -brought death into the world. Gideon was not of this class. He -was forced to remain behind, because Mrs. Chiselwig had strictly -enjoined him never to be nearer her on their way home, than a -hundred yards; so that he received the benefit of the priest’s -illustration, and knew exactly the situation of the cypress. He -entered the churchyard, found the spot, and then ascertained that -he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> forgot a digging spade. It was dim twilight, but the snow -on the ground made objects, otherwise invisible, to be seen, and -the tailor recognized a form approaching. He at once concluded -that it was the enemy, and took his station, as directed, behind -the cypress. He heard a deep groan, and then a shriek. Nothing -terrified, Gideon called out, in a ferocious tone, “Come, James, -come,” when he received an answer,</p> - -<p>“Oh! heaven, save my wits, and my body. Shall I come? No, no; and -yet I cannot run. Something holds me fast.”</p> - -<p>Gideon was astonished. The enemy had, in his hearing, breathed a -prayer;—not a pater-noster, indeed, but still a prayer. Soon, -however, his astonishment gave way to his rage, that he would not -come. “Fiend! coward!” Gideon cried out, when he instantly heard -retreating steps. He pursued in the direction of the sounds, and -came up to a form crouching behind a tombstone! The tailor was -collared in a moment, and struck to the ground.</p> - -<p>“You are the fiend or ghost who terrified me. I took thee for the -spirit of the strange gentleman, over whose grave the cypress is -planted. Ha! take that, and that,” and as he spoke he made a few -presents to Gideon, which seemed very like blows. “Where are your -confounded life-preservers now? Are they upon you?” and he struck -the tailor’s shins, who,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> looking up, beheld James Dennis, the -sexton of Ormskirk. We have hinted already that the members of -these two useful professions, during the winter, were not very -amicably disposed towards each other. After Gideon had got upon his -legs, the sexton resumed,—</p> - -<p>“You have tried to rob me of my trade, and I have half a mind to -make you atone for it, by putting you into a grave which I have -just dug.”</p> - -<p>“Not to night,” interrupted Gideon. “I have a work before me, -to be performed, and I shall not be buried happily till it be -accomplished. Not to night, good sir, for I fight the devil!”</p> - -<p>A fit of shivering came over his companion, who was very -superstitious; and it is no comfortable word, that same devil, to -be heard with an atmosphere of darkness, and in a churchyard.</p> - -<p>“Oh! oh!” groaned the sexton, “mention it not. The snow falls -heavily, and I often fancy that such is the garb of light, which we -are told he sometimes assumes.”</p> - -<p>“Hast thou, friend,” inquired Gideon, “seen the track of his steps -here lately? Snow shews them rarely. Here they are—”</p> - -<p>“For goodness sake, do not mention the subject,” interrupted the -sexton, as he trembled anew. The tailor, however, explained all -his warlike intentions to him: stated for what he had come to the -church-yard:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> and finally, received the assistance of the grave -spade, to uproot the sickly cypress. He left the spot, bearing -it on his shoulders, and the hero of the Eneïd did not stalk -with a prouder air, as he raised the heavenly shield which his -goddess-mother had induced Vulcan to forge for him, than did Gideon -Chiselwig, tailor, in Ormskirk.</p> - -<p>The snow continued to fall heavily, and the wind drifted it about -in fury, when, a little before midnight, the two tailors (for -Jeremiah, from fear of Mrs. Chiselwig’s wrath, had thought it best -to accompany his brother) were moving in the direction of the Rough -Wood, situated at a short distance from the town. The priest, it -will be recollected, had termed the cypress black; but it had -now changed colours, and was white enough. Gideon’s nightcap was -still red, for, at his request, Jeremiah took it from the head -repeatedly, and dashed the snow from it, lest it should lose any -of its power, to call up some rather unpleasant sensations in the -mind of Satan. Many were the misfortunes which befel them on the -way; now wandering from their course, and now stumbling into a deep -wreath of snow.</p> - -<p>“Gideon’s courage, however, was not to dissolve thereby, and -wearied as he was, by carrying the cypress, and dragging Jeremiah, -he still persevered, and at length reached the entrance of the -wood.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> They passed on to a convenient station, Jeremiah starting -when large flakes of snow fell upon his face, from the trees.</p> - -<p>“No more, no more,” said Gideon, making a halt near to some -overgrown firs, and his voice sounded so hollow, even to himself, -that he almost began to be frightened. “Here is the scene of the -horrible enchantment; Jeremiah, brush my nightcap, whilst I elevate -the cypress on that huge branch.”</p> - -<p>“Aye, aye, brother, raise it high. The book said that he would -appear at the top; do not allow him to come too near, for I never -relished sulphur much.”</p> - -<p>When all things were in readiness, the nightcap adjusted, and the -cypress fixed, the brave knight of the needle, in a firm voice, -cried out,—</p> - -<p>“Come, James, come!”</p> - -<p>A flash of lightning gleamed over their heads, and a voice, by no -means musical, though merrily attuned, amidst hollow laughter, -said,—</p> - -<p>“Here, Gideon, here.”</p> - -<p>As soon as a circle of safe diameter had been described by their -fingers, they looked up. There Jeremiah was fated to behold eyes -of a much deeper red than his own, peering down; moreover with a -less mournful expression. He fell, but had the good sense to fall -within the magic circle, and there he groaned. Gideon was thus -left alone to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> brave the infernal terrors; and whatsoever some may -say respecting Beelzebub, certainly on this occasion, he did not -appear the handsome and well-favoured gentleman, equipped in boots, -shining so beautifully, that everything is reflected, except his -hoofs,—and perfumed with spices and ointments, to suppress the -strong effluvial sulphur of his person. Nor was he the noble fiend -of Milton, shorn of his glory, as the sun in a partial eclipse: -for we presume that his devilship has the right of proving the -simile false at the hour of midnight. Accordingly, horrible sights -were Gideon’s, and they were ever varying. Now the enemy assumed -some strange mixture of forms,—rolling heads, contorted legs, -and swinging tail: but before a conception could be formed in the -tailor’s mind of what they were, he was altogether changed. Light, -darkness, and smoke, were around him. The cypress leaves rustled to -the movement of his hoofs. Saucer eyes, in the edges of which there -lurked such a malicious wink and twinkle; a mouth, occasionally, -when it could be seen, as wide and black as the pit whence he came, -in which hung a tongue, bright and lurid with a serpent’s poison, -breathing out thence visibly a blue air; naked limbs, around which -a green light flickered, shewing neither skin, muscle, nor bone, -but an indescribable substance: large black hoofs, hanging from -small ancles; all these parts changed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> and poor Gideon stared, -perfectly bewildered at the proportions of his opponent. He soon, -however, regained his wonted composure, and broke the silence,—</p> - -<p>“Nay, enemy of man, think not thus to confound me, with your -childish tricks. Be a man, Nicholas, and not a fool.” In a moment -around the circle which had been made, a blue flame flashed. The -devil danced on the outside, with the cypress for his stilts. His -face was concealed, and he now wore the garb of a scrivener, with -paper and pens stuck in his belt. He leapt to the ground, and there -he stood, of small stature, but twisting and pliable.</p> - -<p>“Gideon Chiselwig,” said the learned clerk, “you are a brave -earth-clod. I am an antiquarian in my small way, and should be glad -of your autograph on this parchment. In my desk at home, I have the -names of great warriors, statesmen, and poets, but am yet denied -the honour of that of a tailor. Mine is a rare and a valuable -museum. Friend, be so kind as to write me ‘Gideon Chiselwig’ here, -in this corner. Now,”—and he unfolded a long roll, and held it -out to Gideon. “Nay, nay, your hands are stiff and cold, with the -blowing of this storm; give me a shake, and I’ll warm them. Tush! -Gideon a coward? Then write me your initials.”</p> - -<p>“I came not here,” solemnly returned the tailor,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> “to sport, but to -fight with you. Prepare for combat, or write on the parchment, a -coward.”</p> - -<p>“What! fight without a challenge? Here are the articles; write your -name, and then I must gird myself for battle. Come, the night is -cold—cold—and I shiver.”</p> - -<p>“That will be a change, friend, I guess,” interrupted Jeremiah, -who now venturing to raise his head, saw nothing formidable in -the enemy, “I warrant thee, that some of your associates are not -shivering at present. I suppose that during summer, there is not -much rain in your country, and during winter not much frost or -snow.”</p> - -<p>No reply was made to the polite address of Jeremiah, but the clerk -had already placed the pen in the hand of Gideon.</p> - -<p>“Where is the ink?”</p> - -<p>“In your veins; prick them with a needle, or be a coward. Blood is -the challenge to deadly combat.”</p> - -<p>“Do all other inks freeze in your country?” again inquired -Jeremiah, and again he received no answer.</p> - -<p>Gideon did as he was directed, and wrote his name on the parchment. -He observed that the blood dried as soon as it fell from the pen, -and became indelible.</p> - -<p>“Fool! fool!” exclaimed the fiend, with a loud shriek of joy,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> “thou -art for ever lost. This is a contract that you will be my servant -in hell. Two conditions are granted to you; or, rather, two deeds -to which you may command me. Next night we meet again, and when -morning comes, you are mine. Live a pleasant day to morrow. Ask two -things, and here I have pledged to grant them, or you are free. The -parchment may not be wiped, and cannot be torn!”</p> - -<p>This was spoken in a tone so fiendish and exulting, that Gideon’s -heart failed him. He now knew that he was altogether in the power -of the enemy, with only one day to live; and then a horrible -departure from this world; and in the next world such a revolting -service in which he was to be employed. He bent down on his -knees, and clasping his hands in extreme agony and terror, looked -imploringly upon the fiend, and cried out—</p> - -<p>“Oh! spare me! I can be of no use to you.”</p> - -<p>“More,” was the reply, “than you are to any one on earth. Ah! -Gideon, you’ll make a good member of society there.”</p> - -<p>“Nay, nay,” returned Gideon, “I may lie in a hot and black corner -of the pit, like an old woman by the fire, who cannot move about. -I shall do nothing but retch, and cry for water. I could not go on -any errand of yours—could not whisper mischief in any person’s -ear. You might torment me, but I should be utterly unable to serve -you. Oh! spare me!”</p> - -<p>“Spare him,” began Jeremiah with averted face.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> “Had he been a -ruffian, he would have been of essential service in any vacant -situation. But, sir, and I speak with great respect, Gideon would -be the laziest footman in your employ. He could not travel from -your place to Ormskirk in less than a life-time. And then he would -have forgot your messages, and lost your letters, unless they were -put in his nightcap, and that, you know well, could not hold as -many as you require. Gideon Chiselwig an imp of darkness! why a -little infant could cheat him of an apple! Perhaps he would then be -fonder of a snow ball. Ah! he is too simple to be a man, and how -could he be a devil?”</p> - -<p>The fiend laughed, and pointing to the name on the parchment, -written with blood, bade Gideon recollect that he was his property, -by contract and consent.</p> - -<p>“Oh!” once more ejaculated Gideon, “spare me! What! must I leave—”</p> - -<p>“Nelly, you mean? Fear not. I shall bring her to you in good time. -The separation cannot be long.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” resumed the tailor, “must I die,—have my brains dashed out -against the wall, as your victims generally are treated?”</p> - -<p>“No, no, Gideon, they shall even then be covered with your -nightcap—”</p> - -<p>“To leave my profession, to—”</p> - -<p>“No, no,” was the reply,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> “you shall then make my pantaloons -of many colours. My wages are—but I dare not quote from that -Book.—You understand me, Gideon. You need not shriek: spare your -lungs, as they will have exercise enough, and yet they will not -require sewing and mending. They must last as long as your service, -and that is for ever. I shall never dismiss you for bad conduct, -Gideon. Eternity is the term of the engagement between us. Oh! -eternity!”—and here all the farce and pantomime vanished, as -his form changed into one of lofty power, and his voice thrilled -with eloquence from the remembrance, and the still more intense -anticipation of endless woe. “Oh! Eternity, how vast thou art. -No shore, a boundless sea! No bank, nor yet a little island, on -which the lost can alight, and, for a moment, quit the gulf, and -shake off their pain. The scroll of fate is placed in the hand, -written with woe: long and long may it unfold itself, but the last -roll never comes. Oh! Eternity! thou hast no resting place for -the bright foot of Hope:—yes,” and here Satan assumed the same -appearance as before,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> “Gideon, our engagement expires only with -eternity: you shall board with me, and have enough of food—not -much ale or water, however, but a great supply of fuel, and that -gratis. But before I depart, name two requests which you may wish -me to fulfil. Would you enjoy power or beauty? They shall be -granted, and the poor tailor may sit on a throne, or at the side of -a beautiful empress. Amidst all, think of the coming night, when -your appetite is about to pall, and how will it be whetted!—Name -two requests.”</p> - -<p>Jeremiah started up, so sudden was the advent of the idea in his -mind, and no longer miserable, thinking that Gideon would now -successfully puzzle Satan. He whispered into his brother’s ear, -“Ask for the reformation of Nelly!”</p> - -<p>“Well then,” said the tailor addressing the enemy, “the first -condition is, that you thoroughly reform my wife: make her to -love me; to give me due allowance of food, fuel, sleep, and all -necessaries, and not to beat me. She may comb my head, but must -not scratch it. She may kiss, but not bite me. The vinegar must be -taken from her temper, and honey put in. The poker must only be -used for the coals: in short, you have undertaken an impossibility. -You may have made her what she is—but you cannot unmake her.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! master Nicholas,” chuckled Jeremiah, who was vain of having -suggested the above condition,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> “give it up, and confess that you -are an easy simpleton for once. A devil make an angel of a woman! -Ridiculous, quite ridiculous, Nick. You may pare her nails, but -you cannot keep her from scratching. Say no more, give it up and -depart, and carry a globe of snow on your shoulders, to your -abode, to cool some of your friends.”</p> - -<p>Lightning flashed over Jeremiah’s head as he finished speaking, and -effectually withered up his wit, as well as his courage. A long -silence ensued, broken by the fiend at last, as he said—</p> - -<p>“The condition shall be fulfilled. Your person shall be sacred to -your wife, no more to come in contact with poker or fist, nails -or teeth. She shall supply your grinders with every thing but her -own fingers. As for sleep, you have not much time for that, before -I come to claim you as my slave. And as for fuel, Nelly will seat -you close by the grate, and you may take warm coals in your hand -like boiled potatoes: and do not feel the least anxiety about fuel -hereafter, you shall have great abundance then. Nay, nay, Gideon, -your wife’s temper shall likewise be reformed. Oh! you are a man of -discrimination, and have perceived that it is no easy task which -you have assigned me.—Now name your other condition.”</p> - -<p>Gideon then trembled, lest the first condition should be fulfilled, -and thought over some impossibility which he should ask the devil -to perform, as the fulfilment of the second condition.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> -<p>“Then build me a wall, with stone and mortar, an hour before -daybreak to morrow.”</p> - -<p>“Provided there be a thaw.”</p> - -<p>“No provisions,” boldly replied Gideon,—“no provisions. And lest -there should be a thaw occasioned by crowds passing, it must not -be built in a thoroughfare, but in a field at some distance from -Ormskirk. It must be four hundred yards in length, and five feet in -height, and all finished in an hour.”</p> - -<p>“Why, Nick,” interrupted Jeremiah, whose courage flowed as well -as ebbed, “you will take an hour to bring the sand from the -sand-hills. Besides, no honest man will lend you his horse and -cart.” No answer was returned, and the enemy walked around the -circle once or twice, and then stood full in front of Gideon, while -the parchment, with his name, burned brighter, and more bright. But -the flame did not conceal the blood by which it had been written, -and the form of a heart, weltering amidst the flame, turning in -agony, and guarded by the name.</p> - -<p>“The conditions,” Satan exclaimed, “shall be performed, and as -soon as the wall is built, I shall escort you to your future home. -Let this parchment float, till then, before you, in your waking -moments and in your dreams. Accustom your mind to the thought of -thunder, lightning, sounds of an earthquake, the hissing of fiends, -the rolling of a deep unfathomable gulf, and the clutch of this -little, little loving hand,” and he switched out a horrible paw, -scorched, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> not burned; for every joint and muscle moved with -inconceivable ease and speed. “Do not think, poor wretch, that you -shall see me then as merry as I have been at present, nor will you -be merry when limb from limb is torn and mangled? Dream of it,—it -must come to pass. A few hours, Gideon, and I meet you: till then, -adieu,” and the fiend vanished. A long track of blue light, and -dark forms hovering near it, marked the course of his flight over -the wood.</p> - -<p>As we have been long enough in the cold and bitter storm, and as -all fire and brimstone have disappeared, we do not choose to walk -side by side with the two tailors, on their way back, amidst the -drifting of the snow, which, by this time, had fallen so heavily, -that the way was completely blocked up.</p> - -<p>We prefer to enter the residence of the parson, and, seated -opposite to his rosy countenance, note a few observations as -to what was passing there. In a parenthesis, we have already -described the worthy man as fat and oily. Indeed, he was singularly -consistent, for whilst he preached <em>good living</em> to others, he -did not neglect to practice it himself, though, perhaps, he had -a private interpretation of the word, and understood it in a -different sense. He told his hearers that they would, in the end, -feel the advantages resulting from it: and certainly, after fifty -years practice, he looked very comfortable himself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> This regimen -had endowed him with size and colour, flesh and paint. He had -been called a light of the church; only, we presume, because his -face, in shape, resembled the moon, though scarcely so pale. Yet, -withall, Dr. Mauncel was mild and benevolent, and one of his best -properties was, that he had a beautiful daughter, who had just -reached her nineteenth winter. Many a sigh had been unconsciously -breathed as Mary leant upon her father’s arm, on their way to -church: and as she knelt in prayer, many a look had been directed -towards her, and lovers envied the vicar for the many caresses he -must receive from such a fair being, and thought what a sanctuary -her presence would make of the very humblest home. The little arch -creature knew this, and flung back her ringlets, that her face -might be seen, and then contrived to make it so demure and grave, -that one might have imagined that a ray of happy, but feverish -love, had never brightened over it. When she smiled, it was always -so friendly, that a deeper sentiment, it was thought, could not -lurk beneath it; and she would extend her hand so frankly, that -no one could venture upon retaining and kissing it,—it felt so -sisterly. And yet, the sweet rogue was in love with her cousin -William, then residing at the Vicarage; and when the good doctor -was paying his addresses either to his meals or his sermon, the -young pair were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> toying with each other’s hands, and his reverence -had once been startled from his reveries, by a very loud kiss.</p> - -<p>We have, strangely enough, omitted to mention that it was -Christmas night on which all the transactions we have recorded of -the tailors, took place; so that lights were still seen in the -vicarage, and a goose, with others of the same genus, was standing -on the table very peaceably, if we except the smoke of their anger, -which was ascending, and, as the vicar facetiously remarked, much -more comfortable where they were, than without, in the fury of the -storm.</p> - -<p>“Is all in readiness? Now, nephew, you can fence and carve, bisect -and dissect; but when you reach my age, you will only be able to -devour, decant, or digest. Stay; Mary, bring Rehoboam and Jeroboam, -with all their tribes. Rehoboam was the son of Solomon, and there -is no reason why a wise man should not be fond of him. Come, haste, -Mary, else I shall send William to bring you.”</p> - -<p>“Nay, nay, uncle,” said the youth, “to avoid delay, I will go at -once, and chide her so, that she must despatch. Now,—dear Mary,” -and the happy couple ran out of the room together.</p> - -<p>“Sly rogues,” chuckled the old man, who saw how matters stood.</p> - -<p>Mary, it seems, had been refractory, for it was not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> until a -considerable length of time had elapsed, that she appeared, -carrying a few glasses, whilst her cousin bore two large bottles, -Rehoboam and Jeroboam.</p> - -<p>“Ah! ah!” cried the vicar. “Fie, fie, whence come these blushes, -Mary? Let both of you approach; now kneel; and God bless you, my -dear children! Nephew William, take her hand as a Christmas present -from her father; you have already obtained her heart from herself.”</p> - -<p>“Dear, dear uncle,” exclaimed the delighted youth, as he clasped -his relative’s knees with his hands.</p> - -<p>“Nay, nay,” the parson interrupted,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> “put your arms around that -blushing neck. I have long watched you. When you read for the -old man, William, she sat beside you, gazing upon the same book, -and when your locks and cheeks were together, your voice became -agitated, and then she looked innocently into your face. You always -preferred a large folio, and she slipped her little hand in one -side, beneath it, and then you put yours through, to meet hers; and -for hours, the happy father has been delighted with your loves. -Ah! one other remembrance comes upon me. In our evening walk I was -strolling behind you, when a beautiful child left his sister’s -hand, and ran to you, Mary, and climbing up, kissed you once and -again. I was near enough to hear William say, ‘now, cousin, give -me one likewise.’ Ah! rogues, rogues,” and he took them both in -his arms, and hugged them together, when a knocking was heard at -the gate. The vicar started, but the lovers were so happy in each -other, that they had not even heard the noise.</p> - -<p>“Some poor traveller seeking shelter from the storm. How the storm -blows without. Hark to that awful howl,” and the good man arose -from the table. He heard the servant open the door, and instantly -a form bounced into the room, all drifted and covered with snow. A -single shake served to discover Mrs. Gideon Chiselwig.</p> - -<p>“Oh! doctor,” she exclaimed, in a tone altogether foreign to her -usual voice, “what a dream I have been visited with. The devil has -appeared to me, and shewed my dear husband’s name, affixed to a -contract, that he shall be a slave in hell, from to-morrow night, -henceforth, and for ever. He is then to come and take him from me. -Oh! I have shamefully treated Gideon, and now I love him so much, -that I could die for him. ’Twas but this evening, that I struck -him with these heavy hands. Oh! doctor, what can I do? Is there no -hope?”</p> - -<p>Dr. Mauncel was altogether astonished and confounded. The woman -now before him had the repute of a termagent; and yet she spoke -so affectionately, and bitterly upbraided herself, for her former -cruel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> treatment of her husband. Nor did she appear at all under -the influence of strong drink. “Good woman,” he at length inquired, -“where is your husband?”</p> - -<p>“He has gone and sold himself to the devil, for my conduct towards -him. I have made earth miserable, and he would rather live in hell, -than dwell with me any longer. Oh! how I could now love him! My -heart is changed, but it is too late! Yes, yes, it is too late!” -and she wrung her hands in wild agony, tore her hair, and shed more -tears than Jeremiah could have done.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Chiselwig,” returned the vicar, “you have, indeed, been -anything but a dutiful and affectionate wife to your spouse, but -now begin a thorough reformation. It is only a dream of evil with -which you have been visited, and Gideon shall, doubtless, be spared -to you for many a long year yet.”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> -<p>“It cannot be! Although the storm rages, he is not in the house; he -has gone and sold himself for my shameful conduct. In the afternoon -I forbade him to go to bed, until I should have arisen; nay, more, -I planted these nails in his face and head, as a tender good night -for a dear husband. Ah! wretch that I am, and yet, he patiently -submitted, took the hand which had struck him, so affectionately, -and was making gaiters for the feet which had kicked him.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! Mrs. Chiselwig, you were a sad wife,” chimed in the parson.</p> - -<p>“What tempted you,” asked Mary Mauncel, “to be cruel to Gideon? He -was always so kind and attentive to you.”</p> - -<p>Her cousin William approached, and whispered something which was -inaudible to all others, save Mary herself. She smiled so prettily, -and with such an affectation of malice, as she tossed her head, -and said, “Try me, you are free at present, but have given me the -chain. I’ll rule you, and beat you into the sober obedience of a -husband. You have told me frequently that you were my slave: I -shall shortly prove it.”</p> - -<p>“Dear Mary, go on, go on, and tell me what a good little wife you -will make.”</p> - -<p>Nelly once more appealed to the vicar, with great earnestness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> “Oh! -sir, have you not a charm to be obtained from all those books, -from all your sermons, from all your robes, by which you can break -the contract with the devil. Laugh not; he appeared to me, in -such a form, and uttering such words, that to my dying day I dare -not rehearse them. To-morrow night he comes to claim Gideon! Your -profession is to tame and conquer the enemy. Oh! now exert that -power!”</p> - -<p>“To-morrow night; well then, go home, and I will come at noon, and -see what is to be done. Good woman, you have (innocently I grant) -spoiled my supper, for who can eat with the smell of brimstone. I -declare that that goose now appears to me to have hoofs, instead -of claws. Mary, give Mrs. Chiselwig a compliment from Rehoboam, -to cheer her on her way home, through the storm. You’ll find -Gideon, I hope, there before you, and prove that all your fears -have been the baby thoughts of a horrid dream. May you long live -for each other,—and, Nelly, you will shew, by your future course -of conduct, I trust, that you are willing to atone for all the -domestic misery which you confess to have brought upon honest -Gideon. Nay, drink it off, Mrs. Chiselwig; it is warmer than snow, -eh?”</p> - -<p>Nelly, after many thanks to the vicar, emptied the glass, and once -more braved the storm.</p> - -<p>The walls of the houses were now completely drifted, and not a -footstep had left its trace on the snow-covered streets. What a -lonely feeling is over the soul, when nothing is heard but the deep -gust of the wind, driving the storm before, around, and against us, -and when all objects are being wrapped in winter’s white raiment. -For us, in youth, there never was a greater luxury, than to wander -over the dreary mountain and vale, with the snow pelting on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> our -face, as it was turned upwards, when not a glimpse of the sky could -meet it; and then, after having become thoroughly exhausted, to -enter some natural cave, or sheepfold, on the waste, and there -seated, gaze around upon bush, bank, and hill, cottages, and woods, -all thatched with white: and even yet, by night, has the old man -taken his staff, and tottered to the hall door, to stand without -the threshold, devoutly uncovering his head, white as winter’s -after December has smoothed it, and looked up, while the snow -fell, sweet and grateful as the kisses of his only child, upon his -dim eyes, and feverish forehead,—and as he entered the room, has -forbidden Jane to wipe away the flakes, for he wished them gently -to weep themselves to death, on his face, in all their virgin -sorrow. Rain, we love thee not, even in thy spring showers, and -must canopy our head to protect it from thy salutations: but Snow, -we uncover it for thy kisses, so pure and soothing. How beautiful -art thou, when the messenger of death; and a holier and a whiter -bed dost thou afford the poor traveller, than could be smoothed -and softened by the hand of his young and beloved wife, in his own -happy abode, where, true as her love in difficulty and trial, burns -the signal of her expectations, through the small lattice, during -the long night, and often trimmed in vain! How gently is he hushed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> -to sleep, amidst the wreathes of thy purity, unconscious of the -blast. Not a limb aches, and heaven, likewise, bids thee be thy -lover’s shroud and tomb!</p> - -<p>Had Mrs. Chiselwig, however, been disposed to apostrophize the -snow, it would have been in very different language; and, perhaps, -the good woman had reason, as she arrived, almost blinded and -senseless, at the door, where stood two figures, whom she instantly -recognized as Gideon and Jeremiah.</p> - -<p>“Dear, dear husband!” she exclaimed in raptures, and flung her arms -fondly around his neck, for the first time since marriage, and then -she sobbed. Gideon had started back instinctively, when he beheld -the arms raised, but now he was convinced of Nelly’s affection, and -joined her sobbing. It may be superfluous to add, that Jeremiah’s -sympathetic sluices were not closed on this occasion, and that they -threatened to deluge his person.</p> - -<p>“Oh! Gideon, you shudder in my embrace.”</p> - -<p>“Aye, aye, I am a lost man, yet now, I feel so happy in your love, -dear Nelly. But I am very, very cold.”</p> - -<p>The door was opened, and after entering the house, Nelly was -informed of the exploit in the Rough Wood. She upbraided not, she -only kissed her husband, wept, and looked heart-broken. Gideon -conjured her not to be changed in temper for one day at least, and -still to treat him harshly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I could not,” was the affecting reply, “though such conduct were -to save your life. Oh! I feel ashamed of myself. You must, if you -wish me to be happy hereafter, give me as many scratches, kicks, -and angry words, as I have ever given you. Promise me, Gideon.”</p> - -<p>Gideon did promise, and as the first-fruits of the vow, kissed her. -They retired not to rest, for, as the husband piteously remarked—</p> - -<p>“Dear wife, I cannot, and I should not sleep. I must gaze upon you -as long as I am permitted. I must speak with you as long as my -language is of earth. I must embrace you as long as I am not called -upon to embrace clods, dust, and worms. Ha!” he cried in a frantic -voice, “not that! not that! I am denied burial, and must go, body -and soul, to the dark pit! I shall be mangled, and Jeremiah will -not be allowed to sew me together, into a decent corpse. Oh! oh!”</p> - -<p>At length, punctual to his appointment, the vicar came, attended -by his nephew. What was the astonishment of the worthy man, when -he learned that Gideon had fulfilled verbatim his wife’s dream, -and actually sold himself, for better, for worse, to the devil! He -gravely shook his head, and the motion was also communicated to his -paunch, as he remarked—</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p> -<p>“I am afraid that the present is a case far beyond my poor skill. -I once, indeed, had the honour of casting out a devil, but he was -a blue devil, and I put his victim into a room by himself, for a -month, and removed a large bottle, after which the man was never -tormented with him again. But this—”</p> - -<p>“And you a doctor of the church,” interrupted -Jeremiah—“humph!—with a black coat, professing that you are able -and inclined to fight the devil in his own colours. Now, if you -could fight a blue devil, in a black coat, would you not have a -greater chance of success in fighting a black devil? Had I as many -prayers, homilies, and sermons, Dr. Mauncel, I would instantly -take and pull him by the nose, very much to the lengthening of -his proboscis. Oh! doctor, accompany us to the place of the awful -meeting, and I will carry the Book as your weapon!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes,” added Mrs. Chiselwig with great earnestness and -simplicity, “and I will carry—what was the name, sir?—Yes, -Rehoboam. I’ll carry Rehoboam for you.”</p> - -<p>“He is a dear child, and I could scarcely trust him out of my own -hands.”</p> - -<p>But we cannot detail the conversation, many episodes of which were -long prayers, and spiritual maxims, calculated to do anything or -everything, save to overturn and reverse the horrid destiny of -Gideon—the doomed of Satan. None gave consolation, until the -parson’s nephew suggested that it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> quite possible, indeed -extremely probable, that the devil would find the building of the -wall a task, by no means easy; and that, for his part, he would be -most willing to take his uncle’s post, and accompany poor Gideon to -the place of rendezvous, and see the wall to be, in mason’s terms, -sufficient and proper, before the Devil could claim a hair of the -tailor’s head. Still, this was not altogether satisfactory, for the -first condition, and that which appeared the most difficult, had -been strictly fulfilled.</p> - -<p>As the clock struck every hour, Gideon seemed to hear the fiend -exclaim, “prepare.” His heart vibrated so much, that had it been -skilfully placed in the mechanism, it would have regularly and -accurately moved the pendulum. He counted every shade darkening on -the sky, until night came on; and melancholy, if not poetical, was -his farewell to the glorious sun. He was not altogether ignorant of -figure and trope, to eke out his pathos, as will be seen.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> -<p>“There thou art, about to disappear for ever from these delighted -eyes, with thy beautiful chariot! That dark cloud is thy coachman, -with a pink-coloured vest. He is now mounting, and in a moment -will be ready to drive thee into the ocean, and wet thy garments, -making them truly uncomfortable for thy tailor, whoever he be, to -repair. He has lighted his pipe of tobacco, and puffs out the -smoke to keep away the sea sickness. His drab great coat is now -over him, and he is exclaiming, ‘all’s right, all’s right.’ ’Tis -false, charioteer, all’s wrong, wrong. Farewell, thou orb of day. -I go, where time is not measured by day—the tailor; and clad by -night—his journeyman. Yet just one other peep; yes, here is thy -ray upon my hand. Oh! Nelly, hast thou a glove to put over my -hand, and thus confine the light for ever to be my hope. Farewell! -To-morrow thou again appearest, but not for me. Perchance, as thou -arisest over the finished wall, thou mayest observe my head as the -cope stone. At morn, how anxiously have I removed the nightcap -from my eye to behold thy charms, O sun! How beautifully dost thou -gleam into the soup, and kindly reveal all the peas and beans which -slily lie at the bottom of the dish. How fondly hast thou loved my -needle, and even danced, with thy hundred feet, upon the point! -Farewell!” and he closed the window and wept.</p> - -<p>The speech may contain a little of the ludicrous; not so the -feelings. In vain did Nelly, who had been a little consoled by the -remarks of the parson’s nephew, and who had, therefore, been able -to attend to cookery, set before him food the most savoury, to -tempt his appetite, with what one of the signs elegantly terms<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> “the -real-original-genuine-best Ormskirk gingerbread.” As her hands -spread them on the table, Gideon’s sorrow was renewed, for the -thought struck him, that they would move before him no more. It was -no easy matter for the good man to be resigned to the loss of his -wife, just when she had become so agreeable and affectionate.</p> - -<p>Soon Mary Mauncel entered, leaning on the arm of her cousin. She -had <a id="Err_5" name="Err_5"></a>tried all her arts to dissuade him from the expedition, and had -even threatened never to speak to him again. And yet, out of pure -love and care for him, and of her own accord, she had come along -with him to Gideon’s house. And never had she spoken so much and -so tenderly, as she did now, cautioning William, for her sake, not -to be rash. Jeremiah shewed them to seats, and because there was a -scarcity of chairs, mounted the table himself. Gideon had watched -the motion.</p> - -<p>“Ah! Jeremiah, I have sat there for the last time. Orders shall be -sent, good broad cloth shall be spread out, but no Gideon shall be -there to cut, sew, and mend.”</p> - -<p>“Reverse the picture,” added his brother, “and change the scene. A -horrible pit, at the bottom of which—”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> -<p>“Nay, Jeremiah; do not make me to anticipate it. Young gentleman, -how are your nerves braced for the work? Give me your hand.”</p> - -<p>At that moment, however, the lover felt his hand touched, and -detained gently by Mary, so he held out the sinister one to the -tailor.</p> - -<p>“Ready, quite ready, Gideon. I shall return with you safe again. -Fear not; you shall not lose Mrs. Chiselwig, nor,” he added in a -whisper to his beautiful companion, “shall I lose Mary Mauncel.”</p> - -<p>“Is the night calm?” meekly inquired Nelly, who had some thoughts -of accompanying her husband.</p> - -<p>“Beautiful and clear,” was the reply. “The snow is glistening in -the moon’s rays, and not a breath of wind awakes it.”</p> - -<p>“Beautiful it is,” added Mary, in a low voice to William, “but for -ghosts, devils, and your folly. How much happier should we have -been together, in the garden.”</p> - -<p>Jeremiah’s very acute ear had distinguished these words.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> “Ah! my -young lady, the open field, where we are to meet the enemy, is much -more romantic than a garden; and you must be happier there, as the -shelter is better. The devil had fled without a place of meeting -being definitely assigned, but I had courage enough to recall him, -and then we agreed upon a spot of ground to the right of Aughton -Moss, and in the direction of Cleives Hills. Garden? No, no, for -were I concealed behind a bush, even in the presence of your -father, the enemy might ask him to bestow the little bird that was -in such a bush, and his reverence, not knowing, might comply, and I -should then be caged. All must be open and exposed.”</p> - -<p>“No more,” exclaimed Gideon in agony, after he had returned from -the door, where, for the last minute he had been gazing upon the -moon, “no more must I see thy light, after a few short hours. Ha! -and the candle too. But let me try how I can do without it,” and he -immediately extinguished it. “Horrible darkness; and then I must -for ever put on and take off my clothes, and shave and wash myself -with liquid fire, and eat without a light; yes, eat brimstone and -tempest, without having a candle to shew the mouth. Hush, hush, I -hear some fiend eating. His lips smack.”</p> - -<p>Gideon was not wrong in one part of his conjectures, for Mary’s -lover, taking advantage of the light being extinguished, was -attempting to console and pacify her by whispers and kisses. The -clock now struck the hour of eleven, and Nelly lighted the candle, -to prepare the last supper for her husband. Not a word was spoken. -Every countenance was fixed upon the miserable pair. Every little -noise startled them, and then again they were immovable, as gloomy -pictures. The candle flame turned blue. The chimney looked darker -and darker. Shadows<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> flitted upon the wall, in formidable guise. -At length the parson’s nephew proposed that Miss Mauncel, rather -than return to her father, should keep poor Nelly company in their -absence.</p> - -<p>“Come, Gideon, come; it is the hour.” What terror these words -inspired in all, save the speaker, who laughed at superstition, and -even at the devil! The tailor’s limbs trembled,—he looked up, and -then hid his face in his hands. Jeremiah brought a long cloak, to -wrap his brother from the cold. All things were adjusted, as for a -criminal on the drop. He was at the door. Nelly gave a shriek;—her -husband heard it not. She embraced and hugged him,—he was passive -in her arms.</p> - -<p>“Oh!—he is dead already!” she exclaimed, “he is,—yes!”</p> - -<p>But they observed, by the rolling of his eyes, that although his -reason might have fled, his spirit was still in its tabernacle. -Jeremiah shook him, but Gideon responded not. He was dragged forth, -as the hour had already passed, and yet, no farewell was uttered by -him. Nelly’s farewell was a loud, a long, a piercing shriek, as he -was moved over the threshold, and then a longer fainting fit.</p> - -<p>The snow crisped beneath their feet, a slight breeze passed over -their heads, and these were the only sounds heard. The hour of -twelve was striking in the town, as they reached the spot assigned.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p> - -<p>Gideon now seemed to awake from his insensibility. He attempted to -speak, but words and utterance altogether failed him. The magic -circle was drawn around, and he looked up to summon the enemy of -mankind to fulfil his engagements, when a violent fit of shuddering -seized his limbs, and some thing not less gentle passed over his -soul. The stars above were fiery, and gleaming with malignant -aspect and influence over a mortal’s fate, and around them was a -dull haze, which was interpreted into a shroud. Not that the tailor -was an astrologer, in faith or practice: but there are moments -and circumstances when the orbs of heaven appear as the types of -earth’s history,—as the eyes of fate turned upon individuals, -likewise, with their revelations. He then gazed around. Not a tree -or fence stood near, for a covert; but a desert heath, still more -desolate in its appearance from its snowy covering. The ground, -with its winter’s carpet, was prevented from echoing to footsteps: -and the air seemed, too, as if it were bound up from the vibrations -of sound,—for over all was a dead silence.</p> - -<p>William Mauncel was the first who spoke.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> “Gideon, thou tremblest; I -will take thy duty. Give me the charm by which thou renderest the -devil obedient to thy call. Eh? does he stand upon ceremony? My -good uncle assures us that he frequently pays us a visit when he -is not invited, and that he makes himself such a pleasant fellow, -that we are loth to give him a hint that it is not agreeable for -the time to have his company, much less to shew him to the door. -Ah! ah! Gideon, you were too polite, you gave him your card, with -name and residence, last night. That will make him troublesome. He -is a punctual keeper of his appointments. Now, pray, give me the -signal. Nay, then,” as Gideon’s voice could not be heard, “Jeremiah -will oblige me.”</p> - -<p>The substance of the directions was repeated from the old book, -where they had, at first, stimulated the tailor’s courage, to make -him more than a mortal hero. William laughed at the affectionate -terms in which he was to invite the enemy; and began, in as low -and gentle a tone, to say, “Come, James, come,” as he had ever -employed when he had tapped at the window of his uncle’s study, -where his beautiful cousin was, whispering, “come, Mary, come,” in -order that she should trip out and enjoy a moonlight scene, seated -along with him in the arbour. Still the devil was not pleased most -graciously to appear, and William laughed and shouted in full -merriment. He, indeed, believed in the devil’s journeyings to and -fro, over the earth, and in his exertions and plans to obtain -victims by false and almost involuntary contracts; but then he -was not frightened, for as he firmly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> believed that human skill, -stratagem, and valour might baffle him. Where was the necessity, he -reasoned, of mistaking his black majesty for a gentleman in black; -of using blood instead of ink; of receiving slate stones instead of -golden coins? He also held as a part of his superstitious creed, -the existence of certain old ladies, on whose chins the Lancashire -rains have fallen with such a fructifying influence, as to beard -them “like the pard;” with hands dark and sickly, from the deadly -drugs which they mix over the light of the cauldron, in their cave, -and with decrepid and corrupted forms, as if they were spirits of -another world, and had come to the charnel house, and there clothed -themselves in a body which had begun to be the prey of worms; and -with souls, whose every idea was familiar with the dark fates in -store for earth, and rejoiced in those which were to blast the -happy, and destroy the beautiful. But then, he as firmly held that -their spells might be made to fall impotent upon man. He laughed at -them, and was prepared to scratch them, in their only vulnerable -part,—<em>above the breath</em>. In travelling, he cared not though he -should have the company of a ghost, provided it only spoke, and -recounted some horrible deed, as the avenger of which it walked -the earth,—for he hated silence. At home, he would have shook the -devil very frankly and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> cordially by the hand, had he ever paid him -a visit, and he would have smoked a pipe, or drunk a cup of tea -(had tea then been known) with any witch, in her own abode. Thus -William Mauncel was exceedingly merry in prospect of beholding the -devil, whom he imagined that he could so easily thwart. In a loud -voice, he again exclaimed, “come, James, come,” and instantly a -little man, with the tools of a mason-builder, stood opposite to -Gideon.</p> - -<p>“Gideon Chiselwig, give me the dimensions of the wall which I have -contracted to build. You know that it is now an hour from my day -break, and I must finish it, and then claim you. You know me?—or -shall I disclose my features? and assume some of my former tones, -and thus convince you that I am—the devil?”</p> - -<p>Gideon trembled still more, and feebly ejaculated, “No, no. I -believe in very deed that thou art my enemy, and, I beseech thee, -give me no further proof.”</p> - -<p>“Until,” was the return, “your very existence and employment, as -well as habitation, shall prove it.”</p> - -<p>“And that shall never be,” interrupted the vicar’s nephew. “Shew -thyself to us, belch fire and smoke, if you do not wish to pass for -an unskilful conjuror.”</p> - -<p>“That would do him good,” remarked Jeremiah,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> “a good and powerful -vomit would be of essential service. Whenever I have compelled my -food to march too quickly down into my stomach, I am not well -until it has made a hasty retreat back again to head quarters. It -is exactly the same when too much goes at once. Now, I suppose that -you have rather more of fire and smoke than you could wish. In -fact, your throat is said to be worse than a chimney. Would it not, -therefore, be prudent to vomit a little?”</p> - -<p>“To be sure it would,” answered young Mauncel, trying to restrain -his laughter, “yet, Jeremiah, he has enough of brimstone to physic -him.”</p> - -<p>The earth instantly shook; beneath and around them, they heard the -elements as if contending in the bowels of the earth; fire blazing, -rivers dashing and rolling, and thunder reverberating. Jeremiah -fell down, but very quietly, and lay with his face close to the -ground, if we except his hands, which, somehow or other, intervened -between the snow and his watery countenance. Gideon groaned and -shrieked alternately; and their companion, now, was startled into -silence and paleness, so awful were the signs of the devil’s -presence and power. A low, but deep voice, now came from the mason, -as he approached to the circle.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> -<p>“Give me your directions, Gideon, as to the place where I shall -commence to raise the wall, and they shall be obeyed. For a time -I am your servant, and am content to be so, for through eternity I -shall be your master: men value every thing by time—devils value -every thing by eternity. And who would not be a servant for such -hire?—an hour’s labour,—and as a compensation for it, a soul to -torment through all eternity! Come, haste, give me the dimensions -of the wall. Eh? have I not reformed Nelly?”</p> - -<p>Gideon tremulously answered, that he had given the dimensions last -night.</p> - -<p>“True, true,” was the reply, “you did. Gaze, and soon you shall -behold the wall arising, and as the last stone is placed, be ready -to meet your fate; yet,” he soliloquized, as he moved round the -circle, “what have I, in which to carry the sand for the mortar! -I can tear up stones, but I cannot dig for sand, and what can I -procure to convey it from the sand hills! Oh! I see it.”</p> - -<p>Jeremiah’s apron had been more valorous than its master, and -boldly, though very unwisely, had ventured to lie down without the -circle, and, in a moment, was seized upon by Satan, who disappeared -with his spoil to a little distance. Then commenced the tearing -up of the stones; and so speedily was this part of the engagement -finished, that Jeremiah remarked, with much warmth in his -approbation,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> “that the devil would make an excellent quarryman, -and that he must have been employed in digging and building his own -pit.” All the fiends of hell seemed to be let loose, so loud was -the noise, and so wide and deep the shaking. Whenever the stones -were heaved up too large, lightning leapt upon them, and they were -broken into smaller sizes. But what was still more surprising, -a deep smoke arose, and every object, for a short space, was -imperceptible, until it was rolled away by a vivid flash of fire, -furious as a tempest. The ground was no more covered with snow, and -Jeremiah found himself squatted on the mud. The enemy could not be -seen, but all the stones were placed ready for the builder.</p> - -<p>“He is gone over the moss,” exclaimed Gideon, “to the sand -hills. Ha! dost thou not, Jeremiah, perceive those wings of fire -fluttering in the distance, away towards the sea? And soon he will -return to finish his undertaking. I have no hopes.”</p> - -<p>“Would that his hoofs sunk in the moss,” ejaculated his brother, -“for many a better fellow than he, has met with his fate there. Oh, -brother, sustain your spirits, and your body likewise.”</p> - -<p>There was great propriety in the latter admonition of Jeremiah, -for Gideon’s body seemed a little off the perpendicular; and -accordingly he was assisted in removing himself to a tree, which -the sudden thawing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> of the snow had revealed, and there he was -stationed, leaning against its trunk, while the same precautions -for their safety were adopted as before. Minute after minute passed -on, and still the enemy came not. The stones lay exactly in the -same position. The doomed tailor could now listen, with a slight -portion of faith and hope, to the consolation which young Mauncel -gave; when a slight rustling was heard in the branches of the tree, -and something of a red colour was perceived. All strained their -eyes, but nothing more of shape, colour, size, or essence, could be -learned.</p> - -<p>“Ah!” Jeremiah began, “he is fond of trees. How he coiled himself, -as Dr. Mauncel observed, in the tree of knowledge of good and evil, -pointing to the apples, and smacking his own lips! But let him -stay there at present, and hatch a blackbird’s nest, if he be so -inclined. Gideon, you are now safe.”</p> - -<p>Scarcely had he finished these words, when a fiery cloud was seen -coming from the direction of the sand hills, and soon Satan stood -before his heap of sand, with a large trowel in his hand, ready -to build the wall. But first he looked around, and descrying the -altered station of the party, walked up to the circle, while his -mouth belched forth fire and smoke.</p> - -<p>“Think not,” he exclaimed in a horrible tone,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> “think not that you -shall escape, although, by your wiles, I have been detained; and -heavier shall be your punishment, for the trouble you have given -me.”</p> - -<p>“Do you sweat much?” kindly inquired William Mauncel; “then stand a -little to cool yourself. You have time enough to finish the wall. -Why have you returned so soon? Pray, let us have a friendly chat.”</p> - -<p>“Gideon Chiselwig,” continued the fiend, without noticing the words -by which he had been interrupted, “I tell thee that thy doom shall -be much more severe. Rejoice at my momentary disappointment, as I -detail it to you, and then think how much more I shall rejoice over -the torments which it shall cause you, as my subject, for ever. I -placed the first load of sand in your brother’s apron, and flew -away with it—(Gideon, you shall have wings too, in a little,)—but -when passing the moss, the cursed string broke,—”</p> - -<p>“Honesty is the best policy, friend,” cooly remarked Jeremiah.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> -“You are well served for a rogue. You stole away my apron, and you -have received a just recompense. Learn, Nick, to be more honest -for the future, at least on earth. You may escape the clutch of -a magistrate, as you and his worship seem to be on very intimate -terms, but believe me, that sooner or later, vice will be punished. -You know the proverb, I presume, ‘that those who begin with a pin, -may end with an ox,’ and I cannot exactly say, but that this apron -stealing might have brought you into very serious danger. Let it be -an example, Nicholas.”</p> - -<p>“Rejoice at present,” was the reply. “Mock me, Gideon, as well as -your brother does, and listen. The strings of the apron broke,—”</p> - -<p>“Bad thread, bad thread, Gideon,” again interrupted Jeremiah, “I -told you so when it came. It must not be used for the collar of a -coat.”</p> - -<p>“The strings of the apron broke,” patiently resumed the enemy, “and -all the sand fell into the moss, and there it lies, a large heap -and mountain. But, Gideon, beneath as heavy a mountain of my wrath -you shall lie, for ever and ever:” and he instantly departed to -commence his work.</p> - -<p>Soon the wall arose a foot or two from the ground, and Gideon’s -fears once more attacked him. A loud laugh was raised, at -intervals, by the infernal builder, and it seemed echoed by -millions and millions of the lost spirits. He skipped upon the -wall, and, revealing his awful proportions, gazed upon Gideon, with -eyes of such fiendish malice and revenge, that even the reckless -Mauncel shuddered, and covered his face to banish the sight. And -now the wall was nearly finished, the earth was shaking all around, -the hissing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> of serpents was heard, and strange forms were seen -moving beside the enemy.</p> - -<p>“Claim him! claim him!” shrieked forth innumerable voices. The air -seemed on fire, and dark masses were hastening through it, to the -hellish scene. Deep gulfs were sounding and lashing their fury -beneath the ground; and thunder seemed to bow the very poles of -heaven, and make them totter. A long and wide circle of fiends was -now made, dancing, and all pointing to Gideon with their black paws.</p> - -<p>“Hell claims him. Which part shall we seize? Yours, noble leader, -is the head. Give me the hand,—how fondly I shall shake it. -Give me the breast,—how fondly I shall lie upon it. Give me -the arm,—how confidently he shall lean upon mine. Let me kiss -him,—how he shall love my sweet lips. Let me wash his feet,—how -gently shall the fire dry them. Let me perfume his body. -Ha—ha—ha!”</p> - -<p>Their leader now raised two stones in his hands, and thundered -forth, with an awful voice—</p> - -<p>“Friends, these are the two last—and the wall is finished! Wretch, -who art called Gideon Chiselwig—dost thou behold them? the two -last! the two last!” and the whole infernal host raised a laugh of -exultation, and poor Gideon fell to the ground. “Stay one little -moment, Gideon,” the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> enemy exclaimed, “and you shall be supported -in these loving arms. Stay—”</p> - -<p>At that very moment a deep silence pervaded the place, and a -loud crowing was raised by a cock, as it announced the devil’s -day break, who must, therefore, depart, without being allowed to -finish the wall. He stamped in fury, and all his infernal agents, -disappointed of their prey, shrieked, and fled away. Jeremiah and -young Mauncel comprehended the cause, and they shouted in joy, -and taunted the fiend, until they beheld him approaching. In his -hands he bore a large stone:—but his eyes glared not upon them, -nor yet on the prostrate Gideon. They were fixed upon some object, -which the branches of the tree seemed to conceal. Jeremiah, as he -regained courage, addressed him,—</p> - -<p>“So, Nicholas—dost thou see an apple which courts that hungry eye?”</p> - -<p>There was no answer made, but a motion of the devil’s arm heaved up -the stone, and instantly a cock fell down dead at Jeremiah’s feet, -who, raising it, thus apostrophized it,—</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> -<p>“And thou hast saved my brother’s life, by losing thine own! But, -unless thou has contracted thyself to the enemy, he shall not get -thee, provided he does not invite himself along with us to dinner -some day soon. No, Nick, begone. A fortnight ago, that church-yard -clod, the sexton, told me that I was a brawny stripling, for I -could mount my grandmother’s cat with a stepping stone. Oh! the -fiend <em>is</em> gone! Well, poor bird, thou art a martyr, yet I shall -commit thy sacred remains to my stomach, begging your young -reverence’s pardon, in hopes of a safe and certain resurrection.”</p> - -<p>They succeeded in raising Gideon from the ground, and when he was -sufficiently recovered to listen to his escape, and the death of -his preserver, the sadness of the latter news did not much take -away from the joy of the former; and he was altogether cured of his -mania for supernatural achievements.</p> - -<p>And here, as the devil left his work unfinished, we leave ours; -with the exception of satisfying a few longings, which the -antiquary, the lover, and the unfortunate husband of a termagant -wife, may feel.</p> - -<p>The first may yet see the heap of sand which the breaking of the -devil’s apron strings deposited in the moss. It is now called -“Shirley Hill;” and thus observation confirms tradition, for how -could a mountain of sand be native to a moss? He indeed cannot be -gratified with a sight of the apron; for Jeremiah on the following -day, escorted it home, and subsequently, exhibited it so often to -the good folks of Ormskirk, that the strings again broke, one dark -night as he was making his way through a lane;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> and he had his -suspicions that the hands of some old maid, and not the thread were -culpable.</p> - -<p>The Devil’s Wall still stands, but the acute Jeremiah had observed -that the infernal builder, could not, with any portion of justice, -have claimed Gideon, because the conditions of the contract, were -not fulfilled, as the wall had only been built with sand. The large -stone, some thirty years ago, could be seen firmly clasped between -the boughs of the tree, where the cock fell—a martyr to his love -of truth.</p> - -<p>And now, fair reader, what is the question which you wish to ask -the old man? Ah! concerning William and Mary Mauncel! A few weeks -after the adventure, the worthy Doctor joined their hands, and -as much happiness as thy own beautiful and romantic fancy can -imagine in future for thyself, fell to their lot. On the occasion, -Rehoboam and Jeroboam, with all their tribes, did not fail to -appear:—and for their loyalty towards the fortunes of the family, -they received marked attentions from the Reverend head; whose lips, -in an appropriate manner, confessed an attachment, by no means -slight. Jeremiah, in the course of the nuptial evening, stepped in, -to cry over the happiness of the young wedded pair, and, with his -accustomed propriety, wished that the bands of love might never -be broken, like his apron strings; however fortunate the last -circumstance had, most<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> undoubtedly been. Years passed on, and -sweet laughing voices came upon the ear of the old vicar, as he sat -in his study; and rushing in, a band of beautiful grand-children -began, in innocent mischief, to sport at his knees.</p> - -<p>The unhappy husband is informed, that Gideon and Nelly Chiselwig, -were happy in each other: and that their only weapons of attack and -defence were sweet words, and fond caresses.</p> - -<p>Some represent the devil as having horns: if so, he must have taken -them from the head of Gideon Chiselwig.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span class="small"><a name="THE_PROPHETESS_AND_THE_REBEL" id="THE_PROPHETESS_AND_THE_REBEL"></a>THE</span><br />PROPHETESS AND THE REBEL.</h2> -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>“Nay, Katharine, let us not return from all this quiet, to the -noise of the town, until, like a young widow who veils her face -from the past, and the relations of her dead husband, to go forth -to other scenes, there once more to unveil it,—twilight wraps up -the beauties of this vale, and then gives gentle and holy echoes to -the streets. The town is pleasant then; but now—a little further -on, and we shall seat us by the Hermit’s Well. On its calm surface -the first and brightest star of night will glimmer beneath our -feet. Heed not my laughing sister.”</p> - -<p>“My brother,” gaily answered the companion of the lady, whom the -speaker addressed, and whose arm was within his,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> “is pleased to be -poetical. But cannot you prevent that same widow of yours, Mrs. -Twilight, from leaving this vale, and entering the town in search -of a husband, by wedding her yourself? Perhaps you are engaged -already?—Is he Katharine?”</p> - -<p>“Really, Alice, do you suppose that your brother would make me his -confidant?”</p> - -<p>“Would that Mrs. Twilight,” was the exclamation of <a id="Err_6" name="Err_6"></a>the mischievous -girl, “were here, to hide the blush on somebody’s face! Oh, look -angry, hate James and his sister. He has scarcely succeeded in -making you as sly a hypocrite as himself. My father sent him to -Cambridge, to devote himself to Mother Alma, but he soon found -another saint, who cared not for books and themes. The diligent -student, whose letters home spoke of nothing but long vigils, and -faint tapers burning through the night, was in love! He had met -with a beautiful lady of gentle blood, and high birth, whom I have -seen, Katharine,” and she looked archly up at her companion. “He -thought of nothing but love, and of no one but her, and yet he -counterfeited so well, that when he returned to us, he was pale in -appearance, and retired in habits.”</p> - -<p>“Alice,” replied her brother, laughing,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> “you are a rare vixen, and -will never be reformed, until love has caught you. You, indeed, pay -but a poor compliment to the imagination and heart of a student, -to suppose that he cannot be a lover. Ponderous tomes will crush -every feeling but love. Mathematics will measure and bound, with -their cold laws, every feeling but love. Amidst all his researches, -the image of one appears before him, bright and beautiful, even -by the faint light of his lamp. She is of earth, but holy; and the -more that learning and genius throw their rays upon his mind,—that -being the mirror in which she is reflected,—the purer and softer -does she become. But, Alice, you frequently cautioned me not to be -a hard student.”</p> - -<p>“And,” added Katharine, “did not your brother gain many of the -highest prizes?”</p> - -<p>“He has gained one, Katharine, has he not?” and the mischievous -girl smiled significantly to her companion, who blushed with a -deeper tinge than before, and seemed still more embarassed.</p> - -<p>“You mean the beautiful gold medal, Alice?” inquired her brother, -anxious to smooth over the hint.</p> - -<p>“Ah! do I?” returned his sister with a playful sneer. “But I have -a tale to unfold concerning it. I often observed you walking in -the garden, looking anxiously upon something suspended from your -neck, and when I came up, you quickly placed it again next to your -breast. Katharine, are you listening? Well, one day I surprized -you; you affirmed that it was the gold medal—I denied that it was. -It was a miniature likeness of one of my friends,” and she fondly -placed her arm around her companion, who drew the necklace closer -to her bosom, lest, perchance, some miniature might be discovered -there also.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> - -<p>They wandered on, and they beheld the beauties of the setting sun, -only on each other’s countenances. They became more thoughtful, -but not less happy. The two lovers,—for such was the relationship -between James Dawson, and Katharine Norton,—frequently exchanged -kind looks, which the playful Alice did not fail to remark. -James and Alice were the only children of a wealthy physician in -Manchester. Their mother had died early, and this circumstance made -them cling closer to each other. Dr. Dawson was harsh to them: he -had been disappointed in the marriage-portion of his wife; and he -bade a very cold adieu to his son, as he left for Cambridge, and -chided Alice for crying and teazing herself many days after. Yet, -at times, affection arose in his breast towards them, for they were -the exact image of her, who had once been enshrined in his love, -until avarice hoarded up other treasures. Besides, he knew that he -could not, with justice, condemn his son as a mere bookworm, for -James excelled in every athletic and graceful accomplishment: and -he could not, on the other hand, taunt him as only a gamester and a -fencer, for he had carried off the highest literary and scholastic -honours. His endowments, both physical and mental, had frequently -drawn forth the admiration of his father, but it soon subsided into -indifference and neglect. Alice, occasionally,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> as she sung the -lays which her mother had taught her, and romped about his chair, -in all her beauty and innocence, could warm her father’s heart, so -that he pronounced a blessing upon her destiny. But often, all her -smiles and fond arts to please him were disregarded: she could not -relax, by all her attentions, the sternness of his countenance. A -tear would then start into her deep blue eye, and she would retire -to call up the remembrance of her sainted mother.</p> - -<p>Katharine Norton was an orphan, and her parents had been of -illustrious rank. She had travelled with a maiden aunt, and, as -they were residing for a few weeks in the vicinity of Cambridge, -she had met with young Dawson, and thus commenced an ardent -attachment between them. And well might her appearance have -inspired even a stoic with the most thrilling love. Smooth, and -fair as light was her finely-formed brow,—changing its expression -as a dark ringlet fell upon it,—or was thrown back. Her eyes -seemed to be souls in themselves, endued with the faculty of -thinking and feeling; their brilliancy their colour, and their -form, were as if they had been given by the emotion which then -ruled her mind. The features were stamped with a wild and noble -beauty. Nor was her form inferior to her countenance: majestic, yet -playful; like a vision with all the movements of music. She was now -spending the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> summer in Manchester, where Dawson had introduced to -her his sister, and they were seldom out of each other’s presence. -They walked together, and James frequently joined them.</p> - -<p>The shadows of twilight were now mixing with the fading light of -the western sky, and the hush of early eve was whispering silence -in the vale where they were wandering. At length they reached the -angle; on rounding which, at a short distance, was the Hermit’s -Well, not famed for any medicinal properties, but for the pure -water, which was said to have refreshed an old man (who, in olden -times, haunted the adjacent hills,) every morning, as soon as he -had left his hard couch to journey along with the sun.</p> - -<p>On a stone beside it, there sat a young female, dressed in the -rustic simplicity of a foreign country. Her age seemed only that of -a child. Yet there was a feverish rolling of the eye, a changing -tremor of the lips, and a gentle throbbing of the breast, which -speak the mystery of a hidden sorrow, or of a superior nature. Not -a blush of colour tinged the pure pallor of her face—like a statue -dedicated to thought, in the midst of fragrance and light. Her -hands were playing with flowers, carelessly,—for her thoughts, it -was evident, were on a less tranquil subject,—and although they -were, at intervals, raised to her face, yet it assumed a still -sadder expression.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> - -<p>She was singing to herself in a low and melancholy strain, almost -modulated to the still hush of the vale: and the notes seemed not -so much to be proceeding from her voice, as her soul. Once or twice -she started up, held her hands towards the west, and then placed -them on her brow. Then she dipped them in the well, and with the -pure water bathed her eyes. As soon, however, as young Dawson and -his fair companions had approached within a few yards, her eyes -quickly moved in the direction of the spot where they stood, and -she became silent in her song.</p> - -<p>“Ah, brother,” cried the laughing Alice, evidently not conscious -of the merry tone in which she spoke, for her heart had quickly -sympathized with the youthful sadness, of which she had now, -unexpectedly, been a witness;—“is this your young and interesting -Mrs. Twilight? What a beautiful creature! She seems to enjoy all -the luxury of grief, and her heart refuses to lose a tear of its -sorrow. That brow might have been kissed by the last breath of many -a brother, sister, and playmate:—so pale, calm and holy.”</p> - -<p>“She is not of our country,” added Katharine Norton. “Her dress, -as well as her air, is foreign. How simply are those raven tresses -braided!”</p> - -<p>“Katharine,” said her lover,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> “dost thou believe in young spirits, -who are said to haunt solitary places? Here, you might almost -imagine, that we have intruded upon one of them. How beautiful -and thoughtful that girlish face is! Now she looks towards us. Let -us draw near, and entreat her to sing to us, while the stars are -taking their places in the sky.”</p> - -<p>The object of their curiosity and admiration arose meekly, as they -stood before her, and allowed the hand of Katharine to be laid on -her head.</p> - -<p>“A blessing on you, fair strangers! It is night,—and do you wander -abroad? It is night, for the dew is upon me. Ah! that hand now laid -on my head is gentle and soothing, as that which so often presses -it in my sleepless dreams, throughout the long night;</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! it speaks not to me:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">No face appears with smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its light I could not see,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And trace the gentle wile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But bathed in perfume from the far-off land,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon my head comes,—lies, a holy hand,”<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>and she raised her face to the sky so earnestly.</p> - -<p>“But, my pretty child,” inquired Katharine, “why do you gaze -upwards? Does that hand, which visits you so oft, in dreams, appear -then, at this hour, from out one of those changing clouds?”</p> - -<p>“Do I!” the child exclaimed in intense emotion, indicated by her -livelier tones and brightened face,—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>“do I, indeed, gaze upon the -wide, the beautiful sky? Yes, it breathes upon my forehead! Feel -it!”</p> - -<p>They were bewildered at the strangeness of her words and movements. -She took Katharine’s hand, and held it to her brow, and then -resumed,—</p> - -<p>“Now take it away. You would not deprive me of that sweet, sweet -influence. Oh! they tell me how glorious the sky is. I cannot see, -I cannot think of it, I cannot even dream of it. I know all the -flowers of earth by their touch and fragrance. I know, fair ladies, -that you are beautiful, but the sky is far, far above me. I hear -its sounds, but its face is veiled from me. Will the time never -come, when mine eyes shall open to a star, a bright-tinged cloud, -a fair expanse of love, to canopy and bound our dream? Must the -mean reptile be permitted to see them, although it prefers to crawl -amidst dust and clods,—and shall not I?”</p> - -<p>“God pities the blind, fair child,” kindly returned Dawson.</p> - -<p>“Have you seen God?”</p> - -<p>“No; he cannot be seen by us, now.”</p> - -<p>“Then I am happy,” she replied. “Oh! what a curse it would have -been on me, when all others could see the perfection of love, -wisdom, and power,—(for the flowers of earth, the sounds of -heaven, tell me that God must be that perfect being,)—I, I alone -was blind. Yes, I shall see yet. The little infant, for days awakes -not its eyelids to behold the mother, in<span class="pagenum"> -<a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> whose bosom it is so -fondly nursed, and the rich stream by which its pouting lips are -fed; but soon they are opened to meet hers, beaming love upon every -movement. I never knew that infant’s joy. Oh! how I longed, in the -midst of soft whispers, to become acquainted with her who called me -child. But I am nature’s child, and when this short life is ended, -these eyes will be opened, and nature, my mother, shall be seen by -me. These sightless orbs! Oh! I know not what it is to see, even -in dreams. Dreams only hush me with sound, fragrance, and touch of -love, in a dark cradle, but never remove the covering, that I might -gaze upon the universe around. My little brother, far away in other -lands, was my inseparable companion, until he went to the tomb. He -led me to the river, and pointed my hand to the flickering light -on its ripple, and then bade me look in that direction. He made me -touch the sunbeam, resting and sporting alternately upon the bank, -and then asked if I did not see it. He placed me beneath the moon, -and bade me feel if I could not perceive its rays. He rowed me over -the still, placid lake, and then he would rest on his oars, and -point my finger to the stars, which, he said, were embosomed there; -and oh! what secret sounds thrilled through my silent soul. But I -never saw one object! He bathed his beautiful face, and flung back -his soft <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> -silken hair, and bade me gaze on a brother;—and I could -not!”</p> - -<p>Overpowered with the strength of her feelings, she sat down. Still, -she covered not her face with her hands, but looked earnestly up, -as if it were a sin to gaze away from the sky, which she longed so -much to greet. Katharine and her companion kissed the young child, -while Dawson kindly asked,—</p> - -<p>“From what land do you come? You speak our language, but your -appearance and feelings betoken you a native of a more genial sun. -Why do you wander here?”</p> - -<p>“Wander! Is not life altogether a wandering? I have no friends but -flowers, and our home is the wide earth. I ever find them the same, -wherever I am, and, therefore, I think that I am the same; neither -changed in place nor time. My brother left me alone. Oh! was it not -cruel to commit the beautiful boy to the tomb? And yet, they told -me that his name and age were marked in white, innocent letters -upon his coffin! Oh! could the worms dare to crawl upon, or even -touch with their pollution ‘Henrico Fortice, aged twelve years.’ -Was it not kind to mention his name and age?”</p> - -<p>The two ladies took her hands in theirs, and kindly pressed them. -They gazed upon her large bright eyes, and almost, for the moment, -doubted that no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> light had ever entered them, until tears had come -trickling down her cheeks. They took a seat beside her, on the -mossy stone. She spoke not, and her hand returned not their touch. -They knew not how to console her. To their questions concerning -her past life, her friends, and native country, she had given no -definite answer: not because she seemed unwilling to detail all the -facts, but because she seemed never to have known them herself; -a creature of mere feelings, and thoughts, with no faculty for -earth. Her existence had, evidently, been but a dream, beautiful, -though troubled: and she had, hitherto, passed through it, like -a bird, through every land, feeling the sunshine of the laughing -sky, breathing the fragrance of wood and vale, at morn and eve, -and echoing a part in the universal chorus, but knowing no more; -careless of all things but flight and happiness. She raised the -hands of the two young ladies to her lips, and turning paler and -paler, at length dropped them, and shrunk back with a low and half -suppressed shriek of horror.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p> -<p>“Disappointment, a broken heart, and death! Yes, such a lot will be -yours; and so beautiful! Ask me not, but I know:—these hands, they -tear from my soul the sybil leaves of awful prophecy, which fate -has given me, and my voice must scatter them forth to you. Would -that I knew not the dark characters!—that my mind was as blind to -your future destiny as these shrouded orbs!”</p> - -<p>“Hold!” exclaimed young Dawson, as he seized Katharine’s hand, -which the blind prophetess had, once more, taken. “Hold!—speak not -another word of thy frightful thoughts. Nay, touch not her hand. -Katharine, could you feel disappointment should nothing be spared -to us but love? Can your heart be broken when love encircles it? -Death,—name it not!”</p> - -<p>“Here, here is the cause. You ruin each other. Love and death are -linked together. But, sir, be peaceable and loyal in the midst of -rebellion, and happiness may yet be yours.”</p> - -<p>A faint smile passed over Dawson’s face, which had before been -clouded; and with an attempt at gaiety, he returned,—</p> - -<p>“And am I not in the garb of peace? My cap has not the nodding -plume of war, but the quiet and simple flower of the valley. What -two beautiful shields I have secured for myself in danger, my own -Katharine, and sister Alice.”</p> - -<p>“Beware,” repeated the prophetess, “of war. Change not the flower -for the cockade; and let none be your shields but those whom you -now protect.”</p> - -<p>No longer did she seem the soft and mournful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> child, who had longed -so earnestly for the power of vision. She was altogether changed.</p> - -<p>“Follow me not. Detain me not. I shall weep for you all. Farewell, -until we meet again,” and she instantly withdrew, and darkness hid -her steps.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Two months have elapsed since the above interview and conversation -took place, and the scene is now laid in Manchester. No more is the -soft peace inspired by evening walks, in lonely and secluded vales, -to be breathed over the characters of our Legend. A rebellion, -fostered by no dark intrigues, but by romantic daring, had arisen, -and the youthful heir of the unfortunate house of Stuart had -returned from exile, and appeared to claim his own, in the country -which dethroned his ancestors for their imbecility, wickedness, -and tyranny. Prince Charles Edward had been educated at the court -of France; but unlike her, whom, in person, he was said so much to -resemble—Mary of Scotland,—his manners were untainted with the -loose and dissolute habits prevalent there. Although surrounded -with pleasure, revelry, and giddy pomp, his thoughts were of -England and its crown; and these tended to preserve him from the -enervating influence of French dissipation. Gallantry was only -the occasional amusement, and not the sole pursuit of his life. -Nature had given him an exterior<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> on which no lady could frown, or -be disposed to deny her favours; but he frequently withdrew from -the attractive company, where many of the proudest and fairest -daughters of the land were fluttering around him, with attentions -for the prince alone; and in private, sighed over the ruin of the -name he bore, and of the royal family, of which he was the sole -representative. But buoyed up with the false accounts which he had -received from those in this country, with whom he communicated, -assuring him that so numerous and devoted would be his followers, -should he again appear at the head of them, to plead his cause by -arms, he was induced to leave France, and towards the end of summer -1745, landed in the Hebrides; in a few days raised his standard in -Invernesshire; assembled a number of followers at Fort William, -and proceeded to Edinburgh, which opened to his claims. In the -beginning of November he marched to Carlisle, where the ceremony -of proclaiming his father king, and himself regent, was foolishly -performed, and where the delay thus occasioned, seemed to paralyze -the courage of his highland troops, and by carousing, to divide -them into factions.</p> - -<p>Towards the end of the same month his troops, now amounting to six -thousand men, entered Lancashire, and passing by way of Preston -and Wigan, took up their quarters in Manchester, where they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> -hoped to secure provisions and ammunition, by free levies from -the inhabitants, as well as to recruit their numbers by English -soldiers.</p> - -<p>The twenty-ninth day of November was bright, and a slight breeze -had not only prevented the heavy fog peculiar to the season, but -had likewise cleared away the smoke which lay dense and dull upon -the town; when, early in the afternoon, towards the suburbs, -masses of people were drawn together, expecting the arrival of the -Pretender and his army. There were the mob, prepared to espouse -the cause of any who should tickle their hands with a coin, or by -sweet words, gain their sweet voices. But amongst them were many of -noble rank, who had sympathized with the hardships of the present -aspirant to the throne of his fathers; and whom his romantic -expedition had fired with visions of military glory and renown, and -high titles and long lists. They impatiently spurred their horses -to a short distance from the crowd, to obtain a better view, and -then returned disappointed. Fair ladies were leaning on the arms -of their lovers, forbidding them to share in the dangers of the -enterprize, and in the crime of treason, but resolving, themselves, -to get a sight of the handsome Chevalier, and praise his person. A -silent hush was over all; nothing was heard, save low and gentle -whispers from the fair, who began to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> doubt whether he would really -appear, when the notes of distant music were borne on their ears, -and the steady tramp of troops was, soon after, distinguishable. -The crowd rushed up to an eminence on the skirts of the highway, -and beheld the banner floating over the rebel soldiery, and the -gleam of broadswords flashing in the sun. A sergeant rode forth -from the ranks, and furiously spurred his steed to the town, when -loud shouts, arising from the people and the inhabitants, assuring -him of the ready reception which his master should find, induced -him, after waving his plumed bonnet in return, to halt, until the -troops came up, which they speedily did, and, in haste, advanced. -At their head, surrounded by a band of hardy mountaineers with -their left hand upon the dirk, rode the prince, with no traces of -fatigue on his countenance; and looking as well, after his short -sojourn in the Highlands, as ever he did when he was the pride -of the French court, where he was fed by its luxuries. He was in -conversation with the Duke of Athol, who was beside him.</p> - -<p>There was an interesting melancholy upon the otherwise gay -expression of his countenance, which suited well with the fallen -fortunes of his family. He was of slight and graceful form, and, -but for the noble enthusiasm beaming in his full blue eye, and the -firmness and decision compressing his thin lips, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> might have -been mistaken for one who was better qualified to do honour to the -gaieties of a court, in the song and the dance, than the bloody -field of strife. His dress served to display, to advantage, the -beautiful proportions of his frame. His locks, of a light auburn -hue, fell in ringlets beneath the blue bonnet, mounted with a white -rose in front; and the snowy whiteness of his almost feminine -neck was but partially concealed by a plaid passing loosely over -his breastplate, and held fast by a blue-coloured sash. His -finely-polished limbs moving in all the elastic play and nerve of -youth, and in perfect ease, were attired in the Highland kilt; and -so small and beautifully formed was his foot, that no lady would -have refused her fair hand as a stirrup to the young Chevalier. His -dress was indeed plain for one who was now to strive for the crown -of Great Britain, but none could gaze upon the kingly form which it -enveloped, without almost wishing that soon he might be invested -with the purple robe of rule and empire.</p> - -<p>His companion, the Duke of Athol, with whom he seemed frequently -to converse as a familiar friend, was tall and muscular. Broad and -commanding was his forehead, seen occasionally as he raised his -bonnet, when the prince mildly gave forth his orders. Long dark -whiskers added to the sternness and fierceness of his countenance, -and large over-hanging eyebrows<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> only seemed to arch in the fiery -keenness of his restless glance, and concentrate it still more -deadly.</p> - -<p>“Athol,” said the prince, as he beheld the crowd becoming pale and -horror-struck at the broadswords of his Highland troops, “sheath -your weapons.”</p> - -<p>“Where?” asked the fiery duke. “Where, my prince? In their cowardly -carcasses, and thus let out their base and craven souls? The -English say that those of our nation are cold and heartless. They -should know that the mountain breezes carry on their wings, fire to -the soul. Well, if we are cold, we are keen; aye, as these our good -and true weapons, which they have, at times, tried, if I mistake -not.”</p> - -<p>“They belie you, and that they know full well. My Scottish -troops—gaze upon them—are furious: a word will fire them, and a -thousand will fail to extinguish the flame. Nay,” he added gently -but firmly, “sheath your swords in their scabbards,—in their -scabbards. The inhabitants are loyal.”</p> - -<p>The last words, accompanied as they were by the sudden sinking of -the swords into their scabbards, called forth a long and loud shout -from the gazing multitude, though they perceived that at the sound -of the bagpipe, the soldiers often placed their hands upon the -hilt of their swords, as if they could, with difficulty, refrain -from drawing them. The streets were all lined with spectators, -the most of whom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> seemed to have forgotten their loyalty to the -reigning sovereign. The Chevalier dismounted from his steed, and -marched on foot. Many a fair dame threw pitying looks upon his -form, and, struck with admiration, silently implored a blessing, -and full success upon his romantic endeavours; and as the band -played merrily, “the King shall have his own again,” they chorused -and encored it, with fond eyes, and waving handkerchiefs. He -gallantly bowed to them as he passed on; and thus sent many a -beautiful creature home, to dream of him, and when she awoke, in -the intervals, to wet her pillow with tears, and pray for his -safety. Roses were thrown upon him, from some of the terraces; he -stooped to pick them up, but they were faded, for they were summer -flowers, and had been gathered under the setting sun, many months -before, and he sighed as he thought of his own fortunes. But this -did not prevent him from kissing his hand in return, to those who -had showered them down, and they, of course, thought that they were -much sweeter roses themselves; and perhaps they were. The crowd -enthusiastically cheered him all the way.</p> - -<p>“Athol, will they be as ready to give me assistance by money, as -they are to proffer their cheers?” asked the prince.</p> - -<p>“<em>We</em> give our blood,” replied the duke.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> “We place our heads as -your stepping stones to the throne, which is your rightful seat; -and shall not Englishmen give their money? Appoint a few of the -brave men under my command, as beggars, and trust me, that swords -and dirks in their hands, will levy something considerable. Steel -can find its way through coffers, and, without much ceremony, enter -pockets. Can it not?” and the chieftain smiled darkly.</p> - -<p>“A freebooter still, Athol, although you have left your native glen -and castle. When shall I be able to make thee a courtier?”</p> - -<p>“When I shall assist to make thee a king. Nay, noble prince, frown -not upon thy humble and trusty subject. I am a little chafed. -Nevertheless, is it not my duty to assist in making thee a king?”</p> - -<p>“Thou hast, indeed, a true heart,” answered the Chevalier, -“though thy manners are not exactly so faultless, and may, with -much advantage, be reformed and amended. Nay, frown not in turn. -Montrose, are we yet within sight of our palace?”</p> - -<p>The marquess, thus addressed, stepped forward, and having paid his -marks of reverence, replied,—</p> - -<p>“Yes, noble prince. The hundred of our troops, who arrived -yesterday in Manchester are now surrounding it, waiting for your -presence.”</p> - -<p>It was exactly as he said. In Market-street they stood around the -house of one Dickenson, which was thus converted into a palace, -and afterwards went<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> by the name; though now it has fallen so -low as to become an inn. It had been given out that quarters and -accommodation would be required in the town for ten thousand men, -but now it did not seem, after they were all drawn up, that there -were more than six thousand. Amid loud and hearty acclamations, the -prince and the leaders entered the palace, while some of the troops -kept station and guard without, and the others dispersed themselves -over the town, after they had seen that the pieces of artillery -were in safe keeping.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The house of Dr. Dawson, who had, lately, altogether retired from -the duties of his profession, stood in a quiet and remote part of -the town. Alice was almost dying, through curiosity, to receive -the latest intelligence. But she could only observe others running -to <em>know</em>, and none coming to <em>tell</em>, her about the Pretender, and -his entry into Manchester; and this, certainly, was sufficiently -provoking for a young lady. James, her brother, had gone out early -in the morning, and had not returned, so that she had no one -to fret and teaze, but her father; and he was, alas, rather an -irritable toy, for a young lady to sport with.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p> -<p>“Alice, you are restless and fatigued in my company. Get thee to -thy looking-glass, you are never weary of being there.”</p> - -<p>“It has a more pleasant face than you have, dear father, when you -frown,” playfully returned Alice.</p> - -<p>“There, there,—my children accuse and rebel against me! No matter, -their father is old and infirm. I must bring them up, support them, -only to listen to their impertinence and disobedience. Would that -God had made me childless, or that he had made my children blind -or dumb; or had given them a golden portion each, to support them. -Oh! you look pretty in tears, Alice,—quite irresistible, upon mine -honour. But do not waste them, they are so precious. Pray reserve -some: it will be prudent, Alice, they will all be in good time when -you get a lover!”</p> - -<p>“Would that he were come!” peevishly exclaimed Alice, “and I should -run off with him, at any hour of the night, and to any place!”</p> - -<p>“What! without looking in at my bank notes? Eh? Oh! mistress Alice! -And there’s your brother—what can he do?”</p> - -<p>“He can leave home, and I cannot.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, he <em>has</em> left home,” said the old man, now beginning to be -affected. “And where is he?”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p> -<p>“Ah! dear father, should he have joined the cause of the Pretender! -Oh! how you would repent of the harsh words you have often spoken -to him.”</p> - -<p>“Dear Alice, <em>I do repent</em> already. Come and kiss your harsh old -father. Look upon the face that you confess to be less pleasing -than your looking glass. Ah, Alice, you are a sly girl.”</p> - -<p>They at length became impatient, when night came on, and still, -James was absent. They had heard the public crier announce that -a general illumination of the town was to take place, and Alice -thought that her brother might have appeared to assist in the -arrangements. And now, when lights, many and brilliant, arose in -the opposite windows, and crowds were passing in the streets, she -proceeded, with a heavy heart, to give directions to the servants, -and then anxiously sat down at the casement of her own apartment, -not to view any object—save James. Private disappointments, -however small, and in themselves contemptible, are fretted by -public rejoicings; and as the bells rung out a merry peal, and -music walked the streets, she only felt her loneliness the more. -A knocking was heard at the door, and Alice flew down herself, to -open it, and admit her brother to a well spiced scolding; if not -(she was in doubts) to a more violent demonstration of her feelings.</p> - -<p>It was Katharine Norton, who had come to enjoy the company of her -friend, as her maiden aunt had been so busy in asking questions -at her servants, relative to the Pretender, his dress, and his -general<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> appearance, that she had entirely deserted the parlour for -the kitchen, and her niece was thus left alone.</p> - -<p>They spoke of James, although Katharine occasionally paused, and -introduced some other subject, lest he might arrive in the midst -of their conversation; and she too well knew, that her mischievous -companion would not scruple to inform him of its nature and -subject; but he came not.</p> - -<p>“Katharine, what can we do to know where he is? He is not well, or -it is not well with him. Something must have happened. Katharine, -‘<em>Beware of the Cockade!</em>’ The prophecy now rises to my mind. -It must be true. I feel that it is. My brother is ardent, and -romantic; and often has he expressed his sympathy with the -unfortunate house of Stuart.”</p> - -<p>Servants were sent forth to obtain some information concerning -James, and the causes of his strange absence. They returned, only -to tell their disappointment. No one had a tale—save the old -clock, which numbered the minutes and the hours; and although the -minutes seemed to move slowly, the rapid flight of the hours was -surprizing. The loud shouts of the crowd broke in upon the silence; -and the heavy tread of her impatient father, in the adjoining -apartment, fell upon the ear of Alice, but mournfully. She led -her companion into her brother’s study, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> playfully threw his -dressing gown over Katharine, that she might behold a diligent -student: but as she met her own gaze in a mirror opposite, she -knew that she was but counterfeiting mirth and happiness. She -placed before her Newton’s Principia, and requested a display of -philosophy and learning, to support the great principle therein -developed, ‘that every particle of matter is attracted by, or -gravitates to, every other particle of matter, with a force -inversely proportional to the squares of their distances.’ “Oh!” -she exclaimed, as she seized upon a letter or two, concealed in the -pages, in which was the hand-writing and signature of her friend, -“so, my brother wishes to transplant beautiful flowers into such -barren fields, that when he is puzzled with problems and themes, he -may be refreshed with questions, and pretty soft confessions, which -he finds no difficulty in understanding? Blush, Katharine, and -close the volume.”</p> - -<p>“It is beyond my comprehension, Alice. I have no desire to be a -literary lady, to nib my quill for poetry, and glancing up to the -ceiling for inspiration, commence to abuse the innocence of paper; -indeed, I am not certain whether my patience would extend to the -act of counting my fingers, through the length and breadth of a -sonnet.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, Katharine,” returned Alice, with an attempt at mock pathos,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> -“you are insensible of the pleasures which a young lady feels when -engaged in literary pursuits. The pen in her hand, is the fair -fan with which she cools the fervid glow of her imagination and -affections. How interesting she appears when she has the requisite -strength of mind to banish toys, silks, and dresses, and introduce -on her dressing table nothing but long rolls of manuscript! She -dreams not of soft whispers, sweet glances, and handsome lovers; -but of that nice ode, that sublime epic, or the passionate drama, -which she made yesterday. She rises to stare at the sun, frighten -the flowers, and overflow the very Thames with ink, on paper. Or -should she be an astronomer, how becoming for a young lady to use a -telescope, instead of a quizzing glass!”</p> - -<p>She then searched the desk, and discovering some rude drafts of -verses, addressed to “a lady,” inquired of Katharine whether -she had yet obtained a fair copy of them. For a time she was as -mischievous as usual; but all her sport was evidently feigned. In -the midst of it, at length, she became silent, and snatching up -a light, hurried to the clock, and instantly returned pale and -breathless.</p> - -<p>“Katharine!” she exclaimed, while she grasped her hands,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> “it is -but a few minutes from midnight! He has become a traitor to his -home and his country. I have stopped the clock, that whenever -he returns, it may not disgrace him. Near midnight, and he -absent,—and at such a time, when all our fears are excited by -rebellion!”</p> - -<p>Her companion, who was, naturally, of a firmer and more heroic -cast of mind, attempted to console her, although she needed one to -perform the same kindly office for herself.</p> - -<p>“Nay, dear Alice, your brother is loyal.”</p> - -<p>“Is that loyal?” she returned with a shriek, as her eye glanced -over some of her brother’s papers, where the Pretender’s name -was mentioned in glowing terms of admiration. “I knew it. James -has long admired Prince Charles Edward, and frequently, when no -subjects but those nearest to our hearts have been introduced, he -has spoken so feelingly of the royal youth’s exile in France. When -the news of his landing in Scotland reached us, an involuntary -exclamation escaped James, and he prayed for his safety, aye, -even for his success. Nay, I cannot divine any other motive for -his absence from the University, than to obtain leisure to watch -the progress of the Prince, and, at a fitting time, to join his -standard. But hush, let us be cheerful, for I hear my father’s -footsteps, and he is impatient at my brother’s absence.”</p> - -<p>The old man entered. Katharine Norton rose to meet him, and he -addressed her kindly, as was his wont. But the smoothness of his -manner soon disappeared.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> In person, Dr. Dawson was tall and thin, -though very much bowed down by age, but now his form became erect. -He had a lofty forehead, on which a few white locks were sprinkled. -His hands were palsied, but now, by the strength of his feelings, -they were nerved, and he stood forth, firm and collected. He had -dark eyes, which had not lost the fire of his youth; and which -seemed to become brighter and brighter, by looking at his gold. -He was not altogether a miser, for he, as we have already stated, -loved his children occasionally, and even displayed bursts of -tenderness and affection; but his idols must be of gold, as well -as of flesh and blood. Ever since he was married, pretty fingers -must have gold rings, before he could admire them, and in his -profession, he had often been prevented from feeling the pulse for -some time, so much absorbed was his attention by the diamonds which -glittered.</p> - -<p>After addressing Katharine, he turned to his daughter,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> “Alice, -where is your brother, has he not returned yet? I must wait for -him, considerate youth, although these aged limbs should long ere -now, have been reposing on my couch! I have no staff but this cane, -and money bought it. Money can do any thing but make children -obedient, except to close a parent’s eyes, and that they gladly -attend to. Come, affectionate youth, and see me die!” and he -laughed hysterically, in scorn and anger.</p> - -<p>The two ladies supported and caressed him fondly, compelled him to -sit down, and almost smothered him with kisses. The old man could -not forbear smiling. “Ah, innocents, you would sooner heap them on -my son.”</p> - -<p>“Nay, dear father,” returned Alice, in a merry tone, “a different -treatment from us awaits him, when he arrives.”</p> - -<p>Her father heard her not, for he had relapsed once more into a fit -of passion, and he walked across the room, stamping violently.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> -<p>“And I must totter on my cane, at my kind son’s inclination, and he -must dance so merrily, to give me pain. Oh! how fondly he is now -speaking to his fair partner, and doubtless requesting her not to -allow herself to be too much fatigued. He takes her to a recess, -lest she be weary with the dance; but his poor old father must -watch for him all the night. It matters not how weary I be. No, no, -I do my son wrong, great wrong. He wishes me to be at rest,—in -my grave. How kind! Nay, daughter, speak not in his favour. Hark -to the sounds of revelry around him. Sweet they are to his ears, -almost as sweet as my dying words.”</p> - -<p>He looked around the room as minutely as if he had anticipated -conspirators and ruffians to start forth, at his son’s commission, -and take his life. He examined the desk, as if he expected to -discover poison purchased for him. He trembled as he took out a -brace of pistols, and scarcely dared to ascertain whether they were -charged or not. He dusted the books in the library, and glanced -over many of the title-pages, as if he were certain to lay hold of -a treatise on the duty and necessity of parricide. He would not -allow the ladies to speak, but he harshly interrupted them. They -seemed to be like thoughts in his own mind, which were unwelcome, -and which, therefore, he had the power and the right of forbidding -and preventing.</p> - -<p>“If he should not return,” he muttered as he paced more calmly -across the room, “my executors will not be troubled with his name -in the will, and this may ease the dog of a good bone; yes, very -prudent of the young man to stay from home, very.”</p> - -<p>“Father!” exclaimed Alice.</p> - -<p>“Father me not,” he returned furiously, “or mock me with the name -but a little longer. Oh—” and tears flowed down his cheeks as he -went to the door, “no dreams of gold to night, no money bags; a -halter around my son’s neck, and that son a rebel!”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p> -<p>“Father, weep not. All shall yet be well with James. I cannot -endure these tears, you once told me that you had not one; that -although your hopes were gone for ever, you had not a tear to give -them; that you had not mourning apparel to attend them to their -grave!”</p> - -<p>He harshly repulsed her, and retired to his own apartment.</p> - -<p>The hour of midnight was now chiming. The drum and music had ceased -for a few minutes, and the town clocks were distinctly heard; but -instantly, upon the stroke, the revelry in the streets commenced -afresh, and the mob became still more noisy than before. The light -of torches glared in upon them, and for a moment they hid their -faces from it, as from something unpleasant and unwelcome. Alice -started up, and proposed that she should lead her companion to -their room for the night, where she promised soon to join her. -Katharine consented, although her fears were so much excited, that -she knew sleep to be hopeless and impossible. As Alice returned, -she wrapped herself closely in a cloak, and was descending to the -door, when she listened at that of her father’s room, and hearing -no noise or motion, entered. She beheld him asleep on the sofa, -and his breathing was difficult. A table was drawn to his side, -and on it lay a portrait of his son, in the character of Hamlet; -taken when he bore a prominent part in the histrionic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> displays of -the University. It was in the scene when the Prince of Denmark has -become thoroughly convinced that his uncle is the murderer of the -former king, and when he glories in the idea, that by the players -he has forced conviction into the villain’s heart, and when his -mother appears to charge him with his conduct towards that uncle. -Her words were written (and the ink was not yet dry) beneath the -portrait, “Hamlet, you have your father much offended,” and old -Dawson’s shrivelled and white hand was placed pointing to them. -This proof of affection, revenge, and imbecility, all mingled -together, overcame Alice. For a moment she sunk down upon the couch -beside her father, and gently kissed him. She then removed the cane -from his grasp, and covered his venerable head. He started up in -his dreams, but his eyes were shut.</p> - -<p>“My son! oh! will none save him. None? Take my gold—yes all of it. -It will forge chains as heavy and as long, as these dismal iron -ones, which now bind his tender limbs; aye the body which my own -Helen gave me, is shackled. Take my gold, there is the key to my -chests, ransack them, and sell me. The gold will make a chamber as -large as that horrible cell! Oh! will none save my beautiful boy?”</p> - -<p>“I will, I will,” exclaimed his daughter, and she rushed out of -the room. She summoned her own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> waiting maid, to watch over the -old man, and then she herself, alone, unattended, left the house -to seek her brother through the crowd. The night was beautiful and -clear in the sky above, and its lights were brilliant, yet soft; -but the illuminations of the town, threw their glare over all -around, and completely shamed the stars. Not a breeze was felt, -but the wafting of the flames. As the lights in the windows were -now almost expiring, and pale faces were seen within, watching by -them,—to the imagination an ominous fate for the Pretender seemed -to be predicted. But bonfires were blazing in every street, and -figures were crowding around them, and rubbing their hands, and -dancing in extravagant mirth. The gleam of arms was reflected from -soldiers, mingling along with the mob. Crowds were perpetually -hurrying past, to behold and make other sights. Not a child, or a -woman was to be seen; but all were men, intoxicated and raging, -or moving on, more helpless than infants. This almost served to -frighten Alice, as she held her way through the midst of them, -coming into contact with the rude touch of daring strength, or the -feeble clutch of old age; yet none interrupted her, save to stare -upon her earnest countenance, so young, beautiful, and innocent. -Many even seemed disposed to join and escort her to the place of -her destination, wherever that might be. Some rather loud whispers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> -were heard, asserting that she must be a friend of the Pretender, -proceeding on the errand of blessing, and cheering him, on his -dangerous expedition. Still she moved on, apparently indifferent to -every thing which might otherwise have been annoying, when some one -gently took her by the hand. Suppressing a shriek she started back -in terror. But it was a young female who had ventured upon such -a liberty, and Alice immediately recognized the young and blind -Prophetess of the vale, who said in a quick but low tone,—</p> - -<p>“I cannot, young lady, see your face, but your hand is feverish, -and your heart is throbbing. And the hour is so late, and the -street crowded. Yes, my prophecy will be fulfilled.”</p> - -<p>Alice felt that it would, as she listened to her voice, and gazed -upon her face. Her features seemed altogether to have lost their -happy expression. They were still sweet; but clouded, and sad. -“This light,” she resumed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> “is not pleasant. It is not that of -mountain, vale, and stream. Ah! I heard the young chieftain’s step, -so gallant, light, and free; but the cockade waved over his head. -Royal was his voice, for I knew something of courts, in another -clime. And your brother?—you are now in search of him. I need not -inquire. Darkness and death are around all his relations. Start -not. He is a rebel, and now pledges, in the presence of Charles -Edward, his allegiance to the family of Stuart. Oh, why should I -know names and events? Happy I was, when life for me was but to -think and feel. But fair one, come on, embrace your brother once -more, Come,” and she almost dragged the sinking Alice forward, to -hasten her steps. They soon arrived at the Pretender’s palace, but -it was guarded by a close band of Highland soldiers. They made a -passage however, for them, when Alice shortly explained the purpose -of their coming.</p> - -<p>“Ay fair lady,” said one “step in, your brother is now Captain -Dawson, and a brave and gallant Southern he is.”</p> - -<p>“It is true then!” Alice exclaimed with a shriek, while she hid her -face in her hands, “he is a traitor and we are all ruined.”</p> - -<p>“A traitor!” fiercely exclaimed a kilted mountaineer, whose fiery -eyes peered through his shaggy eyebrows, as he rudely grasped her -with his left hand, while his right sought the deadly weapon—“Be -canny, noo, my leddie, lest Tonald’s tirk may pe seeking te right -side o’ te question. Tat pe te way tat Englishers speak of der -lawfu Sovereign, tat day must call his gude friends traitors!”</p> - -<p>Alice Dawson looked unmoved upon the specimen of barbarous -brutality. Her eye gleamed indignantly; which the Scot observing, -drily rejoined, by taking his hands from off her and saying,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> “Is -she after wishing to frighten Tonald? Hech, hech! She canna tak te -preeks off te Heelandman: and faith Tonald canna tak them off her.”</p> - -<p>“She’s a traitoress,” exclaimed one of the Lowlanders, whose face -might have been mistaken for a smoke-dried ham, for he was the only -ill favoured soldier in the company.</p> - -<p>“Hold,” thundered forth one of their leaders, who came out from -the palace, and his fiery eye rebuked the rude soldiers, who had -gathered round to support their comrades, in whatever they might be -pleased to do, against the unprotected Alice, and her companion; -“cowards, to attack and frighten a lady! It would be gallantry,” -he added, turning to the Lowlander, “were you to show your back to -a lady, and conceal that face of yours. She would excuse you, for -in your case it would not be considered as a breach of manners. -Manners! but what know you of manners? Fair lady, my sentinel -informs me that you seek your brother, who is a captain in the -Manchester regiment, this day enlisted, as volunteers, in the -Prince’s cause. See, they make a way for you. Step in.”</p> - -<p>The young soldier who spoke, was Hector McLean, a leader of the -north, and one of the many Scottish gentlemen of rank, who, for -their ready attachment to his cause, had been knighted by the -Pretender. The accent of his country was slightly perceptible, -and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> there was something so friendly in his voice, that Alice -halted, to obtain some further information concerning her brother, -or some directions by which she might be guided to him; and her -companion, who had been altogether silent, seemingly absorbed -in her own thoughts, did not urge her on. But as her eyes fell -upon the handsome form of the knight, so martial in his bearing, -although but of slender proportions, she blushed deeply, and half -repented that she had not forthwith entered. He doffed his bonnet, -gallantly, and respectfully, as she stood before him,—announced -his name, and offered her his services. “Fair lady, you appear -to have been in tears. Are they shed for your brother? Think not -by any eloquence, aye, even that of affection, to turn him from -his purpose, and make him insensible to his duty. His sovereign -has a claim prior to his sister. And could you deprive the brave -Chevalier of a hope of victory?”</p> - -<p>“He has left an aged and infirm father,” sobbed Alice, “and we are -unprotected. He himself is not inured to war, for the cloisters of -a college have been his only camp. Oh! gallant knight,” and she -looked up, with a countenance, as innocent and artless as it was -mournful, “entreat my brother to return!”</p> - -<p>“I must deny you,” he gently replied.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> “The captain is an -acquisition, and already has gained the confidence of the Prince. -Your fair brow, may be soon encircled with honours, won by your -brother, from a grateful master. When you have seen him, you shall -return home, and pray for his safety, and that of the Prince.”</p> - -<p>As he spoke, Alice felt her companion shudder. The young Prophetess -knelt down, and muttered some words in a low, but wild tone. Rising -up, she drew Alice closer to her, and madly exclaimed,—</p> - -<p>“Almighty One, keep her alone, join not their fates—but ah! it -cannot be! Brother and lover will ruin her, and death, death is her -lot. The poison is to lurk in every sweet rose, for you. I know it. -And she, the beautiful one, your companion in the vale, now too -must see her dream vanish. Oh, <em>their</em> heads mount the poles in the -public streets. I cannot see them; thank God, yours shall be spared -such scorn, but languid for many a night shall they lie on the -pillow, and then, they must find rest in an early grave.”</p> - -<p>She twined herself around Alice, kissed her cheeks, and wept.</p> - -<p>The chieftain stood silent and astonished, not being able to -comprehend the scene; but Alice trembled, and almost sunk to -the ground. He placed her hand within his.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> “Come, and you will -straightway have an interview with him. He is now closeted with -the Prince, and his officers, consulting together upon some -military plans.”</p> - -<p>They entered:—the inside of the palace was fitted up with great -magnificence; and the spacious hall of audience was adorned with -portraits of the Stuart family, on which the lights were gleaming -brightly, and but for the gilded and embossed frames, they might -have been mistaken for the living sovereigns, who, by nature, were -endowed with the highest talents to sway an empire, but whose -imprudence and licentiousness expelled them from the throne. The -beautiful Queen of Scotland shone forth with a loveliness which -none but a royal old maid and prude, could have doomed to death. -She, who had been the wife of three husbands, still seemed to -have more love and affection in those bright features, than the -Holy Virgin of England, who never had a lover. The first Charles -was painted there, as he stood on the scaffold, and his eyes were -raised joyfully from the block, to see, in vision, the crown of -heaven, which no weapon could take from the Lord’s annointed. The -light threw a beautiful longing of immortality over his features. -At the further end of the hall, hanging from the ceiling to the -floor, was a green silk curtain, behind which was the door leading -to the Chevalier’s apartments. This was the only screen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> from the -face of royalty. Sir Hector, however, led Alice through a sliding, -at the right wing, and stood, for a little, opposite to a door, -above which were the Prince’s arms. At that moment it opened, and -Charles Edward, with young Dawson, appeared. The latter rushed into -the embrace of his sister. She beheld the uniform, and her hand was -upon the sash by which he was belted, still she clung fondly to -him, although she could not utter a word. Sir Hector McLean gave -the Pretender an explanation; who, stepping up, gently took the -hand of Alice.</p> - -<p>“Lady, bless your brother, and the cause he supports. Blame him -not; you cannot call me a rebel, and he must, therefore, be loyal. -Captain, comfort your sister.”</p> - -<p>“And who shall comfort thee?” sadly asked the blind child. “Oh, -never, never, can you mount the throne.”</p> - -<p>“Who is she? She is pale for me and my woes. See, the tears are -trickling down these cheeks. Perhaps blood, the blood of my -friends, may flow freely in my cause. God knows that my own heart -is sad, even for a tear on the face of another, for my sake. -But hark, my leaders are gay in the dance!” So kindly did the -Prince soothe the feelings of Alice, that when he retired, she -was prepared even to give comfort to her brother, when he spoke -of Katharine.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> She could not, however, persuade him to accompany -her home, and obtain their father’s forgiveness, and Katharine’s -blessing.</p> - -<p>“I dare not. I could not leave you all alone and unprotected. How -could I part from you, in the home of our past life? I must see -Katharine once more, but not there. But you, oh, what dangers you -have undergone this night for me, Alice! My heart breaks, awful -forebodings creep over my soul, at the sight of this blind girl. I -dare not see you home, and yet, to expose you—”</p> - -<p>“Nay, captain,” kindly rejoined Sir Hector, “I should feel -honoured, would your fair sister accept of my protection.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks, my noble friend; watch over her. The clock strikes the -hour of one. Sleep, Alice, and think not of our woes. We shall meet -again in happier times. One more embrace, dear girl; give my love -to Katharine, and my obedience to my father. I may see them before -the Prince leaves Manchester. Farewell. Sir Hector—”</p> - -<p>“Say not a word, captain. I shall guard her as I would the -Chevalier. Now, fair lady,”—and he almost dragged her from the -arms of her brother.</p> - -<p>As they reached the door, she looked round for her companion—but -she was gone!</p> - -<p>When his sister left him, Captain Dawson in vain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> sought comfort -in the room where all the officers were assembled for mirth and -the dance. His spirits were sunk, and into every bright scene -which hope conjured up, his aged parent and his unprotected -sister entered, and stood looking upon him, and yet he could not -approach them. He believed, however, that to his country he was -not acting the part of a traitor, for he wished to restore to it -the descendant of its ancient rulers. Sometimes, too, the quiet -retirement which he had formerly enjoyed within the cloisters of -the college, arose to his mind, and now, when surrounded by arms, -with the glory of strife before him in all probability, the arts of -peace appeared more noble and worthy of attainment. He retired to -the apartment which was assigned to him; but there, grief almost -reached the point of delirium, and the young soldier wept on his -pillow. He heard a knock at the door, and then Sir Hector McLean -entered.</p> - -<p>“Hast thou seen her home in safety? Oh! Alice, I have broken -your heart, and murdered my father; aye, and myself, and my own -Katharine too! Could I stay for months at home, to watch this -opportunity, and mutiny against the peace of all whom I love!”</p> - -<p>“Your sister,” was the reply,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> “is safe in her father’s house, nor -is her anguish so wild as when you saw her. She fondly believes -(and may it prove true, Dawson,) that soon the strife shall be -finally settled; and then comes the soldier’s home, after all his -hardships and dangers; then come tears of joy, so different from -those at parting for the present.”</p> - -<p>Young Dawson took the hand of Sir Hector, and pressed it in -gratitude. He was almost deceived for a time, it felt so like the -touch of Alice, and when he mentioned this, his friend laughed, and -said,—</p> - -<p>“Perhaps I may have held her pretty hand within mine so long as to -catch its virtue. Nay, let not a suspicion cloud thy brow, I would -not pay one act of unmeaning gallantry, to betray; you do me wrong, -Dawson. Yet, how beautiful she is!”</p> - -<p>“Beautiful!” exclaimed Dawson, as he sprung from his couch in -madness. “And must I listen to hear my sister called beautiful, -by a soldier? If thy craven soul has dared to breathe one word -of lawless feeling to mine Alice, tell me—and let us choose our -weapons.”</p> - -<p>As he spoke, he moved to the table on which his sword lay -unsheathed, and passing his hand hastily over its edge, put himself -into a posture of attack and defence. But McLean’s sword still hung -by his side, and his hand was stretched forth in friendship. And -yet, at the first movement, his eye had flashed, and his right foot -had been violently placed in advance, for the combat.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Dawson,” he said, in a solemn tone, “you force me to reveal to you -what, perhaps, I ought to disguise at present. Could I put that -hand to the hilt of my sword, against Captain Dawson, when it has -been pledged in fondest love to his beautiful sister? Beautiful -I must call her—keep off, and hear me out. Will you compel me -to draw? I had a sister, fair as Alice Dawson, but she died in a -warmer clime, amidst the breezes of Italy. Had she lived, I should -have watched over her as suspiciously as you protect Alice. But I -am true. Is there falsehood in my countenance? Believe me; for with -you I cannot appeal to the sword to support my veracity.”</p> - -<p>The anger and fury of young Dawson had fled. He knew that Sir -Hector’s oath was that of a chieftain, and he was certain that -Alice would be happy. He coloured highly, threw his sword upon the -couch, and embraced him as a brother. Long did they speak of Alice -and Katharine; and the two young soldiers unbosomed every thought -to each other, and disclosed their respective arrangements. McLean -agreed to be a message-bearer to Dawson’s house, and to Katharine -Norton; for the captain dared not visit them. He left his companion -to rest a little before day break.</p> - -<p>Just about the same time Dr. Dawson awoke. The object of his dreams -had been James, and his first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> waking thought was concerning him. -But all was dark in the room. He only knew that his children were -not near. His memory failed to tell him whether James had returned. -In the morning there is something cold and blighting in fear, for -all the powers of the mind are more awake to it. He started up at -the earliest gleam of light, and shuddered, as he saw, for the -first time, that he had slept on a sofa. In all his affectionate -thoughts of his children, he did not forget self; and he cherished -it, in general, with a regimen, the strongest which his profession -could provide or sanction.</p> - -<p>“Death, death!” he exclaimed, “my children make me to commit -suicide, by sending me, grieved and senseless, to my couch, to my -sofa. My obedient son,—many thanks to you, dear James; dear James, -many thanks to you. Oh, dear and loving he is to me!”</p> - -<p>But in the midst of this invective he paused, as his eye met the -portrait of his son. He hurried on his clothes, but his palsied -hands were feeble and slow. His daughter came not, as was her wont. -He looked out from the window, upon the street, and how still, -compared with the revelry of the last night! There was scarcely -a wreck of it. The fragments of wood, black, and half consumed, -strewed the streets. These had been bonfires, a few hours before, -and now, a few<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> miserable and poor wretches were gathering them up, -to carry them to a home, where there was little comfort blazing -from fuel. The doctor closed the window, and violently threw -himself down on the sofa, and cursed all whom he knew. He arose, -and silently proceeded to the door of his daughter’s apartment. -He heard no noise. He knocked, and instantly his daughter’s voice -was heard; when he knew that she was well, he stopped not to speak -to her, but in anger traced his steps again to his own room. He -had not closed the door behind him, when Katharine Norton came in. -He was always kind to her, and taking her by the hand, led her to -a seat. Her raven tresses were hanging over her cheeks, and her -voice trembled. She attempted to divert his thoughts from James’s -disappearance—for she dared not reveal the awful truth—and for a -time she succeeded. He even jested, playfully with her, and asked -her to name the day when she would become his beautiful and dear -daughter-in-law. He took her hand, and begged to know by which of -the pretty fingers James had protested to love her.</p> - -<p>In a little, Alice appeared. She was pale, but occasionally her -cheeks glowed, and her eyes sparkled with some emotion, to which, -hitherto, she had been a stranger. She seemed more absorbed in -thought than usual, and her lips moved tremulously, as if she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> were -speaking to herself. She thought of her brother, and the thought -spread a pallor over her features. She thought of her lover, and -blushed. She ran to embrace her father, but concealed her face in -modesty, lest he might read, and be an interpreter of her heart’s -fond love, which, she knew, was as strong, and would be as lasting, -as it had been sudden. Her father repulsed her.</p> - -<p>“Good child,” he said in mockery, “I am obliged to you for this -soft, soft couch. Do you see the thick coverings which have -oppressed these limbs! Oh! how warm they kept me! Give me your -hand, Alice, what a good and loving child to her old father. James, -too,—”</p> - -<p>“Father,” interrupted Alice, in a quick and almost angry tone, -“you may mock me, but you shall not mock my brother. Does a young -soldier, far from the comforts and happiness of a domestic life, -and exposed to hardships, danger, and death, need to be mocked, -even by an old man? Would you mock our James, should he be brought -to a gibbet?”</p> - -<p>“Soldier!—young soldier!” exclaimed her father in mad phrenzy, “my -James a soldier! Oh God! be merciful!” and he knelt, “Forgive all -mine unkindness to the children of my Helen! A soldier! Alice!” and -he fell down, apparently lifeless. Upon the screams of their young -mistress, the servants<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> rushed into the room. They, by degrees, -recovered the old man to sensibility, but he continued wildly to -rave about James.</p> - -<p>“Son, your sword is bright and gleaming. Yes, James, you wear it -proudly. Hush, come quietly at night, when Alice has retired to -rest. Enter by the pannels near to my bed. Say father, and then do -your work. Strike home, to the very heart. Oh! would it not animate -your courage to behold my blood upon that flaming weapon? James, -you strike hard. Shew me that face once more, and, dear child, I -will bless it. Wilt thou bring me the gold from my secret desk, -that I may give it thee? Ah, it matters not, you know where it is. -Hush, hush, slay Alice too, when you have broken her heart. Twine -your hand in those beautiful curls, and kiss that sweet and gentle -forehead. Listen to her, as she murmurs love to you in dreams, and -strike as she utters your name. A soldier! Oh! what a soldier can -do!”</p> - -<p>He glanced wildly around him. He started up, and all signs of age -were, in a moment, obliterated from his face, and had left his -frame. He stamped, and loudly ordered all from the room.</p> - -<p>“Bring Helen to me, I am an impatient bridegroom. Shall I be -prevented from kissing my beautiful wife. She is mine, and who can -keep her from me? Helen, you are pale!”—and he sunk down,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> dead! -Alice could not utter a tone of lamentation. She longed to weep, -that her heart might be eased of her sorrow, but she could not. How -still were the lofty features of her father! In his fall, not a -single white hair had been disarranged, and his golden-headed cane -was firmly grasped in his hand. What a melancholy sight. A dead old -man, and yet a cane to support his steps, as if he could expect -that he should once more rise, and need its assistance! Alice -gently disengaged it from his grasp, and put her own hand in its -place, and thus, for hours, sat beside her dead father.</p> - -<p>Katharine Norton, like a sister attempted to comfort her, but -her terms of consolation frequently assumed something of her -own heart’s sorrow, as she thought of James. Yet she was too -high-minded and heroic to condemn, even in her grief, the step -which he had taken.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Meanwhile the Pretender’s army was again marching through the -streets, and in front of it, was the Manchester regiment, under -the command of Colonel Townley. The Prince, on this occasion, was -attended by the renowned chieftain, Cameron of Lochiel, who was his -best and bravest supporter. His eagle eye glanced proudly upon all, -save on his master, and his full muscular form, was the pride and -boast of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> clan, of which he was the head. They rode together, -between the Scottish and English troops. The inhabitants of all -the towns in Lancashire, through which the Pretender had passed, -trembled at the sight of his brave Highlanders, and it is reported, -that it was the general belief, that the bodies of infants formed -their repast after a victory. The good people of Manchester, -likewise, turned pale, at their fiery glance, and the easy and free -manner in which they at times, when any obstruction was made to -their progress, laid their hands upon the broad-sword, while they -placed their dirk between their teeth, thus awfully prepared to -resist and overcome. But their fiery spirits, were at that time, -altogether within the control of their young leader. They had not -a glance for all who crowded the streets and balconies; their eyes -when he was in view, were fixed upon the Chevalier. As they were -turning a street, a ball whizzed by his horse’s head, and an uproar -was excited. A detachment of troops, under Lochiel, who had spurred -forward instantly, as soon as the report of fire-arms was heard, -dashed down a lane, from which the smoke issued, and they returned -instantly, with the assassin. The soldiers raised a loud howl, as -if they wished to sacrifice the wretch, by tearing him to pieces. -He was brought before the Prince, whose face was a little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> flushed -by the incident, but who was perfectly composed.</p> - -<p>“Death, death,” exclaimed many a voice from the streets. The ladies -had left the terraces, and had come forth among the crowd to learn -whether the Prince was at all hurt. He gallantly thanked them -for the interest they took in his welfare, and, all covered with -blushes, they again ran in. He then glanced upon the assassin, from -whose pockets a dagger and two charged pistols, had also been taken.</p> - -<p>“Poor man,” he calmly said, “you are desirous of murdering the son -of your sovereign. Soldiers, take him to the civil authorities of -the town, and order them to keep him in custody, until we are gone.”</p> - -<p>He then turned to the soldiers, and addressed them. “Be merciful, -as well as brave. Should I come to the throne, as the heir of my -father, I would grieve to think that blood had been too profusely -shed, to receive it. My enemies offer a large reward for my head. -But I only wish the crown, and not the head of George Guelph, the -Elector.”</p> - -<p>The crowd, although they had been disposed to condemn the poor -wretch, now applauded the mercy which forgave him, and this, -perhaps, tended more to warm the affections of the mass of the -people to Charles Edward, than his true descent from the house of -Stuart.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></p> - -<p>The magistrates met them, and humbly offered their homage to the -Chevalier. The Colonel of the Manchester troops had been long -looked up to by the respectable community of the town, and when he -joined the rebel troops this exerted no inconsiderable influence, -even over the authorities. The principal streets were all adorned -with tokens of attachment, and from every house almost, colours -were flying, and handkerchiefs waving. Music from the town joined -the noise of the bagpipes, and the Prince was elated by what he -considered as demonstrations of loyalty to his father.</p> - -<p>The crowd attended the Prince back to the palace, before which, -during all the day, they stood, and greeted him, as he appeared -at the window, and smiled at the Highland soldiers, who presented -their arms.</p> - -<p>Early in the evening, Captain Dawson, accompanied by Sir Hector -McLean, was proceeding to his father’s house. He had resolved to -see him, that he might obtain his blessing, as the troops were to -set out on the following day. Dressed in the Prince’s uniform, they -received much attention as they passed on. Dawson was well known -as a young gentleman of great promise, and the reports which had, -in some circles, been spread respecting him—how that he had left -the University, where he was distinguished<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> only for gaiety and -debauchery, were not believed—for they had been proved to have no -foundation. They reached the house, and were instantly admitted. -But the old servant, who opened the door, was unusually taciturn -and sad. Katharine Norton was sitting with Alice as they entered. -Painful was the interview. The Highland chieftain in vain attempted -to console Alice for the loss of her brother.</p> - -<p>“Dear Alice,” asked young Dawson, “how is our father? does he know -of my conduct?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” was the reply.</p> - -<p>He became pale, and dreaded lest his father should have cursed and -denounced him.</p> - -<p>“Did he—condemn me?” and he gasped, as he spoke, “was he much -irritated?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, James, awfully agitated.”</p> - -<p>“There, there, Sir Hector, see my folly, my madness, my infamous -cruelty, to an aged parent. But Alice, was he long in such a state?”</p> - -<p>“No,” and she turned a look of concealed meaning to Katharine.</p> - -<p>“Thank God, thank God,” exclaimed Dawson, “then Alice, is he calm -now?”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p> -<p>“Calm,—so calm, he must be happy.”</p> - -<p>“Then, dear sister, lead me into his presence, and give him a kiss, -to induce him to grant me a full forgiveness. Alice, you move not, -is he asleep?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, dear James, and you would but disturb him in what seems to be -a very pleasant sleep. But he <em>has</em> granted you his pardon; or, if -you doubt, you may come to morrow, to dinner, and then—”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Alice; and may not Hector McLean come with me?” The last -words were spoken in a playful tone, and intended to probe, what -Alice thought was a secret. He rallied, and endeavoured to enjoy -himself, and seemed to succeed. Katharine forgave him, and agreed -to walk with him, for a few minutes, in the garden. He looked -smilingly upon Alice, and by his glance attempted to hint that he -knew very well that she did not regret to be left alone with Sir -Hector.</p> - -<p>The next morning arose fair and bright. The birds, even in the -streets, forgot the silence of winter, and cheered the crowded -abodes of men with their songs, as they fluttered about the -leafless trees, in the squares of the town. The Manchester regiment -of volunteers was marching through the streets, to the sound of -the drum. At their head was Prince Charles, attended by Colonel -Townley. There was an unusual melancholy resting on the features -of the former, which was increased by listening to the Scottish -song now chanted in the streets, “Bonnie Prince Charlie.” His pale -hair fell carelessly over his forehead, as he frequently raised -his bonnet, to allow the sun to fall upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> his face. The smoke was -not yet arising from the chimneys, so early was the hour; and he -thought how slow and idle the inhabitants were in their loyalty -towards him. The colonel halted.</p> - -<p>“Where, noble Prince, will you review my men?”</p> - -<p>“In the church-yard,” was the reply, “yet that is an ominous place, -and may remind them of a fate they may, by and by, share. It is -well, nevertheless, to know what our end, sooner or later, must be. -The churchyard, colonel.”</p> - -<p>It was nigh at hand. The graves were not crowded, and the Chevalier -forbade the troops to violate the abodes of the dead, by trampling -upon them. They drew up, and went through their various exercises -in military discipline. As their swords flashed in the sun, the -Prince thought what a slight chance of fortune these would have -with the scythe of death. They were about to retire, when a small -company of mourners was seen, attending a dead relative to the -grave. They moved sadly and slowly, unlike the quick pace with -which the troops had entered. A closely veiled female was at the -head of the coffin. The Chevalier raised his cap, and desired his -men to approach, and honour these funeral rites. Young Dawson -started, as he beheld the blind Prophetess, with faded flowers in -her hands. He approached,—the veiled lady gave a shriek, and fell -down on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> coffin. He sprang forward, drew aside the veil, and -beheld his sister Alice! He raised her from the coffin, and there -beheld his father’s name upon it!</p> - -<p>She had resolved to spare him the heart-rending news until, the war -being over, he should return; and thus she, herself, had undertaken -to attend to the last rites due to the remains and the memory of -a dead father. But here, providence had determined otherwise, and -James met his father,—for the first time since his leaving home, -to ask his forgiveness,—at the grave. He had formerly entreated -Alice to kiss their father, so that he might be induced to pardon -him, but now, what token of affection could obtain for him such a -blessing! And there was the young Prophetess, with words boding -still darker ruin on all the family, and on Prince Charles.</p> - -<p>On the first of December, the Chevalier and his troops continued -their march, and towards evening reached Macclesfield, with the -intention of proceeding to London, and thus terminating the -struggle for the crown in the capital of the kingdom. In a few -days, however, having reached Derby, where a council of war -was held, all the members, save the brave Prince himself, were -of opinion that, since, in all probability, they would soon be -surrounded by three armies, the only way of safety was to return -to Scotland. Accordingly, against the urgent remonstrances and -entreaties<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> of Charles Edward, the retreat was commenced, and -pressed on by the forces of the Duke of Cumberland, on the -nineteenth, they reached Carlisle. All the army spent a night -there, and it was resolved that a garrison should be left, -consisting of the Manchester regiment, and a few of the Lowland -troops.</p> - -<p>In the morning they attended the Prince to a short distance from -the town, and on an eminence, where his movements might, a little -longer, be seen,—halted to take leave of him, with tears in -their eyes. The few Highland soldiers who were to form a part -of the garrison left behind, approached, and knelt down, their -shaggy heads uncovered, heedless of the wintry blast which raged -around them, while they prayed for a blessing upon “Bonnie Prince -Charlie.” They seemed disposed to follow him back into their native -mountains and fastnesses, and they turned many a look of envy and -regret upon their more fortunate clansmen who were to guard his -person. The Chevalier dismounted, and his tall graceful form was -closely, yet respectfully, surrounded, in a moment, by the faithful -mountaineers. He smiled, as they gazed in wonder on his kilted -dress.</p> - -<p>“My friends,” he said, “my limbs, naked though they be, can meet -the storm. Have I not, after the fatigues of battle, contended with -you in wrestling and leaping, stripped and bare? And yet,” he added -to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> himself, as he glanced at his small white hands, now exposed -to the cold, and his half covered thighs, “the ladies of Paris and -Edinburgh have fluttered round and embraced me.”</p> - -<p>“Canna she!” exclaimed a tall Highlander advancing,—“canna she -shake te tirk in her ain land, for Charlie? Fare pe te use o’ -keepin it be her side, and no kittlin te hainshes o’ te enemy. Nae -bluid, nae bluid on its shinin blade!”</p> - -<p>“Here, my good fellow,” answered the Prince, “give it to me; it is -the weapon of a true Highlander, and Charles Edward will be proud -to strike with it himself. Here,” and he took the dirk, and drawing -it from his half-worn sheath, and examining some dark spots on it, -appeared thoughtful.</p> - -<p>The Highlander rejoined, “Tat pe te bluid o’ te enemy, and might -she ask tat her Prince would not wipe it away?”</p> - -<p>The Chevalier buckled it to his side, and this act endeared him -to the Highland soldiery still more. But the sun was now arising -on the snowy eminences where they stood. His officers reminded -Charles of the long march which they had, that day, to accomplish. -Still, he moved not; he was wrapped in thought. His back was -turned gradually upon his troops, and he made a few steps in the -direction of Carlisle, for he cursed himself inwardly for the -consent which had been wrung from him, to retreat from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> England. In -the enthusiasm of the moment, which was heightened by despair, he -exclaimed,—</p> - -<p>“Why do I retreat from the throne? <em>There</em> should have been -our march; and our faces should have answered the questions of -Cumberland. But ah! we fly from him!”</p> - -<p>A simultaneous shout was raised throughout all the ranks, but, -in a moment, the chief of each clan looked upon his men, and the -threatening look was understood; Charles drew his sword, and turned -round, almost expecting that the troops were ready to follow him, -wherever he might lead; but their bonnets were over their brows, -and they were silent. He understood the cause. Lochiel and the -other chiefs advanced, and humbly kneeling before him, whilst they -uncovered their heads, implored him to think no more of England, -until a fitting time, when he should be able to contest, with equal -strength, in the country of the Elector. He mastered his feelings, -and with some of his usual gaiety, raising his plumed cap from his -head, waved his farewell to the garrison, assuring them that he -would send them speedy assistance. Sir Hector McLean retired for a -moment, in company with Captain Dawson, but in the midst of their -conversation, the command was given to march, and after taking the -last look of their brave companions and the Prince, the Manchester -regiment returned to Carlisle.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p> - -<p>There the castle was soon invested by the royal army, under the -command of the Duke of Cumberland. The garrison held out for some -time, aided by the inclemency of the winter, which prevented the -duke from taking the most active measures, and cheered by hopes of -the aid which the Prince had promised. But, at length, when these -hopes were disappointed, they were obliged to surrender, upon the -hardest terms, and Colonel Townley, and his captains, were sent to -confinement, in London, there to await a trial for sedition and -treason. The miseries of a dungeon were rendered more awful by the -news of the total defeat which the Chevalier had sustained, in the -fate of the battle of Culloden. The captives had held communication -with their relatives, who were busy in making every exertion to -obtain their pardon. James Dawson heard frequently from Katharine -Norton; and although her letters seemed to be written in tolerably -good spirits, he could see the trace of many a tear. She encouraged -him to hope, and stated that a mutual friend had resolved upon -obtaining the king’s forgiveness, and that she trusted much to his -efforts. The bearer of these letters was the young Prophetess; -and the sight of the messenger, so sad and mournful, was almost -sufficient to dash and cloud the joy of the message. She answered -no questions, but every time placed her hands upon his brow, and -gave a low and suppressed shriek. Her thin and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> emaciated features -were never lighted up with happiness, even when she told Dawson of -the hopes of Katharine. He asked her of Alice, for, lately, she had -ceased to write to him, but the blind girl, waving her hands above -her head, exclaimed with enthusiasm,</p> - -<p>“She is well; yes, and intercedes for her brother,—the beautiful -and happy lady!”</p> - -<p>James understood, by her motions, that his sister had even ventured -into the presence of royalty, and there presented her petitions; -and he blessed her, and Katharine, more and more.</p> - -<p>The day of trial arrived, and as soon as the commission entered the -court, Dawson thought that the countenances of the judges frowned -their doom, and indicated a fixed resolution, on the present -occasion, to dispense with mercy. The brutal mob without, were -shouting for justice to the king, and the country; and the crowd -within were so unfeeling as to hiss the prisoners when they were -led to the bar; but these hisses were answered by a calm look of -contempt. Colonel Townley arose, and objected to a trial brought on -by a usurper, and affirmed that it was unjust to be cited before a -court called together by George the Elector. He defended himself, -and his brave companions, but in vain; for ere he had finished -his speech, the jury retired, and soon the verdict <em>guilty</em> was -returned. The presiding judge looked around<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> the court, but a -thrill of horror was expressed, for sympathy had been excited by -the gallant appearance of the rebels. As he put on the black cap, -Dawson, to shew his contempt and indifference, turned his back; but -presently recollecting that there were ties to bind him to life, -he changed his posture, and attentively listened to the sentence -of death. For a moment his firmness forsook him, as he heard the -awful accompaniments of his execution. As he and his companions -were being removed, the cries without were increased, and he caught -a glimpse of a female form entering the court. That glimpse was -enough to reveal to him his own Katharine! He had not seen her -since they parted in Manchester, but oh! how sadly she was changed! -She gave a wild shriek. Dawson struck down the officer who had -charge of him, and the crowd retreated and made way for him, as he -rushed forward, clanking his chains.</p> - -<p>“My own Katharine!” he exclaimed, as he clasped her in his arms, -“Are we not safe together?” For a moment she looked on him; but, -turning to the judges, who had left their seats, she cried out—</p> - -<p>“Stay—hear me—as you would hope to be heard in the very moment of -death. Save my James!”</p> - -<p>The judge placed his hand upon the black cap,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> and his features -did not diminish the awful effect of such a motion. He instantly -retired.</p> - -<p>“Heed him not,” slowly muttered James, “they cannot separate us.”</p> - -<p>“No, no,” returned Katharine, whose reason, for a time, had -departed, whilst her eyes glared wildly, “they cannot. Put these -chains around me. You could not break them, James. Put them -round my neck, just there, where your arm is, and we are secure. -Can they break them, when you could not? Now, my love, let us -go home. I told you, in my letter, that the day appointed for -your—your—ha! shall I name it,” and she even smiled as she spoke, -“your execution, would be the day for our marriage. We are bound -together. Now, dear James.”</p> - -<p>The keepers approached, but they dared not to touch their prisoner, -as his masculine form raised itself to ward them off.</p> - -<p>“Are these our friends, James? Welcome,—welcome all! Now for the -dance. Ah, you won my heart in yonder recess, where we rested.”</p> - -<p>Her dream of madness passed away for the awful reality.</p> - -<p>“You die, James!”</p> - -<p>And she sunk her head on his breast, in silent despair. He twined -his arms round her, to support<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> her trembling frame, and kissed her -brow, which, although pale, quivered with intense emotion, and the -large blue veins swelled on its surface.</p> - -<p>“A few days,” he said, “and your lover is no more.”</p> - -<p>The keepers took advantage of his posture and seized him, he -was torn from Katharine, who fell on the floor. She awoke to -conciousness, after a long fit of delirium, but she spoke not. She -answered not the many kind questions, which some of the spectators -put. She accepted not the invitations which they offered, to -accompany her home. She looked wildly around. She started back -as her eyes fell upon the bench, where the sentence had been -pronounced, and where still lay the black cap. But the coachman, -who, half-an-hour before, had set her down, at some distance, now -appeared and supported her to her carriage. Her kind aunt, when she -reached home, watched by her, and consoled her with the thought -that the friend who had gone to sue for Dawson’s pardon, might in -the end prove successful. She gently chided her for having gone to -the court, without her.</p> - -<p>The night before the fatal morning was beautiful, even in the -cell, and on its grated window, a bird had for a moment alighted, -like a messenger of hope. Dawson paced up and down, absorbed in -gloomy reflections. He thought of Katharine, and then of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> Alice. -Henceforth they were to be friendless and alone. He knelt down in -anguish, and prayed for them fervently, as the two innocent and -beautiful sisters. He arose, and placed his hand without the bars, -and then, fanned his forehead. Once he had imagined that it was -glorious to die as a martyr, for his prince, before all the world; -but now, the scene when real, and at hand, had gradually narrowed -and narrowed, until in dying, he felt that, save two, he had no -one to sympathise with his fate. His fellow prisoners spoke to -him, through small apertures in their separate cells; but he was -meloncholy and alone. He heard footsteps approaching, and the heavy -iron door turned slowly upon its hinges. A gentleman was admitted.</p> - -<p>“Oh! Dawson,—no hope, no hope,—art thou prepared?”</p> - -<p>The prisoner looked anxiously upon him who spoke, but as it was -twilight, he could not distinguish the features, or the person. He -was dressed in black. Dawson started up, and dragged him to the -window. He gazed upon Hector McLean!</p> - -<p>“My friend!—and is it even so? Your dress is proscribed; no more -that of a chieftain.”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p> -<p>“Speak not of me, speak of yourself. It is true I am in mourning -weeds, and now no clan can raise the wail of their chieftain.”</p> - -<p>“How is Alice?” quickly exclaimed Dawson, but he received no -answer. “What! a lover, and knows not of his fair mistress; cannot -speak of her, to her brother! Is she well, Sir Hector?”</p> - -<p>“Hush, rave not;—she is in heaven! and these are weeds for my -wife!”</p> - -<p>The deep stupor and silence of grief was over Dawson’s soul.</p> - -<p>“Brother,” said Sir Hector, “my only brother, but whom I must lose -on the morrow, spend not the time thus. Prepare, prepare for death! -It is different from the chance of war, and although we have left -the ball for the deadly field, now let this cell be the auditory -and penitentiary of heaven!”</p> - -<p>“But tell me,” exclaimed Dawson, “tell me how Alice died. Yes, she -is in heaven. A week ago, I dreamt that angel feet passed rapidly -along my cell, and I knew that they were Alice’s. Where, and how -did she die?”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p> -<p>“I must be brief; your fate and welfare demand every moment for -other subjects. During the interval after our retreat to Scotland, -when hostilities were ceased, I came over to England, and Alice -became my wife. I took her to a quiet home, removed from the seat -of war, where an aged mother cherished her new daughter. Oh, -how anxious we were, and grieved, concerning you. She wrote to -Katharine Norton, and enclosed letters for you. Meanwhile, the -royal forces drew near the Prince, and I joined him, at the head of -my clan, on the Heath of Culloden. Had that battle been gained, you -would have been free; and believe me, Dawson, that many a stroke -given by me, was for you. But it was lost. I fled to Alice. The -news—but I cannot wring my heart by relating my woes—overpowered -her. In these arms she died, my fair Alice, speaking to the last, -of her brother, her husband, and our unborn babe! I came to London, -was received kindly by Katharine Norton and her aunt, and have been -exerting myself ever since, to obtain your pardon,—but in vain. -I had rendered some important services to one of the Elector’s -ministers, but his private feelings are subdued by other motives.”</p> - -<p>“Bless you! Heaven bless you for your efforts, but more as the -husband of my Alice. But—Katharine, how does she endure my -approaching execution?”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p> -<p>“She hopes that your pardon will arrive, and she has arranged -every thing for her marriage, on the morrow, when you are set at -liberty. Oh! how must I break the awful truth to her! When I left -her an hour ago, she was singing some of your verses. Her mind -seems to have lost some of its power, for she wandered out alone -this afternoon, to the Common, where, on the morrow, you must die, -and gathered some of the simple daisies, to deck her hair. She -protests that these will be all that her dear James shall know of -Kennington Common!”</p> - -<p>Sir Hector remained an hour with him, and took his last farewell!</p> - -<p>The morning came, after a sleepless, restless night. Dawson attired -himself in full uniform, even to the Highland bonnet. At an early -hour the officers entered, and led him, along with eight of his -companions, down to the court yard of the prison. All who were to -suffer, greeted each other kindly, but no one had need to cheer -each other, and inspire them with firmness. For themselves, they -were indifferent to their doom, and were prepared to meet it with -the conciousness of what they considered innocence in a good cause; -but they had relatives, and this clouded their minds. Still they -appeared bold and undaunted.</p> - -<p>“Townley,” said one to the Colonel, “you were always,—forgive me -for the hint,—fond of dressing your head, when it was about to pop -in at the door of a ball room, to be inspected by the ladies. Now -that it is to be seen more conspicuously, will you not bestow more -attention? There, upon mine honour, that fine curl has left its -sweep.”</p> - -<p>After finishing breakfast, their chains were struck off, and their -arms pinioned.</p> - -<p>“Stay,” exclaimed one,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> “give me the freedom of my hands, to -arrange my neckcloth, that should the Hanoverian Elector himself -be present, I may render the man all possible honours. Help me to -laugh Dawson. Captain, is my neckcloth nice? See,—but here is the -groom of my bedchamber, the master of my wardrobe, he will assist -me.”</p> - -<p>The Executioner now appeared, with the halters carried behind him. -He was dressed in white, and his black and hideous face, although -of a cadaverous hue, was a striking contrast. Although Dawson -scorned the fear of death, yet life was dear to him for Katharine, -and a shudder passed over his frame, as the executioner approached -him.</p> - -<p>“Young gentleman,” said the grim official, “your neck is the first -for the halter. But the first shall be last, in order that the -Scriptures may be fulfilled, and your heart shall be the last in -being thrown into the flames. Ha! ha!” and he laughed at the awful -blasphemy. With the greatest coolness and composure he removed the -scarf from Dawson’s neck, and was substituting the rope, when he -observed the golden chain, to which was attached the portrait of -Katharine Norton. He raised it.</p> - -<p>“Young sir,” said he, as he attempted to smile, “shall I remove the -miniature? Pretty, pretty,—the lady smiles so beautifully upon the -rope!”</p> - -<p>“Touch it not, wretch,” thundered forth Dawson,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> in tones which -made the barbarian tremble, and interrupted him in his chuckle. -“Never,” he added, “shall the resemblance of her whom I love, be -exposed to a profane gaze.”</p> - -<p>“Nay,” returned the executioner, “you have no command over it, -young rebel. Your clothes are my property, as soon as I perform my -kind offices to that carcase, and, of course, the miniature amongst -the rest.”</p> - -<p>“Shall it!” shouted Dawson in a rage. “Never. Officer, remove it -from my neck, and place it on the floor.” His request was granted, -and he ground it to atoms beneath his tread.</p> - -<p>The prisoners were then brought out, and placed on hurdles, -surrounded by a body of foot guards. There, also, was the -executioner, with a naked scimitar. The “dead march” was now played -by the military, and its music was sad and slow, unlike that which -had roused the courage of the rebels when they assembled under the -standard of the Chevalier. Gradually it swelled, until, towards the -conclusion, it died quietly away, and expressed the true condition -of the prisoners, “who were wearing away to the land of the leal.” -Some of them gaily beat time with their feet, but others would not -counterfeit mirth, although they needed not to counterfeit courage, -for they all possessed it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span></p> - -<p>When they arrived at Kennington Common, they beheld a dense crowd, -for the London mob had assembled, to feast on the horrid spectacle -of hanging, embowelling, burning, and beheading. But as the hurdles -passed them, they were quiet, and some words, as well as many -looks, of commiseration greeted the prisoners. A large pile of -faggots was heaped up close to the gallows, and as they left the -hurdles, and entered the cart from which they were to be turned -off, they were set fire to, and threw a fitful glare over the faces -Of the guards around, as well as those of the prisoners. Colonel -Townley turned to the magistrates, who stood on a small platform, -and asked whether a clergyman had been brought to attend to them. -On being answered in the negative, he exclaimed,—</p> - -<p>“What mercy is shown to us! You are generous enemies! Morgan, my -good friend, read us appropriate prayers, before we suffer for King -James. Let us die, trusting in God our Saviour. It is well that I -reminded you to bring your book.”</p> - -<p>His fellow-sufferer began to read in a solemn manner, kneeling, and -with his head uncovered. Not a whisper was heard among the crowd, -but they stood silent, as if hushed by the true spirit of devotion, -and as if the angels, whom the prisoners invoked to surround them -with their fiery cars, would have been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> frightened away by the -noise and commotion. They were also in the suspense of expectation, -when these religious services should be ended, and the dread signal -given. Then a carriage was seen rapidly approaching.</p> - -<p>“A pardon! a pardon!” shouted the mob, as they made way, at first -sight. The prisoners’ devotions were interrupted. For a moment -they gazed anxiously, but, as the carriage took its station behind -the dense masses of people, their hopes fell, and once more they -engaged in their religious exercises, but with paler countenances, -and the reader’s voice, at first, was observed to tremble. Dawson -looked up. From the window of the carriage he saw Sir Hector -gazing, and waving his farewell; and beside him was his own -Katharine! A violent shuddering seized him, but, at that moment, -Morgan was repeating the words, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit,” -and now he felt that he had, for ever, done with earthly things. -The signal was given by a loud shout, raised by the prisoners, “God -save King James,” and the cart was driven from beneath them!</p> - -<p>All the other horrible accompaniments were gone through, and the -executioner, on throwing the heart of Dawson into the flames, -exclaimed, “Long live King George!”</p> - -<p>The carriage was that of Katharine Norton, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> thus, attended -by her aunt and McLean,—who had failed in all their attempts -to dissuade her from witnessing such a scene,—she gazed on -her lover’s tortures to the last. She had seen him suspended, -then stripped, in order that he might be embowelled; and as the -executioner announced that he had performed his office, she clasped -her hands together, and meekly laying her head on the bosom of her -aunt, said,</p> - -<p>“Dear James, I follow thee.”</p> - -<p>“Not yet, my Katharine, not yet. Put your throbbing heart to mine, -love.”</p> - -<p>Throbbing heart! Alas, it throbbed no more! Katharine Norton was -dead! Hector McLean took one hand, to console her, and, as the -other was placed upon the window of the carriage, it was seized by -the blind Prophetess, who now appeared, strangely and unexpectedly, -as before.</p> - -<p>“Dead! dead!” she exclaimed.</p> - -<p>At that moment the shouts of the mob frightened the horses, who -dashed furiously away; and the young Prophetess was left a mangled -corpse! Her life was all a mystery—her power of knowing the -future, and her sudden appearance!</p> -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span class="small"><a id="THE_SPECTRE_COACH" name="THE_SPECTRE_COACH"></a>THE</span><br /> -SPECTRE COACH OF LIVERPOOL. -</h2> -<hr class="tiny" /> - - -<p>In one of the squares at the extremity of Liverpool, some sixty -years ago, there resided a young orphan, called Elizabeth -Woodville. She had no relations surviving; her parents had long -been dead, and an only brother, a few weeks previous, had, by -youthful excesses, been brought to an untimely end. The latter -event preyed upon her spirits and constitution, not only from -the mere fact itself of his death, but also from the horrible -circumstances connected with it. He had been conveyed home a -corpse, after his nightly revel; and at the moment when Elizabeth -was dreaming of her parents, in the far off happy land, she was -awoke to listen to the awful tidings, and view their confirmation -in the ghastly features of one who, whatever, and how many his -faults and crimes were, had always loved her. She seemed now to -be alone in the world, with no acquaintances save the flowers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> -which her fair hands fostered every morning, and the toys of her -brother, when a boy, which were all collected and arranged before -her. There was the pencil, with which he and Arthur Govenloch -alternately sketched her own features, in puerile art; and along -with it were the silken cords which bound her to a seat, when she -was refractory. That seat was still there, with the green faded -cushion, and in it, for hours, she often sat, held by the illusions -of memory. His fishing rod and basket kept their old places, fixed -to the ceiling. Even the marbles of the boy had been preserved, and -she thought of their sports in the garden, and remembered a long -and successful chase, through amidst the trees and over the grass -plot, into the arbour, which Arthur, followed by her brother, had -after her, when she stole away their marbles. His Holy Bible, too, -with the three names inscribed on the fly leaf, lay with its gilt -edges; and she pictured once more to her fancy, the beautiful and -happy sabbath eves, in summer, out on the flowery lawn, when their -young minds drank in the holy words of peace and life. She fondly -hoped that the solemn, yet sweet truths of mercy therein contained, -would have been so strongly impressed upon her brother’s heart, -that all the infidel thoughts which had latterly sprung up, and -effected his temporal ruin, must have failed to uproot them. It -had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> never been conned by them as a task book, but had always been -opened by them as a holy romance of truth from heaven, pointing -to Eden as the cradle, and the skies as the home, of our race; -with the lovely and the wise Jesus as the hero of every scene, -reflected above or below. Her whole heart was among these objects -of remembrance, and her happiness was in the past. She played -delightfully, and her sweet voice accompanied the harp, but only -the songs and hymns which had pleased her brother, and his friend. -She often thought of that friend. There was only one of the dead -who engrossed all her thoughts, and that one was her brother, even -to the entire exclusion of her parents; and there was only one of -the living, and he was Arthur Govenloch. Since boyhood he had been -in a foreign country, but he had never gone from the affections of -Elizabeth Woodville.</p> - -<p>It was May day, towards sunset, as she took her seat on the -terrace. She was engaged in working a piece of embroidery,—a -history of the family, and of her childhood; and the last rays fell -sweetly upon the names of those she loved. An unusual buoyancy -had been imparted to her spirits, and she leaned over to view the -sports of children, as crowned with the first flowers of summer, -they gaily and enthusiastically tripped about the door. They all -departed, save one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> beautiful boy, who sat down beside an old -statue, on the grass plot, and by turns, for very happiness, sung, -clapped his hands, and shouted. He started as he heard footsteps -near, and seeing Elizabeth, ran up the outer flight of stairs, -leading to the terrace. She came down to meet him, when a stranger -appeared. He suddenly halted, and became deadly pale. He turned -round, for a moment, to conceal his agitation, when he heard a -half-suppressed shriek.</p> - -<p>“Arthur Govenloch!”</p> - -<p>Although many, many years had elapsed, and foreign climes had -embrowned his features, Elizabeth recognized him. She had loved -the boy, and when he was absent her imagination had pictured the -man, and there stood the living resemblance, unchanged. On hearing -his own name pronounced, he rushed forward. There was a beautiful -lady in mourning. Could it be his own Elizabeth? There was the same -slight figure, which he had so often clasped, as a boyish dream, -and the deep light of her soft blue eyes, which he had so often -braved for hours, when lying on the grass, and could he forget it?</p> - -<p>“My own Elizabeth!” he exclaimed, “in mourning? But hast thou been -faithful and true, as I have been? There, there, that boy again.—A -shudder passed over me, as I first beheld him here. Art thou the -wife of another? That boy,”—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Arthur, I know him not, he is the child of a neighbour. Oh! hast -thou come at last! Arthur, I am alone. My brother is—”</p> - -<p>“Hush, dearest, <em>now</em> thou art not alone. But let us enter the -house, where I have been so happy, and tell me all.”</p> - -<p>Their love had been preserved through many years. It had commenced -early, and was hallowed by memory, as well as brightened by hope. -Innocence had lighted it, and the daring boy, and the gentle -girl, would leave their task to romp with each other, but not for -romping’s sake; for when the sport was ended, then came the soft -look, the soft touch, and the soft confession. Boys and girls are -the quickest, the warmest, the holiest, and the most successful -lovers. The God of love plays best with children; and,—mischievous -urchin—when the little scholars are rambling about, or seated, -teaching each other their tasks, taking hold of fingers, to -point out letters, or words, figures, or sums, then he lets fly -the arrow, touching their young and pure blood. Such lovers had -Elizabeth Woodville and Arthur Govenloch been, and their affection -was preserved, warm and strong, until the present. Both wept -over the death of their old companion, and all his books were, -once more, affectionately handled and looked at. They walked out -together upon the terrace, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> brightly did the stars shine upon -them, like the glorious and happy types of that future, concerning -which they spoke. Happy were they now in each other, and long ere -Arthur left her, Elizabeth’s face was beautiful with smiles. She -accompanied him to the garden gate, leaning confidingly upon his -arm.</p> - -<p>“Elizabeth—I must introduce the custom of the country which I have -left; and the square is so retired, and the nights, of late, have -been so beautiful, that I must come and serenade you beneath your -window. But arise not; only for a moment awake to listen to my -lute, and then, dearest, dream of me.”</p> - -<p>He looked upon her, and saw that she was pale. Her slight frame -trembled. He pressed his hand against her heart, and it beat -violently.</p> - -<p>“Nay, Arthur, do not.”</p> - -<p>“I will not disturb your rest. No, Elizabeth; but the night is so -beautiful, that I cannot refrain from coming to the house where my -own love dwells, and serenading, in company with the angels, the -abode of the beautiful Orphan. You know that I won’t serenade you, -when you are my dear little wife. Henry, your brother, will thank -and bless me for coming.”</p> - -<p>She became still paler, and leaned for support on the gate.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></p> -<p>“You are not well. Walk back to the house. Come. Now, farewell -dearest,” and he fondly embraced her. Her brow was cold as he -kissed it, and she softly said,—</p> - -<p>“Oh! Arthur, come not to night.”</p> - -<p>But he thought that, although he might not serenade her, there -could be no harm in passing, at the hour of midnight, and looking -at the house, as it lay in the pale moonshine. For, be it observed, -that lovers are not so very unreasonable as some represent; and the -mere sight of the house where the adored one lives, can satisfy -them.</p> - -<p>A little before midnight, Arthur was once more in the street, on -his way to the abode of his mistress. All was silent and lonely. -The glare of lamps was feeble and sickly, mingling with, while -yet distinguishable from, the light of the moon. The breezes -blew gently, and carried perfumes, as tranquilizing as they were -sweet. Few persons were abroad: and save the light dress of -the unfortunate and the guilty, revealing itself occasionally, -at a corner of the street, as he passed, and the song of the -bachanalian, coming from cellars, and greeting him, Arthur found -nothing to turn his attention from the thoughts and love which he -cherished to the fair Orphan. All boyish feelings, save one, had -been forgotten, and, as he trod his native town, he felt that in it -he was a stranger. But the brother shared his thoughts, as well as -the sister,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> and he wished that he had enquired of Elizabeth where -his grave was, that even there he might pay an early visit, after -his return, to the friend and companion of his boyhood. He reached -the lane which opened into the square. It was a dark, close, and -filthy way. Trees were on every side, but the leaves appeared to -be beds of worms and reptiles, and a sharp breeze coming from the -harbour, blew some of them against Arthur’s cheek, and they were -damp and polluting to the touch.</p> - -<p>Suddenly he heard shouts of revelry behind, and the sound of a -coach starting. The whip was loudly urging on the steeds, and -their hoofs clattered fast and furious. He looked back, and to his -astonishment and terror, saw nothing. Still the noise came near and -nearer, and at length he distinctly heard a coach dash past him. -At that moment a loud shout was heard, and the whip was cracked -close to his ears. The blood curdled within him. He could not be -deceived. He ran on, and the nearer he came, he heard the rolling -of the wheels, the pawing and breathing of the horses, the cracking -of the whip, and even the oaths and tones of those who sat in it, -with greater assurance. He seemed close upon it, when all at once -it stopped, and then he found himself at the house of Elizabeth -Woodville, and there, horrible to think, the Spectre Coach was -waiting, unseen! He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> moved backwards and forwards, and fancied that -he heard whispers near the place, and occasionally the stroke of a -hoof, on the flinty road. A flavour of wine and tobacco was in the -air around. In a little, the door of the house was half opened: -a light and merry step was on the pavement, and instantly a loud -holloo, in the tones of one, quite familiar to his ear, arose, and -once more the coach dashed away. Arthur stood motionless, what -could this awful prodigy mean? He looked at the door, and there -stood Elizabeth! He rushed forward. Her eyes fell upon his form, -enveloped in a cloak, and shrieking, she fell. He raised her from -the earth, bleeding and senseless. He shouted for the domestics, -and committed her to their care. He entered another room. In a -short time, one of them returned, and announced that her mistress -had recovered, and was desirous of speaking with him.</p> - -<p>“My young lady,” she added “every night watches for that coach. -It comes for her brother regularly, as usual. Oh! Sir, would you -persuade her to retire before the hour? It renews her grief.”</p> - -<p>Arthur started at these words: and truths of an awful nature -flashed across his mind. But he heard Elizabeth’s voice, and he -hurried into her apartment. She sat, reclining on a sofa; her -countenance was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> pale; her eyes bright, but an expression of horror -and wildness in them.</p> - -<p>“Did you not, Arthur,” she exclaimed, as she wrung her hands, and -with them covered her face, “did you not hear Henry’s voice, so -free and merry. What an awful apparition of his last ghost! I have -gazed for months, and hoped that I would see him, but in vain. The -tale is one of horror, and one which I have realized.”</p> - -<p>She paused, and leaving her seat, went to the window, and listened -eagerly.</p> - -<p>“It comes not yet—no—it is not the appointed time, and I may -proceed with the relation. But for God’s sake, Arthur, if you hear -a noise, if you hear the rolling of the coach, interrupt me not! I -must answer his call. Nay, rise not. I am calm, dear Arthur. You -knew my brother Henry—None could be more innocent and happy. But -after you left us, he listened to wicked men, and imbibed their -poisonous doctrines, and Henry Woodville, the beautiful and the -good, became a dark infidel! In place of the Holy book, from which -you read to us—was the accursed text book of the wretch, Paine. -You knew that when he read, he placed a chair for me, and with his -cheek against mine, invited me, laughingly, to examine whether he -read correctly. One evening, out on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> the terrace,—thus we sat -down to read, and mine eyes fell upon the words before he uttered -them; “There is no God, and christianity is all priests’ fables.” -I warmly told him to throw away such blasphemy. He laughed, and -added that it was his bible, and that he would sell the old one for -a penny! From step to step he went on, and became a drunkard and -a debauchee. He was so entangled with companions, that he would -not abandon their society. Still he loved me, wept as I wept, and -said that he was sorry for his conduct, and then laughed like a -fiend. Every night his associates came, in a coach, and took him -away to their foul orgies. In the outskirts of the town,—for, -Arthur, I have followed, though concealed—they lighted a fire, -burned the Bible, and then drove to the haunts of depravity. -Henry’s handsome form became emaciated, and almost loathsome; but -I embraced him more fondly than ever. His full bright eyes were -sunk and bloodshot. One night, he promised to stay with me at home, -and all my hopes revived. What happy hours we spent! He led me to -my apartment, and kissed me. He even implored God’s blessing upon -me. I saw him kneel before his Maker. I heard him plead love for -his sister, aye, and forgiveness for himself. I sank to sleep, -overpowered with a delirium of joy! And yet, Arthur, he deceived -me. He joined his companions, and in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> coach, they repaired to a -vale, and there began to make a sacrament to the devil! Prayers and -praises to him were made in the midst of mirth and wine; and they -literally took the cup of damnation in their hands, and quaffed -it off. They invoked the enemy. The inhabitants of the suburbs -were aroused from their repose by awful noises. They went to the -place whence they seemed to proceed, and my brother, and two of -his associates, were found dead, and horribly mangled. A black -form was said to hover near them. What a corpse Henry was! And -yet, I watched every minute beside it, kissed the hideous lips, -until he was taken to the grave. Every night that coach comes for -him as usual. It is a Phantom Coach. On a beautiful night, it has -the sound of a light coach; and on a stormy one, that of a heavy -coach. The first night after his funeral, it came. I started up, -thinking that his associates had resolved to insult me. I rushed to -the window, but saw nothing. It tarried the usual time, and then -dashed away. I heard my brother’s voice distinctly! I stood for -hours, unable to move,—when it was heard returning. It halted, the -door opened, and a light step mounted the staircase, close by this -window, and struck against Henry’s door. In mad phrenzy I followed, -but saw nothing! All his associates have died; still, the Phantom -Coach calls regularly upon them, and takes them to their place of -rendezvous!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span></p> - -<p>She again arose, and went to the window.</p> - -<p>The horrible tale had fallen like a nightmare upon the energies -and happiness of Arthur Govenloch. He sat motionless;—when his -mistress returned, and resumed the subject.</p> - -<p>“One night—this is the anniversary of it, the first of May,—he -went out early, and told me to admit him when he knocked, without -delay. Long I watched. Mine eyes, or the bright moon, became pale; -and, at last, I fell asleep. In the midst of happy dreams I was -awoke by a loud knocking at the door. I rushed to the staircase, -and, in my hurry, fell down. I could scarcely arise to open the -door, but my love prevailed, and as Henry entered, he struck me! -yes, struck his sister! cursed my delay, and threatened worse -punishment for the next offence. This is the night when I should -have been asked to watch for and admit him, and those awful words -follow me! I knew that he afterwards wept over his cruelty—but -these words!”</p> - -<p>In vain did Arthur attempt to turn away her thoughts from the -subject, and when he failed, he requested permission to bear her -company until the morning. Often did she express a wish that she -could only see the coach and her brother.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span></p> -<p>“I hear his voice, and sometimes it sounds like the tones of his -boyhood, happy and free; and yet, I cannot see him!”</p> - -<p>The night was far advanced, and they went to the window. The sky -was dark and clouded. The moon could no longer be seen.</p> - -<p>“Arthur!” Elizabeth exclaimed in a voice of terror, “I hear the -coach; it dashes furiously along. Nay, do not hold me.”</p> - -<p>The noise was distinctly heard;—it became loud and louder. Henry’s -voice was above all, laughing, shouting, cursing. It halted. A -knocking was instantly made at the house door.</p> - -<p>“It is my brother; I cannot delay. Arthur, I must go alone. I will -speedily return to you. But I must admit Henry. Will he give me -worse than before?”</p> - -<p>She rushed out of the door as the knocking was redoubled. The door -opened, and the next moment a step was mounting the stairs. Arthur -tarried for a time; still, Elizabeth came not. He snatched a light, -and when he reached the door, there she was lying with her head on -the pavement,—dead! dead!</p> - -<p>The Spectre Coach of the Infidels, at the hour of midnight, -stopping at their old abodes, is said still to be heard. Coachmen -have anxiously looked before them, expecting to come into collision -with it. Dogs commence to howl, and yet are frightened; and many a -traveller has heard, but none ever seen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> “the Spectre Coach.”</p> - - - - -<h2><a name="THE_CROSS_AND_LADY_MABEL" id="THE_CROSS_AND_LADY_MABEL"></a>THE CROSS AND LADY MABEL.</h2> -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<div><p class="hang"> -<img src="images/stars.jpg" width="30" height="18" alt="asterism" /> -<span class="small">THE CHRONICLER, IN THE FOLLOWING LEGEND, ADHERES TO THE STATEMENTS -OF THE GENEALOGICAL ROLL OF THE BRADSHAIGH FAMILY, IN REFERENCE TO -THE KNIGHTLY HERO’S EXPEDITION TO THE HOLY LAND.</span> -</p></div> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>The banner was waving over the goodly mansion of Haigh Hall, on the -twenty-sixth anniversary of Sir William Bradshaigh’s birth, and all -the retainers, from the scullion to the seneschal were boisterously -enjoying themselves, in a hearty eating, drinking, and laughing. On -every eminence in view, small flags had been placed, and some of -these sported their colours on the loftiest trees, in the adjoining -woods. But, although much good cheer had been placed near these, -to attract a small company, they were left solitary, as tokens to -strangers, for all the knight’s men were assembled at the porch of -the Hall, quaffing the foaming goblet to his honour and prosperity, -and to his success in his intended expedition as a Crusader. With -earliest morn the appropriate demonstrations had commenced, but -they became more ardent and joyous towards sunset. A chair was then -placed on the threshold, for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> minstrel whose chivalrous strains -were to be heard by all, in praise of his noble master. One burst -of merry applause greeted him, as the aged man took his seat, and -as he gently touched the strings to Sir William’s glory, within, -the fair bosom of Lady Mabel, heaved with answering sympathy. She -embraced her children, and looking upwards, prayed that they might -be good, and brave as their father; and when Sir William joined -her, she added, as handsome and beautiful.</p> - -<p>Sir William Bradshaigh, in person, enjoyed the aristocracy of -nature, as well as of birth. His stature was not tall, neither was -his frame muscular; yet not a limb, not a feature, seemed out of -keeping with the impress of his mind. His was the true nobility -of face and form, and as he appeared sheathed in armour, with the -cross embroidered on the scarf over his breast, he brought along -with him ideas of the mournful and weeping spirit of Palestine, -trusting to his arm for relief, from the scourge and the tread of -the daring Infidel. On gazing at some persons, you feel convinced -that they are entirely fitted by nature for that which has given -them fame. The very hands, as well as the features, seem to be -stamped with it, and the soul, visibly looks through every part -and limb. Thus was it with Sir William. You could not doubt, on -beholding his form, that he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> a knight of unequalled bravery -and skill, although young and slender. The small white hands were -locked in those of his beautiful Mabel, but they seemed as well -fitted for grasping the sword.</p> - -<p>Well might Lady Mabel be his match. The faultless symmetry of her -majestic person, added to her raven tresses, and brightly glowing -eye, were for the wife, a perfect counterpart to the husband. -A meek beauty rested upon her countenance, which every thought -and feeling, gently disturbed. She was naturally pale, and this -circumstance tended to make her features better interpreters of -her mind; for colour, although it be the most pure and delicate, -frequently hides under its roses the play and change of the -passions. She was now emerging from the sprightliness of the -maiden, into the holy serenity of the matron; and as the mother of -his babes, the knight loved her more than as his young mistress. -Her locks were braided simply over her brow.</p> - -<p>“My own Mabel,” said the knight, “where are thy jewels? Shame on -their beauties that they dread a comparison with the light of those -eyes!”</p> - -<p>“Sir William,” answered the lady with a sigh, “would you have a -widow deck herself with the mimicry of gladness?”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span></p> -<p>“Yes, love, in order that she may wile another to take away the -dark veil of her loneliness.”</p> - -<p>“Another,” shrieked Mabel faintly. “Cruel.”</p> - -<p>“Nay,” returned Sir William, “you are not yet a widow;—you are my -wife. Nor will I doubt your constancy when I am gone to the wars. -These” embracing his children as he spoke, “are the pledges of your -faith. But, Mabel, where are the jewels for your forehead? ’Tis -meet that for the banquet you appear among the other ladies as the -most beautiful.”</p> - -<p>“Give my brow a few kisses,” replied his lady, as she threw her -arms around his neck, “these Sir William, are my jewels.”</p> - -<p>“But for thine absence, love, I would have been completely happy -in Palestine, with all the dreams of its former loveliness and -greatness haunting me, beside its still fountains and on its -heavenly hills. Could the breezes of the Holy Land but fan my -Mabel’s cheek as they will do mine, there I could die. But we must -go forth, and greet our trusty retainers. Ho! hither, page, and -lead my children!”</p> - -<p>Lady Mabel took her husband’s arm, and the page followed with the -children. She appeared fonder than ever, and frequently gazed on -the Cross which Sir William wore, with something of pride, but more -of sorrow; and at this, many of the retainers were for a moment -silent, and passed a rough hand across their eyes, to wipe away the -tears which had gathered there. But the minstrel’s lay became loud<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> -and thrilling, and they rushed forward, with less respect than -otherwise, and took their master by the hand. He warmly responded -to this expression of their attachment. He passed them and wandered -on to the highest peak on the range of elevated ground adjoining. -Nature, too, kept her holiday, and revelled in smiles. She was -attired in her richest dress of summer. Her music, filling the -air, was sweet, and echoed from her very throne, amidst the depths -of the grove and vale; and her breath was bland. Before them, and -around them were deep glens, and towering mountains in miniature. -Ay, there seemed to be the miniature of the world itself; for the -prospect of many counties was stretched out, and the far off sea, -with its blue waves, leaping to the sun.</p> - -<p>But night’s curtain fell over the scene, and to it Sir William -then pronounced his farewell, and to ease his heart lifted up his -youngest child in his arms, and fondled him playfully.</p> - -<p>All was song and mirth in the evening banquet. The minstrel assayed -his art, and ladies fair crowded around him, whilst lords gazed -upon their wine-cups unemptied, as they listened to his strains. -He played of the dark eyes, gazing in the pale light of the moon -at the lattice, for the expected lover. But as he met the downcast -and <a id="Err_7" name="Err_7"></a>pensive eye of Lady Mabel, he changed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> his notes, and the harp -tuned the following ditty to her praise.</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Age, quit the strings: a vesper song—all sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not for the dance, let moonlight’s spirits wake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With wild, yet modest touch, from snowy feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As they fly o’er, with music-shells the lake<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Has coloured and attuned, to Mabel fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sounding of happiness beyond all care—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And let the song be given,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">To pure Reserve—the child of heaven.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">In the gay hall of dazzling light,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">There is a seat apart from all;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where radiance, soothing, yet not bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And music soft, so gently fall;—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It is the calm recess:—no nerve<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Is needed for the light, and sound;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Such is to love—the heart’s reserve,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Where truth and peace are ever found.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Reserve is the heart’s own home,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Where music oft for One has swelled,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the heaving bosom breathes “come,”<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Although the fair hand was with-held<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From a stranger: it is the veil<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Over Love’s holy temple, I wist,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through which no bright eyes look a Hail<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To any save to the high-priest!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">It gives a dole to the pilgrim lone,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And to him a threshold seat;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It turns an ear to his troubled moan,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And stoops to bathe his aching feet!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But its sanctuary is for one,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For one! Sir William of Haigh Hall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Mabel there leads you alone!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Gentles, God’s blessing on you all.<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>Mabel arose from her seat, and with her own hands poured forth a -cup of the rosy wine, and placed it in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> the hands of the minstrel, -as his grateful reward. Meanwhile, the proud dame, Sir William’s -mother, had entered. She motioned him out of the room. He followed -her into the large winding gallery. The window at the eastern -extremity, seemed of the moonshine, and the rays mingled with -the dim light of the tapers. There were all the portraits of his -ancestors, and their faces were turned upon their youthful heir.</p> - -<p>“My son,” said the dame, “thou hast now to leave a mother, a wife, -and a home, for the Holy Land. Gaze upon these faces of your race, -whilst I recount the deeds for which they have been distinguished. -Catch courage, from the tale, and let a mother rejoice in her boy.”</p> - -<p>“Mother,” the knight replied, “I am my father’s son, and I wear my -father’s sword; but more, I am Sir William Bradshaigh! I need not -to seek, at present, courage from the valour of my forefathers. I -have long known their faces, and can sum up their achievements. I -have played here in boyhood, but, in their hallowed presence, never -could I play with any thing save a sword. From all their stern -array of features, I have turned to look upon that sweet lady, who, -so I have heard the worthy friar say, was not one of our race.”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span></p> -<p>“My son, wouldst thou know her history? But see here, Mabel has -followed thee. God bless ye both, my children.”</p> - -<p>“Sir William, why hast thou uncourteously left the feast and me?” -asked Mabel, in a fond and chiding tone.</p> - -<p>“Hush, Mabel, our mother is to rehearse the fate of the beautiful -girl.”</p> - -<p>He led them to the middle of the gallery, and pointed to the -portrait of a young female. There was nothing but enthusiastic -beauty and love, beaming on her countenance, and her bosom was -exposed, after the fashion of the times. Her brow was noble and -open, and although the ringlets were thrown back all around, there -was nothing stern; all was so gentle and sweet. Her lips seemed -to open a promised heaven, and the moonbeams flickered around and -gleamed upon them like the fiery cherubim at the gates of Paradise, -to guard the sweet fruit of the knowledge of good and love. There -was a mingled expression of archness and simplicity, and the bright -head seemed to toss itself in coquetry, and deny what the loving -eyes confessed. A light drapery covered the arms, to the elbow, and -the under part was naked, whilst the pretty fingers might have been -thought to be playing with the rays, which danced upon the canvass. -Oh! Beauty! how powerful are thy charms, even by the painter’s art! -Whilst living in thyself,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> thou commandest the worship of genius, -wisdom, and valour, and all their trophies are laid at thy feet. -Their hand is placed upon the sounding harp, their hand turns over -the records of old sages, their hand is died in blood, only to win -a smile from thee! The Angel of death, is heaven’s painter of thee, -and he sketches thine undecaying form, in the light of our dreams. -And even in the illusion of a noble art, for ages thou receivest -homage, as free from hypocrisy, as from sinister motives, and in -the sigh and the tear, accompanying our glance, thy memory speaks -and moves!</p> - -<p>Sir William and his lady, could have knelt and prayed for happiness -on the fate of that young female, as if it were yet in the future. -Their mother, after a short pause, seated herself opposite, and -began the tale.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span></p> -<p>‘When the lion-hearted Richard of England went to the Holy Land, -not a braver and more handsome knight was in his train, than the -youthful De Norris, your grandsire, Mabel. He was accomplished -in all the arts of peace and war. His trophy of the one, is that -Paynim standard, which hangs on the wall in decayed tatters; and of -the other, the love and the heart of that beautiful girl, Magdalene -Montfort, his young cousin.</p> - -<p>‘Her residence, since her orphan childhood, had been the hall, and -William De Norris, her sole companion. Often have they wandered -together in this gallery, by moonlight, and the ghosts of the -warriors of her race, could not frighten their young love.’</p> - -<p>“Mabel,” softly whispered Sir William Bradshaigh to his lady, “is -not this our own tale?”</p> - -<p>The dame proceeded, ‘He took her to the neighbouring woods, and -there they passed whole days—he the shepherd, and she the rustic -maid. She often sat on his knee, while he combed her long golden -locks. But the crusade inspired in De Norris’s mind, thoughts and -desires for glory. He dreamt of nothing but the lakes and holy -mountains of Palestine, where the daring Richard should pitch his -camp, afterwards to become his court. The cross was ever before -him, and a warrior’s arms were glorious to behold, dipped in the -Saviour’s blood, and consecrated to his cause. Was the licentious -prophet to hold the inheritance of the meek and lowly Jesus? In -vain did Magdalene weep, and by tears and caresses, entreat her -William to stay in his father’s halls. He vowed that the cross must -seal their marriage, and that he would be faithful to his love. -Yet, proud was she, as the morn of parting came, and De Norris -mounted his fiery charger. He was so beautiful and gallant! He had -pronounced the tender farewell, as the trumpets sounded, and his -followers rallied around him. But a sudden thought brightened over -his features,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> and he spurred back to Magdalene, and sprang from -his steed.</p> - -<p>‘“My own Magdalene, give me thy portrait that hangs in my -apartment, that in my tent, before and after our engagements, I may -think of thee, and implore thy blessing.”</p> - -<p>‘“Nay, William De Norris,” she replied, with a feint sigh, “should -you be faithless, how would that silent resemblance, recall to thee -our past vows, and bitterly chide thee for thy falseness. I would -not even then, give thee uneasiness. But William, think of me as -fondly, as I will of you! Farewell!” and she threw her arms around -him, and wept on his neck.</p> - -<p>‘Cœur De Lion, honoured your ancestor by marks of his favour, and -once embraced him in the royal tent, after a victory, in which De -Norris had distinguished himself. Four years he had been absent, -but Magdalene forgot him not, and as every palmer appeared at the -hall, she kindly led him into her own bower, expecting to hear of -the Holy Land, and her lover. She became sad, and pale, spoke of -none but William, and of nothing but his return.</p> - -<p>‘One evening towards sunset, the family banner was suddenly raised, -for news was afloat that De Norris had returned, and was on his -way to the hall with a bride! Magdalene heard it, and from that -very moment became a maniac. She rushed out to meet him, among the -retainers.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Through the shady wood she beheld De Norris approaching. Banners -were floating over his head; and by his side rode a beautiful -lady, in white bridal robes. They were conversing together, yet -was the knight’s cheek deadly pale, and his lips quivered, as he -cast furtive glances around, which told that he expected to meet -One whom he had forsaken. But trees concealed her. To change his -emotions, he dashed the spurs into his furious steed, in order that -his spirit might be chafed in curbing it, when a loud shriek was -given, and the horse plunged madly on. A rush was made to the place -by his immediate attendants; and on looking back De Norris saw his -own Magdalene prostrate and mangled. He leaped down; a shudder -of despair and frenzy passed over his whole frame, and he flung -himself beside her. He called her by her name, kissed the bloody -brow, and threw back her disordered tresses.</p> - -<p>‘“My own Magdalene, forgive me; still am I thine!”</p> - -<p>‘Her eyes opened upon him. A convulsive heave of her panting -breast, a sudden grasp of her false lover’s hand, and then a -wring of bodily torture followed. The cold sweat of death was -already upon these beautiful features. They were not in the least -distorted. The hoofs of the horse had left their mark on the neck -and bosom torn and bloody! She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> cast one look upon him, raised her -head, and faintly muttered,</p> - -<p>‘“William—am I faithful? Tell me so.”</p> - -<p>‘She heard not the mad reply, and De Norris spoke to the dead!</p> - -<p>‘His bride had fainted, and was, forthwith, carried to the hall. -Hours had passed, and the retainers dared not approach their lord. -But those stationed at the porch, at length beheld him approach, -with the shattered corpse of Magdalene in his arms.</p> - -<p>‘“My bridal couch! Shew me the way. Dost hear me, knave. Oh no, -what sorry attendants on hymeneal delights!”</p> - -<p>‘His bride met him. She kissed the cold features of the dead, and -forgave the living. William knelt at the feet of his wife, and -sought pardon for his treachery.</p> - -<p>‘Again there were sounds of revelry, and by all, save the -bridegroom, poor Magdalene was forgotten! To a late hour the -banquet and the dance inspired them with pleasure, and wine and -song made them gay and merry.</p> - -<p>‘De Norris and his bride retired to their apartment. The tapers -were extinguished, when a dim and beauteous light filled the room, -and Magdalene stood at the foot of their couch, attired in the -same dress as when William parted from her for the Holy Land. She -stood, her fair hands clasped together, as if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> earnestly imploring -them for some favour. Her air was slightly reproachful; but deep, -unending love was expressed. De Norris, in tones of horror, -addressed her,—</p> - -<p>‘“Spirit of my Magdalene, why tormentest thou me and my innocent -bride? I have been faithless, but she saved my life, and how could -I repay her kindness, but with my heart’s love! Still Magdelene I -have not forgotten you—nor can I ever!”</p> - -<p>‘“William,” a low and sweet voice uttered, and De Norris felt a -cold, yet loving kiss, upon his trembling lips—“William, grant me -but one favour, and I will bless you both. My portrait, which hangs -in the gallery, take it down, and every night when you retire to -rest, oh! lay it between you! Do this William, and I am yours in -the other world!”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p> -<p>‘He started from the couch, and sought the gallery. A strange light -glowed on the portrait. He knelt, and prayed to heaven. Deep peace -descended upon his troubled mind, and he arose, calm and happy. -He took the portrait down, kissed the mimic lips, and then sought -his bridal chamber. Magdalene’s request was complied with most -devoutly, and they were happy; but they did not forget Magdalene. -The retainers affirmed that they had seen her wandering through -the wood, and singing, as in other days, when De Norris was by her -side. Her light step was occasionally recognized, ascending the -corridor, and dancing in her own apartment.</p> - -<p>‘De Norris, to perform fitting penance for his treachery, erected a -Cross, at the eastern gate of Wigan, where Magdalene had often sat, -and there he paid his stated pilgrimages. That, my children, is the -portrait: the light over the features seems prophetic!’</p> - -<p>Lady Mabel shuddered at the tale, and some dark forebodings crept -over her soul. Yet these were not fears lest Sir William Bradshaigh -should prove false; something more criminal on her part, which she -dared not think of.</p> - -<p>They left the gallery, and once more entered into the mirth of the -banqueting scene.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Ten years have passed; and in that epoch, what changes visit man! -Wisely did the ancient dramatists give to tragedy, the unity -of time, the briefness of a day; to denote that a few hours -are sufficient for the developement of awful, and unexpected -consequences! How much more will the lapse of ten years mark the -mutability of every lot, but that of the dead; and the altered -condition of every home but the grave! Time decays not; it is only -man. Speak of “Old Father Time:”—but is his step more sober, than -when he rode over the unformed chaos of earth’s materials, or flew -over the fragrant shade of Paradise?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> Does his pulse beat more -slowly? Do moments become days; or days, years?</p> - -<p>Ten years have elapsed, and Lady Mabel had arisen early. She sat -alone in a room, which might have been more appropriately called -a cell. Grief had anticipated the silvery touch of time, and grey -hairs were visible amidst her raven locks. Yet, there was the -same sweet and majestic countenance as before. Bathe the human -countenance in heaven’s own dew, or in the gentle and clear stream, -and it will beam joyfully; but bathe it in the heart’s tears, and -it beams so sweetly! She counted her beads, and then looked up -for pardon, as fondly and anxiously as a wife numbers the minutes -before her lord’s return. She heeded not the fragrance which stole -in at the small casement; it neither assisted nor marred her -devotions. The sun was bright, and joyous, still she turned not her -pale face to its cheering influence. She laid aside her rosary, and -sat like a statue of sorrowful thought, if statues can be stamped -with such an expression. At length she slowly arose and looked out -of the casement into the deep wood, and sighed. Overpowered by -disagreeable reflections, she wished to fly from the place, where -she had no other view. But the door refused to give way to her -repeated attempts. It was early noon, and all the day, so long and -weary, must she remain there! She clasped her hands together,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> and -bitterly exclaimed, whilst she gasped for breath, at the discovery,</p> - -<p>“Gracious heaven! why, am I then a prisoner, and in mine own -mansion! Ha! the very banner of my family waves over this tower, -proudly; and yet I, the mistress of Haigh, must be confined, and -denied the privilege of the meanest servant! It is but just, though -I deserve it not from Sir Osmund. But hush, I hear footsteps. -My soul, rise brave within me, and tell the usurper what he is, -although he may be my—husband,” and she raised an hysterical laugh -at the word, and drew herself proudly up.</p> - -<p>A hasty scuffle was made in the passage, and an angry voice was -heard; it was Sir Osmund Neville’s.</p> - -<p>“Dost hear me, boy! Back to thy crib! Dost wish to suck thy -dam—the wolf? Back—” and a heavy stroke enforced the words. But -no cry of pain was raised; it might have fallen on the wall, but -for the loud laugh of joy, raised by the tormentor. The scuffle -continued, when a weak, but firm voice was heard—</p> - -<p>“Strike on, Sir Osmund; strike hard. I care not, for I <em>will</em> see -my mother! This is a Bradshaigh’s resolution!”</p> - -<p>“A Bradshaigh!” was the reply,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> “I have put horns upon the noble -head of the family, and have written Sir William a cuckold, by -marrying Mab!”</p> - -<p>“Hold,—not a word,” returned the boy, in tones fierce and daring, -“a few years make me a knight, and then chastisement for the fat -and cowardly Welsh! Stand back, Sir Osmund, and let me see my -mother.”</p> - -<p>The voice had gradually heightened until all the boy had vanished, -and the accents sounded manly and defying.</p> - -<p>Lady Mabel shrieked, and exclaimed—</p> - -<p>“My brave boy, the son of his father! Heaven bless and protect him, -to plead my cause, in fitting time and mode, and assert his own -rights!”</p> - -<p>But the voice of the knight became louder and louder,</p> - -<p>“Boy, minion! son of an ape! whose father pretended to bear the -cross, when he should have hung for his villanies, on the highest -in England! Go to my groom, and learn thy duty to my horse. He -reports to me that you are refractory. Well, your wages are due. -Take that, and that, and that,” and thrice the lash fell fiercely -on the noble boy. “Well” he resumed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> “dost hear thy mother’s voice? -You know a mother’s shriek; that is her only tone! Oh fond fool! -Well, you wish to see your mother, fillial fool: my strokes have -given you a prettier face than a father’s art could patch up. Come -beautiful child, and shew yourself to the proud gaze of a mother, -on your cowardly father’s birthday.”</p> - -<p>“Cowardly! He would have driven you, Sir Osmund, from this nest. -Cowardly!”</p> - -<p>The door was burst open, and Lady Mabel beheld her eldest son (a -youth of fifteen) dragged in by the Welsh knight, her husband; his -face was bloody, and there were marks of a livid hue on his cheeks -and neck.</p> - -<p>“Mother,” exclaimed the knight, laughing at his -blasphemy,—“mother, behold your son.” He approached, bowed his -unwieldy form in mock reverence at her feet, whilst his sinister -eye attempted to express sarcastic admiration and love. His hair -hung, matted, over his Welsh outline of a face, and his ill-formed -mouth, in smiling, became a hideous gash—gash!</p> - -<p>The boy rushed to his mother, and fondly placed his hand beneath -her chin, to raise her countenance from the knight, kneeling in -mockery. She kissed his forehead, and with her lips wiped off the -blood, and hugged him to her bosom. <a id="Err_8" name="Err_8"></a>He was a noble boy, and never -had he crouched to his mother’s husband.</p> - -<p>“Mother, now I am safe.”</p> - -<p>“It is the fool’s birth-day,” said Sir Osmund, as he left his -recumbent posture, “yes, it is, my sweet Mab. Rejoice, rejoice; -shall I send my jester to help thee to a laugh?”</p> - -<p>“If in doing so” replied the spirited boy, “you send away yourself.”</p> - -<p>Once more he was struck to the ground, by the enraged knight.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Oh! Sir Osmund”—exclaimed Mabel, “save him! I shall tutor him to -love thee fondly!”</p> - -<p>“That would be a difficult task, dear mother” answered the boy, -with great indifference, as he arose and fixed a stern look of -defiance upon Sir Osmund.</p> - -<p>The knight paced the room in boiling wrath, but his rage dared not -meet the glance of that boyish eye, so powerful is innocence. He -turned abruptly upon Lady Mabel, and said,</p> - -<p>“Harkee, Lady. Here you must be confined; these are my jailors, -four in number, trusty fellows,” and he pulled out four keys, as he -spoke. “Content yourself, good wife, and pray to Sir William to be -relieved from Sir Osmund.”</p> - -<p>Mabel threw herself down on her knees, humbly before him.</p> - -<p>Her locks fell from the slight silken band, which passed across her -forehead, as if to strengthen the power of her supplications. They -concealed the noble expansion of her brow, as if dignity ought then -to be lost in condescension. Her eyes were raised so mournfully, -although no tears were visible. But she might as well have -addressed herself to the stones, and the echoes would have given -a kinder reply. The knight stamped furiously, and impatiently, as -Mabel spoke.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span></p> -<p>“Sir Osmund, confine me not here. It is too, too near the picture -gallery, and I have been lately visited by such awful dreams and -sights there, that I shudder. For your own sake, my wedded—nay, -Sir Osmund, I will not speak falsehood; I cannot call you -husband;—Sir William, forgive me!”</p> - -<p>In a moment, she forgot that she was supplicating a favour from the -ruffian knight. Her eyes were turned upon vacancy, but with such an -earnest expression! Her bosom heaved, her lips slightly quivered, -and a strange light gleamed from her eyes. In a hollow voice she -whispered, whilst her hands were clasped together,</p> - -<p>“Spirit of the departed! forgive me for my treachery to thy memory. -No—no; I have not been faithless to thee for ten long years, if -silent and lonely vigils can conjure up what thou wert; if penance -dark and painful can change me to thee, from what I am, to what I -once was! Oh! cannot that which withers all the bloom and freshness -of my youth, on the cold, cold stones, likewise efface every other -name but Mabel Bradshaigh: dear, dear name! Our noble mother was -gone to thee before I consented to be another’s, in name; and even -then, but for our children, thy grave should have been my second -nuptial couch!”</p> - -<p>“Would that you would hasten to its delights, then” interrupted -the brutal knight, as he approached and patted her head in scorn.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> -“Call on your torch bearers, for Hymen’s light; bid them be quick, -and consummate the ceremony. But to turn from this fine reverie of -your’s, sweet Mab, you must leave this room and follow me <a id="Err_9" name="Err_9"></a>into that -frightful gallery. You may then make orisons to all the painted -heroes; and improve yourself so much as to become a holy father. -But, methinks that you are here visited also by strange sights, -and you will have more space, in the other room to fly from them. -Come, not a moment’s disobedience, and there dream of Sir William. -It is his birthday, and he ought to appear unto you, as a matter of -courtesy. And oh, do not be faithless, and treacherous to him! Go -after him, and leave me Haigh! Ha, ha! And as for the young fry, it -matters not where he be confined; he may go to the devil, and dance -on the holiday of his father’s birth. Come Mabel; aye, you may kiss -the boy, wipe the blood from off his face, and he wont pollute the -clear fountains before the porch. Come, sweet Mab.”</p> - -<p>Mabel embraced her son, and followed Sir Osmund into the gallery, -and as he retired she heard the heavy bar secured on the outside.</p> - -<p>Meantime, the boy found his younger brother, and they wandered -forth, together, into the wood. They sat down and gazed upon the -window of the room, where their lady mother was confined, and long -and affectionately they spoke of her wrongs. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> younger, clapped -his hands and shouted, as he beheld her handkerchief waving from -the casement; a sure proof that she had observed them. It was a -pleasant day, in the most pleasant season; and soon their young -hearts became free and happy, and they thought of some knight -of romance spurring forward on a black steed, with glorious and -shining arms, to free their mother from her shameful durance. They -found their bows, and gay archers, shot through the wood, making -it resound with their gladness. Oh what a blessing a young heart -is! It has in itself a balm for all its grief! Spring and summer -have many flowers, but childhood and youth have as many hopes; and -they even descend from a mother’s arms into the grave without being -withered.</p> - -<p>They rambled, hand in hand, down the steep hill, which by a -circuitous rout, leads to Wigan. The way was then romantic, and -all around, beautiful glens were lying in the arms of majestic -eminences, and every thing bore the stamp of feudal and chivalrous -days. The Church turrets were seen against the cloudless sky like -the pencillings of Hope, and Charity; whilst the quiet vales were -sprinkled over with tamed lambs. The boys, at intervals, on their -way looked back to the hall of their ancestors, admiring the broad -pendant which floated over the stately tower. At length they -reached the Cross, erected on the outside<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> of Standishgate. There -the town guards were in conversation with a holy palmer. He seemed -to speak little, and only put a few questions. His piercing eyes -glanced from beneath his large cowl. His hands played with the -crucifix which was suspended from his neck; and on his sable cloak -were embroidered Peter’s keys.</p> - -<p>“Here, reverend father,” said one of the guards, “here are Sir -William’s boys; they will shew thee the way to the hall.”</p> - -<p>The palmer started at the words. He eagerly looked upon the boys, -and raising his hands above their heads, implored a blessing.</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes,” they both exclaimed, and took hold of his hands.</p> - -<p>“Is it near the hour of vespers at the Haigh?” inquired the palmer. -“Many, many years have elapsed since they were chanted there in my -hearing. How sweetly the hymn stole up through the little echoes. -Who, then, sat beside me? Ha! who now will? But, boys, how is your -lady mother?” and he waited breathlessly for the answer, with his -eyes intently fixed upon their countenances.</p> - -<p>“Holy father,” the eldest replied, “she is well, but needs comfort.”</p> - -<p>The noble mansion of Haigh was now seen through an opening in the -woods. Long and anxiously did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> the palmer look thereon; yet his was -not the gaze of a stranger; for many emotions, arising from many -recollections, were marked in the motions of his head.</p> - -<p>“My boys, why does the banner float over Haigh?”</p> - -<p>“It is our father’s birth-day,” was the reply, “and oh, in your -nightly orisons, pray for his gallant soul,—he was slain in -battle.”</p> - -<p>“Slain in battle!” exclaimed the palmer, with a fierceness half -concealed. “Who bore the message:—who told you that you were -orphans?”</p> - -<p>“A friar had shrived the soul of one of his retainers, who -confessed that he had seen his noble master die, and a Welsh knight -confirmed it.”</p> - -<p>The holy men paused, and struck his hand violently against his -breast.</p> - -<p>“But your mother—how did she receive the news of your father’s -death?”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></p> -<p>“Oh, father, do not ask me to think of her sorrows. For a year she -walked not forth with us, as before, to speak of Palestine and him. -We were clasped to her bosom: still we dreaded the embrace, for -there was a violent heaving of her heart, which made us shudder, -and the black, black robes of her widowhood, were close upon our -cheeks: we could not endure her kisses, for, as she raised us to -her lips, tears fell upon our faces.”</p> - -<p>The reverend palmer put his arms kindly around them.</p> - -<p>“Oh,” cried the elder boy, “you pity my mother and us. Heaven bless -your affectionate heart! I was not old enough, when he departed, to -tell him how brave I would be, and perhaps he died in doubts, lest -I might disgrace his name.”</p> - -<p>“Brave boy;” and as the palmer spoke, he took the youth’s hand and -shook it, as a warrior would the hand of his brother, “you will not -disgrace his name. But let us sit down beneath this tree, for I am -wearied with a long pilgrimage.”</p> - -<p>He had before walked slowly, and now proposed to be seated, as if -he wished to delay the time. And who does not pause, when, after a -long absence, he returns home, and fortify his bosom to know the -worst. We dare not open the door, as if that would disclose too -wide a scene to our view; but we gaze in at the small lattice, -just to recognize one object, and know that all is not lost. We -refuse the light of day to shew us home, and eve is the time of our -welcome to all its hallowed joys—if these still survive.</p> - -<p>He took the bow from the hands of the elder boy, and examined it -long.</p> - -<p>“It is my father’s bow,” said the youth,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> “and, at a long distance, -he could pierce the first arrow with the second. My mother loves -it. See, their names are carved upon it.”</p> - -<p>The palmer laid it down, and leaned against the tree.</p> - -<p>“Father, art thou weary? Alas, Haigh Hall, now cannot afford thee a -shelter. Sir Osmund Neville—”</p> - -<p>“Who is he?” said the holy palmer, starting up. His cowl fell from -his face, and gave to view a calm and manly forehead, with auburn -locks curling on it. It was pale, but commanding. “Who is Sir -Osmund Neville?”</p> - -<p>The boys looked with astonishment.</p> - -<p>“Hast thou been a warrior?” asked the younger. “Thou resemblest -what my mother tells us our father was; and he was a brave warrior. -But, holy man, Sir Osmond is my mother’s—”</p> - -<p>“Husband!”—exclaimed the palmer with a faint shriek. He turned -aside. “Good God!—what a return! My own halls cast me forth. My -wife’s pillow refuses to give rest to my wearied head! Sir William -is a stranger in Haigh! Would that the report had been true. Yet -now I will dare the worst.” He replaced his cowl. “Where is Sir -Osmund?”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span></p> -<p>“He is now a hunting, and has confined my mother to an apartment -where none can visit her. He struck me wantonly, but I shall yet -repay him for my mother’s wrongs.”</p> - -<p>“Couldst thou conduct me to thy mother, to give her holy comfort?”</p> - -<p>“Thank thee, heaven thank thee! I know a secret passage to the -picture gallery, where she is now in durance. All the retainers -keep to their duties, and they love me for my father’s sake. They -would not inform Sir Osmund. Come on, holy father, the brow of the -hill is soon passed!”</p> - -<p>They hastened their steps, and soon arrived at the hall.</p> - -<p>“There my mother stands at the window.”</p> - -<p>The palmer gave a quick glance upwards, in the direction, and then -turned away.</p> - -<p>The boys took each a hand, and led him to the left tower, where was -a small entrance, communicating by a long and intricate passage -with the staircase which led to the gallery. Before them, a few of -Sir Osmund’s men were lying, with their faces, broad and bluff, -turned upwards. They were sunning themselves, in imitation of -the cattle in the park, and, certainly, there was no reason why -they should not follow such an excellent example, especially for -kindred’s sake. Their large eyes were shut, but had just as much -expression as when they were open. Their mouth, however, the use of -which they were not altogether so lazy as to abandon, was stretched -out,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> covering their cans of ale, which, by no common strength of -suction, they were fast emptying. Their breasts were heaving with -the zeal of the application, and the delight of the fermentation. -At length a pause was made. They turned to each other. They spoke -not by words, and yet their thick, ruddy lips, bedewed with the -liquor, were very expressive. A loud laugh followed, which was -feelingly responded to, and prolonged by, the lowing oxen. They -looked round upon the holy palmer, as his steps were heard.</p> - -<p>“Ho!—ho! take a cup,” exclaimed one of them. “Drink on Sir -William’s birth-day, a long health to his ghost! Here,” and he -thrust an empty cup into the palmer’s hand.</p> - -<p>For a moment the holy man’s cowl was raised from his flashing eyes, -as if to make some discovery, and his arm was stretched forth -from the cloak in which he was so closely muffled, with the hand -clenched, and the veins almost leaping through the thin dried skin -which covered them. The next moment, he courteously declined the -Welshman’s proffer. But his cheek was deadly pale, and a livid hue -flitted over his lips. The elder boy started forward, and grasped -one of the short swords lying naked beside the men, and, like their -masters, sunning themselves.</p> - -<p>“Cowards,” the youth white with rage cried out,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> “insult the holy -man but again, and I shall fill the empty cups with your blood.”</p> - -<p>But his arm was arrested by the palmer.</p> - -<p>“Nay, nay,” said he meekly, “thou art headstrong and rash. But our -Holy Mother inflicts a penance upon these men, for their irreverent -and unbecoming treatment of her humble son and servant. What! -profane wretches, do you laugh? Beware. If this crucifix brand the -curse, woe, woe unto you. Boy, lead them to the penance room, and I -myself will release them. Come.”</p> - -<p>They dared not disobey; for then, every man, noble, or knight, or -menial, was the priest’s retainer. The ministers of the altar were -more powerful than the satellites of the throne, and beneath the -single pall and crosier of the one, lurked a vengeance which could -scathe and destroy the proud tiara of the other. How mysterious and -yet real was the influence concealed in the slightest external of -the Church!</p> - -<p>The Welsh retainers groaned as they were compelled to rise, and -proceed into the dark and cheerless apartment, which, in later -times, served for a dungeon. The palmer turned the key, and -fastened it to his belt.</p> - -<p>“They are safe,” he whispered to himself. They were now met by some -of Sir William’s old retainers, who bowed low to the holy man, and -seemed inclined, by their looks and haltings, to ask concerning -their dead lord.</p> - -<p>Feudal times might be the times of slavery on the part of -retainers, but they were those also of fidelity and strong -attachment. These retainers might be treated as brutes, but if so, -they were treated like dogs, and in return they yielded a service -which no hire could have extorted. Their love for their lord was -powerful, and yet instinctive; their happiness was genuine, and -yet animal,—far from the happiness of man. Their privileges were -extensive; not scullions of the kitchen, they were the genii of the -old halls. Their attachment to places and domains,—was that of -the dog. As they were fond of loitering in old paths, or glancing -at the proud mansion, or seated at the porch, their feelings were -those of that animal, licking every part of the house, and lying -down on favourite spots. And when their lord departed they drooped -and pined; not as men sorrowing.</p> - -<p>These reflections might have been awakened at a sight of the old -servants of the Bradshaigh family, as they gazed so anxiously and -inquiringly. Go to a house where the master has been long absent. -An affectionate dog answers to your knock, and whines so piteously, -and looks so fondly, as if begging to know tidings of him who has -gone. Such was the appearance of the aged retainers of Haigh.</p> - -<p>The palmer blessed them, in low tones, but feelingly, and then -passed on with the boys.</p> - -<p>They crept through the entrance, and were soon threading their way -through the dark labyrinth. They gained the staircase. The palmer -had taken the lead, evidently familiar with the place. He paused, -and listened to the gentle tread of Lady Mabel. He strained his -ears, as if expecting to hear the music of the voice, as well as -of the foot; not for the sake of the future, but of the past. The -setting rays, rich from the golden west, were streaming brightly -on a little lattice, which lighted a recess in the long gallery, -and meeting those which entered by the wide casement, they threw a -dull haze around. They prevented him from seeing distinctly, as he -looked through it; but the fluttering of a white robe, and the soft -motion of a fair hand at the further extremity could be perceived. -At that moment a horse was heard approaching the hall.</p> - -<p>A suppresed shriek arose from within.</p> - -<p>“It is Sir Osmund,” exclaimed the boys.</p> - -<p>“Well,” returned the palmer in firm accents, and he seemed to -unbuckle some of his garments, whilst unconsciously he stamped in -fury.</p> - -<p>The boys tapped at the lattice.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span></p> -<p>“Mother, open unto us. Here is a holy priest, and he will comfort -thee. He hath already blessed us, and so kindly. He hath wandered -in far-off lands, and his voice speaks a foreign tale, and speaks -it gently.”</p> - -<p>Her small white hands opened the lattice.</p> - -<p>“Stay for a moment, and the holy man shall be admitted. Long is it, -since religion was allowed to enter mine apartments, to cheer my -sadness; and now it has come to my cell. Cell!”</p> - -<p>The lattice closed. The palmer stood in strange bewilderment. -Her face seemed to be a vision, and her voice a song of other -days, and all—not a dream. And why should <em>he</em> think of other -and former days? Have priests and palmers boyhood and youth? Are -they not trees without a leaf, on which no bird of heaven alights -to charm the solitude? Do they know of the earthly transports of -love and hope? Beautiful is the holy Virgin—but cold and hard -are the stones where they kneel to worship her. And why should -England be the country to excite his feelings? He had travelled -through lands more fair. Greener was the earth’s bosom, and more -beautiful the sky’s face. Why should he be moved at the sorrows of -the noble matron? At the same hour of twilight, when bathing his -wearied feet in the little stream, afar from the glistening tents -on the mountain tops, he had listened to the mournful song of the -wandering Hebrew maid. He had passed by her and laid his hands upon -the high and noble brow blessing her beauty and her sorrows. And -why should he feel the ideal presence of romance, as he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> looked -upon the woody hills of Haigh. From the gorgeous mosques he had -beheld the Mount of Olives, and the feet of the prophet-girls -dancing there, while their light scarfs were hung, floating on the -trees which crowned the summit, like the garments of angels—the -airy clouds.</p> - -<p>The door was slowly opened. Lady Mabel, as they entered, greeted -her boys, and kindly welcomed the holy man. As he took her extended -hand, a shuddering seized him; he averted his face, and caught a -glimpse of Sir Osmund dismounting, under the casement. For a few -moments, overcome by some strong emotions, he leaned upon his -palmer’s staff.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, gentle readers, be pleased to shut the door of the -gallery behind you, and walk down, leaning, as gently as possible, -on the Chronicler’s palsied arm. Do not extinguish the light,—else -we are left in total darkness, on the dangerous corridor. Let us -approach to serve the Welsh knight, who is now shouting lustily for -his servants to appear, and take his horse.</p> - -<p>“Ho! my Welshmen,” and he blew his hunting horn; but they appeared -not.</p> - -<p>“My other hounds,” he muttered, as he turned the horse, and lashed -it away to bound forth at perfect liberty,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> “my other hounds know -the horn. I shall see, presently, if these do not understand the -whip.”</p> - -<p>He entered the porch, and was there met by Parson Cliderhoe. The -knight bowed reverently, and would have passed him.</p> - -<p>“Sir Osmund Neville, will you grant me a short interview, upon a -matter of importance to both of us?”</p> - -<p>“Please your reverence,” rejoined the knight, with a mixture of -humility and haughtiness—“is it to breathe a pater-noster over my -hunting expedition? You cannot return thanks for my success, as I -have run down nothing.”</p> - -<p>Cliderhoe took him by the hand, and led him into a private -apartment. As they entered, Sir Osmund, who was fretted by his bad -luck in the chase, could ill brook the authoritative air which the -parson had assumed; and when he was angry, he usually expressed -himself in light blasphemy.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span></p> -<p>“Adam Cliderhoe, although your namesake Adam, was placed at the -head of the creation, and had all power and authority over it, -still, you have not the same, and have, therefore, no right to -lead me about wherever you list. And, reverend father, (by the -way, although you are sworn to celibacy, you have got, by some -means or other, a very large family of children, for every one -calls you father,) you, I say, have the advantage over Adam. Ah! -then there were no church lands. A pretty comfortable place that -paradise—but then he had to work, and it could not afford him a -better fleece than a few dry leaves. Now, father, these are warm -robes of yours.”</p> - -<p>“Child, do not blaspheme. You have done very little, you know, to -merit Haigh Hall, and yet you are the owner.”</p> - -<p>“Not altogether,” returned the knight. “There is one exception. -Your very large demands.”</p> - -<p>“We’ll speak of that further, Sir Osmund. Are we safe from ears and -listeners? because these do not suit secrets. Well, be seated,” and -he fastened the door.</p> - -<p>Parson Cliderhoe was then dreaded throughout all the country. By -wiles and deceits he laid a firm hand upon property. But he was as -intriguing as he was avaricious, and his plots had been treasonable -in the highest degree. These would have involved him in utter ruin, -had not gold, that potent being, redeemed him. In consideration of -large sums of money, he had been released from prison, and restored -to his living and life, when both had been justly forfeited.</p> - -<p>He had lately become an inmate of Haigh Hall, and might have been -considered its master. Sir Osmund Neville, it is true, could make -the parson the subject of jest: but the knight, in return, was the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> -subject of rule and command. To Lady Mabel and the boys, Cliderhoe -paid no attention, either in the shape of flattery or scorn.</p> - -<p>On securing the door, he laid aside his priestly robes, drew -the table back from the view of the window, nearer to the Welsh -knight’s chair, and seated himself opposite. He was of tall -stature, and nature, in this specimen of her architecture, had not -been sparing of materials, although, certainly, she might have put -them better together. If we may be allowed the expression, she had -not counted the cost with arithmetical accuracy. The head bore no -proportion to the other parts, as if her extravagance in these had -caused her to be penurious to that. Although the bones were well -cemented by fat, yet the structure was far from being elegant. It -was difficult to decide upon the true figure; and Euclid himself -must have abandoned the problem in despair. His head, which was -not shaven, but clipped closely, could not be compared to a globe; -neither was it like Atlas’s, between his shoulders. It moved -backwards and forwards with such velocity, and describing such -a large parabola, that one moment it seemed to be a few feet in -advance of the breast, and the next, its retreat was as distant. -His large ears (a true mark of villainy and vulgarity) were left -altogether exposed, stretching their wide shelter over his flabby -cheeks. His legs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> were not elastic, they might have been glass; -but his arms were electric, and they jerked about at every roll -and wriggle of his mis-shapen trunk. He took large strides, as if -his feet were not friendly to each other, save at the distance -of two yards. His complexion was dark. His eye, when it gazed on -vacancy, was dull; it only became bright from the reflection of -gold. But still, in spite of all these deformities, there was a -conscious power breathed over the appearance of Father Cliderhoe; -and, although villainy, deceit, and guile, are generally allied to -a more dwarfish form, you could not hesitate, upon seeing the man, -to pronounce that he was a habitation for such dark spirits.</p> - -<p>Sir Osmund Neville looked suspiciously towards him, as he sat -silent on his chair, occasionally moving it about, as if anxious -for something which might introduce the subject he wished to be -considered.</p> - -<p>“Father,” said the knight, “the room is but poorly lighted. Shall I -order the chandeliers to be trimmed?”</p> - -<p>“Nay, Sir Osmund,” returned the parson with a hideous leer and -smile; “nay, we have light enough. You could sign your name by this -light, Sir Osmund? I can read my prayers then. Eh? You could sign -your name?”</p> - -<p>“Sign my name!” furiously exclaimed the knight, whilst he arose and -stood upon the hearth.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> “Sign my name!”</p> - -<p>“Sir Osmund, you are not, surely, ashamed of your name,” meekly -returned Cliderhoe. “A valiant knight is proud of it.”</p> - -<p>“But to what, good father, must I give my name?” inquired the -knight, who, after the flash of first passion was over, thought it -most prudent to be calm, for he knew the character of him with whom -he had to deal.</p> - -<p>“To this little document. Written in a fair clerk’s hand; is it -not? Ah! but you warriors write in blood! Yet, which is most -durable? Read the papers. You appear exhausted, Sir Osmund. Ah! -hunting is so fatiguing; to be sure, to be sure. Who can doubt -it? The couch, brave knight, should receive your wearied limbs -forthwith. Nay, nay, I will not trouble you with listening to these -papers. Just sign your name; a few strokes of the pen, and then you -may retire. I must have a care, brave knight, over your body: you -are so reckless, and should any accident occur, chivalry would lose -its brightest lance, and the church its firmest prop. Sir Osmund, -here is a pen; affix your name below that writing.”</p> - -<p>In speaking, the parson had come nearer and nearer to the chair of -the knight. The latter started, as from the coil of a serpent.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span></p> -<p>“Never, never, Cliderhoe:—thou hypocrite,—base born!”</p> - -<p>“Hush, hush,” said the parson, in tones which struck terror, from -their very whisper, into the knight’s soul, “do not give me any -more names than my natural father, and my spiritual mother the -church, have conferred. Beware. <em>I have never absolved one sin -against myself, during a lifetime! Beware!</em>”</p> - -<p>Sir Osmund took the papers. His eye glanced quickly over them. He -laid them aside, and arose to leave the room.</p> - -<p>“Father Cliderhoe, next time make proposals a little more -extravagant, and you shall precede me in my exit from this room!”</p> - -<p>“Well,” thundered forth Cliderhoe, “bid adieu to Haigh Hall. Your -rejection of my proposal makes it necessary. But hear me, before -you go to ruin. I would yet spare you. Without my favour, you never -can lay claim to one tittle of this property. Hush, come hither,” -and he whispered earnestly, and smiled as he saw Sir Osmund’s cheek -grow pale.</p> - -<p>“What!” Sir Osmund exclaimed, “Sir William was not slain! Then he -may return?”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span></p> -<p>“He may—he may; nay, he <em>will</em>! Haigh Hall is too goodly a mansion -for him to leave to strangers. False was the word which reported -him dead. But sign this document, giving to me the half of the -estate—and let him return—we are safe. The pilgrim shall find a -resting place, though I should be compelled to take my sword, and -secure it for him. Sir Osmund, there’s light enough to sign the -name. You are a knightly scholar; spell it quickly, else, you know, -you know. Every letter will be a security against Sir William. Ha! -the large O of your christian name will be his grave!”</p> - -<p>Sir Osmund complied, and Father Cliderhoe added,</p> - -<p>“Now, knight, you must get Lady Mabel’s name too. I’ll come in an -hour—have her signature by that time. Adieu for the present, Sir -Osmund.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Let us return to the gallery. We have already noticed the -overpowering emotions which shook the frame of the palmer, as he -turned from Lady Mabel, and his eye fell on Sir Osmund, dismounting -at the porch.</p> - -<p>“Holy pilgrim,” said the lady,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> “thou art fatigued, Be seated. Alas! -now, Haigh Hall is no home for the weary and the aged;—aye, not -even for its lawful owners. For me, it is now a cell. In other -days, there was not a room, however dark and gloomy—so happy was -I,—that I did not call my bower. Then you would have found rest -and refreshment, and your blessing in return, might have been felt -to be no mockery. Now, the ministers of religion and charity are -driven forth. But where hast thou been wandering?”</p> - -<p>A long gaze, and a short verbal answer was the reply,</p> - -<p>“Lady,—in the Holy Land.”</p> - -<p>Mabel’s paleness, which had hitherto expressed so beautifully her -resignation to sorrow, was now indicative of that breathless fear -which longs to know more of danger and evil, or good and happiness; -and yet dares not. Its sweet light seemed doubtful whether or not -it should be turned upon the palmer to know more. She shaded her -face, whilst in low and trembling accents she meekly inquired,</p> - -<p>“And in all thy wanderings didst thou ever hear of a gallant -English knight, who fought beneath the banner of the Holy Cross? He -was once the lord of this mansion, and my—”</p> - -<p>“Brother?” interrupted the palmer, in a tone of melancholy, mingled -with scorn and severity, as he supplied the word “your brother?”</p> - -<p>“Brother!” exclaimed the lady, “no, no. Nearer he was than the -twin brother of infancy, childhood, and youth. Yes, for we were -ever One,—One! Holy Father, thou knowest not the meaning of these -words; but every moment I have realized their truth. The marriage -of the heart, no earthly ceremony can constitute. Our relationship -was formed in heaven, and Heaven dropped down bands upon the holy -altar, to encircle and bind us to each other for ever and ever.”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span></p> -<p>“For ever, lady, dost thou say? And who dropped Sir Osmund’s bands -upon the altar? Nay, noble lady, be not offended, for I know that -all affection is changeable, and short-lived, dying with a glance -or a word; and husband is but a fashion, which to suit your taste -may be changed, like any other part of your apparel. Changes are -pleasant. Sir William to-day, Sir Osmund to-morrow! Woman’s love is -not like man’s. Man’s love is the sea, infinite and exhaustless. -It may ebb, and its sands be discovered, but soon the wave rolls -over, and again there is the mighty deep. Far down, in unfathomable -waters, are the crystal caves, for the heart’s whispers and -embraces. Woman’s love is the streamlet. Bathe in its pure waters -to-day;—return to-morrow, and it is dried up. Let the husband -leave his halls, and in ten years he is forgotten, and his spirit -would be driven from his own hearth!”</p> - -<p>Mabel’s eye had flashed with indignation, and her majestic form had -become erect, and commanding. There was the proud heaving of her -bosom, and the compressed resolution of her lips. But all symptoms -of anger passed away, as a sigh escaped the palmer, and as his hand -was raised to brush away a tear.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span></p> -<p>“Holy man, these words are unkind; they are not the balm of -comfort. I have not been faithless to Sir William. He is enshrined -in my heart still, the holiest earthly image, which death alone can -break. And oh! in penance how I worship him now, as sincerely as -once I did in joy. Gaze upon all the little knolls of green, where -we sat together, on summer days. I know them, and there I have -gone, and asked pardon of my beloved, many a cold and dreary night. -But here, in this room, I suffer agonies which might atone even for -a wife’s infidelity to a living lord. The night before he left for -the Holy Land, our noble mother told us of an ancestor’s perjury -to the maiden of his troth. That is her portrait, holy father, on -which you are gazing. In my waking moments, for past weeks, I have -seen Magdalene Montfort (that was the beautiful maiden’s name) -walking with Sir William. They were both sad, and looked upon me -scornfully, for my treachery. They had been unfortunate, and, -therefore, were in each other’s company. I knew that it was but -fancy, but it had all the power of reality. Oh! is not this penance -enough! But, say, holy palmer, didst thou ever see Sir William -Bradshaigh?”</p> - -<p>The palmer sighed and shook his head. “Many a gallant knight I have -known, who never reached his home. Some died, others were reported -to be dead, and their noble heritage, aye, and their beautiful -wives, became the property of strangers.”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span></p> -<p>“<em>Reported</em> to be dead! Reported! Were they not dead? Was <em>he</em> not -dead?”</p> - -<p>“Mabel. Mabel Bradshaigh—<em>is</em> he dead?”</p> - -<p>And the palmer’s cloak was removed, and there stood Sir William -Bradshaigh!</p> - -<p>“Come to mine arms, my faithful wife, dearer to me than ever. Come! -Thank God that we meet, never more to part. Awfully have our dismal -forebodings, the last time we were in this gallery, been fulfilled.”</p> - -<p>“Sir William—reject me. I am unworthy. Nay, let me kneel at thy -feet.”</p> - -<p>“Both together then, and at the feet of the Most High. Hush, Mabel, -here come the children. My boys, do you not know your father? Kiss -me. <em>I am</em> your long-lost father.”</p> - -<p>After the embrace, the boys exclaimed in terror, “Sir Osmund comes.”</p> - -<p>Lady Mabel shrieked. Sir William unloosed a garment which was -closely wrapped round him, and unfurled a Paynim standard which his -arm had won.</p> - -<p>“Stay, Mabel, I escape here, by this door. My old servants will -rally round me. Yet no, I cannot leave thee defenceless. William, -my brave boy, fly with this to my servants. Tell them that Sir -William is returned. Bid them arm for me. Haste.”</p> - -<p>The boy disappeared through the concealed door, and Sir William -stationed himself <a id="Err_10" name="Err_10"></a>beside his lady, his sword drawn.</p> - -<p>“Ho, lights,” exclaimed Sir Osmund.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> “Must I fall, and break my -neck? Mab, take hold of my hands, and bring me to thee.”</p> - -<p>The next moment he entered. But the twilight was so shady, that he -saw not the presence of the returned knight.</p> - -<p>“Mab, sign this paper. Cliderhoe, come hither.”</p> - -<p>“Here’s one,” replied Sir William, “who can do it. Ruffian, do you -know me. I am Sir William Bradshaigh.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed,” sneeringly responded the parson. “You have got the name.”</p> - -<p>“And the sword, thou hypocrite.”</p> - -<p>“Very likely,” was the retort, “very likely. That proves thee a -thief, and not Sir William.”</p> - -<p>“Sir Osmund Neville, I challenge thee to deadly combat for the -wrongs thou hast done me, and for thy cowardly and cruel treatment -to Mabel and our children. Come forth, else I will smite thee to -the death. Equal weapons, if thou willest: if not, I will stab thee -where thou standest.”</p> - -<p>He rushed forward as he spoke, but <a id="Err_11" name="Err_11"></a>instantly the door was -secured on the outside, and he and Lady Mabel were alone. The wily -parson and the Welsh knight had fled. The door resisted both foot -and sword, and stubbornly refused to give way to any forcible -attempts. Sir William distinguished the clattering of hoofs in -the distance becoming fainter and more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> faint, and he burned for -the pursuit. Mabel led him to the window, and gazed long and -fondly upon his noble features. Age had scarcely touched them. -The bloom of youth had, indeed, passed away, but there was the -calm and mellow hue of manhood. The locks were not as profusely -clustered over his brow as before, but the expansive forehead -was more dignified when unshaded. Tears came into her eyes, for, -although he was but slightly changed from the husband of her -youth, and although no feature was a stranger, still she thought -why should she not have been allowed to witness all the daily -changes effected upon him. It is painful, after a long absence, -to return to the home of other days. It is no longer a home; for -new inmates have introduced new arrangements. Humble may have been -the household gods: only an old chair standing in a corner, and -a small table at the patched window; yet they were the gods of -the heart, and, although they may have been replaced by the most -costly and splendid furniture, we refuse to call the house our -home. Cover the bird’s nest with leaves of gold, and after its -flight and wanderings, would it then take up its abode any more -than it would although there were no nest at all? But more painful -is it when the loved one has changed. The features may be more -beautiful than before, but if all their former peculiarity be gone, -they are those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> of a stranger; and as we would refuse to cross -the threshold, much more to sit down in the house, once our home, -but now altogether changed, so we cannot take hold of the hand, -we cannot kiss the lips, we cannot embrace the form of that one, -once the idol of our heart, but now a stranger. But Lady Mabel’s -feelings were not akin to these; although they were painful as well -as extatic. He whom she now gazed upon was Sir William Bradshaigh, -every look, every movement, every accent told her. Soon, however, -loud steps were ascending the corridor, and louder shouts announced -them.</p> - -<p>“Sir William! Sir William! welcome to Haigh Hall!”</p> - -<p>The bar was removed, and a cordial greeting took place between the -returned palmer and his faithful retainers.</p> - -<p>“Thanks, thanks my men. But the cowardly knight has fled. Help me -to horse! Haste! Mabel, my love, I return as soon as the wretch is -slain. Thou art more beautiful than ever, my own wife. But how can -you love the aged palmer? Farewell, Mabel.”</p> - -<p>Proud were the retainers, when their lord stood among them with his -sword.</p> - -<p>“Now,” as he mounted his steed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> “follow me not. Alone I must be the -minister of vengeance. Hark! the Welshman’s horse has gained the -eminence. There is the echo of his hoofs. He must be passing the -steep descent.”</p> - -<p>He dashed his spurs into the flanks of his horse, and without a -curvet or a vault, it bounded forward. The influence of twilight is -mysterious, both upon man and beast. It gives speed and energy to -body as well as mind. In advance before him, there was a part of -the horizon beyond the trees which seemed rings of molten gold. The -sunset had not yet left it. Against its bright and radiant surface, -in haste, a horse plunged on. The rider, Sir Osmund, was lashing -it, for the motions of his arm were seen. The next moment it had -passed. Sir William furiously spurred his steed through the dark -wood, and, as a flash of his eye was shewn by some concealed light -of the sky bursting upon it, he seemed the very spirit of revenge -riding on the storm. His horse’s head was stretched forward, -eagerly and impatiently. He himself crouched down to the very mane, -and his eyes gleamed wildly upon the place where he supposed the -Welsh knight would be passing.</p> - -<p>Swiftly did the noble courser paw the leaves, strewn on the path, -and soon he reached the highway, steep and rugged. The lights were -now reflected from Wigan, upon the air around. He drew near the -gate. The guards started up with their torches, and fixed them -against the wall.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Stay, who art thou?” and they presented their halberds, whilst -they seized the reins of his horse. “Who art thou, thus pursuing -Sir Osmund Neville to the devil? He’ll lead thee wrong.”</p> - -<p>“Stay me not, I am Sir William Bradshaigh.”</p> - -<p>They started back. They had heard of spectre horsemen, who rode so -furiously, and they trembled. Taking advantage of their terror, he -struck up their halberds with his sword. The gate was open, and he -spurred through. A few of the townsmen who were loitering at their -doors, and in the streets, shouted after him; but none attempted -to prevent his course, and soon he had left Wigan far behind. The -moon arose brightly; he leaned forward anxiously, and thought that -he could descry the object of his pursuit, long before he heard the -hoofs of the steed. But soon, he had both heard and seen him. Fleet -was the Welsh knight’s courser, but that of Sir William gained at -every turn in the road, and their voices were heard by each other, -urging them on. Sir Osmund at an angle, avoided the highway, and -leapt his horse over into the large park, at Newton. Sir William -followed, and soon the sword of Bradshaigh revenged his own, and -Lady Mabel’s wrongs.</p> - -<p>The dead knight was thrown from his horse, as it dashed on. As soon -as the deed of vengeance was over, Sir William’s enthusiasm began -to leave him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> While in the act of striking, the happiness which -should now be his of once more being the lord of Haigh, the husband -of his Mabel, and the father of his gallant boys, passed vividly -before his mind, and forbade him to spare. But when the blow was -given, so strange is man’s nature, all these prospects faded. He -seemed to feel that now he had agreed to a miserable compact. -He almost wished that he had never returned to claim the little -which was left. Death as the arm of vengeance, could not bring him -back the past, although it had taken away the cause of change. -Sir Osmund Neville lay lifeless before him, never more to claim -ought;—but polluting traces were upon all he held dear. As long -as Mabel lived, there lived also the evidences. Nay, when she must -die, and repose along with him in the tomb, calumny might say, “it -was not always thus, for, side by side, when alive, she lay with -another.” As long as Haigh Hall stood, the family disgrace would -survive.</p> - -<p>He writhed in agony at the thought.</p> - -<p>“Mabel,” he exclaimed, as if she were present,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> “I cannot forgive -thee! Thou hast been faithless. I must touch thy hand, and know -that it was another’s, long after it had been pledged in love, -and given in marriage. Thy couch a ruffian’s kennel! This Welsh -bullock’s blood cannot wash out the stains which rest upon my name. -Oh! can it even purify my Mabel’s lips? Whenever they touch mine, -I feel that they have been polluted. My children alone survive for -me. Ha! merciful God, thanks unto thee, thanks most sincere, that -Mabel has no children, who cannot call me father. But when I call -her wife, methinks this Welshman’s spirit comes between us, and -breathes the same word;—and to whom will she then cling?”</p> - -<p>The air was balmy, and the moonshine rested gently upon the green -meadows where he stood, and lambs, aroused from their slumbers by -the prancing of the horses, bounded past him. But they bleated -not to disturb the silence, and Sir William heard the violent -beating of his heart. Gradually, however, he relapsed into a state -of tranquility,—not the tranquility of joy, but of deep grief. -And as before, when under the excitement of intense revenge, he -spurred his steed to keep pace with his fiery spirit, so now, when -his feelings were different, he curbed the animal to a slow walk, -as he began to return. But he soon discovered that it was jaded -and weary, from the speed of the furious pursuit. He dismounted, -and led it for a mile or two. In the distance, so flat was the -surrounding district, then unbroken, save by towers and halls, -rising aginst the pure silvery vault of the moonlight sky, he -beheld lights in his own mansion at Haigh. He thought that he heard -sounds of mirth borne thence on the airy breezes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span></p> - -<p>“<em>She</em> may rejoice,” he bitterly said, “but can I? She may be -merry, for I return the same, as when I departed, ten long years -since; though beautiful maidens there have been, who tried my -fidelity in Palestine. Ah! this night has made me an old man! Would -that my days had been spent amidst the holy tombs at Jerusalem, -and I might there have prayed for Mabel, my Mabel, all ignorant of -her frailty. But I must remount my steed. Poor Mabel, she has done -penance for me, and cannot that atone? Forgive her? Yes, and she -shall receive my blessing in a few minutes.”</p> - -<p>He vaulted upon his horse, but in vain did he spur and lash. The -animal staggered, and but for great caution, would have fallen. -He again dismounted, and slowly led it to Wigan. The lights in -the town were extinguished. He passed the church. He stood, for -a moment, to gaze upon the venerable structure. The clock was -striking the hour of one, and within the low and grey cloisters, -which are now destroyed, a late vesper was tuned. The notes seemed -to be sung by some virgin-spirits. Heaven bless those whose sweet, -sweet voices are heard by none else, for oh, none else can bless -them; whose soft knees which a gallant husband might have gartered -oft and oft, in pride and sport, bend on the cold stones, at no -domestic altar, through the long night.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span></p> - -<p>What a holy calm fell upon Sir William’s troubled spirit!</p> - -<p>“Here Mabel and I may sleep peaceably together in death, if we -cannot in life. God bless our union then. No blood will be the seal -of the renewed covenant. If we cannot live happily now, since she -has been—no, I cannot say faithless, but oh! frail, frail;—why -the grave may hush our discords.”</p> - -<p>He turned into the Hall-gate, with the purpose of leaving his horse -at an hostelrie, for he knew that it could not proceed to Haigh -hall forthwith. He still kept his eye upon the holy place, when he -was suddenly <a id="Err_12" name="Err_12"></a>seized by two armed men. They were the sentries of the -gate.</p> - -<p>“So, nightingale,” exclaimed the stoutest, “we have caught thee. -Resist not. We have orders to bear thee to the Mayor, and, by and -by, you may expect to be caged.”</p> - -<p>“Stand back, knaves, and keep your distance. What would ye with me?”</p> - -<p>“Aye, aye, bold enough,” was the reply. “Thou art the horseman who -passed our fellows at the other gate, in pursuit of Sir Osmund -Neville. They called thee a ghost. Ho, ho. But” and he brought -the lamp which he carried to bear closer upon the person of Sir -William;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> “here is blood, blood. Come in, else we strike thee to the -ground.”</p> - -<p>It was in vain, the knight saw, to remonstrate; vainer still, on -account of his weakness to assault. He gave his horse to <a id="Err_13" name="Err_13"></a>the charge -of one of the guards, who soon obtained accommodation for it; and -allowed himself to be conducted, without resistance, to the house -of the mayor.</p> - -<p>At that moment his worshipful worship was fast asleep, all save the -nose, which buzzed as if it were filled with flies. His slumbers -were so deep that his worthy rib might have been taken from his -side without his knowledge, and a noted shrew given to some man. -But, gentle reader, why hast thou broken into the Mayor’s house, -and entered the private chamber of him and his dear spouse? Let us -make a speedy retreat, else we may be tried for burglary.</p> - -<p>The house stood solitary, and at the door two halberds were bravely -stationed, either to assist or repel thieves or murderers. The -guards knocked; after a short interval, voices in loud dispute, -were heard, and a window on the second story was thrown up. A long -bright sword, slowly peeped out of it, very politely inquiring what -was wanted! A female head (the gender was known, <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">a priori</i> by -the cap on it; and <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">a posteriori</i> by the volubility of the tongue -within it) followed, and after reconnoitering for some length of -time, good substantial shoulders ventured out to assist the head.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Madam,” humbly said one of the guards, “is my Lord Mayor at -liberty, to examine this man, whom he gave orders to take into -custody and bring hither?”</p> - -<p>The sword was brought into a dangerous line with the anxious -inquirer’s head; but he started more at the shrill voice which -greeted him.</p> - -<p>“Impudent rascals, begone. At liberty! No,” and she exhausted -a pretty good stock of abuse which she had acquired with all a -woman’s skill, and expended with all a woman’s generosity.</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes,” exclaimed another voice, without a head however, “I am -at liberty.”</p> - -<p>The sword was drawn in, and it remains a matter of doubt until -this day, whether it was not called upon to exercise its functions -against the last speaker. At least the noise of a considerable -bustle was made, which ended in the door being opened; and Sir -William, with the guards, was shewn into a room by a servant boy.</p> - -<p>An hour had almost elapsed before the wig had been arranged, and -the spectacles disposed on the frontispiece of the Mayor, so -properly as to allow him to be seen. He entered with a slow step to -convey notions of a solemn dignity, and a pretty strong calf was -by no means a bad interpreter. After mounting the glasses on the -higher regions of the head, he rubbed his eyes as hard as if they -were flint, and as if he wished<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> them to strike light, in order -to enable him to see. His face was good-humoured, and had no more -expression than a well-stuffed pudding. He then looked gravely upon -Sir William, when the knight addressed him,</p> - -<p>“Why am I brought here? I had no desire to be regaled with a breeze -of thy far sounding nose,” (the mayor, be it observed, was snoring -even then) “nor to behold thee in undress.”</p> - -<p>The Mayor started at the sounds of the knight’s voice;</p> - -<p>“Sir William Bradshaigh thou art. It was no ghost. I know thee -well; and no wonder that thou pursued the Welsh knight. Where is -he?”</p> - -<p>Sir William slowly unsheathed his sword, all bloody.</p> - -<p>“That is the best answer; is it not intelligible?”</p> - -<p>The worthy Mayor held up his hands in nervous terror.</p> - -<p>“Come up with me to my own apartment, Sir William. We must consult -upon your safety. You will be outlawed for murder. Come, and allow -me to introduce you to my lady. She wont frighten you as she -does—.”</p> - -<p>The look which accompanied the pause and omission well supplied the -personal pronoun.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span></p> -<p>“You cannot return to Haigh Hall until the morning. Guards, you may -depart. Do honour to Sir William.” They raised a loud shout, which -brought the lady down in a quick dance.</p> - -<p>Early in the morning, after an hour’s sleep, Sir William left the -Mayor’s house. It was dull and rainy, and his spirits were more -melancholy than on the previous evening. There was none of that -longing desire to see a home and a wife, although for many years -they had both been strangers. The atmosphere was oppressive. -Nature had neither beautiful sights, nor fragrant scents to please -him. The street was muddy, and the houses were darkened with the -overhanging clouds.</p> - -<p>He had passed the gate leading to Standish, when his attention was -arrested by a female kneeling at the Cross which De Norris had -erected. She looked upwards with an eye of sorrow, and prayer. -He started as he recognized the beautiful features of Mabel -Bradshaigh. Heedless of the rain, and exposed to the cold, she had -assumed the lowly posture. He heard the words breathed earnestly,</p> - -<p>“Oh! heaven, and Sir William, forgive me, and accept of this my -penance!”</p> - -<p>She raised herself as his steps were nearer. What deep delight, -tinged however with penitence, glowed on her countenance as she -beheld her returned lord.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span></p> -<p>“Thank heaven! but oh! let me kneel to thee. Wilt thou forgive me, -Sir William? This cross, was raised by a faithless ancestor to the -shades of the maid whom his perjury had destroyed, and here I must -do penance thus. But oh, look not upon me, <a id="Err_14" name="Err_14"></a>exposed as I am,”—and -she blushed as her eyes fell upon her naked legs and feet.</p> - -<p>“Mabel, this penance is cruel to both of us. What! those beautiful -legs, and small feet, must they trample upon the mud and the -stones! Remember, Mabel, that I will wash them myself this morning, -in the fountain. Nay, no more penance.”</p> - -<p>“It must not be, Sir William. I have made a vow that every week I -will travel thus, from Haigh, to this Cross. And oh, do not prevent -me;—you must not, otherwise I cannot be happy in your company. -Penance is necessary for love injured.”</p> - -<p>Mabel spoke the truth. Injured love requires it, though it only be -paid with a tear, a sigh, or a sorrowful look. Yes, penance, thou -art holy, and necessary; for where is the love which is not injured?</p> - -<p>All the discontent and melancholy of Sir William passed away. -He loved Mabel more fondly than ever, even for the self imposed -penance. She might have decked herself in splendid attire to meet -her lord, but the lowly garb secured his affections more firmly. -The rich sandals of the time might have confined her feet, but -naked as they were, Sir William gazed more proudly upon them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span></p> - -<p>They walked on together. Mabel knew Sir Osmund’s fate, by the very -air of Sir William, but she questioned him not. A full bright cloud -now began to widen and widen over the stately towers of Haigh Hall. -Sir William in silence pointed to it as a happy omen, and as its -deep tints were reflected upon the structure, glory and fortune -seemed to hover over it. They were passing a narrow winding, into -the plantations, when their younger boy rushed forth.</p> - -<p>“Father, father, bless your little son.”</p> - -<p>“Hugh, my beautiful and brave boy, dost thou know me?”</p> - -<p>The knight looked oft, in sorrow as well as pride, on the boy’s -countenance; it was so delicately fair, that the very life seemed -trembling on it.</p> - -<p>“Father, I could die this morning, I am so happy.”</p> - -<p>The knight started.</p> - -<p>“Die! my little Hugh. No, no, you will live to be a warrior.”</p> - -<p>Loud were the acclamations raised by the retainers, as Sir William -and his lady appeared. A whole week was devoted to festivity and -merriment, and all were happy.</p> - -<p>Regularly every week, Mabel repaired barefoot and bare-legged -to the Cross, which still stands associated with her name. The -penance gave happiness. For months she had her sad moments, and -Sir<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span> William, with all his love and attention, could not wile -away the dark spirit of grief and remorse. But, by degrees, time -and religion banished the evil spirit, and even in her solitary -moments, no longer did it haunt her.</p> - -<p>In a few weeks after the brave knight’s return, little Hugh -Bradshaigh was taken from earth. One morning, as the sun was -shining brightly, and the birds were merry of note, his mother went -to awake him to receive her blessing; but he had already received -the blessing of angels, and Jesus:—he was dead. The treatment -and the sorrows which had befallen him, in his former years, had -been too much for his young soul; and as a bird, which has with -difficulty braved the sternness of winter, dies when genial spring -comes, with its blossoms and hymns, and its last note is faintly -raised from its green bed of leaves, up to the laughing sky; so, as -soon as happiness visited him, little Hugh pined away, as if every -touch, every voice of affection raised him from earth. So strange -is life, that he might not have died so soon, but for his father’s -return. Yes, affection kills the mournful young. Every gentle -stroke, as his mother sheds the fair hair of the boy, is a touch -of death; languid and slow, but sure. Hugh Bradshaigh’s pillow -was, ever after, unpressed by any head, and for hours Sir William -and his lady sat by the little white couch, as if his spirit were -there.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span></p> - -<p>He lay in no cloister, chancel, or vault. Verdant was his grave. An -evergreen was the curtain of his little bed, and the feet of birds -were all that trod upon the flowery sod.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Reader, wilt thou for the sake of the aged Chronicler, pay one -visit to “Mab’s Cross?” If so, go at earliest morn, or latest eve, -and all noise and bustle being hushed, your thoughts may pass over -centuries, and return invested with the remembrance of Magdalene -Montfort, and Mabel Bradshaigh. The cross stands apparently no -greater object of interest, than an indifferent structure of three -stones. Yet, when the beautiful Mabel did penance there, flowers -were growing around its sides. And even, for four generations -after, a small plot of grass was trimmed and cultivated around it. -But when Wigan became the seat of the civil wars in Lancashire, -Mab’s Cross being considered as a popish relic, a tooth of the -beast, suffered at the hands of Roundheads. It has since been -reconstructed, but stands entirely destitute of ornament, on or -around it.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2><a name="LANCASTER_CASTLE" id="LANCASTER_CASTLE"></a>LANCASTER CASTLE</h2> -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<div><p class="hang"> -<img src="images/stars.jpg" width="30" height="18" alt="asterism" /> -<span class="small">“A TRADITION PREVAILS THAT THIS FORTRESS HAD BEEN PREVIOUSLY TAKEN -BY CROMWELL, AND THAT HE PLANTED HIS CANNON ON A CIRCULAR MOUNT -AT THE SOUTH-WEST SIDE OF THE TOWN, ON HILL MEADOW.”—<i>Baines’s -History of Lancashire.</i></span> -</p></div> -<hr class="tiny" /> - - -<p>Well does Lancaster deserve the name which the Romans gave to -it, of the green city; and the beautiful scenery, for many miles -around, may be considered as its delightful gardens. There are -no huge rocks frowning, like tyrants, in the country which they -have ruined, and blighting with sickness and poverty, all that -is healthful and rich. Such mountain scenery only affords an -observatory, whence we may gaze into the distance, upon other and -more charming spots,—the home-glens of the happy and free—where -every noise, even of the world, is hushed into sweetness, and -the forest of the recluse and the hunter, where light and shade, -all the day, agree to make a religious twilight. Often has the -wanderer, on the majestic hills of Cumberland, looked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> down in -rapture upon the north coast of Lancashire, stretching out like a -gentle surface and web of ether, on which, at sunset, the shades -fall, as if they were kindred to each other.</p> - -<p>Nor is the scenery around Lancaster tame. There are beautiful -eminences, which may be termed the voluptuous breasts of Nature, -on which thin mists from the river float for a covering. Amidst -all the undulations of the glens also, harsher features may be -seen, which the deep woods have not altogether concealed. At the -distance of five miles from the town, there is a rugged mountain, -at the foot of which a cave, called Dunald Mill Hole, formed of -natural rock, and vaulted with great strength, may well attract -the curiosity of the stranger. A brook falls into it;—in one part -it forms a terrific cascade, and in another, small lakes in the -cavities. Above it, on a cliff, stands a mill, to which a neat -cottage was attached. In the vale below, sheep were browsing, and -no human feet ever disturbed the solitude, except those of some -wandering patriarch coming to Dunald Mill upon business, or walking -out, on Sabbath eve, in a holy, contemplative mood, and treading -gently for the sake of the flowers, which taught him of the Great -Being who gave them beauty.</p> - -<p>But why should we speak of beautiful scenes, when civil war has -been let loose, and when the dew,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span> falling there at morn and -night, is blood, the blood of brethren? Cannot spring and summer -be barren, when they are only to weave garlands for war? Why speak -of a delightful retreat, when the tramp of soldiers, the clash of -arms, and the fierce engagement have chosen it for their theatre? -Let the altar of home be dashed down, when it can no longer give a -shelter to the holiest worshiper! Let the holy shade become a waste -heath. Oh! if war is a game which must be played, let it be in -large cities. There its ravages may please the Antiquary of after -ages. The mark of a cannon ball may become and dignify the noble -fortress, and the splendid palace; but, when it is found on the -wall of a white cottage, it is sad and disfiguring. Curse him who -launched it there! Send forth soldiers among the rabble and mob of -a town; but keep them from the patriarchs of the vale.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A dark September evening had even darkened the beautifully -white-washed cottage of Hans Skippon, which stood at the distance -of a few feet from Dunald Mill, where, in happy content, he earned -his bread, by grinding it for others. The loud fury of the tempest -had silenced the flowing of the Meerbeck, which turned the mill, -and the changing noise of the cascade, which it incessantly formed -as it fell into the deep cave below, at the foot of the mountain. -Nature<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> seemed to be acting the part of an arrant scold, who first -puts all the fretting children to bed, and then commences the storm -herself. The spray which had gathered on the brook was driven -against the window by continual gusts, and, occasionally, angry -and sullen growls of thunder rolled up the wide and sweeping glen, -against the eminence. The thunder might have been a fearful angel -speaking to the wind a rebellious mortal. Had Hans’ mill been put -in motion by all the “Lancashire Witches,” with their own tongues -to boot, as the worthy miller himself remarked, the noise would not -have been heard amidst the wrath of the tempest.</p> - -<p>Hans and his dame were snug within. They crept close to the fire, -which blazed upon the clean hearth, but closer to each other. They -were well advanced in years. They were older than the cottage that -sheltered them: it had been built when they were made man and wife. -But no change had been wrought by time upon their affection, and -Rachel could gaze upon the furrowed countenance of her husband, -with as much fondness as she had ever displayed when it was -smoother. Nay, we ought to have said with more, because three times -a day she induced Hans to wash off the meal and flour, which was -plentifully sprinkled there, in order that she might be proud of -his natural appearance.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span></p> - -<p>“The white flour, my dear Hans,” she would say, as she gave him a -salute, “covers all the red flowers of your cheek, and, although -the first is good for the teeth, the second is better for the -lips,” and she smacked her lips with great relish.</p> - -<p>On the present occasion, however, his face was just as it had left -the mill, and no white sweep could look more enticing. But Rachel, -by and by, assisted him in his ablutions, as, to her imagination, -heightened by the loud raging of the storm, he appeared rather -frightful previously. She had drawn him towards a small mirror -at the window, to satisfy himself, when a furious gust drove the -latter in. They started. An awful flash of lightning gleamed into -the room!</p> - -<p>“Hans, what a night! Blessed be God that we are alone. We see each -other, and know our fate. Had we been blessed with children, as we -often, often wished, aye, prayed to Him who ruleth all things, they -might have been abroad at this very hour. At least they could not -all have been here. God is merciful, even in his trials.”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span></p> -<p>“He is, Rachel. Let us take a seat beside our comfortable hearth. -Well, well, I never knew what the word window meant before. It -signifies, I suppose, a place for the wind to come in at. Some of -the old witches, who were executed at Lancaster, on the day of our -marriage, may have come to the cave, to raise such a squall. The -mill is safe, and so is this house. But oh, how many there will be -who are shelterless!”</p> - -<p>They again sat down, and, for a time, their conversation was -inaudible. The wind raved louder, and went to the highest note -in the maniac gamut. At intervals, when the storm subsided into -low meanings, and dying sounds, the lightning flashed vividly, -as if the glances of nature were still angry, although her voice -was hushed. The miller and his dame crept closer together. When -they could not speak, they listened to the wind tremblingly, like -children over some fireside tale of terror. Rachel rested one hand -upon her husband’s shoulders, and the other, sometimes, sought his -neck. Both shuddered, as they turned their eyes to the window, but -had perfect confidence when they gazed upon each other’s face, -illuminated by the cheerful light of the hearth. There is magic -in that blaze to man and wife. Not even sunset, with its gorgeous -hues lighting up the window beside which they sit, much less the -soft artificial rays thrown from the finely polished marble of the -ceiling, can reveal the same sources of inexpressible domestic -happiness! Wealth, laugh not at the affection of the poor. Love is -within the breast, and flutters not on spangled garments of costly -quality and workmanship, or haunts palaces. Love dwelt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span> with the -first pair, when they were driven from Paradise, and were only -covered with leaves. The language of the poor to you may appear -rude; but there are some to whom it is music, as sweet as it is -sincere. Their touch to you may appear hard, but there are some -who thrill under the beating of its every pulse. And youth, laugh -not at the affection of the aged, for the heart is never leafless -and sapless! When they are about to step into the grave, they walk -closer together, and every movement is an embrace.</p> - -<p>Accordingly, no young couple could have been more loving than Hans -and Rachel Skippon, and the storm led them to speak of their many -comforts.</p> - -<p>“Rachel,” replied Hans, to a remark of the dame, upon the pleasures -of their retired life, “it is even so, and I would not exchange -places with the proudest lord in the land. Nay, I would not sell my -miller’s coat. This morning, as I walked into Lancaster, a stout, -stiff-necked lad came forward, and asked me to become a soldier, -promising great distinction. Says I, white is the colour of my -flag, and the only coat of of mail I shall ever consent to wear, -must be a coat of meal!”</p> - -<p>“A soldier!” ejaculated Rachel.</p> - -<p>“Aye, aye,” was the reply.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span> “War is soon to be played. The governor -of our castle has gone to the High Court in London, to give -evidence against traitors, and many such traitors there are said -to be, whom the Parliament refuses to put down. I heard that the -king’s throne and head are in jeopardy.”</p> - -<p>“Woe, woe to the land!” groaned the dame. “A handsome lad, and yet -to lose his crown and his life.”</p> - -<p>“Well, well,” said Hans, “his majesty may thank his silly father. -What good, even to the tenth generation, could the race of the -ungodly man expect, who gave orders that the people should sport on -God’s holy day? Rachel, hast thou forgot the proclamation which he -caused the parson to read? I was but a youth then, and oft I could -have liked to visit you on Sunday. But the wish was blasphemous. -The parson said we were not to think our own thoughts, and as my -father thought I should not visit you, I took <em>his</em> thoughts.”</p> - -<p>“Not always,” returned the dame, as she took his hand, “not always, -even upon that subject.”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span></p> -<p>“Well, well, I give in to you, Rachel. But on that Sunday, after -the service was over, the parson drew from his robes a long roll -of paper, and, wiping his mouth very unmannerly, as he always did, -before his eyes, read that it was the King’s most gracious will -that the people, on leaving the church, should enjoy themselves in -all manner of recreations and sports. He added, that our Solomon -might well give laws to all his subjects. My father and I went -to a friend’s house, and there solemnly bewailed the state of -the country; the rulers of which scrupled not to enact the most -awful iniquity. As we returned home, in front of the church there -were dances, and games of archery, in which the parson himself -joined most heartily. His croaking voice shouted lustily, and his -stick-shanks leapt up in the air, while his broad skirts flapped -like a swallow’s wings. A smile was on his face, which was thrown -backwards as we passed. My father, in his righteous wrath, struck -the hypocrite to the earth. In the crowd we escaped, but never more -did we darken that house of prayer by our presence.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Hans, the Lord will be avenged for that proclamation of sport -on his own day. A silly King James was, indeed. My father saw him -as he passed through Preston, and he never spoke highly of kings -afterward.”</p> - -<p>So interesting was the subject of their conversation, connected -with old remembrances, that for some time they were not aware -that the storm had altogether subsided. It was now a beautiful -calm, and soft breezes stole in at the opened window. Hans walked -forth to the mill, and thence gazed down upon the vale. A dim -reflection of the moon, pale with weeping, as she struggled through -the clouds, to gain some of the clear azure sky, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span> here and -there appeared, was resting on the swollen brook. A sound from the -distance fell upon his ear. He strained his eyes, and, at length, -recognized a form on horseback entering the vale.</p> - -<p>“Rachel, Rachel, what can it be?” and there was terror, mingled -with curiosity, in the tones. His dame suddenly appeared, but to -her it was an equal mystery; not long to remain so, however, for -speedily the horse was reined up at the foot of the mountain.</p> - -<p>“Ho!—help!—help!” exclaimed a man’s voice.</p> - -<p>“Nay, nay, Hans, dost see that which he carries in his arms! My -God, look there,—that pale face, lifted to the moon. He is a -murderer! He gazes on it. Well may he shudder.”</p> - -<p>“Help, good folks,” the voice repeated, in earnest tones. “Give -assistance to a lady. Good heavens, must my Mary die and follow her -father!”</p> - -<p>A female shriek was heard, and the face raised itself to the -horseman, and small white arms were thrown around his neck. Hans -and his wife instantly hastened down the narrow winding path which -led to the barred entrance.</p> - -<p>“Thank heaven, and you, good friends! Bayard, do not stir, as I -descend with my sweet burthen. Dame, will you give her shelter?”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span></p> -<p>“Aye, aye, sir. Beautiful creature! she seems asleep. Yet why -should she be abroad, and in your care, on such a night?”</p> - -<p>“You must not question me,” was the reply, “at present; shew me -the way,” and he carried his companion, as gently as he would an -infant. “God bless thee, Mary,” he frequently muttered, as he put -the small face closer to his breast, and drew his cloak around her -form.</p> - -<p>Rachel preceded him into the warm and comfortable room, and drew -a large easy chair from its place in the corner, to the fire. He -slowly bent on his knee, and seated his burden there. Her head -fell back, but her hands still grasped those of the horseman. She -was deadly pale, and might have been thought a corpse. There was a -mingled expression of madness, sorrow, and love, on the beautiful -outlines of her face. So long had they rode in the darkness, that -she could not open her eyes when the light fell upon them, and even -her finely pencilled lashes were still and motionless. Her little -feet, raised from the floor, quivered and trembled.</p> - -<p>The good dame bustled about, and amid all her offices of kindness, -attested by her looks that she was plunged into a mystery, from -which she had no objections, instantly, to be extricated; only -she did not, in so many words, implore help. As she removed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span> the -wet garments from the fair stranger, she gazed anxiously upon her -companion. He was young and handsome. He was nobly attired in a -cloak of deep mourning, and as it was thrown back in his motions, a -sword, belted by his side, was seen. His locks, as the fashion of -the times required from young gallants, were long, and they curled -gracefully down his shoulders. Since he entered, his eye had never -turned from the face of his companion.</p> - -<p>“Mary, my Mary,” he at length said, as he played with the black -ringlets on her forehead, “look upon me, Mary.”</p> - -<p>“Father, dost thou call? I’ll soon come to thee, soon, -soon—wherever thou art. But, I must see thy face. Oh! a headless -father to come to! yet, father, I <em>will</em> come!” and she gave a loud -shriek of madness.</p> - -<p>“Hush, Mary,—am I not spared to thee? Cannot we travel through -life together; and if we have no home through the wide world, all -in all to each other?”</p> - -<p>No reply was made. He cast a look of anguish towards the dame and -her husband, who had then returned from sheltering the horse.</p> - -<p>“She understands me not. Oh! who can comfort her now?”</p> - -<p>“She is asleep,” said the dame,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span> “and oh! young gentleman, if, as -I believe from her words concerning a father, you have removed -her from a father’s roof, you never, never can be happy. She is, -indeed, a beautiful creature to lie in your bosom, walk by your -side, and sing to you her own sweet dreams. But does the young bird -sing any more when taken from the nest? In every look, however -fond, you will behold a silent reproof for tearing her away from -her duties to an old father, without a blessing. The husband may -give the ring, but unless the father gives his blessing, she is -cursed. Oh, must that young head bow before a father’s curse? Look -at her slumbers, they ought to have been beneath the roof of her -own home. She might have perished in this awful night, and murder -had been added to your crime. Take her back to a father’s arms.”</p> - -<p>“A father!” was the sorrowful reply.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span> “She has no father; nor can -I as yet, claim over her the protection of a husband. Her father -perished, yesterday, by the order of a tyrant king, under the -false evidence of the governor of your castle. I had endeavoured -to convey her away from the scenes of her grief, and had engaged -a boat at Lancaster. But I dared not venture my precious freight -on such an awful night, and I have wandered, I know not whither. -Providence has brought me here to kind friends.”</p> - -<p>“Young gentleman,” replied Hans, while tears were trickling freely -down his withered cheeks, “God will reward thee for thy care and -love to the orphan one. But whither would you bear her? Here she -may find a home, until happier days come, for I know that you will -seek the wars. She cannot depart at present.”</p> - -<p>“No, no,” added the dame, “you must agree to leave her, and I shall -be a careful and affectionate mother, though an humble one.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks, my good friends, both from the dead and the living! I -could not have hoped that so secure a home was awaiting her. O -nourish her for my sake, and when she speaks of her father, mention -my name, Henry Montressor, and assure her, that he will be father, -husband, all! I must leave her this moment. Should she awake, we -could never part. There is a purse of gold. Use it freely.”</p> - -<p>“Not for ourselves,” replied the generous miller. “Although she -be of gentle blood, we make her our child. Her sorrows will be -lightened in our home, in this peaceful retreat.”</p> - -<p>“Now,” <a id="Err_15" name="Err_15"></a>said Montressor, and he gently disengaged his hands from -the grasp of his sleeping companion. He softly kissed her lips. He -started up, dreading that the tear which had fallen on her cheek, -would awake her. He raised his hands to heaven.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span></p> - -<p>“God of mercy, if thou hast one whom in all the earth thou lovest -more than another, for innocence and misfortune, let that one be -Mary Evelyn! Let angels guard her, under the direction of her -sainted father. Send peace to her sorrows. Let thy balm drop into -every wound, thou gracious Being.”</p> - -<p>“Amen,” responded the miller and his wife.</p> - -<p>And surely God himself repeated the same Amen; for a sweet -beauty, shining in quiet happiness, rested upon the features of -the sleeping one. Montressor pointed to her, whilst he said in -anguish,—</p> - -<p>“And should she wander in her mind, oh, soothe her. When she -awakens, tell her that I am safe, and that soon I am here again. -One kiss more, my Mary.”</p> - -<p>Hans conducted him down to the pass, and soon the sound of the -horse’s hoofs were unheard in the distance. The moon was shining -brightly.</p> - -<p>“Never,” said Hans, “were the rays so sweet here before. And well -may they, such a beautiful face lies in our house!”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The weary months of winter passed on, and Mary Evelyn was a gentle -maniac. Unremitting were the attentions of her humble friends, but -she heeded them not. She was always, when awake, playing with the -counterpane of her little bed; starting up, and shrieking in her -sport.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Arthur Montressor,” she would say, “why do you go forth alone -to gather flowers for me? Must I not accompany you, and gather -the most beautiful for your own auburn locks? Ah! there is an old -venerable man enters. How beautiful are those white locks, and that -meek, meek face. Go, Arthur. I must stay here, alone, with the -headless man! headless, look at him,—gory neck! Ha, ha!”</p> - -<p>Spring came, and the good dame brought flowers and strewed them -upon the pillow. They were steeped in the morning’s dew, and as -Mary applied them to her burning forehead, and parched lips, she -smiled and seemed to be pleased. But she played with them, and -their heads came off.</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes,—he was beheaded!”</p> - -<p>After this she daily became calmer, until she was herself again; -the beautiful and blushing Mary Evelyn. Yet, think not that the -madness had departed! Reason is like a mirror; break it,—you may -replace the fragments,—still it is broken. She loved to wander -forth along the glen, or into the cave. Her soul was like a harp, -which every spirit of Nature could touch. Madness had sublimed many -a thought and feeling, until they seemed to hold converse with -the spiritual world.—Nature is more personal than is generally -thought. She has a soul as well as senses. The latter are the -pleasant sights, the sweet fragrance, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span> the music of voices, -but the soul of Nature is that deep internal working every where, -whose will operates upon the senses. Have we not felt the throbbing -of its pulse of life, and can she live without a soul? Nature, -therefore, is earth’s best comforter to the lonely, because she -feels and acts—a free agent.</p> - -<p>Mary Evelyn could now also enjoy the conversation of the miller and -his wife.</p> - -<p>“Miss Evelyn,” Hans once in good humour remarked, “we thought that -you never would speak to us. But, as my mother used to observe, -‘persons may carry an egg long in their pocket, and break it at -last.’”</p> - -<p>Whenever Miss Evelyn wished to be alone, she could retire to her -own little apartment, which opened into the back of the glen, or -wander into the cave, where the various sounds of the brook falling -amidst the rocks and cavities, and the notes of the birds, whose -nests were there, beguiled her melancholy.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile active hostilities between the King and Parliament had -commenced. The sword had been unsheathed, and blood was already on -its edge. Counter acts, threats, and impeachments, ceased, and the -field was taken. Lancashire, echoing the voice of Lord Strange, -declared for Charles, and engaged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span> in the struggle. A few of the -principal towns had been seized upon, and held by the Royalists, in -spite of the assaults of the Parliamentary forces; but the latter, -under the command of the most able generals, and fresh with the -enthusiasm of a new-born liberty, were soon to be successful.</p> - -<p>The inmates of Dunald Mill were not altogether ignorant of these -troublous times. The clapper made a constant noise, and Rachel’s -speech, of which she naturally had a great fluency, was incessant: -still, these combined agencies could not deafen their ears to all -the reports. On the sabbath, when they repaired to Lancaster, -although it was the day of peace, there were no subjects of -conversation afloat, except rumours of war. In the church, many a -seal had the parson opened, amidst thunderings and lightnings, and -black horses, and white horses, and red horses, and riders bearing -bows, conquering and to conquer, had spurred forth. Then he would, -from Scripture prophecy, delineate the character of the opposite -leaders in the war. When Lord Strange planted the royal standard in -the county, the parson’s text was, “Who is this that cometh from -Edom?” Edom, he very judiciously considered, as synonymous with -Lathom, the family seat of his lordship. When Oliver Cromwell was -reported to be marching into Lancashire, at the head of a body of -men, whom he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span> had himself levied and disciplined, he travelled into -the Apocalypse, and gave out the following;—“And they had tails -like unto scorpions, and there were stings in their tails, and -their power was to hurt men, five months. And they had a king over -them, who is the angel of the bottomless pit, whose name in the -Hebrew tongue is Abaddon.”</p> - -<p>“Abaddon!” the parson exclaimed. “Yes, Cromwell is a bad un, a -thorough bad un!”</p> - -<p>Often did he descend into the valley of vision, and take a view of -the dry bones; or enter the field of battle called Armageddon. He -would then pray, and the clerk held up his hands and stayed them, -lest Amalek might prevail. And truly for the length of an hour -he prayed, as some of the dissolute Royalists remarked, without -ceasing or sneezing. Alas! cavalier parsons could quote and apply -Scripture language as ludicrously and blasphemously as roundhead -ranters!</p> - -<p>Thus, war had lately been the constant theme. It seemed to be -pleasant to Miss Evelyn; and when all the tender and the beautiful -of her sex were imploring success on the handsome king, she -supplicated a blessing upon the arms of the fierce republicans, and -when news came of victory on the side of the Royalists, the cloud -which passed over her brow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span> betokened that she considered herself -as one of the vanquished.</p> - -<p>One Sunday morning, Hans, after donning his holiday attire, entered -the little room in front, where they generally sat together, and -found his wife and Miss Evelyn unprepared to attend him to church.</p> - -<p>“So, Rachel, you intend to preach at home?”</p> - -<p>“Yea, Hans,” was the reply, “my lady and I have agreed to stay at -Bethel, and not go up to Zion. It is not safe for females to travel -in such dangerous times. Nor can I enjoy the privileges of Zion at -present. Whenever I enter the church, my thoughts are disquieted -within me. It is so near the castle, and I think more of cannons -and soldiers, than any thing else. Nor is the parson clothed with -salvation, he speaks always of war. God will indeed make this a -Bethel, and Rachel Skippon shall sing aloud for joy.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, my dear friends,” said Mary Evelyn with enthusiasm,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span> “how -delightfully shall we spend the Sabbath! the little glen behind, -shall be our church, where no roof but that canopy above, can -intercept our ascending praise. The flowers shall be our hymn -books. Nay, nay, they whisper of a Creator, but not of a Saviour. -Even the lilies which he pointed out so beautifully when on earth, -are silent of Him! How calm is every object around! In what a holy -and sabbath repose do the rays fall, as if they were the feet of -angels, dancing so lightly upon our earth!”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” replied Hans, in true christian feeling, “the sabbath was -made for man, and not man for the sabbath. Take away this day, -and we could not tell what heaven is. And yet that profane prince -proclaimed sports thereon, and appointed that his book should be -laid on the pulpit, along with the book of life. But, I must away -to the public ordinances. Should war come to Lancaster, which side -must I fall into? Alas, Evelyn speaks so beautifully of the holy -puritans, who hate a tyrant over their consciences, that for some -time I have ceased to pray for him who is called King.”</p> - -<p>“Hans,” replied the dame, with some warmth, “if I thought you could -be so foolish as to take the sword, as truly as I live, I would -this moment disable you from leaving the house. But you could not -mean this;—no, no. Well, you can go, and to entice you home, -I shall prepare some savoury meat, such as thy soul loveth, of -which you may eat in abundance, and praise the Lord. Wont you bid -farewell to your wife?”</p> - -<p>She threw her arms around his neck, but the old man seemed offended.</p> - -<p>“Do you intend to disable me?” he asked, as he put her arms from -about him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span> “Thirty-five long years have I lived with you, and -never listened to such language. But since you have become Job’s -wife, I must be Job, and shew patience. Come, wife, kiss me,” -and he gave a loud and hearty laugh, which he suppressed when he -remembered that it was the sabbath.</p> - -<p>“Fie, fie, Hans, to speak of kissing before a young lady! It is -unseemly.”</p> - -<p>“Verily, dame, Miss Evelyn knew what kissing meant before. She -blushes—Good morning, Miss Evelyn. Good morning, dame. Hush, just -one, do not make a disturbance; it is the sabbath.”</p> - -<p>The miller walked up the glen, and soon gained the highway. At -every step he beheld proofs of the bad effects of the “Book of -Sports.” No crowds were to be seen moving to church, but they were -loitering by the way, engaged in mirth and games.</p> - -<p>“Ha!” exclaimed Hans, as he beheld an old man tottering on before -him,—“who can this be? I should know his gait, but then, his -apparel is changed. It is old Sir Robert; but before, he was always -dressed as a gay cavalier.”</p> - -<p>The old knight turned round. His white locks hung over a -plain-fashioned coat, and his hat was stripped of the proud plume -which he had once sported. His age might be seventy, although his -face was rosy.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Well, well, good miller,” he kindly said, “art thou alone also? I -left my beloved daughters at home, for I am fearful of the times.”</p> - -<p>“You have nothing to fear, Sir Robert,” replied the miller, “in -Lancaster, since you are a Royalist.”</p> - -<p>“A Royalist!” echoed the knight, and he shook his head. “Not much -of that now; no, no. The king has become a tyrant, and I disown his -cause. A gallant nephew of mine, a roundhead by principle, in a -battle of last month, was made prisoner, and the king gave him no -quarter—but death!”</p> - -<p>“The taking away of life,” rejoined the miller, “Charles seems to -consider as his kingly prerogative.”</p> - -<p>“His turn will come at last, Republicans say it <em>shall</em>, Death says -it <em>will</em>. And what is a King? The meanest beggar. The poor man may -only have one morsel of bread,—the king demands the half of it, -and he is not frightened, for all his pride, and by his thoughts of -dirt and scab to eat it. He,—a great man! Go to the treasury, and -there you will see the widow’s mite, and the starving man’s alms! -and Charles puts forth his white hand and takes them!”</p> - -<p>“Yea, truly,” said Hans,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span> “I am more independent in my cottage, than -Charles in his palace. I earn my bread by labour, but he just puts -on a few robes which we have all patched up with our own rags, -blows a whistle which we have bought for him, and plays with a toy -which he calls a sceptre, and for all this he receives his million.”</p> - -<p>“Nay, good friend, you scorn a king too much. A king <em>can</em> work, -and deserve all his salary, by ruling well, and peaceably. But as -for Charles, he has taken the sword against that country, which he -solemnly swore to protect. He sets his royal head up against all -the sage senators of the nation. One man laughs at a Parliament! -If his father deserved the name of Solomon,—Charles has much more -justly earned that of Rehoboam: for under him all the tribes of -Israel have revolted. He has bound on the nation, grevious burdens, -which cannot be borne, and which he himself could not move, even -with his little finger. And as for my poor Lord Strange—of the -Derby race—why he’s a black hearted Papist. Were Cromwell to -sweep down upon him, the vain nobleman would gladly hie away to -the Isle-of-man. I wish no evil to him, but merely pray ‘the Lord -rebuke him!’ would that the Eagle which brought a child to the -family, were again to descend and take this <em>child</em> wheresoever he -lists!”</p> - -<p>They walked on together. As they entered Lancaster, they were -struck at the unusual stillness and quiet of the streets. There -were no games and sports. The doors were shut, and no longer were -children sitting on the thresholds. The town seemed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span> deserted, -until they came to the church gates, where crowds had assembled, -all in earnest conversation. The venerable structure arising to the -morning rays from the green hill, near to the castle, seemed like -an angel pleading against the uses and employments of the other. -They are both, evidently, of the same high antiquity, and standing, -also, upon romantic elevations, it might be imagined that they had -been founded to oppose each other. The parson, in one of his just -similies, had called the mount of the castle—Sinai, of which the -flashes and reports of the cannon were thunders and lightnings; -whilst he designated the mount of the church—Zion—where his own -notes were the still small whisperings of mercy, to listen unto -which the assembled tribes came up.</p> - -<p>The crowds were gazing intently upon the castle, where the -sentinels had been doubled. A few were gay, and vapoured out jests -against the enemy, in the cavalier style of affected blasphemy and -dissipation.</p> - -<p>“So,” said one whose hat was shaped in the fashion of one of the -turrets of the castle, high and tapering, but foppishly off the -true perpendicular, and who was lord of a neighbouring mansion,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span> -“those cannons peer out from the loopholes in front like the -piercing eyes of a buxom damsel at the window, ogling and smiling. -They’ll riddle the breeches of the enemy. The governor assured -me, yesterday, that as the roundheads are so fond of Scripture, -whenever they come, he shall put a whole Bible in the mouth of the -cannon, thus to quiet them in the name of the Lord, and give them -holy promise, precept, and threat, line upon line, all at once. -They shall be left to digest them at their leisure.”</p> - -<p>“Good, good, ha, ha,” replied a neighbour cavalier, “but then it -will scarcely be the Book of Life, you know.”</p> - -<p>“Nay,” was the rejoinder, “you are out there. Come, let us reason -together. The Bible is the sword of the Spirit, it can kill, -especially if it were bound in a lead case, and thrown with fury. -It is the savour of death unto death, as they themselves would say. -Savour! aye there will be a pretty strong savour of powder on its -pages! Nol himself, although he had three warts at the end of his -nose, instead of one at the side, would smell it!”</p> - -<p>“Could not the Royal Book of Sports,” slily said Sir Robert with a -smile of scorn on his aged features, “of which his present Majesty -has printed a new edition, be substituted in its place?”</p> - -<p>“Good,” was the reply,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span> “most excellent! Eh? would it not make rare -<em>sport</em> amongst the roundheads? It would verily enforce them to -join in a few games, such as dancing till they fell down. But, old -knight, be on your guard how you recommend that measure again. -It has been seconded and carried by a majority of affirmatives in -parliament with this amendment, of being burnt by the hands of the -common hangman, instead of being vomited forth by the cannon.”</p> - -<p>“See,” whispered the knight to the miller. “Parliament does its -duty nobly, by purging itself from that mass of pollution. I -attempted to do my duty when the king wrote it, and it nearly cost -me my head. The crowned fool fumed like the smoke of that tobacco -against which he blew ‘A Royal Blast.’”</p> - -<p>The church was crowded, and many were obliged to stand, for lack -of better accommodation. A few soldiers from the castle took their -place in the aisles, and during the reading of prayers, at every -Amen pronounced by the clerk, and responded to by the congregation, -they clashed their sheathed swords on the echoing pavement, and -then laughed to each other.</p> - -<p>The parson arose to commence his discourse. His face had got a -rueful longitude, which assisted him to read his text with becoming -effect.</p> - -<p>“And there shall be rumours of wars.”</p> - -<p>His divisions, theologically speaking, were striking and -impressive. He mentioned, in regular succession, all the rumours -which had been afloat!</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span></p> -<p>“First, my brethren, when I was in the neighbourhood of Manchester, -the skies had darkened, and all was still around, when I heard a -warlike drum. But greater woes were to succeed,—and I fled.”</p> - -<p>He had proceeded through the divisions, and had come to the last.</p> - -<p>“Lastly, my brethren,”—</p> - -<p>He was interrupted by a loud report of a cannon fired from the -castle. All sprung to their feet. The soldiers rushed to the gate.</p> - -<p>“Lastly, my brethren,—there is the cannon bringing rumours of -wars.”</p> - -<p>His voice was drowned by another and another awful peal rumbling -over the church.</p> - -<p>“The enemy! the enemy!” was the general cry. Hans was borne -irresistibly along with the crowd to the castle; and from its -ramparts they beheld a strong body of troops encamping at the -distance of a few miles.</p> - -<p>The governor of the castle stood with his glass. After gazing -long and anxiously, he exclaimed, “Soldiers, haste, prepare for a -siege. The enemy will be strait upon us. They are Oliver Cromwell’s -troops.”</p> - -<p>“The cry was raised by the multitude, ‘Oliver Cromwell!’”</p> - -<p>What terror seized even the bravest royalist at that plain name!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span></p> - -<p>The military cleared the court of the frightened citizens, and all -the gates and avenues were strongly barricaded. The royal banner -was unfurled amid the shouts of the inhabitants, who now resolved -to rally.</p> - -<p>“We are safe for one day,” exclaimed some. “Cromwell was never -known to be such a ruffian as to commence an attack, much less a -siege, on the Lord’s day.”</p> - -<p>The miller, along with the knight, as speedily as possible -retreated to the extremity of the town, and proceeded homeward.</p> - -<p>Sir Robert Bradley’s mansion was near the romantic vale of -Lonsdale. He was not a native of the county, but had retired there -after a life spent at the court of James, when he observed that -that sovereign’s successor, although young and inexperienced, could -not brook anything but honied words, and pleasant flattery, from -his councillors; and that to be faithful was to make him their -enemy. Nursed by two lovely and affectionate daughters, he enjoyed -a peaceful happiness he had never known amidst all the bustle, -intrigue, and rivalry of his younger days.</p> - -<p>A few weeks ago, his nephew, who had joined the Parliamentary -troops, without his consent, and against his expressed wish, had -been captured in the field of battle, and the fate decreed by the -king, was death.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span> The old knight had cursed the youthful roundhead, -but now, even more than his ancient fondness had returned for his -brother’s son, whom he had educated from a boy; and an uncle’s -blessing was given to the memory of the dead, whilst he imprecated -vengeance on the king. But there was one of the family to whom the -tidings came a darker message, and a more bitter loss. Not only -were the hopes, but the very existence of that one—dependant. -Sweet Madeline Bradley, the knight’s younger daughter, had been -betrothed to her cousin from childhood. They had tripped the same -path in the vale many a morn; and as many an eve they had bent to -unbuckle the old man’s shoes, their loving hands touching each -other, and their luxurious tresses failing together. And when -Madeline grew up into beautiful womanhood, when love mingles with -awe and worship, bashfulness and timidity only served to explain -their intimacy better. When she heard of his death, she started -not. Amidst the tears of her sister Sarah, and the grief of her -father for him who had been the family’s favourite, she wept not -for him who had been her lover. She raved not. Sir Robert thought -that she bore it lightly, till one evening at sunset, about a week -after the mournful news had been told her, he was seated in the -arbour. He heard a light step approaching, and then a low sweet -voice, as if afraid to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span> be heard, making such a request, breathed -its silvery accents.</p> - -<p>“Cousin, the night is so beautiful. Come, let us to the vale, if -you would rather not be alone, Cousin.”</p> - -<p>And when her father stepped forth, the truth came to her -remembrance. Still she fainted not; but she became deadly pale, and -leaned for support against the young trees at the entrance. Alas! -her’s was a broken heart, although unknown; and the knight as he -blessed her in fondness at every return of the hour of rest, might -have read something in her deep blue eyes, raised so earnestly, -that would have told him that she was not certain whether she could -awake for him any more. With what regret she then parted from him! -She followed him to the door of his sleeping apartment, that a -latest farewell might be allowed. But the good knight saw not the -awful progress that death was making.</p> - -<p>The miller and the knight, on their way home, conversed about the -arrival of the enemy.</p> - -<p>“My good friend,” said Sir Robert,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span> “trust me, that if the troops -be headed by Cromwell, the Governor of Lancaster Castle may yield -at discretion. What a deep, a burning enthusiasm, there is in that -wonderful man, although he be turned on the wrong side of forty! I -cannot but believe that it is the fire of heaven.”</p> - -<p>“Verily,” replied Hans Skippon, “it will soon destroy the temples -of Baal. But here is the footpath leading to my quiet cottage. God -grant that the soldiers be not near it.”</p> - -<p>They parted. The miller, on entering into the wide glen, started -as he beheld the roundhead soldiers there encamped. They were -engaged in religious services. A solemn hush, disturbed alone by -the shrill notes of the curlew and the plover, as they arose from -the long tufted grass, was over the band as they listened to the -exhortations of one of their preachers, who stood on a mass of grey -rock. Hans was inclined to join them in their sabbath employments, -but he dreaded lest he should be retained by them, and pressed -into their lists, although he might have been free from all fears -upon the latter point, as he would have been no acquisition to -the disciplined veterans of Cromwell. He, accordingly, avoided -them by a circuitous rout, on the back of a neighbouring hill, and -without hindrance or obstruction, at length reached his cottage. -He paused at the door. He heard a stranger’s voice. It was low and -husky;—but, unaccountably, by its very tones, he was spell-bound, -and compelled to listen.</p> - -<p>“Maiden,” were the words,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span> “thy sorrows and thy history, are those -of our mother country. I know that thou wert formed by God for -happiness, and was not England? Now she is bowed in the dust,—but -there is an outstretched rod for the oppressor, and an outstretched -arm of deliverance for the oppressed. Both gleam from the clouds of -her adversity, and soon, soon they reach those for whom they are -destined! Liberty cannot die while man has one heart-string. My -maiden, cheer is for thee. Thy father lost his head, sayest thou? -Others may lose theirs also.”</p> - -<p>Hans, after these words were uttered, turned the latch, and walked -in. At the little window a soldier, not in the uniform of an -officer, but well accoutred, was sitting. He was gazing upon the -vale without, and his dark grey eye glowed, as it moved restlessly -on all the objects. The features were not finely formed: indeed, -they might be called coarse, though not plain, for a wild power -was expressed. From his broad and prominent forehead, the light -red locks were put back. His countenance, one moment, was so calm -and sanctified, that he might have been set down as a preacher of -the gospel: but the next, it was so troubled and fiery, that he -appeared a fierce and ambitious warrior.</p> - -<p>Although his eye seemed upon the full stretch of resolution and -thought, his hand was placed softly upon the bending head of Mary -Evelyn, whom he had, evidently, been attempting to console. Old -Rachel was seated at a short distance from him, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span> a bible -in her hand, but many a look was stolen from its pages to the -countenance of the stranger. Her ears caught the sounds of her -husband’s footsteps.</p> - -<p>“Hans,” she exclaimed, “is all well, that you have left the church -so soon? You have only been gathering crumbs beneath the table, -like a graceless dog. Woe, woe unto short sermons, and impatient -hearers! You have come home before the pudding is ready. What’s the -matter, Hans?”</p> - -<p>But the miller neglected to answer the queries of his dame, being -employed in obsequiously bowing to the stranger.</p> - -<p>“Friend, kneel not to me; I am only thy fellow-servant. See that -thou do it not. I am <em>but</em> Oliver Cromwell!”</p> - -<p>As he pronounced the word <em>but</em>, there was a proud smile passed -over his features, and he arose from his seat for a moment, in -that air of command which was natural unto him. His proud bearing -attested that though he refused to receive homage, he considered -himself entitled to it.</p> - -<p>Hans Skippon, on hearing the name of the stranger, bent down on his -knees.</p> - -<p>“Nay, I kneel not to thee, but to the Most High, who hath raised -thee up for a horn unto his people.”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span></p> -<p>“I am, indeed, but an instrument in the Divine hands; and an atom, -created for working out the Divine counsels. I am but a small -stone, cut out of the mountains, to break down the image of the -beast. Good miller, arise from thy knees.”</p> - -<p>“A very sensible advice,” muttered Rachel, who was not altogether -pleased with the lowly posture of her husband.</p> - -<p>“Didst thou pass my troops?” inquired Cromwell, “and how were they -employed?”</p> - -<p>“They were listening to the exhortations of a preacher, and the -very horses even seemed attentive, for they stood silent.”</p> - -<p>“How different,” exclaimed the dame, “from all other soldiers, who -make the sabbath a day of wanton sport. They curse and swear like -the king himself. They stay at the wine-cup till their eyes are -red, and their great toes cannot balance the bulk above them. Put -a cap sideways on a monkey, teach him to say ‘damn,’ to look and -be wicked; take him to the king, and get him knighted, and he is -a good cavalier. Knight him with a sword! Bring him to me, and I -should do it to better purpose with a rough stick!”</p> - -<p>Cromwell <em>smiled</em> at this ebullition of feeling. Throughout all his -life he was never known to <em>laugh</em>.</p> - -<p>“You speak warmly, dame,” said he. “But since a sword is the only -weapon of knighthood, they shall have one. Here,” and he pointed to -his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span> own, lying sheathed on the casement, “is the sword of Gideon. -That sword has been blessed as often as the food which I partake -of. But, miller, thou wert at church to-day. ’Tis well; yet I have -a few things to say against thee; I would thou wert either cold or -hot.”</p> - -<p>Rachel was looking in at the large pot on the fire, in which the -pudding was boiling, as she thought, too slowly. Her temper was -provoked, and she muttered, as she raised the pudding on the end of -a stick;</p> - -<p>“I would <em>thou</em> wert either cold or hot.”</p> - -<p>“I have a few things to say against thee, my trusty miller,” -repeated Cromwell.</p> - -<p>“A few things to say against Hans,” exclaimed Rachel with much -warmth, while she left the pot, and faced round to Cromwell. “Take -care what thou sayest against Hans!”</p> - -<p>“Pooh!” was the contemptuous answer. “Thou fumest; but I know how -to cork every bottle of ale, brisk though it be. I carry stoppers, -even for a woman—but beware.”</p> - -<p>“A few things to say against Hans!” continued Rachel, but in a -lower voice,—“why, he’s a good husband, a good christian, and—”</p> - -<p>“Too <em>good</em> a subject to King Charles,” added Cromwell with a -frown.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span> “Woe unto you that still dwell in the tents of Ham. God -shall enlarge us and our borders; but woe be to you. And yet, you -have kindly given refuge to this lovely maiden, whose history I -have heard, and whose wrongs, God be my witness, I shall revenge. -Because Rahab kept the spies, she was allowed to enter the promised -land, and because you have kept this persecuted daughter of a brave -man, God will reward you!”</p> - -<p>He paused, and then continued,—</p> - -<p>“And wherefore should I induce you to leave this peaceful retreat, -and your rural occupations? A Sunday spent in the country would -almost suffice to put an end to war, and to make brethren of all -mankind!”</p> - -<p>He turned his head, seemingly absorbed in his own reflections. His -eyes could not be seen. They were altogether buried beneath his -eye-brows and his massive forehead.</p> - -<p>“In church,” replied Hans to the repeated inquiries of his dame, -“we were disturbed by the noise of the cannon firing from the -castle. Ah! it is no longer true that we can sit under our vine and -fig-tree,—none daring to make us afraid.”</p> - -<p>“Fig-tree!” exclaimed Rachel, whose memory had not retained the -passage, and whose reason applied it in a literal sense,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span> “why -we cannot even sit under the cherry-tree in the garden without -somebody troubling us. Miss Evelyn and I—draw nearer, Hans, and -I shall whisper it—were seated there, when this noble officer, -attended by five or six troopers, came to the gate. And yet, he -has not disturbed us much. I feel proud that he has come to our -dwelling. As he entered, his sword was clashing on the threshold, -but he said, ‘Peace be unto this house.’ But go on; you mentioned a -disturbance in the church.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, cannons were fired from the castle. They drowned the piping -of the parson. We all rushed out, and made for the castle. The -governor stood on the battlements, as motionless as a sack of -flour. But his eyes were fixed upon some distant object, and he -exclaimed ‘Cromwell, Cromwell.’”</p> - -<p>These words were repeated by the miller in a loud voice. Cromwell -started up. Hans turned his back and busied himself with an -examination of the pudding in the pot.</p> - -<p>“Who called me by name. Who called me?”</p> - -<p>No one answered.</p> - -<p>“Yes, it was an angel’s voice! Stay,” and Cromwell took his boots -from off his feet. “Now speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth.”</p> - -<p>His eyes were wildly raised. Not one of his enemies could have -laughed at his grotesque appearance, for the face was expressive of -an unearthly communion. It was pale; the very breath of the angel -whom he imagined to be there, might have passed over it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Nay, thou wilt not stay! It is well. I could not execute a -commission of vengeance on the Sabbath.”</p> - -<p>It is singular that this great man was often deluded by visions, -and communications from the other world. His sudden conversion -from extreme dissipation had invested him, in his own eyes, -with something of a wonder and a miracle. It was the same with -Mohammed. But although this was a weakness, it was the source of -his energies, and inflexible resolution. He could not believe that -these fancies were the dreams of youth; for he had already passed -the meridian of life. He knew that his bodily senses were becoming -blunted, and he therefore was willing to think that his spiritual -senses were more acute and could distinguish sounds and sights, -which were strange to all but his gifted self. But let not his -enemies mock him. He might assert and believe that he heard sounds -urging him to go to the field of battle, to dare more than any -other warrior, and usurper; but did he ever hear any urging him -to fly, to leave undone what he had resolved to do? Nay, had he -actually heard such, he would have rejected them. Religion,—the -tones of every angel above,—nay, the very voice of God himself, -could not have made Cromwell a coward!</p> - -<p>At length they sat down to dinner. A large substantial pudding was -placed before them. In those days, the guests of the poor had not -each a knife and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span> fork; nay, they had not each a plate. All things -were in common. The miller clasped his hands together and looked -up for a blessing. And here, let not our readers expect something -long and very piously expressed. The spirit of the times was too -much debased by blasphemous allusions, which are only redeemed from -condemnation by their quaintness.</p> - -<p>“Hans,” whispered Rachel, “give us your best blessing. Let it be -the one in rhyme.”</p> - -<p>A pause was made. Cromwell’s eyes were shut, and Hans solemnly -began,—</p> - -<div class="poem small"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Lord bless us! Devil miss us!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rachel—bring the spoons to us!”<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>The good dame was hastening to comply with the request, when -Cromwell cried,</p> - -<p>“Nay, miller, thou hast but asked a blessing on us. Let us ask a -blessing on the provisions. Your’s is but a vulture’s blessing,” -and he himself poured forth thanksgivings to God, for all his -mercies.</p> - -<p>After the repast, Cromwell spoke but little, except to Mary Evelyn, -to whose lot he promised better days. But the miller was a little -curious to know his intended movements, as it was not every day -which brought him such opportunities for looking into the future.</p> - -<p>“They expect you at Lancaster, General,” said he turning to -Cromwell.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span></p> - -<p>“And yet,” was the answer, “I shall prove that although they expect -me, they are not quite prepared for my reception. The walls of -Jericho must fall down. And saidst thou, pretty innocent,” as he -looked upon Miss Evelyn with a kind eye, “that the Governor of -Lancaster Castle, gave evidence against thy father, even to the -death?”</p> - -<p>“He did, noble warrior. My father was an old friend of Charles. -But he could not support him in his tyrannic measures with the -Parliament. Whisperings went abroad that my father had agreed to -assassinate him. The Governor of Lancaster Castle was reported to -have heard him say, that if the king went further, the nation must -purchase a block, and that no nobleman who loved his country, would -refuse to be the executioner; and such evidence was given; it was -false. Oh! my poor father.”</p> - -<p>Her eye rolled wildly around, as when in her moments of madness. -The miller and his dame perceived it, and went kindly to console -her. But the voice of Cromwell, though neither sweet nor full -toned, seemed to exercise a charm over her grief, as if he had been -some superior being; and instead of raving, she only fell into a -fit of insensibility.</p> - -<p>“Leave her to me, good people. Now my pretty one, put your hands in -mine.”</p> - -<p>He looked up solemnly, whilst he whispered,</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span></p> - -<p>“God above, heal her mind, and heal our mother country. Affection -may yet smile upon her, and kindness may cherish her, but she is a -wreck. The delapidated temple may have the earth around, as green -as ever, and the sky above, as holy and beautiful, but it is still -a ruin. Ho! my good friends, here, she breathes not. Her heart has -stopped its pulse against my breast. Throw the spring water upon -her face. Now she recovers. Look up, then, innocent one.”</p> - -<p>In a few minutes she was able to thank him for his attentions.</p> - -<p>“It is a painful subject, but although I hear it not mentioned, -it is ever present to my mind. Oh! it is wicked in me to cherish -revenge towards that man. I almost hate him. I almost wish him -dead.”</p> - -<p>“Blame not the wish. I have myself wished, nay prayed fervently -for hours at the still approach of midnight, that the man, Charles -Stuart, should die by our hands. He has braved the Parliament, and -why should the judges spare him?”</p> - -<p>And yet this was the man who, in after years, dissolved the -Parliament by force, and took the keys home in his pocket. Charles -might not order his attendants in as eloquent and strong language, -to seize the offenders, as Cromwell used, when he told his servants -to take down, “that bauble,”—the mace;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span> but the king was guilty of -a less constitutional crime than was the protector.</p> - -<p>He continued, in tones of scorn, while malice darkened over his -face,—</p> - -<p>“If Charles be bad, why, he deserves death; he is unfit to live. -If he be good, it is but meet that he should leave this vain and -wicked world for another more congenial to his piety, where he may -inherit a heavenly crown. Let him bid adieu, and there is no honest -man who could object to a monarchy in heaven! Often has Charles -called the crown, a crown of thorns. We shall ease him of it. Pity -that his tender and royal flesh should be scratched! Often has he -called the throne of England a cross. We shall take him down from -the cross, <em>and bury him</em>. Pity that he should, any longer, be a -spectacle to angels and to men! We shall free him of both his crown -and his throne!”</p> - -<p>“But surely not of his life?” inquired Miss Evelyn, and the -question was repeated by Hans and Rachel Skippon.</p> - -<p>It was unanswered:—and Cromwell relapsed into one of those silent -moods which came frequently over him, even at the commencement -of his public career, as well as afterwards, when he became Lord -Protector.</p> - -<p>In all his conversation, Mary Evelyn had observed that there was -something of an innocent hypocrisy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span> about him. He counterfeited -tender feelings, when it was evident, from his face, that he -had none; and at other times he restrained tender feelings, -and appeared what he was not—cold and indifferent. But in his -expressed hatred of the king, there could not be a doubt of his -sincerity. The awful sarcasm was in deadly earnest, and the very -words hissed, and hissed, as if they were coming from a full -furnace of burning wrath. Neither was his love for England at -that time insincere. Had his life been of as much value to it as -his sword, instead of taking up the one, he was willing to have -resigned the other.</p> - -<p>A knocking was now made at the gate, and when Rachel went to it, a -soldier of the common rank inquired,—</p> - -<p>“Tarrieth my lord in the house? Verily he hath chosen a peaceful -spot. The lines have fallen unto him in pleasant places. Lead me -the way.”</p> - -<p>“Dost thou preach in the army?” inquired the dame.</p> - -<p>“No madam; verily, verily I say unto you, that many shall be called -unto that work, but few chosen. But thou wonderest at the fluency -of my speech. Ah!—out of the abundance of the heart the mouth -speaketh. I only edify and exhort in private.”</p> - -<p>The good dame could, with difficulty, refrain from laughing at -the uncouth soldier. He was tall and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span> thin, and she afterwards -remarked,—had Goliath been still alive, the soldier would have -been an excellent sword for his huge hand. But he opened his lips -so oracularly, and strode so gravely, that these circumstances -being taken into consideration, along with his leanness, he was -termed by Cromwell himself, with no little blasphemy, when in an -unusual fit of jocularity and good humour, “the holy <em>ghost</em>!”</p> - -<p>When they had gained the house, he made a low reverence to -Cromwell, repeating the words, “honour to whom honour is due, fear -to whom fear.”</p> - -<p>“Well, my good soldier, what wouldst thou?”</p> - -<p>“Will it please you, my lord, to walk forth in the cool of the day, -and commune with thy servants, our captains and officers?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, in a few moments I shall be with them.”</p> - -<p>The soldier retreated to the door slowly, whilst he said,</p> - -<p>“Now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.”</p> - -<p>Cromwell, in a little, walked forth alone. The miller looked at -his form. It was muscular, but not strong, and well built, but not -handsome; but all its movements were expressive of power.</p> - -<p>“He <em>will</em> save the nation,” exclaimed Miss Evelyn, “and for all -his greatness, he is yet so pious and devout.”</p> - -<p>“I could trust that man,” replied Rachel,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span> “but I could not feel any -attachment or affection to him. <a id="Err_16" name="Err_16"></a>He might perish to-morrow, and -yet, but for our country, I would not mourn at his loss.”</p> - -<p>The good dame here expressed what was the universal feeling of all -Cromwell’s supporters towards him. He had their confidence, but not -their affection. His own daughters, at one time, were proud of him, -but they were never fond. And in the glowing panegyric of Milton, -we can but trace a high admiration of Cromwell.</p> - -<p>“Arthur Montressor,” said Mary to herself, “must not belong to -Cromwell’s troops, else he would surely have come to see me. He is -not false or faithless. Oh! when shall civil war be at an end, and -we know a home?”</p> - -<p>Cromwell returned an hour before sunset. His step was slow. He was -in a quiet contemplative mood, evidently not thinking of war. His -head was uncovered, and he allowed the air to breathe its fragrance -upon it. He paused at the threshold, as if it were painful to enter -a dwelling after having wandered about the vale.</p> - -<p>The night was beautiful and still. It was early in the month of -May, and the sunshine had all its young summer innocence. In mirth -it seemed now to rest upon the little green knolls, and then to -retreat to the mountain. The shadows were passing over the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span> white -cottage, as if chiding the bright rays which shone within.</p> - -<p>“My good friends,” said Cromwell “it is now time for our evening -devotions. Let them not be performed in a house made with hands, -but in the open air. And yet I would rather worship in your -dwelling, than in all the gorgeous temples, which speak too much of -man, to say any thing of God. But, let us to the garden.”</p> - -<p>His eye beamed with a love for nature. He is said often to have -dwelt with rapture on the beauty of external objects, and to have -wished that his lot, however humble, had been cast in a pastoral -retirement, far from bustle and care. Nature had first given him -thoughts of liberty. It was not the lightning and the storm, which -inspired them. He cared not for the cold mountains, with their -terrific heads mantled in the tempest. He looked around upon lovely -nature. He called himself her son. It was not because she was free, -but because she was beautiful, that he swore never to be a slave. A -beautiful mother, and a son with a craven soul: it must not be!</p> - -<p>They went forth to the garden. A pleasant arbour at the extremity, -topping the eminence, and shaded with trees, was their temple. -The balmy fragrance of eve rested on the bushes, and the glow of -coming twilight floated in the sky. Cromwell for a moment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span> listened -in silence, as if the song of spirits, keeping their sabbath, was -borne on the gentle west wind.</p> - -<p>“What a temple is this,” he said, “to worship God! I cannot endure -to enter churches, and there to gaze upon the gay gilded fluttering -sons of pride, clothed in purple and fine linen. But here, I can -gaze upon objects still more gaily adorned, and I dare not call -them vain.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” exclaimed Miss Evelyn, catching fire and animation from the -republican. “Churches teach so much the lesson of our mortality. -Many graves are around us. But this temple teaches us of -immortality.”</p> - -<p>“Thou speakest well, beauteous maiden. Mortality is a great -lesson, but immortality is one greater and more useful. Mortality -teaches us to trace our connections and relatives in the worm. But -immortality in God and angels! Sin brought the first to light, but -Christ the other.”</p> - -<p>They all joined in singing a psalm. Mary Evelyn’s sweet voice, with -its low and tremulous sounds, occasionally induced Cromwell to be -silent and listen, while he kindly placed his hand upon hers. He -next read a portion of Scripture,—one of the Psalms—which he -afterwards commented upon, in his address to Parliament, as Lord -Protector of the Commonwealth. He then knelt down on the grass and -prayed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span> “Father above, we come to thee! We now bow at thy feet: -soon we shall lie in thine arms! Far above us, still thou hidest -not thy face. Excuse us in this act of adoration, for opening our -eyes to see the heavens, and for sinking our hands on the ground -to feel thy footstool. The moon and the stars may not arise, but -the clouds which conceal them, tell their tale. The flowers of the -earth may have withered, but the clods of the valley, beneath which -their fair young forms are buried, take their place, and speak to -us of thee!”</p> - -<p>Here he paused, as if overcome by the greatness of the Being whom -he addressed. But soon it was the strong republican who prayed, and -he raved about Israel; Israel’s God, and himself the deliverer of -both, as he presumed.</p> - -<p>When he had concluded, he abruptly arose and left them. They -followed him into the house, after a few minutes, but he had gone -to his apartment for the night. As long however as they themselves -were awake, they heard him walking up and down.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>On the following morning, the sun was not earlier in arising upon -the turrets of Lancaster Castle, than were the soldiers of the -garrison. They were in armour, and the cannons were all charged and -manned. The Governor was walking about to every post and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span> every -circle, encouraging them to do their duty to the king and country.</p> - -<p>His eyes were occasionally turned to the vale where Cromwell’s -troops were encamped.</p> - -<p>“Do they yet move,” said a noble youth who now approached. “Father, -shall we able to hold out a siege against such a famed general?”</p> - -<p>“Is my son a traitor,” bitterly asked the governor. “If he be, -then my first duty of vengeance is against him. No! a king has -blessed thee, and wouldst thou fight against him who once took -thee, an infant, in his royal arms, and swore that thou wert like -thy beautiful mother? Thy mother! Ha, the subject and the name are -unfit for me. Let me not think of them.”</p> - -<p>“Father,” proudly replied the youth, “thou doest me wrong. Not only -my sword, but my very life is pledged for the king’s interest. But -to war with Cromwell is to war with destiny. He can pray and he can -fight.”</p> - -<p>“Let his troops come,” was the scornful answer,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span> “and we shall -quickly send them upon their knees, to attend to their devotions. -See, there is spare room for a few thousands to pray upon the -ground out before us. They shall find room to stretch out their -full length carcass, and they may breathe out groans which cannot -be uttered, because they are dead!”</p> - -<p>“They pray before they come to the battle. During it, you will not -find them once on their knees.”</p> - -<p>“Ha! doubtest thou?” exclaimed the governor. “If they refuse to -kneel in loyalty to Charles while living, why, we shall allow -them, in death, to kneel to their mother earth, which they love so -fondly, ‘dust to dust,’ as they themselves would say.”</p> - -<p>“Not before their garments are rolled in blood!”</p> - -<p>“Art thou a canting hypocrite too? Hast thou been baptized with the -said holy fire. It is the fire of rebellion. Satan was the first -roundhead. He spoke of liberty. He mentioned it in the high court -of parliament, but royalty conquered, and the good cavalier angels -pushed him and all his troops over the battlements. Let Cromwell -scale these turrets, we shall explain to him a precipitous descent. -Let him come.”</p> - -<p>“Thou hast thy wish,” was the reply. “His troops are advancing. Now -for the action.”</p> - -<p>“My brave boy,” said the governor, as he placed his hand upon the -head of his son, “forgive me for my harsh words. Thou art my only -child, my sole hope. Heaven bless thee and shield thee! But haste -my men, is all in readiness?”</p> - -<p>In half-an-hour Cromwell’s troops were posted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</a></span> upon a neighbouring -hill, opposite the castle. A flag of truce was fixed.</p> - -<p>A herald from the Roundheads now advanced; and being admitted -into the town, proceeded to the castle. The persons usually thus -employed were half preachers, and half warriors, who threatened -with the sword of the Lord, and of Gideon. The present messenger of -peace, belonged to this class. Obadiah Cook was his name, and as he -announced it to the governor, who appeared at the drawbridge, all -the soldiers gave a loud laugh.</p> - -<p>“Friend,” said the governor, “is thy name Obadiah Cook?”</p> - -<p>“It is, Sir Governor,” was the reply, “I am like that famous -prophet, who sheltered God’s servants from the wicked Ahaz. Oh! for -a place in the wilderness, that there my soul might fly away and be -at rest!”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[355]</a></span></p> -<p>“What prevents it from flying? Surely not thy body, for it is -so weak. Indeed, Obadiah, thou seemest too like thy namesake of -old, and art too fond of <em>cooking</em> for the hundred prophets. Man, -consider your own wants.—But your errand, Obadiah?”</p> - -<p>“He that hath ears to hear, let him hear. Are ye so deaf? The -very loop holes of that idolatrous castle, of that high-place of -iniquity, condemned by the Psalmist, take in my words. My master, -Cromwell, in the name of the Parliament of England, demands you -to surrender the castle, else it shall be razed to the ground, and -there shall not be one stone left upon another, which shall not be -thrown down. Last night, when I had retired to sleep, in the midst -of my meditations, I heard an angel flying through the sky, and -crying with a loud voice ‘Babylon is fallen, Lancaster Castle is no -more.’”</p> - -<p>At this moment a ball whizzed over the head of Obadiah.</p> - -<p>“Is that the angel which flew through the sky?” inquired the -sentinel, who had discharged it, and who, with curses regretted -that it had not gone a little nearer in order that the herald might -have known more accurately.</p> - -<p>“Darest thou?” exclaimed the governor, as he turned to the -sentinel. “Another time, thou receivest thy punishment.”</p> - -<p>The herald continued,—</p> - -<p>“You are cut off from all provisions, you shall soon be compelled -to eat your wives, your little ones, and yourselves. Then surrender -in time.”</p> - -<p>“Not so,” replied the governor, with a laugh,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[356]</a></span> “we have better -dainties than that. We have as good ale, as ever Oliver himself -brewed at Huntingdon. Nay, I should like to have a chat with him, -over some of it. Sentinel, throw Obadiah a loaf.”</p> - -<p>The herald, who did not seem by any means over-fed, caught the -descending bread, and stowed it about his person.</p> - -<p>“Now, fool, return and tell Oliver that we despise his vengeance, -and laugh at his mercy.”</p> - -<p>“Then,” exclaimed the angry and indignant messenger, “a voice -against Lancaster, a voice against the Castle, a voice against—”</p> - -<p>“Yourself. A voice against yourself,” and a well aimed ball, from -the governor’s pistol, brought him to the ground, from off his -steed.</p> - -<p>The report could not have been heard from the hill, where -Cromwell’s troops were posted, but the herald’s fall must have been -noticed, as instantly active preparations for the attack seemed -to be making, and soon several pieces of cannon opened their fire -upon the castle in close volley. From the upper batteries it was -returned, and from the loop holes over the strong arched gateway, -muskets were fired upon those of the Roundhead soldiers, who had -broken down the gates of the town, and were advancing furiously.</p> - -<p>“Prevent them,” cried the governor, “from recovering the dead body -of their comrade. Let him at least be useful in his death, and be a -meal to the crows and the vultures.”</p> - -<p>But although the musketry wrought havock among<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[357]</a></span> the Roundheads who -approached, they bore off Obadiah, whilst they put to the sword all -the inhabitants whom they met scouring the streets in their fear. -They returned reinforced, in spite of the cannon, which was now -also turned against them, and they entered the church, and from the -broken windows took aim at the besieged with their muskets.</p> - -<p>Cromwell remained with the soldiers on the hill, and was seen -whenever the dense smoke was occasionally rolled away by sharp -breezes which arose, walking from cannon to cannon, encouraging and -giving directions. Many a ball was aimed at him, but he seemed to -escape unhurt.</p> - -<p>“Old Noll, is invincible,” said one of the soldiers, “for, now, I -loaded my musket with a silver coin, and took such a correct aim, -that I could have wagered that the very wart on his nose would -receive the charge, and yet, there he is moving about, and raising -his prospective glass. He is the son of a witch!”</p> - -<p>Throughout the whole summer’s day the cannons thundered. They -had taken effect upon the highest battlements, as well as on the -gateway, for these were sadly shattered. Many of the Royalists had -fallen as they sallied forth upon the Roundheads, in the church; -and a few had been wounded, as they manned the castle walls and -served the cannon. But the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[358]</a></span> governor, a brave old man, refused to -surrender, as long as one stone of the fortress was left.</p> - -<p>“See, my soldiers, the flag of Charles, still waves true to him, -although it be in rags. Let us be as faithful.”</p> - -<p>At sunset, a signal of truce was displayed, on the hill, and -the cannons ceased; but the party who had occupied the church -still kept up the fire, and the governor directed his men not -to cannonade the church but to retire to the turrets, where the -roundhead musketry would be harmless. As night came on, the inmates -of the church, however, found that there was little good cheer -to be had in Zion. The vestry had been ransacked, the communion -cups examined, but no wine could be found, and there was not bread -enough to supper a church mouse.</p> - -<p>“Well,” exclaimed one, “it is of no use firing, let us barricade -the doors, and compose ourselves to rest. I choose the pulpit for -my bed. Soft cushions to dose on!”</p> - -<p>The same spirit of sleep had descended upon the soldiers of the -castle, and even some of the sentries were stretched out on the -battlements. The governor and his son, did not awake them, as they -walked together. Their eyes were fixed upon the enemy’s camp, when -suddenly a wide flash was seen, and a cannon shot struck against -the turrets. The firing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[359]</a></span> continued, and soon, it was as regularly -returned, when loud shouts arose within the lower courts. The next -moment a party of roundheads were among the governor’s men, headed -by Cromwell and Captain Birch, who had just arrived to act in -concert with the general. The governor was seized and bound, and, -along with his son, placed under a strong guard, while his men were -put to the sword, overcome by the unexpected attack. The Royal flag -was lowered, and in a short time the castle was in the possession -of the roundhead troops!</p> - -<p>“Captain,” said Cromwell, “our stratagem has succeeded. By playing -the cannon, we diverted their attention to the hill where we were -posted, and thus we advanced unseen. But where is the gallant -officer of your department, who led the way, and clambered up the -gateway?”</p> - -<p>“Here he is, general, and true stuff he is made of. He was captured -by the royalists a few months ago: but last week he effected his -escape. Montressor, stand forward, and receive the thanks of -General Cromwell, for your bravery.”</p> - -<p>It was Arthur Montressor. Cromwell warmly extolled his services, -even whilst he reminded him, “that not unto us, but unto God’s name -be the glory.”</p> - -<p>“General,” said Montressor, as he humbly bowed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[360]</a></span> “might I ask a -favour, which can be of no interest in you to deny. Will you grant -me leave of absence from the troops, for this night?”</p> - -<p>“Absence!” returned the general, in a harsh voice, “and for what -would you take absence? For some nocturnal appointment with a fair -one?—young man you are silent: it must be as I have guessed. Then -take my unqualified denial. No such license here,” and he turned -away abruptly.</p> - -<p>“Montressor,” said Birch, as he was about to accompany Cromwell, -“you remain in the castle all night. Should you disobey, our -sentries have the same liberty to treat you as they would the -captive governor. Good night!”</p> - -<p>Montressor stood for a moment motionless.</p> - -<p>“The governor!—thank God that I have not left the castle!”</p> - -<p>Early on the following morning Cromwell, attended by his officers, -entered the apartment where the governor was confined. They found -him asleep. Cromwell put his finger to his lips, and motioned -them to the window, where they stood in silence. It commanded a -wide view of the lawn in front, where the hill was almost a flat -plain. Sheep and kine were browsing on the grass, and suggested -images of rural peace and retirement, as if it had not been the -seat of war a few hours previous. From their own thoughts they were -aroused by the door of the apartment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[361]</a></span> being cautiously opened. -As they themselves stood in a recess, not directly opposite the -door, they could watch without being observed. Nothing but a hand -groping the way, and two bright eyes gleaming in the shade of the -staircase, could be seen. The next moment a tall form, shrouded in -a horseman’s cloak, moved silently in. He looked at the sleeper. -His hand trembled as it was raised to the brow. He started, as if -moved with some sudden resolution, drew forth a pistol, and fired -it in the direction of the governor. He threw back his cloak, and -perceiving that the ball had not been true to its mark, drew his -sword, and rushed forward;—but Cromwell and his officers stood -before him.</p> - -<p>“Montressor! Beware!” thundered forth Cromwell, as he seized the -youth’s arm.</p> - -<p>The report had startled the governor.</p> - -<p>“Ha! traitors! cowardly traitors! Do I see aright? Is it Cromwell -who has played the ruffian? Cromwell,—after pledging my life to -myself in the most solemn oath? And that whilst I was asleep! -Base,—cowardly, was the act. And why shouldst thou have made the -young man your tool? Could not your own withered hands have been -stained with my blood, and not the white hands of innocent youth? -Base, cowardly!”</p> - -<p>“Thou doest me wrong,” replied the general, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[362]</a></span> calmly as if he had -been rebutting a slight and unimportant accusation, “as these my -officers, and as the assassin himself can testify. I had entered -to propose to you my terms of a negociation with you. You were -asleep, and, old man, I had no desire to prevent you enjoying a -transient solace. This assassin,—villain I will call him, though -he belongs to my troops, entered and fired. Wretch,” and he turned -upon Montressor, whilst he stamped in fury, and the sweat broke out -on his massive forehead for very anger, “why hast thou dared to -inflict death, when I, your general, gave my oath that he should be -in safety?”</p> - -<p>He became more calm, but his eye relaxed not its awful sternness, -although his voice was low as he added,</p> - -<p>“Young man, allow me to unbuckle thy sword,—nay, no scruples—and -prepare to die!”</p> - -<p>All started. Cromwell turned round upon them with a look that -forbade remonstrance.</p> - -<p>“I refuse not,” proudly answered Montressor,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[363]</a></span> “to die. But listen -to my motives for attempting the life of that man. I loved. Oh! -she was fair, gentle, and happy, as a spirit of heaven! General, -smile not in scorn. Does a dying man rave in a foolish and romantic -strain? She was more than an angel to me. She would have been -my wife! But her father was murdered, and she was an orphan, -deprived of her home; herself,—almost a maniac. Yes, she was mad -when her condemned father placed her hand in mine, and betrothed -us together, for ever and ever. And who was the murderer? Sir -governor,—tell me who caused the death of Sir John Evelyn?”</p> - -<p>The governor covered his face with his hands. Cromwell started up -from the chair which he had taken.</p> - -<p>“Sir John Evelyn! Where is his daughter? Young man, be brief, and -answer me. Is she in the care of a miller and his wife, at a short -distance from Lancaster?”</p> - -<p>“There I left her. But I have been, ever since, a captive, and when -I asked permission to leave the castle last night, in order that I -might obtain information concerning her fate, you denied me. She -may be dead. It would be well!”</p> - -<p>“She is alive,” muttered Cromwell, as he again seated himself.</p> - -<p>“Young man,” said the governor in a kind tone,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[364]</a></span> “you would forgive -me if you knew all. I have, since the death of Sir John, learned -with inexpressible regret, that the evidence which I gave against -him had been artfully arranged, so that I might be deceived. I -have often declared his innocence. And, General Cromwell, if you -will listen to the prayers of a Royalist, and one whose life -he has attempted—for which offence you have condemned him; oh! -grant him a pardon, and his life! It was but natural, nay, it was -praiseworthy to seek my life!”</p> - -<p>Cromwell shook his head.</p> - -<p>“It cannot be. Discipline must be enforced. I saw the maiden of -this youth’s affection and troth. She is a very Rebecca, beautiful -and discreet. I promised to avenge her father’s death. Yet my oath -of safety to you has been pledged;—and woe be to him who attempts -to make a word of mine of non-effect! Captain Birch, order five of -the musketeers to load; and bring out the troops in the front of -the castle. I give you half an hour.”</p> - -<p>The captain, as he went out, frequently turned round to see whether -Cromwell might not relent, and forbid such a stern order from being -carried into effect—but no!—</p> - -<p>“Not for my own sake,” pled Montressor, “but for that of the -orphan, do I ask my life. For my own services in a just cause, -I esteem them as nothing; but to die such a death, seems a poor -recompense even for a faithful dog. General, grant me life for Mary -Evelyn’s sake!”</p> - -<p>He knelt,—and along with him the governor and all his officers.</p> - -<p>“It cannot be,” was the decisive reply.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[365]</a></span> “But, young man, you shall -have writing materials, if you have anything to charge to the -living. Let them be brought.”</p> - -<p>Montressor, with a trembling hand, wrote a letter to Mary Evelyn, -and as he finished it, the drum was heard without.</p> - -<p>“To whom can I assign my last duty?”</p> - -<p>“To me,” replied the governor. “Trust me, that if I can make any -reparation for the past, I shall.”</p> - -<p>“It is well,” remarked Cromwell, in cold-hearted cruelty,—“If any -man wrong another, let him return good, fourfold.”</p> - -<p>Montressor, after this, was firm and collected. But for the slight -quiver on his lips, it could not have been known that he was going -to his death.</p> - -<p>“Sir Governor,” he once more asked, “wilt thou be kind to her? Hast -thou a daughter, to love her as a sister?”</p> - -<p>“No—I have but a son, and he—”</p> - -<p>“Cannot, cannot comfort her,” interrupted Montressor with some -bitterness.</p> - -<p>“Yet I know a knight,” returned the governor, “whose daughters are -well known for kindness and charity. Sarah and Madeline Bradley, on -knowing her history, will find her a home with them.”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[366]</a></span></p> -<p>“A home! Poor Mary, her best home will be the grave! There is my -letter. Were it not that the sight would be horrible, I should -die with this letter in my hand, and you would send to her, that -she might receive it from myself! Farewell! I entered this room, a -few minutes ago, with the intention of taking your life, and now I -leave it to lose mine own!”</p> - -<p>Cromwell opened the door.</p> - -<p>“There is your way. Young man, I trust to your honour, therefore -you remain unshackled to die.”</p> - -<p>Already the soldiers were drawn out before the castle. The five -musketeers who were commissioned to carry the sentence into -execution stood in advance, their muskets in hand. Montressor took -his place.</p> - -<p>“Kneel,” said Cromwell.</p> - -<p>“Yes, to heaven,” was the reply.</p> - -<p>“Stay,” exclaimed the general, as he rushed forth in a burst of -tenderness. The condemned youth started joyfully up. Hope was -kindled.</p> - -<p>“Young man, I love thee as a son. Take my embrace,” and he threw -his arms around Montressor. “Look—for no other but you, a dying -man, must see Cromwell weep!—Look at these tears. Now, my son. -Yes, my very son, farewell!”</p> - -<p>Montressor sunk upon his knees in despair. He waved his hand to the -musketeers, and soon their duty was performed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[367]</a></span></p> - -<p>Cromwell himself raised the lifeless body, and sternly said to the -soldiers,</p> - -<p>“Let all, let each beware! Justice and duty are unrelenting, even -to the brave and the beloved!”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Well did the governor perform his pledge. The fatal news were -communicated to Mary Evelyn by Madeline Bradley, who, heart-broken -herself, knew how to feel for a sister sufferer. Sir Robert’s -mansion was the orphan’s home. She and Madeline took short walks -together, sat together in the same easy chair, and slept together. -Hand in hand they were bound for the tomb, and the foot of the one -seemed not to be before that of the other.</p> - -<p>The governor, every day, (for he had no longer the charge of the -castle,) came, and conversed with her, whose father he had been the -innocent cause of betraying to death. His son attached himself to -the company of Sarah Bradley. The heart-broken sufferers, saw their -mutual affection, and kindly fostered it. Often too, did the worthy -miller and his wife make their appearance, and they were always -welcome.</p> - -<p>It was near midnight, and Madeline and Mary were alone in their -apartment. They lay in each other’s arms, gazing, at times, -involuntarily upon the white counterpane, on which the moonshine -fell. They spoke not, but the gentle and low breathing assured<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[368]</a></span> -them, that they had pined away together, and were now almost spent, -and ready to go.</p> - -<p>“Madeline, sweet Madeline,” said Mary, “Sarah will be a bride, in -a month—we shall both be brides in a few hours, nay, in a few -minutes. Let us be calm, for soon we meet our lovers.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, my Mary, kiss me! We need not call for my father and Sarah. -We are very happy alone. Another sigh, and all will be over. Kiss -me again.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Madeline,” and a gentle breeze came in at the casement, and a -sweet ray of the moon came to these gentler and sweeter faces—but -the maidens were no more!</p> - -<p>We may mention, that, in a few days after the siege, Cromwell left -Lancaster Castle in the charge of a part of his troops. Soon, -however, it was recaptured by the exertions of the gallant Earl of -Derby.</p> - -<hr class="tb" style="margin-bottom: 0;" /> - -<p class="center small" style="margin-top: .25em;"><i>R. Cocker, Printer, Market-place, Wigan.</i></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[369]</a></span></p> - -<p>The Publisher, when the foregoing preface was in type, and when, -in the midst of active preparations to commence another volume, -received a communication from the Author to the effect, that his -pen was of no more service. How it has been taken away from him it -can do the public no good to explain:—suffice it for the Publisher -to assert that circumstances have been forced on, which are -infinitely more painful than a want of ability, or material in the -author; a want of encouragement from a kind and numerous public; or -a want of determination on his own part to continue and extend the -work.</p> - -<p>The Author had intended, as will be seen in the preface, to write a -series of historical scenes,—scenes of surpassing interest:—the -Subscribers, numerous at the very first, were continually -increasing, especially among the higher classes:—the Publisher was -opening new agencies, receiving new congratulations, and employing -new resources, when an event occured totally unexpected, which -compels him, most reluctantly, to withdraw the pledge so often -given, that other Legends were to issue from his press.</p> - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Wigan, May 22, 1841.</i></span><br /> -</p> - -<hr class="full" /> -<h2>Transcriber’s Notes:</h2> - -<p>Page numbers 273 and 274 were used twice by the printer. The first set of -pages is left unnumbered in this eBook.</p> - -<p>Missing and extra punctuation probably introduced at printing -corrected. Period punctuation, spelling and inconsistent -hyphenation retained.</p> - -<p>On page 30, “strange” changed to “stranger” (<a href="#Err_1">health and safety of -the stranger</a>)</p> - -<p>On page 53, missing hyphen added (<a href="#Err_2">not to-night; the air is chill.</a>)</p> - -<p>On page 59, missing hyphen added (<a href="#Err_3">changed parties to-day</a>)</p> - -<p>On page 107, capitalization corrected (<a href="#Err_4">discourse last Sunday</a>)</p> - -<p>On page 136, “dissaude” changed to “dissuade” (<a href="#Err_5">tried all her arts -to dissuade</a>)</p> - -<p>On page 156, “mischievions” changed to “mischievous” (<a href="#Err_6">the -mischievous girl</a>)</p> - -<p>On page 247, capitalization corrected (<a href="#Err_7">pensive eye of Lady Mabel</a>)</p> - -<p>On page 261, “Hs” changed to “He” (<a href="#Err_8">He was a noble boy</a>)</p> - -<p>On page 264, “frighful” changed to “frightful” (<a href="#Err_9">into that frightful -gallery</a>)</p> - -<p>On page 285, missing space added (<a href="#Err_10">beside his lady, his sword drawn</a>)</p> - -<p>On page 286, extra word “the” removed (<a href="#Err_11">instantly the door was -secured</a>)</p> - -<p>On page 294, “siezed” changed to “seized” (<a href="#Err_12">seized by two armed men</a>)</p> - -<p>On page 295, missing word “of” added (<a href="#Err_13">the charge of one of the -guards</a>)</p> - -<p>On page 299, extra word “as” removed (<a href="#Err_14">exposed as I am</a>)</p> - -<p>On page 316, “Montresser” changed to “Montressor” (<a href="#Err_15">said Montressor -above, and he gently disengaged</a>)</p> - -<p>On page 348, missing hyphen added (<a href="#Err_16">He might perish to-morrow</a>)</p> -<hr class="full" /> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Legends of Lancashire, by Peter Landreth - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEGENDS OF LANCASHIRE *** - -***** This file should be named 51177-h.htm or 51177-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/1/7/51177/ - -Produced by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - - -</pre> - -</body> -</html> diff --git a/old/51177-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/51177-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 8985e6e..0000000 --- a/old/51177-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51177-h/images/inscription.jpg b/old/51177-h/images/inscription.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 14f935d..0000000 --- a/old/51177-h/images/inscription.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51177-h/images/monument.jpg b/old/51177-h/images/monument.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 54d62a7..0000000 --- a/old/51177-h/images/monument.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51177-h/images/stars.jpg b/old/51177-h/images/stars.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index ba67c31..0000000 --- a/old/51177-h/images/stars.jpg +++ /dev/null |
