self, especially, as the most hated individual of a detested race.

Drawing up, therefore, his small band according to the method most approved in those days of incipient discipline, he clasped his vizor, felt that his ponderous sword was ready to his grasp, and advanced, not without something of unwonted trepidation, at a hard trot, into the perilous defile. Already was above one half of its length safely passed; and already had Sir Americ begun to deem the apprehensions he had of late entertained, causeless, and all unworthy of himself-when from his rear, wildly re-echoed from the thick-set stems of a dim grove which he had just cleared, without hearing sound or seeing sight that could have led him to suspect the presence of a living being, there rose a loud yell, succeeded instantly by the quick clang of axes, and ere a moment had elapsed, by the tremendous crash of falling timber. Scarce had Sir Americ paused to listen to the unusual and unwelcome sound, before the keen and crafty veteran, whom, in consideration of those very qualities, he had appointed to bring up his rear, dashed up at a hard gallop to his side.

"We shall be set upon, sir, instantly," he cried, the moment he was near enough to suffer his words to be audible. "There be a score or two of Saxon varlets down in the thicket yonder, and they have felled some three or four tall trees across the causeway. Retreat is hopeless!"

"Retreat "echoed the haughty Baron. "Who would retreat before a Saxon! forward, brave hearts, and if the dogs find heart to shew themselves, 'fore God and our Lady, but we will pin them to the earth with our good lances. On, archers, and look sharplet not a villain show his head above these cursed bushes but mark it with a cloth-yard arrow. Forward! Saint Genevive for Americ !"

Such were the words with which the Normans, adopting the array which has been heretofore described, dashed onward-while from behind, nearer at every instant, and more near, rang the wild whoops and yells which had in the first instance announced the presence of the enemy.

"Damain, they be behind us yet," he said, addressing himself in a whisper to the veteran 'squire who rode beside his rein-" behind us all. Beshrew me, but I think we shall outstrip them !"

"Look! look! Sir Americ," shouted the old squire, almost in the self-same instant, pointing with his long lance toward the ashtrees of which Hereward had spoken. "Look! my good lord, a chain. Yon ash is half cut through-if it fall we are lost!"

Even as he spoke, the chain which up to this time had sustained the mighty tree, swung free-the branches swayed and crack

ed, and the gigantic trunk groaned, as it reeled and tottered to and fro.

"On, archers !" shouted Americ-" on archers, for your lives; get past yon ash-tree into the open glade-on! for your lives-and shoot your deadliest, or we are but lost men!"

Then from the thicket in the front rose, long and loud, the same portentous yell, which had alarmed them from the rear; while, nearer still and nearer, on every side it was repeated, showing that now they were entirely surrounded; and fast and frequent might be heard the ringing clatter of the axes, and the stern voice of Hereward urging the outlaws to their toil. Instant, as Americ spoke, the archers dashed their spurs into their chargers' flanks, and sped at a pace actually fearful along the rough and broken causeway, driving at every stroke the mud and slime high into air behind them. If they might but succeed in passing, ere the large tree should fall, it was most probable that the whole party would escape; for, cutting on the causeway at right angles, not half an arrow-flight beyond the thicket, an open glade extended with firm soil and good footing quite to the rear of the Saxons; so that, the angle gained, the volleys of the Norman archery would have commanded their position, and rendered it impossible for them to carry their annoyance farther. On they went, gallantly and fast-scattering, however, as one horse outstripped the other-with their long-bows already bent, and arrows notched upon the string. Fearful, indeed-it was a fearful moment-the mighty ash-tree rocked and creaked audibly-one archer has already passed it-lo! he has halted-raised his bow to his eye-that twang has rung the knell of one of the assailants "St. Genevive, St. Genevive, for Americ!" The second reaches it -even now his charger-goaded to his full speed-is springing past the butt-he is safe

and the third close behind!-No! no! a louder, deeper groan of the huge tree! and down-down it came, thundering to the earth! Heaven, what a fearful sight-even as it fell, the hapless Norman who rode second, dashed into the dread space, and on the instant, horse and man were crushed by the resistless weight into one shapeless mass of quivering and gory carnage the third man close to the ruin, had yet the time to note it, and with a desperate effort succeeded in arresting the speed of his fiery horse-and now he stood, the noble animal quivering in every limb with terror, its head curbed to its very chest by the strong rider, who, unmoved even by that fearful peril, watched with a steady eye for the appearance of a foeman. Not long did he wait for, ere the echoes of that thundering shock had passed away-cheerily shouting to his comrades, Hereward sprang upon the fragment of the tree, which yet stood upright in the ground, as if to overlook the field.

"Down with another tree, my men! One more," he shouted, "and they are ours, beyond hope of rescue."

The moment he appeared, the arrow whistled from the bowstring of the Norman, but whether it was that his nerves were shaken by the appalling sight he had that instant witnessed, or that the Saxon, as men said, of a truth, bore a charmed life, the shaft sung past his head, and, quivering, stood fixed in a tree hard behind him, buried there

almost to the feather.

"Saint George for merry England!" shouted the outlaw in return, and without pausing even to take aim, hurled the short boar-spear which he held in his right hand, against the archer. Hurtling through the air, it smote him at the junction of the gorget with the breastplate, and driven with resistless force, pierced through and through the neck, and hurled him headlong from his saddle, a dead man ere he touched the earth. At the same point of time, the clatter of the hoofs of the third archer who had passed the tree, and in whom all their hopes of safety were now vested, might be heard, telling of his flight and their abandonment.

They were entrapped almost beyond hope of redemption or resistance !—Before them and behind, the road was barred by masses of felled timber, which hours of labour would hardly suffice to remove-on their right hand a deep and fordless rivulet, with its banks guarded by the ambushed Saxons, and on their left, a dark impassable morass. Yet still, in this extremity, Sir Americ displayed his wonted gallantry and conduct. "Down with your lances!" he exclaimed, "there be no use of them! Out axes and dismount! You, Damian," he continued, "with Lancelot and Raoul, hew away at yon timber as you best may, to clear a path-we, with God's aid, will guard ye !"

Down from their saddles sprang the menat-arms, and in the face of dreadful odds went steadily and even cheerfully about their work.

The light-armed spearmen clustered about the person of their leader, who with his long two-handed sword unsheathed, sat perfectly unmoved on his tall war-horse.

The two re

maining archers had fallen back with the females to that side of the causeway nearest the morass, and therefore least exposed to instant peril. But the plot thickened-for the instant the first blow fell upon the timber, a dozen Saxons showed themselves on the farther side, and with their bills and boarspears, commenced so violent an assault upon the men-at-arms, as checked entirely their progress. At the same instant, Hereward stepped forward-with a javelin in his right hand, and his huge gisarme in his left-beyond the bushes of the thicket directly in the face of Americ; while half a score, at least, of his rude followers, half-armed, and utterly

undisciplined, but hardy, bold, and goaded into fury by unnumbered wrongs, appeared behind him.

"Sir Americ de Bottetourt," exclaimed the Saxon, as he saw his foeman, using the lingua franca, then the sole medium of communication between the hostile races, "this day your hour is come! 'Twas this night seven years"

"It was," replied the Norman, interrupting him, "this very night seven years agone, that this hand slew each living dog of your accursed race, save thyself only, who escaped me then, but to fill up my triumph now. Come forth and meet thy death, dog, an' thou darest, in fair fight with a Norman noble !"

"Heaven judge betwixt us," Hereward hissed between his teeth close set, and launched his second javelin full at the speak.. er's body. This time, however, his aim was less true than before, for grazing the thigh of his enemy, the boar-spear pierced through demipique and housing of the Norman's charger, bearing him earthward in the agonies of death.

"Callest thou this fair fight ?" shouted the now infuriated Baron, "callest thou this fair fight?—then will we drive ye from your 'vantage! Gilbert, thy light-armed hobbler hath cleared a broader trench than that before thee: over, and charge the dog-there is, I trow, good footing!"

Without one word the young and daring spearman spurred his horse at the fearful leap

the fiery charger faced it gallantly, but in the very act of springing, the treacherous footing failed, and, though he made a noble effort, his fore-feet barely reached the farther brink, while his hind quarters were engulfed in the tenacious quagmire the rider struggled up for a moment from the miry ditch, but it was only for a moment-the ponderous axe of Hereward fell like a thunderbolt upon his head-piece, and crushed the very skull be

neath it.

"St. George! St. George for merry England!" and planting one foot firmly on the back of the exhausted horse, Hereward sprang across the streamlet followed by all his dauntless comrades, and was assailed immediately by Americ. The fray was ended in ten seconds between the vassals of the Norman and the impetuous outlaws, who, caring for neither wounds nor death, bore them down to the ground by the mere weight of numbers, and unmercifully slew them to the last man.

Not so, however, nor so rapidly, was the encounter ended between the Norman Baron and Hereward the Hunter. Both men of power and muscular strength almost unrivalled, both animated by unusual fury, one fighting for his life, the other, dearer to him than life, for vengeance, they struggled long and desperately. Many and dangerous wounds

were interchanged, before Sir Americ's twohanded sword was shivered to the hilt, and himself beaten to his knee by one blow of the Saxon gisarme.

"Not so," cried Hereward, "not so! with weapons in thy hand shalt thou die, savage Norman Thou shalt not boast in hell that Hereward was cowardly avenged-give him an axe, good Elbert!"

His orders were obeyed without dispute, though evidently with reluctance, and armed anew by his foe's mercy or contempt, Sir Americ renewed the combat. Not long, however, did it now last-for less accustomed to the bill than to the sword, Americ failed to parry the third blow, which, glancing from his head-piece, clove deep into his shoulder, and was immediately succeeded by a fourth, which crushed the helmet like a nutshell, and laid the tyrant at the feet of the avenger a quivering and lifeless corpse.

The last rays of the sun barely sufficed for the conclusion of the fierce encounter, but the pale moon was gleaming through the forest, before the outlaws, with the lady and her female followers, their honourable captives, and treated with due honour, turned to the shelter of their woodland fastness, leaving, as Hereward had boasted, to the raven and the fox, the bodies of their vanquished conquerors.

THE AGE OF WONDERS. My neighbour over the way, Colonel Swallowmore, thinks himself born in the age of wonders :-and no wonder he thinks so, for he reads the newspapers and believes them! It is astonishing how gravely the Colonel gulps down every crude lump of monstrous Sea-serpents, fudge the papers contain.

consumption cured, talking pigs, and threelegged cats, are nothing to an appetite like his. He believes electioneering speeches and predictions of political quidnuncs. All is fish that comes to his net. "These are times! Mr. Titterwell, these are times indeed!" says he to me, with a most rueful visage, as he lays down the newspaper-" What are we coming to! People have got to such a pass! Something is certainly going to happen before long. I'm really, really frightened to think of it. There never were such doings in my day. Positively I've got so now that I an't surprised at anything!"And so he shakes his head, hitches up his breeches, sticks his spectacles higher up his nose, and reads the wonders of the day over again.

Twenty-eight several times has this country been irretrievably ruined since I knew the Colonel. Seven times has the world come quite to an end. Nineteen times have we had the hardest winter ever known within the memory of the oldest inhabitant. Twentyone times there never was seen such a backgard spring. Forty-seven times the approach

ing session of Congress has been one of uncommon interest; and thirteen thousand nine hundred and sixty-six times has death snatched away the best man upon earth, leaving mortals inconsolable and society with an immense void. The mental agitations he has undergone in pondering upon the "wonderful wonders" that spring up as plenty as grasshoppers in this wonderful age, are not to be described; for the Colonel takes an immense interest in public affairs, and cannot see the universe go to ruin about his ears without pangs of sympathy. Whatever molehill he stumbles upon, he makes a mountain of it. He thought the Salem Mill-dam absolutely necessary to the balance of power, and was certain that the bridge the Corporation were then engaged in building, was the only means of saving the nation. He went to bed in a great fright on reading in the paper that Emerson's Spelling-book, from its enlightening the lower orders, would overthrow the liberties of the country; and he was struck with the deepest alarm when he heard of the feud that had broken out between the Aldermen and the Common Council. I shall never forget the anxiety that beset him last summer when the City Council could not come to a choice about the Superintendent of Drains. The newspapers were full of the affair, and the Colonel, I verily believe, would have worried himself into a nervous fever had this alarming schism between the two branches of the city government been carried much far

ther.

"A strange affair, Mr. Titterwell, a very "There are mysterious affair," said he. some dark, under-ground manœuvres going on in this matter, depend upon it; and really the Mayor and Aldermen " -here he turned up the whites of his eyes and shook his head. Heaven only knows what he thought of those great dignitaries. However, the af fair of the drains got through without any great catastrophe to folks above ground, that ever I could learn, and the Colonel's consternation subsided for that time.

All the world were going mad the other "Pray Coday about white mustard seed. lonel," said I, "what is white mustard seed to you or me? Can't we eat our bread and butter, and sleep till six in the morning, without troubling our heads about white mustard seed? Didn't we fight the battles of the revolution without white mustard seed? Didn't Samson carry off the gates of Gaza without white mustard seed? Didn't your blessed old grandmother knit stockings and live to the age of ninety without white mustard seed? Then what's the use of minding the dolts in the newspapers who tell you that white mustard seed is better than meat, drink and sunshine, and that we shall all die untimely deaths unless we take white mustard seed?"

;

The Colonel could not understand it :it was a great mystery indeed, --- but the newspapers were full of it, and he was convinced white mustard seed had something in it, that would come out in due time. White mustard seed, however, has had its day; and the Colonel has probably taken to sawdust, as I heard him talk of Dr. Graham last week. But of all mortals the Colonel is the most prone to sympathize with the unfortunate public upon the loss of great men. I popped in upon him the day before yesterday, and found him lamenting a huge public calamity. Three great men had fallen in Israel :-an eminent clergyman, an eminent country representative, and an eminent dealer in salt fish on Long Wharf. The Colonel was triply dolorous upon the matter; society, business, politics, had suffered an immense loss,-a loss incalculable, irreparable, and so forth. I assured the Colonel there was no great cause for apprehension, for the world was pretty sure to turn round once in twenty-four hours, whether great men died or lived. "The fact is, Colonel," said I, "great men may die as fast as they please for aught I care. I have never been frightened by the death of one of them since an adventure that happened to me in my ninth year, when I lived in the country."

"What is that?" asked the Colonel.

66

I'll tell you," said I. "On a certain day, a day never to be forgotten by me, news arrived in town that the Governor was dead. No sovereign prince, pontiff, or potentate on the face of the earth, ever appeared so gigantic and formidable to my childish eyes, as that harmless gentleman the Governor of Massachusetts. Imagine the shock occasioned by this announcement! Straightway the bells began tolling, people collected in groups, quidnuncs scoured from place to place, gossips chattered, children gaped in dumb astonishment, and old women with dismal faces ran about croaking The Governor is dead! To me these things seemed to betoken the general wreck of nature, for how the order of the universe could subsist after the death of the Governor of Massachusetts, was beyond my comprehension. I expected the sun and moon to fall, the stars to shoot from their spheres, and my grandfather's mill-pond to upset. The horrible forebodings under which I lay down to sleep that night, are not to be described, and it was a long time ere I could close my eyes. In the morning I was awakened by a dreadful rumbling noise. The Governor is dead!' I exclaimed, starting up in a terrible fright. The noise continued: I listened, and discovered it to be nothing more than my old grandmother grinding coffee!

"The effect of this prodigious anticlimax can hardly be imagined; never in my life was I so puzzled and eonfounded as at the

first moment of this discovery. 'What !' said I to myself, 'is the Governor of Massachusetts dead and yet people grind coffee?—Then it seems we are to eat our breakfast just as if nothing had happened. Is a great man of no more consequence than this?' A new ray of light broke in upon me; I fell to pondering upon the occurrence, and five minutes' pondering completely demolished the power supreme with which many a pompous owl had stalked through my imagination. From that moment, governors, town clerks, representatives, justices of peace, and great people of every degree, lost nine tenths of their importance in my eyes, for I plainly saw the world could do without them.

"How often in after life have I applied the moral of this incident! How much moving eloquence and dire denunciation have I passed by with the remark- That is a great affair, no doubt, but it won't stop a coffeemill.""

TRUE HONOUR.

BY HENRY F. HARRINGTON.

CHAPTER I.-THE CONDITION.

"SIMON, announce to Lieutenant Endsleigh that I am ready to see him." "Yes, sir."

Sir John de Follaton was seated, when he gave this command, in the library of his ancestral halls. One arm rested on an ancient writing-table, a venerable heirloom, and one gouty foot was propped up with cushions on a stool. The gout was hereditary, as were all Sir John's dependencies. The library was on the second floor of an octagonal tower that lifted its castellated summit aloft in hoary grandeur in the midst of the edifice of which it was the most imposing feature. A porch, richly ornamented with gothic tracery carved in the stone of its walls, and with lofty pinnacles, projected in front, and from either side extended wings of the same material and architecture with the central tower. It was a proud old castle, with its labelled and mullioned windows, and its embattled and ivied walls. It had stood without a change, save the jealous repairs necessary to its preservation, it may be, since the days of William the Conqueror; certainly, since Edward the First's time, for the domain was conferred by that monarch on Launcelot de Follayetoun, as the original conveyance, sacredly preserved in that same library, sufficiently demonstrates. And from that by-gone day to the one on which we have introduced the reader to Sir John de Follaton, it has descended without a break in the regular succession, through a long line of haughty de Follatons, to this last, the proudest and haughtiest of them all. The motto on their coat of arms was, and had ever been, "Honour !"

Sir John was a bitterly disappointed man.

He was the first of his race, to whom nature had vouchsafed no son. One daughter alone graced the halls of his fathers; but oh, it was such a daughter, that in the very woe of his heart, he could not spurn her from the excess her beauty and sweetness merited. She was bred from early childhood, as every scion of the de Follatons had ever been reared, in every adorning accomplishment of body and mind; and she had grown to womanhood, proudly preeminent for cultivated charms, with an open, laughing, sunny countenance, and not one sprinkling of de Follaton pride in all her composition.

"Simon, announce to Lieutenant Endsleigh, that I am ready to see him.” We repeat the command, to recall the reader to the library and its occupant. The servant retired to execute his mission, and Sir John settled himself in his chair to receive his visitor. There was pride, rank pride, in the calm repose of every movement; and it was printed yet more deeply and legibly on his corrugated brow, and eagle nose, and thin, compressed lips; and in the piercing fire of his

eye.

Lieutenant Endsleigh was ushered in. He was of middle stature, with a frank, manly, taking countenance. He might have been handsome, perhaps, at other times, but now his cheek was pale, and his lips had a visible tremble. He advanced one step from the door, and stood still, with his eye fixed on the haughty baronet. Sir John bent an earnest gaze upon him in turn, without a movement of courteous greeting; and as he drew himself up to a more stately height, he betrayed that the young man had power to move him to the soul; for his lips slightly parted, and the blood mounted to his very forehead. But after a moment's pause, he drew his hand across his face, and bending forward with a stiff and slight inclination of body, to be interpreted by his visitor as a bow, he beckoned with his finger, and said, "Come nearer, young man.'

The lieutenant advanced to the opposite side of the broad table to that at which Sir John was seated, and his eye fell beneath the keenly scrutinizing glance with which the Baronet now assailed him. Finally, Sir John spoke, and there was harshness mingled with the de Follaton pride of his tone.

"Lieutenant Endsleigh, I will enter without circumlocution upon the business for which I have summoned you. You saw my daughter at Bath, sir ?"

"I did." There was agonizing suspense and enthusiastic love in the lieutenant's manner, and emotion, as he answered.

"Forgetful of her rank, you dared to aspire to her. You took advantage of her open nature; and strove to ingratiate yourself into her affections. You succeeded. Her friends discovered your intercourse

when it was too late to avert its results. Would to heaven I had been there to preserve the honour of my house.'

This last sentence was an involuntary ejaculation. The young officer's cheek was in an instant flushed to crimson, then pale, then flushed again. He trembled in every limb; and bringing his arm to the table with an audible sound, he would have spoken. But the Baronet waved his hand in opposition, and with an apologetic " Pardon me," continued

"Caroline de Follaton loves you, young man. I have threatened-I speak it openly -I have threatened, conjured, implored her, but she has had no heed to me. She loves you, sir, and she has forgotten to laugh, and her step has become slow and heavy. Young man, I cannot lose my child, and I have sent for you. But who and what are you, that you should be linked with a de Follaton?"

The lieutenant did not hear this second, and more bitter reproach. His thoughts were with the being whom he loved better than his own soul.

"But no matter," continued the baronet; "as I said, I could not lose my child. But he whom the world knows not, who knows not himself, and whose honour has not been proved, until it has been found pure as molten gold, may never wed the heiress of de Follaton, though she pine and die, and I follow her, a grey-haired and childless father, to her grave! You are a soldier, young man, and may be what I would have you; but your courage and honour have never been tried, and your rank is low. Nay, nay, I mean no insult. Be calm, and calmly hear me to the end. It's a good symptom, however, that you do not tamely cringe beneath my words. Sir, England is in arms on the continent. There is a field for valour to prove itself. Would you seek it if you were able?"

"Indeed, Sir John, I would; but my regiment-"

"Is now in Holland. the 18th!"

You are major of

As Sir John spoke, he threw across the table to him a paper which he had been twirling in his hand. ~ Endsleigh looked at it in amazement. It was, indeed, a commission as major in the 18th. He gazed on the astounding document, then turned his eyes in mute astonishmeut on Sir John.

"Sir!" his bewilderment at length permitted him to articulate.

"I repeat it, sir; you are major of the 18th. Let it suffice. The commission is yours without recompense or reserve. Now, sir, the path is straight before you. Prove to the world and to me that you are worthy of a de Follaton-of my child!"

Endsleigh's heart was too full for words.