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the country for a season, to achieve his supposed pur- | hitherto followed her, whistling cheerily, with a pose of marrying Mrs. Deborah, and of letting the hedge-bill in his hand, and his hat on one side, pernews be cold, and the laugh of the neighbourhood be ceived that she turned to the stile which entered to ended, ere he brought her down as mistress of Moul- the Dobby's Walk, he showed symptoms of great trassie-Hall. This rumour died away; and it was fear, and at length, coming to the lady's side, petithen affirmed, that he had removed to foreign parts, tioned her, in a whimpering tone,-"Don't ye now to ensure the continuance of health in so delicate a-don't ye now, my lady, don't ye go yonder." constitution as that of little Alice. But when the Major's dread of Popery was remembered, together with the still deeper antipathies of worthy Master Nehemiah Solsgrace, it was resolved unanimously, that nothing less than what they might deem a fair chance of converting the Pope would have induced the parties to trust themselves within Catholic dominions. The most prevailing opinion was, that they had gone to New England, the refuge then of many whom too intimate concern with the affairs of the late times, or the desire of enjoying uncontrolled freedom of conscience, had induced to emigrate from Britain.

Lady Peveril could not help entertaining a vague idea that Bridgenorth was not so distant. The extreme order in which every thing was maintained at Moultrassie-Hall seemed-no disparagement to the care of Dame Dickens the housekeeper, and the other persons engaged-to argue, that the master's eye was not so very far off, but that its occasional inspection might be apprehended. It is true, that neither the domestics nor the attorney answered any questions respecting the residence of Master Bridgenorth; but there was an air of mystery about them when interrogated, that seemed to argue more than met the ear.

About five years after Master Bridgenorth had left the country, a singular incident took place. Sir Geoffrey was absent at the Chesterfield races, and Lady Peveril, who was in the habit of walking around every part of the neighbourhood unattended, or only accompanied by Ellesmere, or her little boy, had gone down one evening upon a charitable errand to a solitary hut, whose inhabitant lay sick of a fever, which was supposed to be infectious. Lady Peveril never allowed apprehensions of this kind to stop "devoted charitable deeds;" but she did not choose to expose either her son or her attendant to the risk which she herself, in some confidence that she knew precautions for escaping the danger, did not hesitate to incur.

Lady Peveril had set out at a late hour in the evening, and the way proved longer than she expected several circumstances also occurred to detain her at the hut of her patient. It was a broad autumn moonlight, when she prepared to return homeward through the broken glades and upland which divided her from the Castle. This she considered as a matter of very little importance, in so quiet and sequestered a country, where the road lay chiefly through her own domains, especially as she had a lad about fifteen years old, the son of her patient, to escort her on the way. The distance was better than two miles, but might be considerably abridged by passing through an avenue belonging to the estate of Moultrassie-Hall, which she had avoided as she came, not from the ridiculous rumours which pronounced it to be haunted, but because her husband was much displeased when any attempt was made to render the walks of the Castle and Hall common to the inhabitants of both. The good lady, in consideration, perhaps, of extensive latitude allowed to her in the more important concerns of the family, made a point of never interfering with her husband's whims or prejudices; and it is a compromise which we would heartily recommend to all managing matrons of our acquaintance; for it is surprising how much real power will be cheerfully resigned to the fair sex, for the pleasure of being allowed to ride one's hobby in peace and quiet.

*

Upon the present occasion, however, although the Dobby's Walk was within the inhabited domains of the Hall, the Lady Peveril determined to avail herself of it, for the purpose of shortening her road home, and she directed her steps accordingly. But when the peasant-boy, her companion, who had * Dobby is an old English name for goblin.

Lady Peveril, observing that his teeth chattered in his head, and that his whole person exhibited great signs of terror, began to recollect the report, that the first Squire of Moultrassie, the brewer of Chesterfield, who had bought the estate, and then died of melancholy for lack of something to do, (and, as was said, not without suspicions of suicide,) was supposed to walk in this sequestered avenue, accompanied by a large headless mastiff, which, when he was alive, was a particular favourite of the exbrewer. To have expected any protection from her escort, in the condition to which superstitious fear had reduced him, would have been truly a hopeless trust; and Lady Peveril, who was not apprehensive of any danger, thought there would be great cruelty in dragging the cowardly boy into a scene which he regarded with so much apprehension. She gave him, therefore, a silver piece, and permitted him to return. The latter boon seemed even more acceptable than the first; for ere she could return the purse into her pocket, she heard the wooden clogs of her bold convoy in full retreat, by the way from whence they came.

Smiling within herself at the fear she esteemed so ludicrous, Lady Peveril ascended the stile, and was soon hidden from the broad light of the moonbeams, by the numerous and entangled boughs of the huge elms, which, meeting from either side, totally overarched the old avenue. The scene was calculated to excite solemn thoughts; and the distant glimmer of a light from one of the numerous casements in the front of Moultrassie-Hall, which lay at some distance, was calculated to make them even melancholy. She thought of the fate of that family-of the deceased Mrs. Bridgenorth, with whom she had often walked in this very avenue, and who, though a woman of no high parts or accomplishments, had always testified the deepest respect, and the most earnest gratitude, for such notice as she had shown to her. She thought of her blighted hopes-her premature death-the despair of her self-banished husband-the uncertain fate of their orphan child, for whom she felt, even at this distance of time, some touch of a mother's affection.

Upon such sad subjects her thoughts were turned, when, just as she attained the middle of the avenue, the imperfect and checkered light which found its way through the sylvan archway, showed her something which resembled the figure of a man. Lady Peveril paused a moment, but instantly advanced ;her bosom, perhaps, gave one startled throb, as a debt to the superstitious belief of the times, but she instantly repelled the thought of supernatural appearances. From those that were merely mortal she had nothing to fear. A marauder on the game was the worst character whom she was likely to encounter; and he would be sure to hide himself from her observation. She advanced, accordingly, steadily; and, as she did so, had the satisfaction to observe that the figure, as she expected, gave place to her, and glided away amongst the trees on the left-hand side of the avenue. As she passed the spot on which the form had been so lately visible, and bethought herself that this wanderer of the night might, nay must, be in her vicinity, her resolution could not prevent her mending her pace, and that with so little precaution, that, stumbling over the limb of a tree, which, twisted off by a late tempest, still lay in the avenue, she fell, and, as she fell, screamed aloud. A strong hand in a moment afterwards added to her fear by assisting her to rise, and a voice, to whose accents she was not a stranger, though they had been long unheard, said, "Is it not you, Lady Peveril ?"

"It is I," said she, commanding her astonishment and fear; "and, if my ear deceive me not, I speak to Master Bridgenorth.'

"I was that man," he replied, "while oppression | perstition, who now rages abroad for victims among left me a name.' God's people."

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He spoke nothing more, but continued to walk beside her for a minute or two in silence. She felt her situation embarrassing; and to divest it of that feeling, as well as out of real interest in the question, she asked him, "How her god-daughter Alice now

was?"

"Of god-daughter, madam," answered Major Bridgenorth, I know nothing; that being one of the names which have been introduced, to the corruption and pollution of God's ordinances. The infant who owed to your ladyship (so called) her escape from disease and death, is a healthy and thriving girl, as I am given to understand by those in whose charge she is lodged, for I have not lately seen her. And it is even the recollection of these passages, which in a manner impelled me, alarmed also by your fall, to offer myself to you in this time and mode, which in other respects is no way consistent with my present safety."

"With your safety, Master Bridgenorth?" said the Lady Peveril; "surely, I could never have thought that it was in danger!"

"You have some news, then, yet to learn, madam," said Major Bridgenorth; "but you will hear, in the couse of to-morrow, reasons why I dare not appear openly in the neighbourhood of my own property, and wherefore there is small judgment in committing the knowledge of my present residence to any one connected with Martindale Castle."

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'Master Bridgenorth," said the lady, "you were, in former times, prudent and cautious-I hope you have been misled by no hasty impression-by no rash scheme I hope"

"You surprise me by your language, Major Bridgenorth," said the lady, who now felt rather anxious to be relieved from his company, and with that purpose walked on somewhat hastily. He mended his pace, however, and kept close by her side.

"Know you not," said he, "that Satan hath come down upon earth with great wrath, because his time is short? The next heir to the crown is an avowed Papist; and who dare assert, save sycophants and time-servers, that he who wears it is not equally ready to stoop to Rome, were he not kept in awe by a few noble spirits in the Commons' House? You believe not this-yet in my solitary and midnight walks, when I thought on your kindness to the dead and to the living, it was my prayer that I might have the means granted to warn you-and lo! Heaven hath heard me."

"Major Bridgenorth," said Lady Peveril, "you were wont to be moderate in these sentimentscomparatively moderate, at least, and to love your own religion, without hating that of others."

"What I was while in the gall of bitterness and in the bond of iniquity, it signifies not to recall," answered he. "I was then like to Gallio, who cared for none of these things. Idoated on creature-comforts-I clung to worldly honour and repute-my thoughts were earthward-or those I turned to Heaven were cold, formal, pharisaical meditations-I brought nothing to the altar save straw and stubble. Heaven saw need to chastise me in love-I was stripped of all that I clung to on earth-my worldly honour was torn from me--I went forth an exile from the home of my fathers, a deprived and desolate man-a baffled, and beaten, and dishonoured man. But who shall find out the ways of Providence? Such were the means by which I was chosen forth as a champion for the truth-holding my life as nothing, if thereby that may be advanced. But this was not what I wished to speak of. Thou hast saved the earthly life of my child-let me save the eternal welfare of yours."

"Pardon my interrupting you, madam," said Bridgenorth. I have indeed been changed-ay, my very heart within me has been changed. In the times to which your ladyship (so called) thinks proper to refer, I was a man of this world-bestowing on it all my thoughts-all my actions, save formal observances-little deeming what was the duty of a Christian man, and how far his self-denial ought to extend-even unto giving all as if he gave nothing. Hence I thought chiefly on carnal things-on the adding of field to field, and wealth to wealth-of the balancing between party and party-securing a friend here, without losing a friend there-But Heaven smote me for my apostacy, the rather that I abused the name of religion, as a self-seeker, and a most blinded and carnal will-worshipper-But I thank HIM who hath at length brought me out of Egypt." In our day-although we have many instances of enthusiasm among us-we might still suspect one who avowed it thus suddenly and broadly, of hypocrisy, or of insanity; but, according to the fashion of the times, such opinions as those which Bridgenorth expressed, were openly pleaded, as the ruling motives of men's actions. The sagacious Vane-the brave and skilful Harrison-were men who acted avowedly under the influence of such. Lady Peveril, therefore, was more grieved than surprised at the language she heard Major Bridgenorth use, and rea-tered state of the boughs on one side, that it had sufsonably concluded, that the society and circumstances in which he might lately have been engaged, had blown into a flame the spark of eccentricity which always smouldered in his bosom. This was the more probable, considering that he was melancholy by constitution and descent-that he had been unfortunate in several particulars-and that no passion is more easily nursed by indulgence, than the species of enthusiasm of which he now showed tokens. She therefore answered him by calmly hoping, "That the expression of his sentiments had not involved him in suspicion or in danger."

"In suspicion, madam?" answered the Major; -"for I cannot forbear giving to you, such is the strength of habit, one of those idle titles by which we poor potsherds are wont, in our pride, to denominate each other-I walk not only in suspicion, but in that degree of danger, that, were your husband to meet me at this instant-me, a native Englishman, treading on my own lands-I have no doubt he would do his best to offer me to the Moloch of Romish su

Lady Peveril was silent. They were now approaching the point where the avenue terminated in a communication with the public road, or rather pathway, running through an unenclosed common field; this the lady had to prosecute for a little way, until a turn of the path gave her admittance into the Park of Martindale. She now felt sincerely anxious to be in the open moonshine, and avoided reply to Bridgenorth that she might make the more haste. But as they reached the junction of the avenue and the public road, he laid his hand on her arm, and commanded rather than requested her to stop. She obeyed. He pointed to a huge oak, of the largest size, which grew on the summit of a knoll in the open ground which terminated the avenue, and was exactly_so placed as to serve for a termination to the vista. The moonshine without the avenue was so strong, that, amidst the flood of light which it poured on the ve nerable tree, they could easily discover, from the shatfered damage from lightning. "Remember you," he said, "when we last looked together on that tree? I had ridden from London, and brought with me a protection from the committee for your husband; and as I passed the spot-here on this spot where we now stand, you stood with my lost Alice-two-the last two of my beloved infants gambolled before you. I leaped from my horse-to her I was a husband-to those a father-to you a welcome and revered protector-What am I now to any one?" He pressed his hand on his brow, and groaned in agony of spirit.

It was not in the Laay Peveril's nature to hear sorrow without an attempt at consolation. "Master Bridgenorth," she said, "I blame no man's creed, while I believe and follow my own; and I rejoice that in yours you have sought consolation for temporal afflictions. But does not every Christian creed teach us alike, that affliction should soften our heart?" Ay, woman," said Bridgenorth, sternly, "as the lightning which shattered yonaer oak hath softened its trunk. No; the seared wood is the fitter for the

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CHAP. X.J

PEVERIL OF THE PEAK.

use of the workmen-the hardened and the dried-up heart is that which can best bear the task imposed by these dismal times. God and man will no longer endure the unbridled profligacy of the dissolute-the scoffing of the profane-the contempt of the divine laws the infraction of human rights. The times demand righters and avengers, and there will be no want of them."

"I deny not the existence of much evil," said Lady Peveril, compelling herself to answer, and beginning at the same time to walk forward; "and from hearsay, though not, I thank Heaven, from observation, I am convinced of the wild debauchery of the times. But let us trust it may be corrected without such violent remedies as you hint at. Surely the ruin of a second civil war though I trust your thoughts go not that dreadful length-were at best a desperate alternative."

"Sharp, but sure," replied Bridgenorth. "The blood of the Paschal lamb chased away the destroying angel-the sacrifices offered on the threshing-floor of Araunah, stayed the pestilence. Fire and sword are severe remedies, but they purge and purify."

"Alas! Major Bridgenorth," said the lady, "wise and moderate in your youth, can you have adopted in your advanced life the thoughts and language of those whom you yourself beheld drive themselves and the nation to the brink of ruin?"

"I am well aware, Master Bridgenorth," said Lady Peveril, "that my kinswoman is a Catholic; but her son is educated in the Church of England's principles, agreeably to the command of her deceased husband.

"Is it likely," answered Bridgenorth, "that she,
who fears not shedding the blood of the righteous,
whether on the field or scaffold, will regard the
sanction of her promise when her religion bids her
break it? Or, if she does, what shall your son be the
better, if he remain in the mire of his father? What
are your Episcopal tenets but mere Popery, save that
ye have chosen a temporal tyrant for your Pope,
and substitute a mangled mass in English for that
which your predecessors pronounced in Latin?-
But why speak I of these things to one who hath
ears indeed, and eyes, yet cannot see, listen to, or
understand, what is alone worthy to be heard, seen,
and known? Pity, that what hath been wrought so
fair and exquisite in form and in disposition, should be
yet blind, deaf, and ignorant, like the things which
perish!"

"We shall not agree on these subjects, Master
Bridgenorth," said the lady, anxious still to escape
once more, I must bid you
from this strange conference, though scarce know-
ing what to apprehend;
farewell."

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Stay yet an instant," he said, again laying his "I know not what I then was-you know not hand on her arm; "I would stop you if I saw you what I now am," he replied, and suddenly broke off; rushing on the brink of an actual precipice-let me for they even then came forth into the open light, prevent you from a danger still greater. How shall and it seemed as if, feeling himself under the lady's eye, I work upon your unbelieving mind? Shall I tell you he was disposed to soften his tone and his language. that the debt of bloodshed yet remains a debt to be At the first distinct view which she had of his paid by the bloody house of Derby? And wilt thou person, she was aware that he was armed with a send thy son to be among those from whom it shall short sword, a poniard, and pistols at his belt-pre- be exacted?" cautions very unusual for a man who formerly had seldom, and only on days of ceremony, carried a walking rapier, though such was the habitual and constant practice of gentlemen of his station in life. There seemed also something of more stern determination than usual in his air, which indeed had always been rather sullen than affable; and ere she could repress the sentiment, she could not help saying, "Master Bridgenorth, you are indeed changed." "You see but the outward man," he replied; "the change within is yet deeper. But it was not of myself that I desired to talk-I have already said, that as you have preserved my child from the darkness of the grave, I would willingly preserve yours from that more utter darkness, which, I fear, hath involved the path and walks of his father."

"I must not hear this of Sir Geoffrey," said the Lady Peveril; "I must bid you farewell for the present; and when we again meet at more a suitable time, I will at least listen to your advice concerning Julian, although I should not perhaps incline to it."

"That more suitable time may never come," replied Bridgenorth. "Time wanes, eternity draws nigh. Hearken! It is said to be your purpose to send the young Julian to be bred up in yonder bloody island, under the hand of your kinswoman, that cruel murderess, by whom was done to death a man more worthy of vital existence than any that she can boast among her vaunted ancestry. These are current tidings-are they true?"

"I do not blame you, Master Bridgenorth, for thinking harshly of my cousin of Derby," said Lady Peveril; nor do I altogether vindicate the rash action of which she hath been guilty. Nevertheless, in her habitation, it is my husband's opinion and my own, that Julian may be trained in the studies and accomplishments becoming his rank, along with the young Earl of Derby."

"Under the curse of God, and the blessing of the Pope of Rome," said Bridgenorth. "You, lady, so quick sighted in matters of earthly prudence, are you blind to the gigantic pace at which Rome is moving to regain this country, once the richest gem in her usurped tiara? The old are seduced by gold-the youth by pleasure the weak by flattery-cowards by fear and the courageous by ambition. A thousand baits for each taste, and each bait concealing the same deadly hook."" VOL. IV. X

"You wish to alarm me in vain, Master Bridgenorth," answered the lady; "what penalty can be exacted from the Countess for an action which I have "You deceive yourself," retorted he, sternly. already called a rash one, has been long since levied.'" "Think you a paltry sum of money, given to be wasted on the debaucheries of Charles, can atone for the death of such a man as Christian-a man precious alike to heaven and to earth? Not on such terms is the blood of the righteous to be poured forth! Every hour's delay is numbered down as adding interest to the grievous debt, which will one day be required from that blood-thirsty woman."

At this moment the distant tread of horses was dialogue. Bridgenorth listened a moment, and then heard on the rock on which they held this singular said, ""Forget that you have seen me-name not my name to your nearest or dearest-lock my counsel in So saying, he turned from her, and, plunging your breast-profit by it, and it shall be well with you." through a gap in the fence, regained the cover of his own wood, along which the path still led.

The noise of horses advancing at full trot, now came nearer; and Lady Peveril was aware of several riders, whose forms rose indistinctly on the summit of the rising ground behind her. She became also visible to them; and one or two of the foremost made towards her at increased speed, challenging her as there?" The foremost who came up, however, exthey advanced with the cry of "Stand! Who goes claimed, "Mercy on us if it be not my lady!" and Lady Perevil, at the same moment recognized one of her own servants. Her husband rode up immediately afterwards, with, "How now, Dame Margaret? What makes you abroad so far from home, and at an hour so late?"

Lady Perevil mentioned her visit at the cottage, but did not think it necessary to say aught of having seen Major Bridgenorth; afraid, perhaps, that her husband might be displeased with that incident.

Charity is a fine thing, and a fair," answered Sic Geoffrey; "but I must tell you, you do ill, dame, to wander about the country like a quacksalver, at the call of every old woman who has a colic-fit; and at this time of night especially, and when the land is so unsettled besides."

I have elsewhere noticed that this is a deviation from the truth Charlotte, Countess of Derby, was a Huguenot.

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"I am sorry to hear that it is so," said the lady. | occurred to Lady Peveri's mind, she did not suffer "I had heard no such news.' them to weigh with her in opposition to the advantages which the patronage of the Countess of Derby secured to her son.

News!" repeated Sir Geoffrey; "why, here has a new plot broken out among the Roundheads, worse than Venner's by a butt's length; and who should be so deep in it as our old neighbour Bridgenorth! There is a search for him everywhere; and I promise you, if he is found, he is like to pay old scores!" "Then I am sure, I trust he will not be found," said Lady Perevil.

66 Do you so?" replied Sir Geoffrey. "Now I, on my part, hope that he will; and it shall not be my fault if he be not; for which effect I will presently ride down to Moultrassie, and make strict search, according to my duty; there shall neither rebel nor traitor earth so near Martindale Castle, that I will assure them. And you, my lady, be pleased for once to dispense with a pillion, and get up, as you have done before, behind Saunders, who shall convey you safe home.'

The lady obeyed in silence; indeed, she did not dare to trust her voice in an attempt to reply, so much was she disconcerted with the intelligence she had just heard.

She rode behind the groom to the Castle, where she awaited in great anxiety the return of her husband. He came back at length; but, to her great relief, without any prisoner. He then explained more fully than his haste had before permitted, that an express had come down to Chesterfield, with news from Court of a purposed insurrection amongst the old Commonwealth men, especially those who had served in the army; and that Bridgenorth, said to be lurking in Derbyshire, was one of the principal conspirators.

After some time, this report of a conspiracy seemed to die away like many others of that period. The warrants were recalled, but nothing more was seen or heard of Major Bridgenorth; although it is probable he might safely enough have shown himself as openly as many did who lay under the same circumstances of suspicion.t

About this time also, Lady Perevil, with many tears, took a temporary leave of her son Julian, who was sent, as had long been intended, for the purpose of sharing the education of the young Earl of Derby. Although the boding words of Bridgenorth sometimes * The celebrated insurrection of the Anabaptists and Fifth Monarchy men in London, in the year 1661.

Persecution of the Puritons. It is naturally to be supposed, that the twenty years' triumph of the puritans, and the violence towards the malignants, as they were wont to call the cavaliers, had generated many grudges and feuds in almost every neighbour hood, which the victorious royalists failed not to act upon, so soon as the Restoration gave them a superiority. Captain Hodgson, a parliamentary officer who wrote his own memoirs, gives us many instances of this. I shall somewhat compress his long-winded account of his sufferings.

"It was after the King's return to London, one night a parcel of armed men comes to my house at Coalley Hall, near Halifax, and in an unseasonable hour in the night demands entrance, and my servants having some discourse with them on the outside, they gave threatening language, and put their pistols in at the windows. My wife being with child, I ordered the doors to be opened, and they came in. After they had presented a pistol to my breast, they showed me their authority to apprehend me, under the hands and seals of two knights and deputy-lieutenants, for speaking treasonable words against the King." The ci-devant captain was conveyed to prison at Bradford, and bail refused. His prosecutor proved to be one Daniel Lyster, brother to the peace-officer who headed the troop for his apprehension. It seems that the prisoner Hodgson had once in former days bound over to his good behaviour this Daniel Lyster, then accused of adultery and other debauched habits. After the King came in," says Hodgson," this man meets me, and demands the names of those that informed against him, and a copy of their information. I told him that the business was over, and that it was not reasonable to rip up old troubles, on which he threatened me, and said he would have them. The sun, he said, now shines on our side of the hedge." Such being his accuser, Hodgson was tried for having said, "There is a crown provided, but the King will never wear it ;" to which was added, that he alleged he had never been a turncoat,-never took the oath of allegiance, and never would do." Little or no part of the charge was proved, while on the contrary it was shown that the prosecutor had been heard to say, that if times ever changed, he uld sit on Hodgson's skirts. In fine, Hodgson escaped for five months' imprisonment, about thirty pounds expenses, and the necessity of swallowing the oath of allegiance, which seems to have been a bitter pill.

About the middle of June, 1662, Captain Hodgson was again arrested in a summary manner by one Peebles ar "torney, quarter master to Sir John Armytage's troop of horse-militia, with about twelve other cavaliers, who used him rudely, called him rebel and traitor, and seemed to wish to pick a quarrel with him, upon

The plan seemed to be in every respect successful; and when, from time to time, Julian visited the house of his father, Lady Peveril had the satisfaction to see him on every occasion, improved in person and in manner, as well as ardent in the pursuit of more solid acquirements. In process of time he became a gallant and accomplished youth, and travelled for some time upon the continent with the young Earl. This was the more especially necessary for the enlarging of their acquaintance with the world; because the Countess had never appeared in London, or at the Court of King Charles, since her flight to the Isle of Man in 1660; but had resided in solitary and aristocratic state, alternately on her estates in England and in that island.

This had given to the education of both the young men, otherwise as excellent as the best teachers could render it, something of a narrow and restricted character; but though the disposition of the young Earl was lighter and more volatile than that of Julian, both the one and the other had profited, in a considerable degree, by the opportunities afforded them. It was Lady Derby's strict injunction to her son, now returning from the continent, that he should not appear at the Court of Charles. But having been for some time of age, he did not think it absolutely neces sary to obey her in this particular; and had remained for some time in London, partaking the pleasures of the gay Court there, with all the ardour of a young man bred up in comparative seclusion.

In order to reconcile the Countess to this transgression of her authority, (for he continued to entertain for her the profound respect in which he had been educated,) Lord Derby agreed to make a long sojourn with her in her favourite island, which he abandoned almost entirely to her management.

Julian Peveril had spent at Martindale Castle a good deal of the time which his friend had bestowed in London; and at the period to which, passing over many years, our story has arrived, as it were, per saltum, they were both living, as the Countess's guests, in the Castle of Rushin, in the venerable Kingdom of Man.

which he demanded to see their authority, Peebles laid his hand on his sword, and told him it was better authority than any ever granted by Cromwell. They suffered him, however, to depart, which he partly owed to the valour of his landlady, who sate down at the table-end betwixt him and danger, and kept his antagonists at some distance.

He was afterwards accused of having assembled some troopers, from his having been accidentally seen riding with a soldier, from which accusation he also escaped. Finally, he fell under suspi cion of being concerned in a plot, of which the scene is called Sowerby. On this charge he is not explicit, but the grand jury found the bill ignoramus.

After this the poor Roundhead was again repeatedly accused and arrested; and the last occasion we shall notice occurred on 11th September, 1662, when he was disarmed by his old friend Mr. Peebles, at the head of a party. He demanded to see the warrant; on which he was answered as formerly, by the quarter-master laying his hand on his sword-hilt, saying it was a better order than Oliver used to give. At length a warrant was produced, and Hodg son submitting to the search, they took from his dwelling house better than 207. value in fowling pieces, pistols, muskets, carbines, and such like. A quarrel ensued about his buff coat, which Hodg son refused to deliver, alleging they had no authority to take his wearing apparel. To this he remained constant, even upon the personal threats of Sir John Armytage, who called him rebel and traitor, and said, " If I did not send the buff coat with all speed, he would commit me to jail. I told him," says Hodgson, "I was no rebel, and he did not well to call me so before these soldiers and gentlemen, to make me the mark for every one to shoot at." The buff coat was then peremptorily demanded, and at length seized by open force. One of Sir John Armytage's brethren wore it for many years after, making good Prince Henry's observation. that a buff jerkin is a most sweet robe of durance. An agent of Sir John's came to compound for this garment of proof. Hodg son says he would not have taken ten pounds for it. Sir John would have given about four, but insisting on the owner's receipt for the money, which its former possessor was unwilling to grant, the tory magistrate kept both sides, and Hodgson never received satisfaction.

We will not prosecute Mr. Hodgson's tale of petty grievances any farther. Enough has been said to display the melancholy picture of the country after the civil war, and to show the state of irritability and oppression which must have extended itself over the face of England, since there was scarcely a county in which battles had not been fought, and deep injuries sustained, during the ascendency of the roundheads, which were not afterwards retaliated by the vengeance of the cavaliers.

PEVERIL OF THE PEAK.

CHAPTER XI. Mona-long hid from those who roam the main.-COLLINS. THE Isle of Man, in the middle of the seventeenth century, was very different, as a place of residence, from what it is now. Men had not then discovered its merit as a place of occasional refuge from the storms of life, and the society to be there met with was of a very uniform tenor. There were no smart fellows whom fortune had tumbled from the seat of their barouches-no plucked pigeons, or winged rooks-no disappointed speculators-no ruined minors-in short, no one worth talking to. The society of the island was limited to the natives themselves, and a few merchants, who lived by contraband trade, The amusements were rare and monotonous, and the mercurial young Earl was soon heartily tired of his dominions. The islanders also, become too wise for happiness, had lost relish for the harmless and somewhat childish sports in which their simple ancestors had indulged themselves. May was no longer ushered in by the imaginary contest between the Queen of returning winter and advancing spring; the listeners no longer sympathized with the lively music of the followers of the one, or the discordant sounds *Waldron mentions the two popular festivities in the Isle of Man which are alluded to in the text, and vestiges of them are, I believe, still to be traced in this singular island. The Contest of Winter and Summer seems directly derived from the Scandina vians, long the masters in Man, as Olaus Magnus mentions a similar festival among the northern nations. On the first of May, he says, the country is divided into two bands, the captain of one of which hath the name and appearance of Winter, is clothed in skins of beasts, and he and his band armed with fire forks. They fling about ashes, by way of prolonging the reign of Winter; while another band, whose captain is called Florro, represent Spring, with green boughs, such as the season offers. These parties skir mish in sport, and the mimic contest concludes with a general feast.-History of the Northern Nations by OLAUS, Book xv., Chap. 2.

Waldron gives an account of a festival in Wales exactly similar: "In almost all the great parishes, they choose from among the daughters of the most wealthy farmers, a young maid, for the Queen of May. She is drest in the gayest and best manner they can, and is attended by about twenty others, who are called maids of honour. She has also a young man, who is her captain, and has under his command a good number of inferior officers. In opposition to her, is the Queen of Winter, who is a man drest in woman's clothes, with woollen hoods, fur tippets, and loaded with the warmest and heaviest habits, one upon another; in the same manner are those, who represent her attendants, drest; nor is she without a captain and troop for her defence. Both being equipt as proper emblems of the beauty of the spring, and the deformity of the winter, they set forth from their respective quarsers; the one preceded by violins and flutes, the other with the rough music of the tongs and cleavers. Both companies march till they meet on a common, and then their trains engage in a mock battle. If the Queen of Winter's forces get the better, so far as to take the Queen of May prisoner, she is ransomed for as much as pays the expenses of the day. After this ceremony, Winter and her company retire, and divert themselves in a barn, and the others remain on the green, where having danced a considerable time, they conclude the evening with a feast; the queen at one table with her maids, the captain with his troop at another. There are seldom less than fifty or sixty persons at each board, but not more than three or four knives. Christmas is ushered in with a form much less meaning, and infinitely more fatiguing. On the 24th of December, towards evening, all the servants in general have a holiday; they go not to bed all night, but ramble about till the bells ring in all the churches, which is at twelve o'clock; prayers being over, they go to hunt the wren, and after having found one of these poor birds, they kill her, and lay her on a bier with the utmost solemnity, bringing her to the parish church, and burying her with a whimsical kind of solemnity, singing dirges over her in the Manx language, which they call her knell after which Christmas begins. There is not a barn unoccupied the whole twelve days, every parish hiring fiddlers at the public charge; and all the youth, nay, sometimes people well advanced in years, making no scruple to be among these nocturnal dancers." -WALDRON'S Description of the Isle of Man, folio, 1731.

With regard to horse-racing in the Isle of Man, I am furnished with a certified copy of the rules on which that sport was conducted, under the permission of the Earl of Derby, in which the curious may see that a descendant of the unfortunate Christian entered a horse for the prize. I am indebted for this curiosity to my kind friend, the learned Dr. Dibdin.

Articles for the plate which is to be run for in
the said island, being of the value of five pounds
sterling, (the fashion included.) given by the
Right Honourable William Earl of Derby,
Lord of the said Isle, &c.

"1st. The said plate is to be run for upon the 28th day of July, in
enery year, whiles his honour is pleased to allow the same,
(being the day of the nativity of the Honourable James Lord
Strange) except it happen upon a Sunday, and if soe, the said
plate is to be run for upon the day following.

2d. That noe horse, gelding, or mair, shall be admitted to run

with which the other asserted a more noisy claim to
attention. Christmas, too, closed, and the steeples
no longer jangled forth a dissonant peal. The wren,
to seek for which used to be the sport dedicated to
the holytide, was left unpursued and unslain. Party
spirit had come among these simple people, and de-
stroyed their good-humour, while it left them their
ignorance. Even the races, a sport generally inte-
resting to people of all ranks, were no longer per-
formed, because they were no longer attractive. The
gentlemen were divided by feuds hitherto unknown,
and each seemed to hold it scorn to be pleased with
the same diversions that amused those of the oppo-
site faction. The hearts of both parties revolted from
the recollection of former days, when all was peace
among them, when the earl of Derby, now slaugh-
tered, used to bestow the prize, and Christian, since
so vindictively executed, started horses to add to the
amusement.*

Julian was seated in the deep recess which led to a
latticed window of the old Castle; and, with his
arms crossed, and an air of profound contemplation,
was surveying the long perspective of ocean, which
rolled its successive waves up to the foot of the rock
on which the ancient pile is founded. The Earl was

for the said plate, but such as was foaled within the said island, or in the Calfe of Mann. shall be entred at or before the viijth day of July, with his "3d. That euery horse, gelding, or mair, that is designed to run, masters name and his owne, if he be generally knowne by any, or els his collour, and whether horse, mair, or gelding, and that to be done at the x comprs. office, by the cleark of the rolls for the time being.

4th. That euery person that puts in either horse, mair, or gelding, shall, at the time of their entring, depositt the sume of fiue shill. apiece into the hands of the said clerk of the rolls, which is to goe towards the augmenting of the plate for the year following, besides one shill. apiece to be giuen by them to the said clerk of the rolls, for entering their names, and engrossing these articles.

"5th. That euery horse, mair, or gelding, shall carry horseman's weight, that is to say, ten stone weight, at fourteen pounds to each stone, besides sadle and bridle.

"6th. That euery horse, mair, or gelding, shall haue a person for its tryer, to be named by the owner of the said horse, mair, or gelding, which tryers are to have the command of the scales and weights, and to see that euery rider doe carry full weight, according as is mentioned in the foregoing article, and especially that the winning rider be soe with the usual allowance of one pound for.

"7th. That a person be assigned by the tryers to start the runingo horses, who are to run for the said plate, betwixt the howers of one and three of the clock in the afternoon.

"8th. That euery rider shall leave the two first powles which are sett upp in Macybraes close, in this manner following, that is to say, the first of the said two powles upon his right hand, and the other upon his left hand and the two powles by the rockes are to be left upon the left hand likewise; and the fifth powle, which is sett up at the lower end of the Conney-warren, to be left alsoe upon the left hand, and soe the turning powle next to Wm. Looreyes house to be left in like manner upon the left hand, and the other two powles, leading to the ending powle, to be left upon the right hand; all which powles are to be left by the riders as aforesaid, excepting only the distance-powle, which may be rid on either hand, at the discretion of the rider," &c. &c. &c.

[graphic]

"Received this day the above to my master to augment ye plate, by me, "It is my good-will and pleasure yt ye 2 prizes formerly gran ed (by me) for hors runing and shouting, shall continue as they d to be run, or shot for, and soe to continue dureing my good-will and pleasure. Given under my hand at Lathom, ye 12th of July. 1669. "To my governor's deputy-governor, and rest of my officers in my Isle of Man."

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