THE LORD OF ENNERDALE.

IN A FRAGMENT OF A LETTER FROM JOHN B--, ESQ., OF THAT ILK, TO WILLIAM G-, F.R.S.E.

"FILL a bumper," said the knight; "the ladies may spare us a little longer-fill a bumper to the Archduke Charles."

The company did due honor to the toast of their landlord.

The success of the archduke,” said the muddy vicar, “will tend to further our negotiations at Paris; and if—”

"Pardon the interruption, doctor," quoth a thin, emaciated figure, with somewhat of a foreign accent, but why should you connect those events unless to hope that the bravery and victories of our allies may supersede the necessity of a degrading treaty?"

"We begin to feel, Monsieur l'Abbé,” answered the vicar, with some asperity, "that a continental war entered into for the defense of an ally who was unwilling to defend himself, and for the restoration of a royal family, nobility, and priesthood, who tamely abandoned their own rights, is a burden too much even for the resources of this country."

"And was the war then on the part of Great Britain," rejoined the abbé, “a gratuitous exertion of generosity? Was there no fear of the wide-wasting spirit of innovation which had gone abroad? Did not the laity tremble for their property, the clergy for their religion, and every loyal heart for the constitution? Was it not thought necessary to destroy the building which was on fire, ere the conflagration spread around the vicinity?"

"Yet, it upon trial," said the doctor, "the walls were found to resist our utmost efforts, 1 see no great prudence in persevering in our labor amid the smoldering ruins."

“What, doctor,” said the baronet, “must I call to your recollection your own sermon on the late general fast?-did you not encourage us to hope that the Lord of Hosts would go forth with our armies, and that our enemies, who blasphemed him, should be put to shame?"

"It may please a kind father to chasten even his beloved children," answered the vicar.

"I think," said a gentleman near the foot of the table," that the Covenanters made some apology of the same kind for the failure of their prophecies at the battle of Dunbar, when the mutinous preachers compelled the prudent Lesley to go down against the Philistines in Gilgal."

The vicar fixed a scrutinizing and not a very complacent eye upon this intruder. He was a young man of mean stature, and rather a reserved appearance. Early and severe study had quenched in his features the gayety peculiar to his age, and impressed upon them a premature cast of thoughtfulness. His eye had, however, retained its fire, and his gesture its animation. Had he remained silent, he would have been long unnoticed; but when he spoke, there was something in his manner which arrested attention.

"Who is this young man?" said the vicar in a low voice to his neighbor.

A Scotchman called Maxwell, on a visit to Sir Henry," was the

answer.

'I thought so, from his accent and his manners," said the vicar. It may be here observed, that the Northern English retain rather more of the ancient hereditary aversion to their neighbors than their countrymen of the South. The interference of other disputants, each of whom urged his opinion with all the vehemence of wine and politics, rendered the summons to the drawing-room agreeable to the more sober part of the company.

The company dispersed by degrees, and at length the vicar and the young Scotchman alone remained, besides the baronet, his lady, daughters, and myself. The clergyman had not, it would seem, forgot the observation which ranked him with the false prophets of Dunbar, for he addressed Mr. Maxwell upon the first opportunity. Hem! I think, sir, you mentioned something about the civil wars of last century? You must be deeply skilled in them indeed, if you can draw any parallel betwixt those and the present evil days -which I am ready to maintain are the most gloomy that ever darkened the prospects of Britain.

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God forbid, doctor, that I should draw a comparison between the present times and those you mention. I am too sensible of the advantages we enjoy over our ancestors. Faction and ambition have introduced division among us; but we are still free from the guilt of civil bloodshed, and from all the evils which flow from it. Our foes, sir, are not those of our own household; and while we continue united and firm, from the attacks of a foreign enemy, however artful, or however inveterate, we have, I hope, little to dread."

"Have you found anything curious, Mr. Maxwell, among the dusty papers?" said Sir Henry, who seemed to dread a revival of political discussion.

My investigation amongst them led to reflections which I have just now hinted," said Maxwell; " 'and I think they are pretty strongly exemplified by a story which I have been endeavoring to arrange from some of your family manuscripts."

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'You are welcome to make what use of them you please," said Sir Henry; they have been undisturbed for many a day, and I have often wished for some person as well skilled as you in these old pothooks, to tell me their meaning.'

"Those I just mentioned," answered Maxwell, "relate to a piece of private history, savoring not a little of the marvelous, and intimately connected with your family; if it is agreeable, I can read to you the anecdotes in the modern shape into which I have been endeavoring to throw them, and you can then judge of the value of the originals."

There was something in this proposal, agreeable to all parties. Sir Henry had family pride, which prepared him to take an inter est in whatever related to his ancestors. The ladies had dipped deeply into the fashionable reading of the present day. Lady Ratcliff and her fair daughters had climbed every pass, viewed every vine-shrouded ruin, heard every groan, and lifted every trap-door, in company with the noted heroine of Udolpho. They had been

heard, however, to observe, that the famous incident of the Black Veil singularly resembled the ancient apologue of the mountain in labor, so that they were unquestionably critics as well as admirers. Besides all this, they had valorously mounted en croupe behind the ghostly horseman of Prague, through all his seven translators, and followed the footsteps of Moor through the forest of Bohemia. Moreover, it was hinted (but this was a greater mystery than all the rest), that a certain performance, called the Monk, in three neat volumes, had been seen, by a prying eye, in the right-hand drawer of the Indian cabinet of Lady Ratcliff's dressing-room. Thus predisposed for wonders and signs, Lady Ratcliff and her nymphs drew their chairs round a large blazing wood-fire, and arranged themselves to listen to the tale. To that fire I also approached, moved thereunto partly by the inclemency of the season, and partly that my deafness, which you know, cousin, I acquired during my campaign under Prince Charles Edward, might be no obstacle to the gratification of my curiosity, which was awakened by what had any reference to the fate of such faithful followers of royalty, as you well know the house of Ratcliff have ever been. To this wood-fire the vicar likewise drew near, and reclined himself conveniently in his chair, seemingly disposed to testify his disrespect for the narration and narrator by falling asleep as soon as he con veniently could. By the side of Maxwell (by the way, I cannot learn that he is in the least related to the Nithsdale family) was placed a small table and a couple of lights, by the assistance of which he read as follows:

"JOURNAL OF JAN VON EULEN.

"On the 6th November, 1645, 1, Jan Von Eulen, merchant in Rotterdam, embarked with my only daughter on board of the good vessel Vryheid of Amsterdam, in order to pass into the unhappy and disturbed kingdom of England. 7th November -a brisk gale -daughter sea-sick-myself unable to complete the calculation which I have begun, of the inheritance lett by Jane Lansache of Carlisle, my late dear wife's sister, the collection of which is the object of my voyage. 8th November, wind still stormy and adverse— a horrid disaster nearly happened-my dear child washed overboard as the vessel lurched to leeward. Memorandum, to reward the young sailor who saved her, out of the first moneys which 1 can recover from the inheritance of her aunt Lansache. 9th November, calm— P.M., light breezes from N.N.W. I talked with the captain about the inheritance of my sister-in-law, Jane Lansache. He says he knows the principal subject, which will not exceed £1000 in value. N.B. He is a cousin to a family of Petersons, which was the name of the husband of my sister-in-law; so there is room to hope it may be worth more than he reports. 10th November, 10 A.M. May God pardon all our sins. An English frigate, bearing the Parliament flag, has appeared in the offing, and gives chase. 11 A.M. She nears us every moment, and the captain of our vessel prepares to clear for action. May God again have mercy upon us!

*

*

*

*

*

"Here," said Maxwell, the journal with which I have opened the narration ends somewhat abruptly.”

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I am glad of it," said Lady Ratcliff.

But, Mr. Maxwell," said young Frank, Sir Henry's grandchild, "shall we not hear how the battle ended?"

"I do not know, cousin, whether I have not formerly made you acquainted with the abilities of Frank Ratcliff. There is not a battle fought between the troops of the prince and of the government, during the years 1745-6, of which he is not able to give an account. It is true, I have taken particular pains to fix the events of this important period upon his memory by frequent repetition.

"No, my dear," said Maxwell, in answer to young Frank Ratcliff- No, my dear, I can not tell you the exact particulars of the engagement, but its consequences appear from the following letter, dispatched by Garbonete Von Eulen, daughter of our journalist, to a relation in England, from whom she implored assistance. After some general account of the purpose of the voyage, and of the engagement, her narrative proceeds thus:

“The noise of the cannon had hardly ceased, before the sounds of a language to me but half known, and the confusion on board our vessel, informed me that the captors had boarded us, and taken possession of our vessel. 1 went on deck, where the first spectacle that met my eyes was a young man, mate of our vessel, who, though disfigured and covered with blood, was loaded with irons, and whom they were forcing over the side of the vessel into a boat. The two principal persons among our enemies appeared to be a man of tall thin figure. with a high-crowned hat and long neck-band, and shortcropped head of hair, accompanied by a bluff open-looking elderly man in a naval uniform. Yarely! yarely! pull away, my hearts!' said the latter, and the boat bearing the unlucky young man soon carried him on board the frigate. Perhaps you will blame me for mentioning this circumstance, but consider, my dear cousin, this man saved my life, and his fate, even though my own and my father's were in the balance, could not but affect me nearly.

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'In the name of him who is jealous, even to slaying—' said the

first."

*

Cetera desunt.

No. II.

CONCLUSION OF MR. STRUTT'S ROMANCE OF

QUEEN HOO HALL.

BY THE AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY.

CHAPTER IV.

A HUNTING PARTY-AN ADVENTURER-A DELIVERANCE. THE next morning the bugles were sounded by day-break in the court of Lord Boteler's mansion, to call the inhabitants from their slumbers, to assist in a splendid chase, with which the baron had re

solved to entertain his neighbor Fitzallen and his noble visitor St. Clere. Peter Lanaret, the falconer, was in attendance, with falcons for the knights, and teircelets for the ladies, if they should choose to vary their sport from hunting to hawking. Five stout yeomen keepers, with their attendants, called Ragged Robins, all meetly arrayed in Kendai green, with bugles and short hangers by their sides, and quarterstaffs in their hands, led the slow-hounds or brachets, by which the deer were to be put up. Ten brace of gallant greyhounds, each of which was fit to pluck down, singly, the tallest red deer, were led in leashes by as many of Lord Boteler's foresters. The pages, squires, and other attendants of feudal splendor, well attired in their best hunting-gear, upon horseback or foot, according to their Iank, with their boar-spears, long-bows, and cross-bows, were in seeinly waiting.

A numerous train of yeomen, called, in the language of the times, retainers, who yearly received a livery coat, and a small pension for their attendance on such solemn occasions, appeared in cassocks of blue, bearing upon their arms the cognizance of the House of Boteler, as a badge of their adherence. They were the tallest men of their hands that the neighboring villages could supply, with every man his good buckler on his shoulder, and a bright burnished broadsword dangling from his leathern belt. On this occasion, they acted as rangers for beating up the thickets, and rousing the game. These attendants filled up the court of the castle, spacious as it was. On the green without, you might have seen the motley assemblage of peasantry convened by report of the splendid hunting, including most of our old acquaintances from Tewin, as well as the Jolly partakers of good cheer at Hob Filcher's. Gregory, the jester, it may well be guessed, had no great mind to exhibit himself in public, after his recent disaster; but Oswald the steward, a great formalist in whatever concerned the public exhibition of his master's household state, had positively enjoined his attendance. “What,” quoth he, “shall the house of the brave Lord Boteler, on such a brave day as this, be without a fool? Certes, the good Lord St. Clere, and his fair lady sister, might think our housekeeper as niggardly as that of their churlish kinsman at Gay Bowers, who sent his father's jester to the hospital, sold the poor sot's bells for hawk jesses, and made a nightcap of his long-eared bonnet. And, sirrah, let me see thee fool, handsomely-speak squibs and crackers, instead of that dry, barren, musty gibing, which thou hast used of late; or, by the bones! the porter shall have thee to his lodge, and cob thee with thine own wooden sword, till thy skin is as motley as thy doublet."

To this stern injunction, Gregory made no reply, any more than to the courteous offer of old Albert Drawslot, the chief park-keeper, who proposed to blow vinegar in his nose to sharpen his wit, as he had done that blessed morning to Bragger, the old hound, whose scent was failing. There was, indeed, little time for reply, for the bugles, after a lively flourish, were now silent, and Peretto, with his two attendant minstrels, stepping beneath the windows of the strangers' apartments, joined in the following roundelay, the deep voices of the rangers and falconers making up a chorus that caused the very battlements to ring again.