son (Simson) into Fitz Sim, in preference to his own appellative of Miles Armourer, the name by which he had always been known, both at the forge and in the field; but there is little time for deliberations on such delicate points when sovereigns ask questions. So familiar, too, was his usual cognomen to the banneret elect, that, by the mere force of habit, it popped out unawares in reply to King Henry's demand.

"Rise up, Sir Miles Armourer, and be thou a valiant knight and true!" exclaimed the royal patron after he had given him the stroke of honour; and Armourer became the family name of the hitherto nameless son of Sim, the saddler, of St. Swithen's Lane, and in the course of five descents was deemed almost as illustrious as that of Erpingham or Wodehouse.

He was a hero of Agincourt no less than those renowned knights of ancient Norman blood, and he assumed for his heraldic bearings, two swords crossed saltierwise on a field gules, and for a crest, a stalwart arm hammering a casque, presumed by his descendants to be of some noted French champion, whom he quelled at Agincourt. The motto, like that which was given by Henry himself to the valiant Sir Philip Wodehouse, was "frappe fort," which bore the two-fold allusion, both to his deeds of arms and his former craft.

Sir Miles Armourer had not been employed in the pursuit of fame alone. He had kept a keen eye on the main chance, and where any thing in the shape of plunder was to be got he claimed his share, even in the allotment of tapestry, linen, and ladies' garments. He was a soldier of fortune, that is, he fought not only to acquire fame, but riches, and he succeeded in his object. He took nothing with him to France but his weapons of war, and he returned to England laden with the spoils of French convents and rifled chateaux, bringing home with him, in addition to these spoils, and not the least of his trophies, a young, beautiful, and noble spouse, the daughter of a French count, whom he had taken prisoner at Agincourt, and preserved from the promiscuous slaughter that sullied the laurels won by England on that memorable day.

It was, however, rather to the avarice than the generosity of Sir Miles Armourer, that the Count d'Esparre was indebted for his life, since, if we must confess the truth, he offered his captor a ransom sufficient to have arrested the uplifted sword of the most blood-thirsty pagan in all heatheness, to say nothing of moving the compassion of an English soldier of fortune.

The heart of the Christian knight was mollified. He led his prisoner to his own tent, caused

his wounds to be dressed, paid him every kind and humane attention, and guarded him with especial care from all molestation till the hot blood of battle had cooled, and then he began to discuss the matter of the ransom.

The Count d'Esparre had named ten thousand crowns for his life, but when Sir Miles Armourer, who was eager to finger the reward of his mercy, courteously intimated to his captive that he was ready to restore him to liberty as soon as he could make it convenient to disburse that sum, the French noble smiled, and replied in a low tone of voice, "that he believed he had, in his anxiety to preserve his life, spoken somewhat hastily, and without due consideration, as to his ability of raising so large a sum as ten thousand crowns, especially while at a distance from his estates.

Sir Miles Armourer looked very grave on this hint, for he perceived plainly that the French Count had outwitted him in the matter of the ransom, and when he examined his dress and harness, which to outward appearance were very fine, more narrowly, he perceived the truth of the proverb, "All that glitters is not gold," for the Count d'Esparre's accoutrements were garnished with nothing better than tinsel, and base metal parcel gilt.

"Is this the way in which French peers cheat

the chivalry of England into sparing their lives?" exclaimed Sir Miles Armourer, angrily.

"Pardonne," responded the captive, casting a pitiful look upon the copper ornaments of his basinet from which the malcontent victor had just scraped the gilding with his dagger.

"Come," said Sir Miles, "I have had a sample of the poverty of the land, and am willing to take a reasonable composition, instead of the magnificent sum with the mention of which you deceitfully bribed me into preserving you from the slaughter of your countrymen on St. Crispin's day."

"Every thing a man hath he will give for his life, most puissant knight,” replied the luckless Count, "and I was ready to give more than I had, to purchase your noble clemency. I am not, in sooth, master of half the sum of which I spake in my fright."

"Hark ye, Sir Count," returned the English banneret, "you have acted very foolishly in promising so much beyond your means of performance, and I can only tell you that you might have chanced to get your weazon slit if you had fallen into the hands of a less magnanimous master than myself; but if you think to escape scot free out of mine, you are mistaken, for I am a soldier of fortune, and will not be defrauded of the ransoms of such prisoners as render them

selves up on that condition. Prithee how much are you willing to pay me?"

"Noble Sir," replied the count, "I will pay to the utmost of my ability."

"How much may that be?" demanded Sir Miles.

"A thousand crowns, an' please you, valiant. knight."

"Humph, is that all ?—well, disburse the same, that I may be rid of the trouble and expense of your maintenance.”

"Alack!" cried the French count, "how should I be able to produce a single sous unless you release me on my parole of honour, seeing that you have, with your own valiant hands, turned my pockets inside out, and made all diligent search among the folds and plaitings of my garments for money? Like yourself, my noble captor, I am a soldier of fortune, and carry very little gold about my person. But if you will permit me to return to mine own estates, I will do my best devoir to raise the ransom on which we have agreed."

"But what pledge will you give me that you will perform your engagement?" asked the knight. "Sir knight,” replied the Count d'Esparre, “I have a fair daughter in a convent not many miles from this spot, and she shall be my surety."