what he is about, and then have a rush upon him together or separate, or

cut him off either way 15 ST Captain Hayward agreed in this view of the case, and after a few more words of consultation, the horse was fastened to a scraggy hawthorn, tree, and stooping down as low as possible to conceal their approach, Captain Hayward and his companion advanced along the cart-road down into the pit. //The moment after they began to descend, the bank on the right cast a shadow over them, which favoured their operations, and Gimlet, taking the lead, crept silently along a path which had once served for the waggons that carried the sand out of the pit, but was now overgrown with grass and hemmed in with bushes, shrubs, and trees of forty or fifty years growth. No moonlight penetrated there, and all was dark, gloomy, and intricate. Now the path turned to the right, now to the left, then proceeded straight forwardi again, and then began to mount a little elevation in the surface, or floor, as the miners would call it, of the pit itself, still thickly surrounded by green shrubs, through which, however, the slanting beams of the moon were shining over the edge of the pit. Stephen Gimlet's steps became even still more quiet and cautious, and he whispered to Ned Hayward to walk lightly for fear the fugitive should catch a sound of their approach, and make his escape. Each step occupied several seconds, so carefully was it planted; the slight rustling of the leaves, catching upon their clothes, and each falling back upon a branch, which, pushed aside as they passed, was dashed back upon those behind, made them pause and listen, thinking that the object of their eager pursuit must have caught the sound as well as their own nearer ears. At length Stephen Gimlet stopped, and putting back his hand, helped his companion aloof for an instant, while he leaned forward and brought his eyes close to a small hole between the branches. Then, drawing Ned Hayward forward, he pointed in the same direction in which he had been looking, with his right finger, and immediately laid it upon his lips as a token to be silent. Ned Hayward bent his head and gazed through the aperture as his companion had done. The scene before him was a very peculiar one. In broken beams, filtered, as we may call it, by the green leaves and higher branches, the moonlight was streaming upon a small open space, where the ground rose into a swelling knoll, covered with green turf and moss. There was one small birch tree in the midst, and a hawthorn by its side, but all the rest was clear, and on the right hand could be seen, marked out by the yellow sand, the cart-road which led to the moor above. Standing close to the I two little trees was a horse, a fine, strong, powerful bay, with a good deal of bone and sinew, long in the reach, but what is unusual in horses of, that build, with a chine and shoulder like those of a wild boar. Close to i the horse, with the bridle thrown over his arm, and apparently exceedingly busy upon something he was doing, stood a tall, powerful man, whose face, from the position in which he had placed himself, could not be seen; his back, in short, was towards Ned Hayward and his companion, but i from under his left arm protruded part of the stock of a gun, which a moonbeam that fell upon it, showed as plainly as the daylight could have done. From the position in which he held the firelock it seemed to Nedi Hayward as if he were attending to the priming, and the moment afterwards the click of the pan showed that the supposition was correct. At the same time this sound met his ear the young gentleman was drawn gently back by the hand of his companion, and the Jan.-VOL. LXXVI. NO. CCCI.

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G

latter whispered, "That's Harry Wittingham's horse, I'd swear to him amongst a thousand, but that's not Henry Wittingham himself, of that I'm quite sure."

"I cannot see his face," answered Ned Hayward, in the same low tone, "but the figure seems to me very much the same.'

"Hush! he's moving," said the man; "better let us go round and cut him off by either road, you to the right and I to the left-straight through that little path there-we shall have a shot for it, but we must not mind that-see he is looking at his girths."

The man whom they spoke of had seemed perfectly unconscious of the presence of any such unwelcome visiters near him. His motions were all slow and indifferent, till the last words had passed Stephen Gimlet's lips; then, however, he turned suddenly round, displaying a face that Captain Hayward did not at all recollect, and gazing direct to the spot where they stood, he raised his gun, already cocked, to his shoulder, and fired.

Fortunately, it so happened that Ned Hayward had taken one step in the direction which his companion had pointed out, otherwise the ball, with which the piece was charged, would have passed right through his breast. As it was, it grazed his left arm, leaving a slight flesh wound, and, seeing that they were discovered, both he and Stephen Gimlet dashed straight through the trees towards the object of their pursuit. He, in the meantime, had put his foot in the stirrup, and sprung upon his horse's back. One rushed at him on either side, but perchance, at all hazards and at all events, without a moment's consideration, the man dashed at the poacher, brandishing the gun which he held in his hand like a club. As he came up without giving ground an inch, Stephen clutched at his bridle, receiving a tremendous blow with the stock of his gun, and attempting to parry it with his left hand. The man raised his rein, however, at the same moment he struck the blow, and Stephen missed the bridle. He struck at him, with his right, however, in hope of bringing him from his horse, and with such force and truth did he deliver his reply to the application of the gun-stock, that the man bent down to the horse's mane, but at the same time he struck his spurs deep into the beast's flanks, passed his opponent with a spring, and galloped up to the moor.

"I am away after him," cried Ned Hayward, and darting along the road like lightning, he gained the common, unhooked his own horse from the tree, and recommenced the pursuit with the same figure still flying before him.

The steep rise of the pit had somewhat blown the fugitive's horse, and for the first hundred yards or so Captain Hayward gained upon him, but he soon brought all his knowledge of the country to bear, every pond, every bank, every quagmire, gave him some advantage, and when, at the end of about ten minutes, they neared the plantations at the end of the moor, he was considerably further from his pursuers than when their headlong race began. At length he disappeared where the road led in amongst trees and hedge-rows, and any further chase seemed to promise little. Ned Hayward's was a sadly persevering disposition, however; he had an exceedingly great dislike to be frustrated in any thing, and on he therefore rode without drawing a rein, thinking, "in this more populous part of the country I shall surely meet with some whom he has passed, and who will give me information."

It was a wonderfully solitary, a thinly peopled district, however, which lay on the other side of the moor from Tarningham. They went early to bed, too, in that part of the world, and not a living soul did Ned Hayward meet for a full mile up the long lane. At the end of that distance, the road branched into three, and in the true spirit of knight-errantry, the young gentleman threw down his rein on the horse's neck, leaving it to carry him on in search of adventures, according to its own sagacity. The moor was about four miles and a half across; but in the various turnings and windings they had taken, now here now there upon its surface, horse and man had contrived to treble that distance, or perhaps something more. There had been a trot to the town before and back again, a hand-canter through the park, and then a tearing burst across the moor. The horse therefore thought, with some reason, that there had been enough of riding and being ridden for one night, and as soon as Ned Hayward laid down the reins it fell from a gallop to a canter, from a canter to a trot, and was beginning to show an inclination to a walk, if not to stand still, when Ned Hayward requested it civilly with his heels to go on a little faster. It had now selected its path, however, remembering Ovid's axiom, that the middle of the road is the safest. This was all that Ned Hayward could have desired at its hands, if it had had any; but of its hoofs he required that they should accelerate their motions, and on he went again at a rapid pace, till, suddenly turning into a high road, he saw nearly before him on the left hand, six large elms in a row, with a horse-trough under the two nearest; an enormous sign] swinging between the two central trees, and an inn,with four steps up to the door, standing a little back from the road. There was a good light streaming from some of the windows; the moon was shining clear, but the dusty old elms were thick with foliage, which effectually screened the modest figures on the sign from the garish beams of either the domestic or the celestial luminary.

Ned Hayward drew in his rein as soon as he beheld the inn and its accompaniments; then approached softly, paused to consider, and ultimately rode into the court-yard, without troubling the people of the house with any notification of his arrival. He found two men in the yard in stable dresses, who immediately approached with somewhat officious civility, saying, "Take your horse, sir?"

And Ned Hayward, dismounting slowly, like a man very much tired, gave his beast into their hands, and affected to saunter quietly back to the inn, while they led his quiet little cob into the stables. Then suddenly turning, after he had taken twenty steps, he followed at a brisk pace, he passed the stable-door, walking deliberately down the whole row of horses in the stalls, till he stopped opposite one-a bright bay, with a long back, and thick, high crest, which was still covered with lather, and had evidently been ridden furiously not many minutes before.

Turning suddenly to the ostler and his help, who had evidently viewed his proceedings with more consternation than was quite natural, he placed himself between them and the door, and demanded with a bent brow and a stern tone, "Where is the master of this horse?"

The help, who was nearest, gasped in his face like a caught trout, but the ostler pushed him aside, and replied instantly, "He is in-doors, sir, in number eleven."

And turning on his heel, Ned Hayward immediately entered the inn.

OLD ROMANCES CONCERNING BERNARDO DEL CARPIO.

TRANSLATED FROM THE SPANISH.

BY JOHN OXENFORD.

ALTHOUGH several of the ancient romances illustrative of the history of Bernardo del Carpio have been excellently translated by Mr. Lockhart, and published in his celebrated collection of Spanish ballads, the stock, as every Spanish scholar must be aware, is not nearly exhausted. From this stock I have made the following selection, avoiding those translated by Mr. Lockhart, except in one instance; viz. the concluding ballad. Although unwilling to translate again what had been so admirably rendered by Mr. Lockhart, I felt that I could not give a good termination to the story, if this poem were omitted. I had, moreover, the less scruple, on account of Mr. Lockhart not having followed the stanzas in ottava rima, with which the ballad terminates, and which, from their dissimilarity (not only of metre, but of style) to the rest, were probably added by a modern hand.

As all readers may not be acquainted with the history of Bernardo del Carpio, it is as well to give so much of it, as will conduce to the understanding of the following ballads-ballads, be it remembered, not written to form a connected whole, but the work of different hands, and probably composed with the belief that the subject was already familiar.

Doña Ximena, sister of Alfonso the Chaste, King of Leon and the Asturias, at the beginning of the ninth century, was privately married to Sancho, Count of Saldaña. The king, discovering the marriage (or intrigue, as some say), sent his sister to a convent, and imprisoned the count. Bernardo del Carpio, the issue of this unfortunate union, was educated at court. King Alfonso, not having any heirs, invited Charlemagne to take possession of his kingdom. This transfer of the country to the French was, however, so stoutly resisted by Bernardo and the other nobles, that Alfonso was obliged to relinquish his plan, and, when Charlemagne attempted to enter Spain, he was defeated at the pass of Roncesvalles, where his renowned Paladin Roland (Orlando) was killed by Bernardo. This version of the affair of Roncesvalles, it should be observed, is peculiar to the Spaniards. As a reward for his services, Bernardo frequently solicited the liberation of his father. The king at last complied with his entreaties, but he first put out the eyes of Don Sancho, and when Bernardo came to see his father, he found him a corpse.

This brief narrative will suffice to render the following ballads generally intelligible. I have not touched on the fortification of the castle of Carpio, as it is not made a motive in any of the romances which I have selected.

J. O.

RETIRADO EN SU PALACIO, &c.

Bernardo announces his Intention of defending the Kingdom of Castille* against the

French.

Throughout this ballad Alfonso's kingdom is by an anachronism called Castille.

†The arms of Leon were argent, with a lion gules.-J. O.