under the towers of Windsor, where he had been made a captive for nearly eighteen years. 66 Really," said Charles, "I should like to pay a visit with you to Windsor, if it was for no other purpose but to see St. James's armour suspended in the room where he beguiled his captivity in composing that plaintive poem of fancy, and where he beheld the fair object of his honourable passion, whom he at length obtained,* and who proved her love by attempting to shield him from the dagger of assassins, by interposing her own body between the stroke which drew forth his heart's blood." "Well," said Barking, "do not forget your proposal, which I feel too much pleasure in anticipating, to entertain for one moment the thought that you will abandon it." "On Wednesday morning, then," said Charles, "we will set off for Selwin Hall, and pay our visit to Lord Gallendon.” The rustic adventures which detained them I shall not take up time with describing; suffice it to say, that they arrived at a neighbouring market-town on the Saturday evening, and proposing to reconnoitre the place and view the family incog. before calling upon them, they slept at the inn, and rose on the Sunday morning, and, after a hearty breakfast, set out to witness the proceedings at the village church, where Lord Gallendon and his family attended. They arrived half an hour before service began. The fine old Gothic structure, with its painted glass, seemed worthy of exciting the antiquarian's admiration; they surveyed objects on which the fathers and forefathers, for many generations past, had fixed their eyes. There grew the clumps of aged oaks in the village green, under which the rude forefathers of the present inhabitants had * Hume, 3 Vol. p. 135. sported and debated. In the church-yard lay the stones which covered their mouldering dust; there stood the aged yew, which had displayed its ever-green foliage for ages past. Within a venerable pile, were the oaken seats, which the fathers, the children, and their children's children, had regularly occupied, in family succession, for generations. The village throng began to arrive; assembling round the walls of the church, they stood in clusters, repeating the village news of the week preceding, and asking each other's opinion of parish affairs; while the more religious were discussing some christian doctrine or duty. The bells struck up their soft chime, whose rising and falling cadence wafted on the swelling breeze, announced to every hamlet that it was time to visit the house of God. A stillness-a quiet and solemnity seemed to pervade every object—a propriety of demeanour to characterise every cottager, and a modesty and cleanliness of apparel to display his reverence for the holy day, and the place where he was to assemble. A bustle now began among the junior villagers at the noise of a whip and a rolling carriage, drawn by four horses, but before it could arrive, the carriage of Lord Gallendon, decent and orderly, with no gaudy trappings, no noise or display, wheels round the church-yard, and stops almost unperceived at the church gates. It was a plain carriage, drawn by two horses decently caparisoned; Lord and Lady Gallendon and their family alight and enter the church. What true dignity and modesty! what affability in accosting the peasantry, and returning their civilities! Immediately after, drives up the splendid carriage of a city Alderman. How different the family of that rich alderman, whose nod had ruled the exchange, and whose riches have raised for him a mansion more imposing than the nobleman's in its vicinity. The carriage, emblazoned with crests, drawn by four richly caparisoned horses, mounted by a coachman in gaudy dress, attended by two footmen in splendid liveries, with golden-headed canes, drives up to the church-yard, the whip resounds, the coursers spring, and a sudden pull stops them at full speed. Down comes the footman, the door is thrown open, the steps let down, and forth go the Miss Blusters with the alderman, scarcely touching the ground or looking at the peasantry, except for the purpose of showing them a supercilious brow. But lo! when arrived at their seat in the church, their lofty countenances at once soften into a glowing smile, and low and familiar courtesy to the nobleman's family, whose dignified return indicates that they are yet but strangers to each other. The families are seated ere the rector, who received his preferment from the noble lord, commences the prayers; and knowing that the rector paid him this respect, the nobleman was anxious that no blame should attach to him for any delay in the service, and this good example stimulates the alderman, the tenants, and peasantry, to be in time also. The service now is read with a solemnity becoming the holy place; the confessions are uttered in strains of penitential awe--the intercessions in tones of supplication-the thanksgivings in accents of heart-felt praise. The sermon inculcated christian truth and pure morality; the alderman and his family were, however, so much employed in gazing from pew to pew, or in whispering, to pay much attention to it, so that the sermon made as little impression as the prayers, which seemed to create no devotion; and they quit the church as they entered it, with levity, pomp, and parade. What a contrast in Lord Gallendon's pew! There the family all bend their knees in devotionfix their eyes on the prayer-book, as drawing near to God with their hearts, or lift them up in praise, as if their minds |