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pear to care much about either. I remember, however, light.' Believe me, dear Sir, your very faithful serthat when the old dame who showed us Darnley's armour vant,
"J. G. LOCKHART,' and boots complained of the impudence, as she called it,
We have little now to add to the poet's history. We of a preceding visiter, who had discovered these articles to be relics of a much later age, your father warmly en- Very soon after his return from the north his health be
are drawing near to the 'valley of the shadow of death.' tered into her feelings; and said, as we came away, “this gan to sink. His affections, we feel pleased to add, were pedantic puppyism was inhumane.' • The first Sunday he was in Edinburgh, my wife and wedded to earth; the plaudits of the world, which scarcely
raised above the present scene; his heart was not ignobly her sister carried him to hear service in St George's
a breath of censure had marred, had not seduced him. church, where the most popular of the Presbyterian
• God forbid,' said he with emphasis, in reply to one who clergy, the late Dr Andrew Thomson, then officiated. spoke of a professor of gastronomy bringing his art to But he was little gratified either with the aspect of the such a pitch of perfection that people would be kept church, which is large without grandeur, or the style of
living for ever. İlis kind-heartedness, his disposition to the ceremonial, which he said was bald and bad, or the make all around him as happy as possible, nerer forsook eloquence of the sermon, which, however, might not be him. Age and increasing infirmities froze not the genial preached by Dr Thomson himself.* Next Sunday he went
current of his soul.' The following postscript from a letter to the Episcopalian chapel, where Sir Walter Scott's written to his son John, at Hastings, to which place he family were in the habit of attending. He said, however, had gone in the hope of being benefited by the seain walking along the streets that day, “ This unusual de- breeze, will not be read without tears of admiration :corum says not a little for the Scotch system; the
• P. S.-You know my poor. Oram had a shilling on silence of these well-dressed crowds is really grand.' Sunday; but Smith, the bed-ridden woman, Martin, and King George the Fourth made the same remark.
Gregory the lame man, you will give to as I would; nay, “Mr Crabbe entered so far into the feelings of his host, I must give somewhat more than usual ; and if you meet and of the occasion, as to write a set of verses on the with my other poor people, think of my accident, and royal visit to Edinburgh; they were printed along with give a few additional shillings for me, and I must also many others, but I have no copy of the collection. (Mr find some who want where I am, for my danger was great, Murray can easily get one from Edinburgh, in case you and I must be thankful in every way I can.' wish to include those stanzas in your edition of his poet
The closing scene at length came. He suffered much ical works.). He also attended one of the king's levees bodily pain : but his mind was resigned and tranquil. at Holyrood, where his majesty appeared at once to re- Casting his eyes upon a bible that lay before him, his face cognise his person, and received him with attention.
lighted up with a vivid expression of joy, he exclaimed, * All my friends who had formed acquaintance with Mr
That blessed book !' The incident will remind the reader Crabbe on this occasion appeared ever afterwards to re
of another which occurred at the close of Sir Walter member him with the same feeling of affectionate respect. Scott's life, when the latter asked Mr Lockhart for a Sir Walter Scott and his family parted with him most book, and Mr Lockhart replied, “What book — Nem reluctantly. He had been quite domesticated under their you ask?' said the dying poet: there is but one book ! roof, and treated the young people very much as if they there is but one book !' had been his own. His unsophisticated, simple, and kind address, put every body at ease with him ; and, indeed, town and neighbourhood of Trowbridge. Many were the
The death of Crabbe produced a deep sensation in the one would have been too apt to forget what lurked be- tributes of respect paid on the occasion. Perhaps, hofneath that good-humoured, unpretending aspect, but that ever, there was none more touching than the remar, every now and then he uttered some brief pithy remark made by a little girl on the day of his burial :- Por which showed how narrowly he had been scrutinizing Mr Crobbe,' said she, while the tear glistened in her eye; into whatever might be said or done before him, and called
' poor Mr Crabbe will never go up in pulpit any more, us to remember, with some awe, that we were in the with his white head.' presence of the author of · The Borough.'
* I recollect that he used to have a lamp and writing materials placed by his bedside every night; and when SKETCHES OF PARIS AND THE PARISIANS. Lady Scott told him she wondered the day was not enough for his authorship, he answered, ' Dear Lady, I should have lost many a good hit, had I not set down, at
SOUVENIRS OF THE CITE. once, things that occurred to me in my dreams.'
' I never could help regretting very strongly that Mr No modern city has been the scene of so many remarkable Crabbe did not find Sir Walter at Abbotsford, as he had events as Paris : war, splendour, profligacy, revolutioa, expected to do. The fortnight he passed in Edinburgh and massacres, have all given birth to events there which was one scene of noise, glare, and bustle-reviews, lerees, history will ever record. Its inhabitants, too, are equally banquets, and balls—and no person could either see or hear remarkable; and the influence of their literature and so much of him as might, under other circumstances, manners has extended itself over Europe. Paris, more have been looked for. Sir Walter himself, I think, took than any other capital, guides, and consequently express, only one walk with Mr Crabbe : it was to the ruins of St the customs and feelings of the nation at large ; and se Anthony's Chapel, at the foot of Arthur's Seat, which therefore trust that some short sketches of its condition, your father wished to see, as connected with part of the history, and inhabitants, will not prove unacceptable to Heart of Mid-Lothian. I I had the pleasure to accompany
our readers. We shall commence our sketch of Paris with them on this occasion ; and it was the only one on which a description of the oldest part of it--the cité; introducI heard your father enter into any details of his own per- ing, as we go along, some of the more striking events or sonal history. lle told us, that during many months anecdotes connected with its history, when he was toiling in early life in London, he hardly
The term 'cité'is applied to the little island upon which ever tasted butcher's meat, except on a Sunday, when he stands the central and most ancient part of Paris. During dined usually with a tradesman's family, and thought the Roman sway in northern Gaul, this island in the their leg of mutton, baked in the pan, the perfection of winding river'-as they called the Seine-bore the dame luxury. The tears stood in his eyes while he talked of of Lutetia, and became a military post of considerable Burke's kindness to him in his distress; and I remember importance. Though no traces now remain of any of the he said, “ The night after I delivered my letter at his architectural efforts of the Italian conquerors, the hard door, I was in such a state of agitation, that I walked of Imperial Rome has left one mark behind, which will Westminster Bridge, backwards and forwards, until day- most probably last as long as Parts is a city. This is the
straight line running nearly north and south, which indi* We can scarcely suppose so.
cates the old Ronian road, and coincides with the Rue St
Jacques, on the southern bank of the Seine-with the The principal street in the cité was the old Roman Rue de la Juiverie in the island of the cité—and with the thoroughfare athwart the fair Lutetia--the Rue de la JuiRue St Martin in the northern division of Paris. This verie; so termed from the Jews that were established line may instantly be observed upon a map of the city; there, and who had also schools of their own and a synaand it is so straight, that whoever stands in the Rue St gogue within the island. In 1183, however, Philip Au. Jacques, opposite the Pantheon, and looks northward, gustus sent them all to the right about. He coveted their may carry his eye right athwart Paris, up a long narrow wealth, and resorted to persecution and torture to wring street, for the space of nearly three miles, till it reaches it from them. One of the most popular of the charges the high ground in the neighbourhood of Villette. As brought against the unhappy Jews, was, that they kidthe ravages of the Normans checked the spreading of napped and annually sacrificed Christian children. The habitations on either bank of the river, Paris was for long body of one boy, who was said to have been thus killed, contined to the narrow limits of the original island. The was brought to Paris: his supposed murderers were cruelly space was uncommonly small for the population, and put to death by torture, and their victim was canonizeii. every inch of the island was occupied ; defences ran round To such celebrity did this saint afterwards attain, that its shores, to protect them from hostile descent; while when the English evacuated Paris, they are said to have within, the streets were narrow and tortuous, and the made off with the whole of the sanctified body but the inhabitants kept adding to the height of their houses, head—which head, of course, was ever after highly resince they could not expand them in width and depth. It vered, and carefully kept from damage. From the was not till after the settlement and conversion of the time of their persecution by Philip Augustus, the Jews fierce Northmen, that the Parisians came out of their lost their former influence in Paris, and were regarded stronghold, and spread themselves luxuriously over both as a degraded sect, to be scoffed at and ill-treated by banks of the Seine.
all who chose. They never more dwelt in the cité; The streets in the cité never recovered from the pres- they were never allowed to appear in public without sure they were thus subjected to in the first stages of a yellow mark on the breast, and a horned cap on their existence, when the population was squeezed up in the head; they were forbidden to bathe in the Seine ; a space not a quarter big enough for its size; so that few and whenever the public executioner did them the of the streets were calculated for vehicles of any descrip- honour to suspend some of their community from the tion, and in some, two horses with their riders could gibbet of Monifaucon, they were always hung up between hardly pass abreast; while the houses hung over in stages, two dogs.- -In the Rue d'Enfer is an obscure and smoky the opposite gables of the upper ones almost touching each house, adjoining the residence of the canons of Nôtre other. Light and fresh air, of course, were by no means Dame, and over the gateway is an inscription declaring placed in the first rank of the necessaries of life; and as that it was once the abode of the Canon Fulbert, the old for cleaning the streets, that was nearly out of the ques- uncle of Heloise, and that it was here that Abelard lodged tion. A perfect hotbed for all kinds of plagues it must and loved, and wooed and won. Not a stone, perhaps, of bare been. In old times it was usual for the swine be- the original edifice remains above ground; but under longing to the inhabitants to make the streets their prin- ground, far down below the lowest soil of the city, is a cipal resort; but in consequence of Philip, the eldest son large and strongly-vaulted cellar, which is pointed out as of Louis le Gros, having been killed by a fall from his the actual spot in which the canon's vengeance was perhorse, owing to one of these animals getting under its petrated. - In the Rue des Marmouzets there once lived, feet, near the church of St Gervais, all such intruders in adjoining houses, a barber and a pastry-cook, whose were forbidden to appear in the public ways, with the intimacy was not less a subject of general remark, than exception of those belonging to the monks of the Abbey the rapid increase of their fortunes was of envy. The of St Antoine, who, to the number of a dozen, were per barber shaved all the gallants in town, and every body mitted still to perambulate their ancient haunts, provided flocked to the pastry-cook's for his meat-pies. , At last a each of them carried a bell hanging from its neck. But this rumour spread that several persons who had been seen useful regulation soon fell into neglect.-Philip II., sur- going into the barber's shop had never been heard of named the August, began to pave the streets in 1185. afterwards. The idea of murder was speedily caught up He was standing one day, we are told, at the window of and improved on: it was said that after the barber had his palace in the cité, when some carts having driven up cut the throats of his victims, he handed over their bodies to carry away the mire and filth with which the street to the pastry-cook, who forthwith converted them into was covered, he was so much disgusted with the stench mince-meat, and therewith stuffed his pies. The story and offensive appearance of every thing around that he was too horrible not to be exactly suited to popularity": determined to put an end to such a deplorable state of the barber and pastry-cook were torn from their houses inconvenience and uncleanliness, and forthwith gave orders by the infuriated multitude—were condemned to death to the provost to have the principal streets paved at the at the king's justiciary-were swinging as dead corpses at expense of the burgesses. But even this proved only a Montfaucon the same dayand within twenty-four hours Fery slight amelioration; and, for a considerable time their houses were level with the ground. The Rue des after, the streets continued in a most offensive and un- Marmouzets still remains, but it is much altered. This healthy state. So late as the time of Louis XIV., it is part of Paris is a notorious rendezvous of thieves ; and mentioned that the Sieur Courtois, a physician who dwelt here the police, whose headquarters in the prefect's resiin the Rue des Marmouzets, had his principal sitting-room dence are not three hundred yards off, find their prey looking out to this street; and he used to observe that ready to their hands. every morning a pair of large brass dogs, which he used The Hôtel de la Reine was built by Catherine de Mefor supporting the flaming logs of wood in his fireplace, dicis; John Bullant was the architect whom she employed were covered with a tolerably thick coating of verdegris, in its erection, but much of the plan was said to be her occasioned by the deleterious vapours which rose from the own. A great part of the edifice was formed out of the street below. No gentleman, in those days, ever thought monastery and another house which previously occupied of going into the streets unless stoutly booted-and a boot its site. One erection, however, which was the work of of the time of the Grand Monarque' was a foot-and-leg Bullant, was a Auted doric tower, ninety-five feet in preserver of a very formidable description : and as for the height, and having a winding staircase within it, which women, it is very likely that the high-heeled shoes, which Catherine ordered to be built to serve her for a station came into fashion about this time, were originally a femi- from which to read the mysterious book of the stars. An nine device for the preservation of dry pettitoes. During Italian astrologer, named Côme de Ruggeri, is particularly Louis XIV.'s reign, however, a great improvement took mentioned as having been wont to accompany her to the place: the streets were attempted to be cleaned, over- top of this observatory, and there to assist her in her vain hanging gable-topped houses were proseribed, and every endeavours to penetrate into the night of the future. one set up a court front to his habitation.
This watch-tower is still standing in the outer wall of the
Halle aux Bles, and it is the only part of the Hôtel de la to reveal the place of her retreat. All means to extort Reine which remains. A fountain now issues from its this secret from him were found to be useless, and he was pedestal, and an ingeniously constructed sundial has been condemned to perpetual imprisonment. The place of his placed on the shaft. It is a fit emblem,' says a writer incarceration was a tower attached to the Archbishop's who mentions it, of the changed spirit of the times, that palace; and here he remained four years, quietly occupy. what in one age was dedicated by a bold and ambitious ing himself with his books, and amusing himself by writspirit to the high but visionary aim of communing with ing a history of the diocese of Paris, which still exists in the stars, should in ours be made to serve the humbler manuscript. During this time, the Comte d'Estral died; but more useful purpose of showing the passing hour to and the Abbé Décorieux became forgotten; he was visited those who labour in the peaceful duties of commerce.' by no one, except an old woman and a young clerk,
At the south-eastern corner of the island stood the who called upon him frequently.-One evening, and Archbishop's palace—in great part a recently erected edi- for the first time, the young clerk visited him alone in fice, and till the revolution of 1830 distinguished for the his cell, and after obtaining permission to stay behind splendour of its internal decorations. In 1625, the palace when the jailors came to lock up the cells, he perwas the scene of a solemn festivity, in which England was suaded the Abbé to attempt to escape with him by means deeply interested. In the autumn of the previous year, of a rope-ladder which he had brought concealed under after the Prince of Wales, subsequently Charles I., and the his dress. The Abbé consented. Just as eleven o'clock gay Duke of Buckingham, had visited the court of France struck by the bell of Notre Dame, a heavy sound, as of to solicit the hand of the fair Henrietta Maria, sister of something falling, was heard in the court of the palace, Louis XIII., the Earls of Carlisle and Holland were sent and then a piercing shriek. The guardians of the prison over as ambassadors-extraordinary to negotiate the treaty rushed to the spot, and found the mutilated bodies of the of marriage in due form. Thursday, the 8th day of Abbé and the young clerk : the rope-ladder had broken; May, 1625, was the day fixed for the betrothal of the they had fallen from a considerable height; the Abbé young princess. Henrietta Maria was then sixteen, and was quite dead, but the clerk was still alive. The latter had already shown the amiable vivacity of her mind no turned his head slowly round, and said, 'God be blessed less than the expressive beauty of her person. The noble- for having allowed me, before calling me to his presence, man destined to receive the hand of the princess by proxy, to give testimony before men: the Abbé Décorieux has was one of the most accomplished and the most illustri- never ceased to be perfectly virtuous and pure. May God ous of the French court-Claude de Lorraine, Duke of forgive me! and grant that I may not survive him!' Chevreuse, alike distinguished for his fine appearance and Here his lips grew white, his eyes closed, and he expired. his military achievements; his dress, also, was superb- -One of the guardians, thinking that he had only in fact the Duke was the Esterhazy of those days. We fainted, unbuttoned his dress to give him air-when he cannot follow the cotemporary chronicle in its minute found that it was a female !—it was Mademoiselle d'Estral. account of this imposing ceremony; suffice it to say, that On the 29th of July, 1830, during the 'three glorious while it lasted, Paris resounded with feux-de-joie, and all days,' the Archbishop's palace was sacked by the populace, was mirth and festivity.- Unfortunate Henrietta Maria! who on this occasion displayed a love of destruction which, She was not appreciated by her consort; she was mis- to their honour be it recorded, was very unusual with represented and calumniated in England; was driven them, even during all the excitement of the conflict. from her palace and her throne; and in a few years after They were incited to this partly by a report unfavourable the kingos death, was again residing at the Louvre, but to the neutrality of the reverend inmates: but it was in such a state of want, that neither herself nor her at- owing, perhaps, as much to their hatred of the Jesuits, tendants had money enough to procure suitable clothing who had made the king their tool, and the belief that or food. This extremity lasted, it is true, only for a the Archbishop belonged to that intriguing sect; for, in short time; but her life was never a happy one from the advancing to attack the palace, the gaminz who headed the time of her first leaving France. Her only consolation attack chanted as they marchedwas the affection of her children, by whom, the moment
C'est l'Archeveque de Paris, it became in their power, she was placed in a condition
Qui est un Jesuit comme Charles Dix.' of suitable wealth and dignity. She died at Colombes, of the most common accounts, one says that a report near Argenteuil, on the 10th of September, 1669. had been spread that a number of priests who had taken
In contrast to the preceding courtly ceremony, we may refuge there had fired from the windows upon the people. narrate a melancholy tragedy, of which the Archbishop's Another statement is, that the people repaired to the palace was the scene, early in the same century. The palace to obtain what refreshment they could find after curate of St Mederic was at that time the worthy Pierre | their morning's exertions. For some time after their Décorieux: he was thirty-six years of age, tall, and of a entry they committed no excesses; but in penetrating noble appearance; he was of a retired disposition, but of into a retired chamber they were astonished, we are told, unbounded benevolence, and universally beloved by his by the discovery of a barrel of gunpowder-some say two; parishioners. One evening, as he was about to retire - and some hundred poniards, which appeared to have from his confessional stall in the church, a young lady of been recently sharpened. There is little doubt that the his parish, the daughter of the Comte d'Estral, entered, story was groundless, but it was enough for the populace. and throwing herself on her knees, besought him to pity Indiscriminate destruction forthwith commenced. Papers, and assist her. Her father, she said, insisted on her books, furniture, ornaments, every thing, were scattered marrying the Chevalier de Verhais ; the marriage was to about, torn to pieces, or flung wholesale from the windows take place in three days, and rather than do this, she had into the Seine. The people, we are assured, committed determined to kill herself; and she now besought the no outrage on any of the sacred emblems which they found curate, who had attended her mother in her last mo- in the oratory or elsewhere; to a large and richly-ornaments, to give her his benediction before she carried her mented crucifix in one of the rooms they presented arms, resolution into effect. The worthy father remonstrated and afterwards conveyed it carefully to the Hôtel Dieu. but in vain. At last he thought of an expedient; and, The quays which now surround the island of the cite leaving the church together, he conducted her to the are in general well-built, airy, and cheerful. At the house of his old nurse, in a narrow by-lane near the Bastile. western extremity of the isle is the spacious thoroughfare The disappearance of the young lady soon made an im- of the Pont Neuf, which is constantly crowded by loungers mense noise in the capital; an active inquiry was set on and the stream of passengers crossing the river. In the foot; and two scholars of the university declared they interior is the Palais of Justice, with that most beautiful had seen her with the Abbé in the Rue St Antoine, specimen of Gothic architecture, the celebrated Sainte about ten at night. The Abbé was arrested, and ex-Chapelle, on the one side, and the prison of the Conciergerie amined before the official of the Archbishop; he denied on the other. The Palace of Justice was the original city nothing, he explained his conduct, but solemnly refused | residence of the French kings; and some parts of it-for
it has received many repairs and additions—are probably ing; but soon after one of the servants went up with his older than any thing else in Paris. In the east end of breakfast, she heard his heavy step and growling voice on the isle stands Notre Dame-the mother cathedral of the stairs, and when he entered the kitchen, he was still Paris ; and near it is the extensive building called the muttering curses at having been kept waiting so long. Hôtel Dieu, the oldest of Parisian hospitals.
Old Jenny laid down the milk bowl she was scalding as The cité' is now much better and more comfortable he appeared, but Rebecca sat unmoved, and there was a than in its olden time; but the narrowness of the streets, dead silence, till the farmer, placing himself in front of and its crowded buildings, will ever prevent it attaining her with his back to the fire, and taking his coat-tails up
even an ordinary degree of cleanliness. Not a few of its under his arms, asked her, in an insolent tone, what kept .ancient buildings, which were associated with so many her there so long. • I stay to hear my brother Mark's
interesting events of bygone times, have already fallen; will read,' replied the widow composedly, many more will shortly follow as improvement proceeds; • And what can that concern you, I should like to and the stranger will soon look in vain for many a spot know?' connected with eventful scenes in the past, or once illustri- * It may, or it may not, that remains to be proved.' sus as the abode of royalty and greatness.
! Oh yes, this is fine talking !' again returned Richard. I suppose you think because the old fool sent for you
last night to save his soul from perdition, you have a good THE BROTHERS OF RAVENSHAW.
chance of a thumping legacy; but you are likely to find By Madame WOLFENSBERGER, Authoress of 'The Ward of the yourself mistaken for all that.' Crown,' &o
My thoughts are my own,' said Rebecca ; ' but the will
I must and will hear, before I move a step.' (Concluded from last Number.)
' You are insolent, are you?' cried the farmer with a JEMMY was up with the lark the following morning ; sneer. “It is a pity you cannot strip the dead man of his è and though his curiosity, which was his greatest failing, winding-sheet, for that would sell for sixpence ! but you
was powerfully excited by the events of the night, yet, as shall hear the will, woman, and be taught who has a the storm had abated, and he had no excuse for intruding right to command in this house, you or I, before you are longer in the mansion of death, he left the farm-house be- many minutes older.' So saying he proceeded up stairs, fore any of its inhabitants were astir; for he wisely taking Rebecca and Jenny with him, under pretence of thought, though there was little chance of his learning looking for the important document; but, as he well knew, any thing by remaining an hour or two longer, Richard, there was nothing of the kind to be found there; and after
suspicious from the consciousness of his crime, might rummaging various drawers and boxes, he at length pre- - -question him more narrowly as to what he had seen through tended to discover it in the kitchen cupboard, where he
the kitchen window, than he had ventured to do in Jenny's had himself placed it the night before. presence; and as, without farther evidence, he thought In a clear and unwavering voice he read its contents, it most prudent to conceal his knowledge of the farmer's which he knew nearly by heart; and old Jenny's counteiniquity, he resolved, if possible, to avoid meeting him. nance fell, and Rebecca's hopes vanished, when they found His steps were therefore directed to a distant part of the that there was no name mentioned from the beginning to country, and whilst he trudged along over the hard frozen the end of the writing, but that of Richard Douglas, who, Snow, the old man beguiled the way by laying plans for as was quite natural, considering who made the will, was the further discovery of the contents of Mark Douglas's appointed sole heir and executor. will, which he trusted to time and his own ingenuity to • Now I hope you are convinced, and will trudge,' said accomplish.
the farmer, as he folded up the paper. 'I am master now Silently and in sorrow did old Jenny prepare the morn- in spite of you; and if you don't go directly, at my bidding, ing meal ; but labour has a wonderful power to blunt the I'll see if force cannot make you.' shaft of affliction, and though she often sighed, and some- • There will be no need to try it, when I have seen the times wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron, she signature,' replied the widow calmly. went about her household affairs exactly as she had been . There! stare your fill, and be satisfied if you can,' accustomed to do for the last forty years. Rebecca sat returned Richard, flushing of the deepest crimson, as with by the fire, dressed in her red cloak and bonnet, ready to a slight tremor of the hand he held the will he tightly depart; and though she sometimes gave a slight answer grasped towards her. to the garrulous old housekeeper, a keener observer would • And who are the witnesses P' inquired poor Jenny, have seen that her thoughts were occupied by other mat- who had been long told by her master that he would leave ters. Though affliction had taught her to bow with meek- her enough to make her comfortable for the rest of her ness before the chastisements of the Lord, and she es- life. teemed it her duty to forgive, she was not insensible to Richard read the names. the injustice and unkindness of her brothers, against . And what is the date?' whom the old woman declaimed. They had once nearly · The tenth of March, 18—' broken her heart; but the dying blessing of Mark, whom • That is three years ago, next March! I thought my she ever tenderly loved, had removed one cause for sor- master made his will only a month ago.' row, and a latent hope that he might have left a stronger • What is that you say ?' cried Richard, for a moment proof than mere words of his good will towards her, sprung thrown off his guard, and remembering with some dismay up in her mind; not for her own, but for her son's sake- that, in his hurry and agitation the night before, he had her darling boy; for whose support, after his father's forgotten to remark the date of the paper he destroyed. death, she had laboured with unwearied industry, and • What lie next, you old hussey ? but words will prove nowhom a hard necessity had driven, before he reached the thing! Where is your evidence ? he added, turning as pale age of manhood, to seek his fortunes on the high seas. as death, in spite of his efforts to appear calm.
Twice had he returned, after long intervals, to visit his * Time will prove all,' returned Jenny. widowed mother, and bring her nearly the whole of his ' I suppose you mean to dispute this will, then ?' cried hard-earned wages ; but money could not console Rebecca the enraged farmer. for the absence of her only child. Her best comfort had That may be, as it may be,' said the old woman dogbeen religion : nevertheless, though she submitted meekly gedly. to what she could not amend, her strong mind shrunk not • Very likely! but, in the mean time, Mrs Jenny, I from action when convinced of its necessity; and undis- | don't want your company here, so you may send for your mayed by the brutal insolence of Richard on the preced- i trappings and be off after that hussey as soon as you please; ing night, she resolved not to quit that house till she had and, no longer master of himself, Richard almost pushed heard (as she had a right to do) the contents of her de- the old woman out of the door by which Rebecca had ceased brother's will. She had not seen him that morn- already departed.
Terrified and astonished, Jenny made no resistance, guilt, an evil fortune daily diminished his ill-gotten Fealth; but hobbled screaming after Rebecca, who, hearing her his crops were blighted; his cattle died; a fire broke out voice, waited for her at the top of the hill. The widow in his rick yard, which consumed the produce of the year. was more indignant than surprised at this new proof of The curse of his brother was upon him. But amidst all Richard's barbarity, but she did not express her anger, the misery of crime, his heart never softened to poor Reand endeavoured to console the old woman, who stood becca; on the contrary, every hour of his sufferings inshivering and weeping bitterly, whilst a little boy whom creased his hatred of her whom he considered as their she saw in the farm-yard went in search of her cloak. On cause; and though she rarely crossed his path, he imahis return, the two women set off as quickly as they could gined he could never be happy till she was entirely reto Rebecca's cottage, where, though it was a poor place, moved from his neighbourhood. There was no way of the old housekeeper gladly accepted the widow's invita- accomplishing this but by purchasing the lonely cottare tion to abide, for she had neither friends nor relations in where she lived by the roadside, about half a mile from the world, and having saved something in service, and Ravenshaw farm, which, with some difficulty, be at length being willing to work both in the house and the fields, she succeeded in doing; and on the very day when Jenny liad proved rather an assistance than a burden to Rebecca. gone on her mysterious errand to the market-town, be Though these two poor women sometimes talked over resolved, with a brutality of which humanity is seldom ca. Mark Douglas's will, with many doubts of its authenti- pable, to have the triumph of personally warning his siscity, yet, as they had neither money nor friends to assist ter to quit the poor abode where she had lived for nearly or advise them, they could take no measure to dispute it ; twenty years. and had not the widow longed for the means to keep that With this intention, he set off about three o'clock in son at home, whose lengthened absence gave her serious the afternoon towards Rebecca's cottage, and, as if evil had uneasiness, and Jenny, who liked money, indulged a hope been his native element, he felt an exultation to which he of somehow or another proving her right to her pro- bad long been a stranger, as he crossed the stubble fields mised legacy, it is probable that time would have laid on his diabolical errand. The trees no longer wore their their suspicions to rest. As it was, they continually re- summer freshness, but the brown leaves of the beech and turned with renewed vigour; and when her master had horse-chestnut were mingled in every variety of shade been dead nearly a year, an accidental meeting with with the light tints of the birch and the deep green of Jemmy the pedlar made the old housekeeper so restless the elm and the oak; the scarlet berries of the mounand uncomfortable, that she resolved to do something, tain-ash here and there shone from amongst the rich fothough she did not well know what; and aware that Re- liage like bunches of coral; and though the sweet blue ball becca Ainsley shrunk from inquiring further into a mat- and primrose no longer spread a painted carpet over the ter where the proof of her brother's guilt might endanger broken and mossy rocks, and the songs of the birds were his life, she set off on a fine autumn morning to the nearest still, a few blossoms of the honeysuckle and meadow-sweet market-town, under the pretence of buying a new gown, vet lingered in the shade; and the pheasant's crow, as it but with a very different object in view.
rose whirring on the wing, sounded cheerfully through Richard Douglas, in the mean time, had entered into the brake. A light breeze rustled the leares, ard the full possession of the property for which he had incurred beams of the sun were dancing on the rippling stream, so heavy a load of guilt. "But when is the avaricious man and all nature seemed rejoicing in its light; but the cold rich to his heart's content? The first week after he re- heart of Richard Douglas was unmoved by the beauties so moved to Ravenshaw farm was spent in planning altera- lavishly spread around him; he even saw them not, for tions and improvements there, which in the greediness of his thoughts were engaged by other matters, and bis his heart he flattered himself were to repay him a hundred-eyes were rivetted on the figure of an old man, wbe, fold; and whilst thus occupied, he tried to think he was having placed his basket on a fallen tree, was groping happy. But the charm of novelty soon went off; in spite amidst the rank herbage at a little distance from the of all his efforts, he could not always forget that he had path. It was old Jemmy. risked his life for the property which fell far short of his The blood rushed to the heart of the guilty man as he expectations. As he walked round his solitary fields, or recognised the pedlar, and though he at first quickened sat alone in the old farm-house, terrors came upon him, his steps to escape observation, a moment's thought conwhich, though he had once been a courageous man, he vinced him that he ought to seize the opportunity be had could not subdue. A rustling behind a liedge made him long desired, to discover if the old man had any knowstart in dread of detection ; fearful images haunted his ledge of his crime. dreams-he had no tranquillity either in the pleasant sun- • What, Richard Douglas, is that you?' said Jemmy, shine or by the blazing hearth—he felt as if every eye looking up as he heard a step approaching; 'why, you are that rested on him read the secret of his guilt-and more sadly altered, man! what has ailed you? than all, the form of old Jemmy rose threatening before Nothing that I know of,' returned the farmer, sho him, day and night. He saw in him the witness of his did not much like the question ; . I feel much as usual, guilt, the avenger of his 'injustice; and bitterly did he Jemmy.' curse his own folly in allowing him to leave the house • That's very strange, for you are pined to the bone; before he had ascertained that he had actually seen no- your clothes hang on you like a scarecrow; you are thinthing but the light through the kitchen window, on that ner than a beggar's ass after a hard winter. fatal night when the success of his iniquity had blasted • Perhaps I have got rather thin of late; I suprose this bis peace for ever. In vain did he inquire for the old man, air does not agree with me.' as much as was possible without exciting suspicion; he * May be not,' said the old man, with a strange espreshad never been seen in that part of the country since the sion in his keen blue eye. “ You live at Ravenshaw farma time of Mark's death, and the farmer at length strove to now, I hear?' console himself by the belief of the pedlar's death.
• Yes, ever sinceBut even thus he could not still the demon that tor- • Ever since Mark Douglas died. Well, it is odd it mented him; day by day, and hour by hour, it assumed should not agree with you, for it is a fine air, and yea new and more terrific fornis, till he wasted beneath its were born there, I think ;-and so poor Rebecca Ainsley tortures to a shadow of his former self. Even religion, did not get a sixpence after all ? which in his better days he had treated with contempt, Not a farthing,' replied the farmer. now stood, clothed with terrors, in threatening majesty Well, I did not think Mark was so hard-hearted a before him, pointing to the dark regions beyond the grave. man as to leave his sister a beggar. I hear you got all, He ceased to attend his parish church, for the words of the Richard; yet, to look at you, the money has not done you Lord, once disregarded, pierced like burning arrows to his much good.' heart; his temper became more sour and morose; he sus- • What do you mean?' cried the farmer. pected every body. And whilst his mind was thus blasted by "I mean that you looked far happier when you were