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FRIENDSHIP'S OFFERING.
1854.
M^"'
^ Lk. U^ u'u
e dYC.&iiolBiltT'
FRIENDSHIP'S OFFERING:
CHRISTMAS, NEW YEAR,
AND
BIRTHDAY PRESENT,
FOR
MDCCCLIV.
PHILADELPHIA: PUBLISHED BY E. H. BUTLER & CO.
1854.
Stye
owl'
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853,
BY E. H. BUTLER & CO.,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Eastern District of
Pennsylvania.
Cnnteiits.
PAGE
The ^Mother, Nicholas Michell, Esq., . . 13
A Vision of Robert the Bruce, A Modern Pythagorean, 15
Eetirement, R. F. Housman, .... 33
Old Master Green; A Village Sketch, . . . Miss Mary Russell Mitford, 34
The Destruction of Troy, ....... J. J. Woodward, .... 47
Frere Du Diable, The Old Sailor, 51
The Thunder-storm, L. E. L., 69
A Vision of Mercy, Edmund L. Swift, Esq.. . . 72
The World of Change, Mrs. Abdy, 75
A Woodland Retreat, . . R. F. Housman, 77
Story of an Ear-Ring, Kate Campbell, 81
A Dream of the Hills, R. F. Housman, .... 94
The Ordeal of Toka, J. Baillie Eraser, Esq., . . 95
School Friendships, ^ • • -'Anonymous, 130
Margaret De Lacvarre ; or, The Burgumliau
Page, James S. Wallace, . . .133
The Gladiator John Bird, Esq., .... 158
The Beauty Lessoned into Love, .... Anonymous, 165
Memory, Miss Emma Roberts. . . . 196
Song, Mrs. Abdy. 198
CONTENTS.
The Fantoccini-Boy in Rome, , La Mere des Soldats, ... Maggy o' Buccleuch. . . . , Memory in Solitude, . . . .
Salvator Nienti ; A Tale for Philosoplierg,
La Sourde-Muette
Autumn,
The Game of Life : A Tale of France, Christmas Musings ; addressed to lanthe,
Sergeant Hawkins,
The Voice of the Waterfall,
The Tear,
Scene near Hydrabad,
The Heart,
To Sleep,
Rousseau,
The Frosty Reception,
PAGE
T. K. Hervey, 201
Mrs. Lee, 206
The Ettrick Shepherd, . . 220 Author of '-The Siege of
Constantinople." . . . 221 John Gait, Esq., .... 222 E. L. Swift, Esq., .... 242 Captain R. Calder Campbell, 214 Reynell Coates, M.D., . . 247
Delta, 290
Henry D. Inglis, Esq., . . 295
Mrs. Godwin, 311
A Modern Pythagorean, . . 313 Captain R. Calder Campbell, 316
Charles Swain, Esq.,
317
Dr. Bowring, ..;... 318 Anonymous, 319
W. H. Harrison, Esq.,
320
f UuBtratinns.
^P\i^.
Subjects. ■^■Cf THE MOTHER. .
TITLE ^AGE.
Painters. LAWRENCE, R. A.
LUCAS.
^ DESTRUCTION OF TROY. JONES, R. A. (t^THE EAR-RING. . . WILKIE. .
^ MARGARET. . MARIANA.
. . PARRIS. . . . DRUMMOND.
L- THE FANTOCCINI BOY. EDMONSTONE
/
THE GAME OF LIFE. . STONE.
Engravers. Page.
SARTAIN. Frontispiece.
SARTAIN. SARTAIN. . SARTAIN.' . SARTAIN. . SARTAIN. . SARTAIN. . SARTAIN. .
Title page.
. 46
. 80
. 130
. 164
. 200
. 246
FRIENDSHIP'S OFFERING.
THE MOTHER.
BY NICHOLAS MICIIELL, ESQ.
OH ! who can tell the Mother's thrilling bliss, When on her babe her first fond glance is thrown ! On its soft cheek when first she prints the kiss, And feels its young heart beat against her own ! What joy to dry its tear, and soothe its moan, Sing it to rest beside the evening flame,
Watch, one by one, its rosy beauties blown, Its eye of blue laugh out, and hear it frame, With faltering tongue, at last, a Mother's tender name !
Nor less her rapture, past its cherub dawn, To view her cygnet imp its little wing ;
When, chasing Morn's bright insect on the lawn, It looks a gayer and a brighter thing : — Then too how sweet, all pure the bosom's spring,
2
14 THE MOTHER.
To guide its step in Virtue's flowery ways,
Teach truths that wake its infant wondering, And list, when Eve her star of rest displays. From rosy, lisping lips, its artless prayer of praise !
Oh ! joys like these outbalance all the pains That Woman still beyond her lord must bear !
Nature's deep anguish, home-confining chains.
Night's anxious watch, and Day's increasing care — Yes, none so sweet is Man ordained to share.
How cold wealth's dreams ! how heartless fame or sway I But these, like flowers, scent life's most desert air,
Dispel its storms, and chase with angel ray.
As morn night's frowning shades, all other griefs away.
15
A VISION OF ROBERT THE BRUCE.
BY A MODERN TYTHAGOREAN.
ABOUT the year 1306, the most afflicting gloom hung over Scotland. The country had been almost utterly wasted by a long series of wars, and the inhabitants re- duced to the utmost want, while their inveterate enemies, the English, lorded it over them with a bloody tyranny. In addition to this, their great champion Robert the Bruce, notwithstanding his astonishing valor and mili- tary skill, had lost several battles — having been defeated at Methven by Aymer de Valance, and at Teyndrum by his inveterate enemy, the Lord of Lorn. In consequence of these and other misfortunes, this great prince was compelled, with a few followers, to seek refuge in the small island of Rathlin, or Rath-Erin, off the Irish coast. Here he remained for some time, and so completely was all trace of his movements lost by his enemies that they believed him dead, till his sudden reappearance in Scot- land convinced them to their cost that he still existed, and was abler than ever to work them mischief and dis-
16 A VISION or ROBERT THE BRUCE.
may. During his residence at Kath-Erin, the following singular adventure is recorded by tradition to have occurred to him.
Three nights after arriving at this lonely spot, he was sitting alone in the Grothic hall of the ancient castle where he had taken up his residence. Several pieces of wood blazed on the hearth^ and cast a brilliant light over the otherwise cold and cheerless chamber. A huge oaken table stood before him, on which he placed both elbows, and sat with his face buried in his hands, in the attitude of deep meditation. He was clothed in com- plete armor: and his tall, massive, and athletic frame was so motionless, that it might have been mistaken for a statue of iron. A ponderous mace, which no one in the Scottish army save himself could wield, lay beside him ; and the cuts with which it was disfigured bore tes- timony that ere now it had been tried in battle against the chivalry of England. The royal stranger continued long in this posture : at length he heaved a deep sigh, and shook his head bitterly.
" Scotland, my beloved country, I have done for thee w^hat man can do, but my efforts have been in vain. I must leave thee to the victor, and not sacrifice thy sons in a struggle which Heaven hath doomed to be boot- less.''
He had scarcely pronounced these words when he raised his head, and lo ! a knight in black armor sat
A VISION OF ROBERT THE BRUCE. 17
opposite to him. He was astonished, but his astonish- ment soon gave way to resentment against the warrior, who had thus entered his private chamber without notice, and seated himself so unceremoniously in the presence of his prince.
" Who art thou. Sir Knight V was his first question to the stranger. The latter made no reply, but sat like a fixture without the slightest motion. The king looked at him again attentively, and then at the door, which stood wide open.
" I ask thee, who thou art,'' repeated the Bruce. The figure remained as before mute and motionless. No one ever treated this warlike monarch disrespectfully with- out sorely ruing it. His soul was roused to indignation, and in an instant the mace was grasped in both his Her-' culean hands, and laid over his right shoulder to give greater momentum to the meditated blow.
'' Caitiff," he cried, in a voice of thunder, '^I again demand who thou art, and what thou wantest here. Answer me, and live ; refuse to answer, and die !"
The warrior was as motionless as at first, and in a moment the mace desceflded with terrific force upon his head. The weapon was shivered to pieces in the king's hand. The sound of the blow rang through the large apartment. A bull must have sunk beneath it; but, strange to say, he on whom it fell sat as undisturbed as
before. • It did not even shake or convulse his frame.
9*
18 A VISION OF ROBERT THE BRUCE.
Sparks of fire flew from his helmet, showing that he had received the blow in its full force : but there he sat as if he had been struck by a feather. Bruce recoiled with amazement; the remnant of the shattered mace dropped from his hands, and, overcome with surprise and shame, he laid hold of his redoubted battle-axe. His first thought was to renew the assault, but struck with the strangeness of the event, he made a sudden pause. He knew that the force laid upon the blow would have de- stroyed any knight in Christendom ; and the idea swept across his mind, that the personage whom he had so fruitlessly assailed was either a demon or wore a charmed life.
'^ Sir Knight, I know not who thou art, but certain I am, that wert thou as other men thou wouldst not now be living in my presence. May it please thee to exhibit the face that lurketh behind that iron front of thine. '^
The stranger here gave the first sign of motion ; he raised his gauntleted hand, and pushed up the visor which covered his face. Bruce gazed at him with asto- nishment: his heart beat quick ; his breath came fast; and the bravest spirit that ever shone on his native land acknowledged for once the influence of fear. Before him he saw the face of his brother Nigel, who had been cruelly put to death by Edward the First. He looked sad, but as beautiful as ever, for he was the fairest of the race of Bruce, a line renowned for manly beauty.
A VISION OF ROBERT THE BRUCE. 19
His blue eyes rolled affectionately on his warlike brother, who stood aloof, astonished and confoimded at the spec- tacle. In vain did the king collect his ideas, and try to make himself believe the whole a vision : it was impos- sible. Here he stood, broad awake in the great hall of Eath-Erin castle, and there, opposite to him, sat his brother who had been long dead. An apparition was the only thing which could have shaken Robert's lion heart. " Human foes he held in small account, but he inherited a portion of the superstitions of his age, and dreaded supernatural appearances in common with the weakest of mankind.
^' Can the grave give up its dead ? Nigel, why comest thou to me ? Have I done aught that requireth this visitation ? Speak, spirit of my beloved brother V
The spectre broke silence. '' Thou hast done that which thou shouldst not have done — thou hast despaired. But a moment ago, and the idea passed thy mind that Scotland might not be saved. Wallace would not have thought so. Was that idea worthy of Robert Bruce T^
"It came,^' said the monarch, ''but as a fleeting thought, across my imagination, but, brother, it shall come no more. I am now all for Scotland."
At these words Nigel's counte'nance brightened up with joy, and he eyed Robert with the same pride as, when victor in the tournament, the latter bore away the prize before the eyes of ladies and warriors, and exalted
20 A VISION OF ROBERT THE BRUCE.
SO high the name of Bruce. He spoke no more, but rising, waved upon the king to follow him. The latter obeyed the signal, and both slowly left the apartment. Bruce felt an awe come over his spirit. It was not fear, but a sort of sublime feeling, on knowing that he was led along by the dead, and perhaps about to witness their dark and awful mysteries. On getting clear of the gloomy corridor into which the hall led, he felt the ground give way beneath him, and sunk downwards with an inconceivably rapid yet gentle motion. He saw his brother no longer, having been forsaken by him the moment he got into darkness. His brain whirled round, his breath was hurried, and his senses confused by the impetuosity of the descent. At length he alighted upon the floor of an apparently subterraneous vault.
As soon as his ideas were somewhat rallied, he began to explore the strange world into which he had dropped. The place seemed of vast extent, but its limits could not be guessed, in consequence of volumes of mist which floated within it. The atmosphere was cold, damp, and obscure, like that of the twilight of a winter day. There was no wind, but the fogs propelled themselves along, as if they possessed an innate power of moving. They rolled in huge, sluggish masses, and when two bodies of them came in contact, they were dissolved together with a sort of drizzling sound — and thin, snowy flakes, like the finest gossamer, were emitted from their junction,
A VISION OF ROBERT THE BRUCE. 21
and scattered over the ground. Dark clouds seemed to hang overhead^ and there was nothing like sun, or moon, or stars, visible in the firmament. As far as he could discern, the region was a perfect flat, covered with im- penetrable mists, and destitute alike of brute animals and human beings.
After being here for some time, the king found it difficult to make himself believe that what he saw was real. He still thought all that had passed a dream, and yet no vision had ever such an intense aspect of reality. In his perplexity he paced the cavern in all directions ; it seemed to be boundless. At length, on looking stead- fastly onward, he discovered something moving slowly through the mist, and advancing towards him. The form came gradually nearer, and at length stood before him. It was a man, whose stature was majestic but somewhat bent by years. His forehead was high and noble, and the few locks that still clung to it were white as the driven snow. A long, silvery beard, which de- scended to the girdle, gave an imposing reverence to his look ; but his eye of fire bespoke anything but age, and showed that the spirit which lay enshrined in this august and venerable exterior was still green with the energy of youthful years.
"Welcome, king of Scotland, to the land of shadows ! Thy high destiny is recorded here, and it is the will of Heaven that thou behold it.^'
22 A VISION or ROBERT THE BRUCE.
^^Who art thou, old man?" said the king.
^^Sire, I am Thomas of Ercildoune, whilome a so- journer in the land, of which thou and thy posterity shall be sovereigns to the end of time. I am deputed to conduct thee where thou wilt see thy doom set down in the Book of Fate."
''Lead on/' said the monarch: "I will follow thee."
The seer accordingly proceeded forward, and Bruce followed with impatient footsteps. After walking some time, they arrived at what seemed a vast wall of granite. It was perfectly perpendicular, but so high that its top minded above with the clouds. Neither could its ter- mination be seen. It stretched illimitably along to the right and left, and was lost at both sides in tlie mist. A door in front of them opened spontaneously at their approach, and they entered.
The sight which now burst upon Kobert's eye was glorious beyond description. He saw mountains and valleys lighted up with divine splendor, and watered by rivers which swept over their beds with a sound like that of sweet music. There were multitudes of groves and bowers in all directions ; beneath them walked the forms of heroes. He recognised many whom he had seen before; among others his warlike grandsire, with Sir John the Grahame, and Sir Simon Fraser. These stood under the shade of an elm tree, and seemed to converse together. Their looks still beamed with the
A VISION or ROBERT THE BRUCE. 23
patriotism and heroic daring which characterized them during life; and their whole bearing bespoke souls formed for lofty and devoted deeds. Nigel Bruce was also there. He was clothed in armor, but it was more rich and gorgeous than that in which he lately appeared to his brother. Beside him stood the majestic form of Wallace.
The divinest music floated over this fairy region. Sounds of harps and female voices, as if from the sky, steeped all Nature in the inspiration of melody. It seemed formed exclusively for the habitation of heroes. He looked in vain to find out any one who had disgraced himself or his country. Every illustrious name from the foundation of the Scottish monarchy was pointed out to him by his conductor. Gregory the Great, William the Lion, and Alexander the Third, with many others, walked over the enchanted soil in the costume of their respective ranks and times. Comyn was not present; and the king grieved to see that his own father also was excluded. They had both sullied their honor, when they turned their arms against their native land at the fight of Falkirk.
Having surveyed this magnificent place, the king was led by the seer to a flight of steps which descended into the earth, and terminated at a great depth in a door of polished ebony. They went down together, and, on arriving at the bottom, the door opened of its own ac-
24 A VISION OF ROBERT THE BRUCE.
cord, and admitted them into a beautiful sylvan grotto. It was of considerable extent^ and completely overgrown with moss and ivy, interspersed with the most fragrant flowers. The roof was studded over with spar, rock- crystal, and various precious stones, that shone like stars, from the deep verdure in which they were em- bossed. At one side of the grotto was a couch, and at the extremity an altar of white marble reared its head, surmounted by a silver crucifix.
Here the king was instructed in a multitude of things regarding the state of his country. He was allowed deep and mysterious glimpses into the vista of time, and with the knowledge of the past, which he had already acquired, he combined that of the future, through the communications of the prophet of Ercildoune. It is alleged that the battle of Bannockburn, the union of the two kingdoms, and many other events of high im- portance, were pointed out in the pages of the Book of Fate, which Thomas placed before him.
'^ King of Scotland," said the seer, after these revela- tions were concluded, ^Uhou hast labored much since morning, and art fatigued. It is meet thou shouldst take repose, but, first of all, du^ty requireth thee to kneel before this altar." The king obeyed. Having said many aies, and performed his devotions like a Christian soldier, he rose up. ^^Now," said his in- structor, ''but one thing remaineth to do. The mark
A VISION OF ROBERT THE BRUCE. 25
of the cross is not upon thy body. Thou art a man of strife and war, and it is becoming that this most sacred symbol should shine upon thy bosom, to sanctify the cause in which thou art engaged, and preserve thee from the knife of the assassin.'^ The king accordingly loosened his cuirass and exposed his breast to the old man, who took a small dagger, and drew upon it a cross. The blood flowed from the slight wounds which were made, and trickled down the Bruce's armor. Having submitted to this ceremony, and received the henedicite of Thomas, he threw himself upon the couch and dropped asleep.
He was awakened by a heavy hand laid upon him. He opened his eyes, but the place was so obscure that he could not distinguish to whom it belonged. ^' Who art thou V was his first question to this unwelcome visiter.
" I have come to waken thee, my liege, as I was desired."
" Thomas, methinks thou art early with thy awaken- ings," said the Bruce. " I have need of sleep : disturb me not, I pray, at the present time."
^' My lord, I am not Thomas," answered the other. " He hath been gone these two hours collecting the barges which are to convey us from this infernal island."
3
26 A VISION OF ROBERT THE BRUCE.
" Barges ! — infernal island ! Pray, friend, what Tho- mas dost thou speak of?"
'^ Why, of Thomas Randolph, my liege. "Whom else could I allude to ? Didst thou not yesternight order him to set off before daybreak to collect the boats to carry us to Scotland V
^' Thomas Randolph l" said Robert, with some sur- prise. '^ I am thinking of Thomas of Ercildoune. Art thou not he ?"
^' I Thomas of Ercildoune, brother ! Surely thou art dreaming, or at least jesting. That man hath been for years in his grave. '^
" Thou callest me brother, friend," said the Bruce, still more perplexed. " Pray, who art thou that claimest such a relationship?" The other hereupon burst into a loud laugh, at which the king was so enraged that he sprung out of his bed, collared him roughly, and threat- ened to lay him dead at his feet if he did not instantly say who he was and what he wanted.
^' Zounds, my lord," replied the intruder, half laugh- ing and half angry, " is it thus thou treatest thy loving subjects ? Nay, Robert, relax thy hold. Positively I shall get into a passion if thou dost not. Thou art the first man that ever laid hands on Edward Bruce."
'^ Edward Bruce !" cried the astounded monarch. " Am I asleep, or am I awake ? Is it thou ? Give me thy hand, my noble brother, and pardon me ! I knew thee
A VISION OF ROBERT THE BRUCE. 27
not. Even yet I cannot trust my senses. But it is at present so dark that I can scarcely recognise the outline of thy form standing before me."
"Nay, an't please my liege/' said the other, " it can- not well be otherwise, seeing that the shutters are upon the windows. I shall open one of them, and thou wilt behold as lovely a morning as ever burst from the gates of heaven."
The king's senses were utterly bewildered, and the words of the speaker made them more so than ever. '^He talketh of opening the shutters of a window. Either he or I have lost our judgments. A window in this grotto, and shutters to boot ! Ha, this is superb !" Meanwhile he heard Edward treading to the opposite side, when all at once he seemed to come in contact with something, and tumbled with a loud noise upon the ground.
" What, in the name of Heaven, meaneth this ac- cursed din ?" cried the king at the strange annoyance. " By Saint Andrew, I believe all the fiends of hell are let loose !"
" The vile caitiff !" cried the other angrily, " he hath thought fit to sleep upon the floor. I have fallen over him, and cut my wrist with the gauntlet. Up with thee, knave ! I shall teach thee so to doze over thy cups, espe- cially in thy master's chamber." So saying, he gave several hearty kicks to some one who seemed to be in a
28 A VISION OF ROBERT THE BRUCE.
profound sleep. " He mindeth me not ; but I shall let in the light, and see what sort of animal it is/' He accord- ingly threw open the huge folding-shutters of a capa- cious Gothic window, and, a flood of light rushing in, revealed every corner of the hall of Eath-Erin castle. The floor for several yards round was covered with blood.
" What is all this ? How came that light so suddenly ? Where, in Heaven's name, am I at this moment ?" cried the king.
" Thou raayst well ask what it is. It passeth my un- derstanding. Thou hast nathless, brother, done the knave soundly. Ah, Robert, all the danger and all the honor are thine ; none falleth to thy poor followers. The fellow's helmet is a true Milan, and it is dashed to pieces like a hazelnut. How the brain is forced out ! Well, that must have been an infernal stroke. His face hath the appearance of nothing human."
'^ Whose face, in Heaven's name ?" thundered the king, starting from the side of his couch and coming up to Edward.
^^Why the poor devil's whose brains thou hast beat out. And here is the handle of thy mace. The weapon is actually broken in pieces, and the fragments smeared with blood. Talk to me of English Richard's strength ! Psha ! his strokes were mere baby's play to this. Upon mine honor, this goeth beyond anything. A blow to break in pieces a Milan helmet, dash out the brains of
A VISION OF ROBERT THE BRUCE. , 29
its wearer, and splinter a mace ! Why that is a feat which I believe never was equalled."
The king was so utterly amazed at what he heard and saw, that he stood transfixed like one in a dream. He could do nothing but repeat the words of his brother — '' Break a Milan helmet, dash out the brains of its wearer, and splinter a mace !" They at first fell upon his ear without any sort of meaning being attached to them, but in a short time they were connected with a dark and mysterious event, which floated dream-like over his imagination. As for the brave ' Edward, he was natu- rally of so careless a disposition that he observed nothing of what was passing in the king's mind. He was so closely employed gazing at the dead body, and admiring the stroke which made it so, that he never once looked to his brother.
''Holy Mother of God!" he continued, "a stroke worthy of a true knight. The English boast of Sir Launcelot and Sir Tristrem, and the French of Amadis de Gaul, but thou promisest to tower over the whole of them. The Troubadours may cease when they please to extol the chivalry of the Round Table, and the iron- limbed Paladins of Charlemagne, above the knighthood of the present day. Here, for once, have they met with their peer. I myself have given many a good blow, but never one like this. Pray, how came the vile knave into thy chamber ? Who is he ?"
30 A VISION OF ROBERT THE BRUCE.
A groan burst from Robert's breast. '^ Dost thou ask me who he is; seeing before thee our brother Nigel, whom I have murdered V
The unusual tone in which this was said, and still more the mention of Nigel's name, arrested at once the thoughtless Edward. He looked upon the king suspi- ciously, shook his head, and forced a sort of sorrowful smile. *' My brother," said he to himself, " hath cer- tainly lost his senses. I must go and call Keith and Kirkpatrick. Plere is some mystery which I cannot un- ravel." He was on the point of moving off for this purpose when he saw the king's breast covered with blood, and remarked a cut through his jerkin to the extent of two inches.
'^ My brother, thou art wounded. The knave hath struck thee, but I trust not dangerously. However, thou hast repaid him well. He will never venture again into the sleeping apartment of brave knight."
^^ Edward," said the king, '' thou art pleased to jest, and I forgive thee — knowing thy natural levity of heart; but learn that he whom thou callest knave is the holy seer of Ercildoune, and this slight scratch the sign of the cross made by his sacred hands." The younger Bruce was more and more amazed. He concluded with cer- tainty that his brother's head was turned, and without venturing any further remark, he sighed deeply and left the room.
A VISION OF ROBERT THE BRUCE. 81
Meanwhile, the king, being left to himself, began to reflect upon the strange situation in which he was placed. He rubbed his forehead, and walked to and fro, in the hope of recalling his ideas : at length, seeing a vessel of water, he plunged his face into it and bathed his temples. This had the desired effect : his thoughts became clearer, and he proceeded to examine tranquilly all that had oc- curred. His first care was to look at the face of the corpse. Though utterly disfigured, he found no diffi- culty in discovering that it bore no resemblance to that of Nigel Bruce. It was dark and savage ; while enor- mous whiskers and a black bushy beard added to its natural ferocity. His youthful brother, on the contrary, had been smooth and fair of countenance, with beauti- ful blue eyes and locks of a pale chestnut color. He then examined the mace that was shivered to pieces. On looking attentively, he saw a dagger closed in the deadly grasp of the warrior. His next care was to look at the sign of the cross on his own bosom; but, in- stead of this, he saw nothing but a slanting cut, which had penetrated about half an inch into the flesh imme- diately over the breast bone. The wire jerkin which, for the sake of safety, he wore close to his body, was at this point ripped up or pierced. Having done this, he calmly disengaged the weapon from the hand of the corpse, and applied its point and edge to the wound ; they fitted it exactly. He attempted to account for all these things.
32 A VISION OF ROBERT THE BRUCE.
but in vain. How the slain warrior came into his cham- ber— how he himself was wounded — and how the veil of time had been so mysteriously opened before his eyes — he found it impossible to tell. His powerful mind soon became calm and collected, and he resolved to abstain from attempting to penetrate into the inscrutable secrets of eternity.
Edward returned shortly with his two friends, whom he had alarmed with the report of the state in which he found the king; but the latter was now altered, and his godlike countenance wore the wisdom and sedateness which became his high destiny. They said nothing to him, for Bruce, though full of human kindness, was not one of those characters who could be tampered with or idly interrogated ; and they felt themselves overawed, noble and valiant as they were, by the presence of a master spirit. He calmly commanded the body to be carried away and interred. He never spoke to any one on this mysterious subject, save latterly to his own pri- vate confessor, and neither his brother nor his friends inquired farther into a theme, over which he apparently wished the veil of secrecy to be thrown. Nothing ever transpired as to who the person might be who was found slain in the king's apartment : but the man who buried him was heard to declare, that he thought he bore a re- semblance to the henchman of Bruce's mortal enemy, the Lord of Lorn.
33
RETIREMENT.
BY R. F. HOUSMAN.
THIS grove — among its crowded trees A ruined fane revealing, Is dedicate to holy thoughts, And reverential feeling !
No tumult ever enters here,
No voice of human chiding ; One only murmur fills the air —
The peaceful river's gliding !
'Tis pleasant, when the day goes down, To watch his sunbright glory
Enrich, as with a glittering crown, The chapel, calm and hoary !
But sweeter still, on Sabbath nights.
Beneath its walls to linger. Its dim walls touched with silver lights
By the moon's hallowed finger !
3i
OLD MASTER GREEN.
A VILLAGE SKETCH. BY MISS MARY RUSSELL MITFORD.
A PARTICULAR sort of mould, which in this county is scarcely to be found except in the tract of land called Chittling Moor, being wanted to form a compost for that very dear part of myself, my geraniums, we deter- mined to accompany, or rather to follow, in our pretty pony phaeton, the kind and elegant cadeau of that kindest of persons, Mr. W., and by far the prettiest equipage within twenty miles, the less aristocratic cortege, consisting of two boys with wheelbarrows, and old Master Green with a donkey-cart, who had been despatched to collect it some two hours before.
The day was one of the latest in August, and the weather splendidly beautiful, clear, bright, breezy, sunny. It would have been called too warm by one half of the world, and by the other too cold, which I take to be as near an approach to perfection as our climate, or any climate, can well compass. We had been sitting in our
OLD MASTER GREEN. 35
large parlor-like greenhouse ; a superb fuchsia, bending ■with the weight of its blossoms, reaching almost to the top of the house, on one side of the door, and a splendid campanula, with five distinct stems, covered with large yet delicate lilac bells, on the other; the rich balmy scent of the campanula blending with the exquisite odors of tuberoses, jessamine, mignonette, full-blown myrtles, and the honey-sweet clematis, and looking out on gay beds of the latest flowers, china asters, dahlias, hydrangeas, blue and pink, phlox, white and purple, the scarlet lobelia, and the scarlet geranium. In short, all within my little garden was autumn, beautiful autumn.
On the other side of our cottage the season seemed to have changed. The china roses and honeysuckles, with which it is nearly covered, were in the profuse bloom of early June, and the old monthly rose by the doorway (the sweetest of roses !) together with a cluster of sweet peas that grew among its branches, were literally smell- ing of summer. The quantity of rain that had fallen had preserved the trees in their most vivid freshness, and the herbage by the roadside and the shorter turf on the common had all the tender verdure of spring.
As we advanced, however, through the narrow lanes, autumn and harvest reasserted their rights. Every here and there, at the corners where branches jutted out, and in the straits where the hedges closed in together, loose straws of oats and barley, torn from their different
^^ OLD MASTER GREEN.
wagons, hung dangling from the boughs, mixed with straggling locks of hay, the relics of the after-crop. We ourselves were fain to drive into a ditch, to take shelter from a dingy procession of bean-carriers. My com- panion^ provoked at the ditchy indignity, which his horse relished no better than himself, asserted that the beans could not be fit to carry ; but, to judge from the rattling and crackling which the huge black sheaves made in their transit, especially when the loaded wain was jerked a little on one side, to avoid entirely driving over our light and graceful open carriage, which it over- topped, and threatened to crush, as the giant in the fairy tale threatens Tom Thumb — to judge by that noisy in- dication of ripeness, ripe they were. The hedgerows, too, gave abundant proofs in their own vegetation of the advancing season. The fragrant hazelnuts were harden- ing in their shells, and tempting the schoolboy's hand by their swelling clusters ; the dewberries were coloring ; the yellow St. John's wort, and the tall mealy-leaved mullein, had succeeded the blushing bells of the foxglove, which, despoiled of its crimson beauty, now brandished its long spike of seed-vessels upon the bank, above which the mountain-ash waved its scarlet berries in all the glory of autumn ; whilst as we emerged from the close narrow lanes into the open tract of Hartley Common, patches of purple heath just bursting into flower, and the gorse and broom pushing forth fresh blossoms under
OLD MASTER GREEN. 37
the influence of the late rainy weather, waved over the light harebellj the fragrant thjme, and the springing fungi of the season. In short, the whole of our Berk- shire world, as well as that very dear and very tiny bit of it called my garden, spoke of autumn, beautiful autumn, the best if not the only time for a visit to the Chittling Moors.
These Moors were pretty much what the word com- monly indicates, a long level tract of somewhat swampy pasture-land, extending along the margin of the Ken- nett, which rolled heavily and lazily through its abun- dant, but somewhat coarse, herbage ; a dreary and deso- late place when compared with the general scenery of our richly-wooded and thickly-peopled country, and one where the eye, wandering over the dull expanse, unbro- ken by hill, or hedge, or timber-tree, conveyed, as is often the case in flat, barren, and desolate scenes, an idea of space more than commensurate with the actual extent.
The divisions of this large piece of ground are formed of wide ditches, which at once serve to drain and to irri- gate these marshy moors, so frequently overflowed by the river in spring and winter, and sometimes even in sum^ mer; it being no unusual catastrophe for the coarse and heavy crops to be carried away by a sudden flood, disap- pointing the hopes of the farmer, and baflling the eff"orts of the haymaker. A weary thing was a wet sum-
4
38 OLD MASTER GREEN.
mer in tlie Chittling Moor, with the hay field one day a swamp and the next a lake ; and the hay, or rather the poor drowned grass, that should have been hay, choking the ditches or sailing down the stream ! The best that could befall it was to be carried off in wagons in its grassy shape, and made comfortably and snugly on dry ground, in some upland meadow; but people cannot always find room for the outer integuments of three hundred acres of grass land, and besides that difficulty, the intersecting ditches, with their clattering, hollow-sounding wooden bridges, presented no ordinary peril to the heavy wains, so that the landlord was fain to put up with little rent, and the farmer with small profits — too happy if the subsequent grazing paid the charge or the loss of the prolonged and often fruitless hay-harvest.
A dreary scene was the Chittling Moor ; a few old wil- low pollards, the most melancholy of trees, formed the sole break to its dull uniformity, and one small dwelling, whose curling smoke rose in the distance above a cluster- ing orchard, was the only sign of human habitation. This small cottage had been built chiefly to suit the circumstan- ces of the Moor, which rendered a public-house necessary during the long haymaking ; and it was kept by a widow, who contrived to make the profits of that watery but droughty season pay for the want of custom during the rest of the year. Not that the Widow Knight was abso- lutely without customers at any period ; the excellence
OLD MASTER GREEN. 39
and celebrity of her homebrewed having insured to her a certain number of customers, who, especially on Sun- days, used to walk down to the Chittling Gate (so was her domicile entitled) to partake of the luxuries of a pipe and a pot of ale, scream to the deaf widow, gossip with her comely daughter, or flirt with her pretty grand- child (for the whole establishment was female), as their several ages or dispositions might prompt.
Of this number, none was more constant than our present attendant, old Master Green, and it is by no means certain, whether his familiarity with the banks and pollards which afforded the fine geranium mould may not have been acquired by his hebdomadal visits to