TRADITIONS ABOUT ALDEKSHOT : 
 
 THE CHARCOAL-BURNER ; A TRADITION OF CJESAR's HILL. 
 
 " JUMBLE-DOWN DICK ; " A TRADITION OF FARNBOROUGH. 
 
 THE MILLER OF COVE ; A TRADITION OF GOVE COMMON, 
 
 THE "CLOCK-HOUSE" MYSTERY; A TRADITION OF OLD ALDERSHOT. 
 
 "the ladye-house ; " A TRADITION of upper hale. 
 
 " GENTLEMAN JOHN ; " A TRADITION OF MODERN ALDERSHOT. 
 LILY LADE ; A TRADITION OF MOTHER LUDLAM's GAVE. 
 
 POEMS : 
 
 THE LAY OF THE LOST ENSIGN. 
 
 THE " CARTE-DE-VISITE." 
 
 THE BELL OF SEVASTOPOL. 
 
 THOUGHTS SUGGESTED BY THE VISIT OF A RUSSIAN POTENTATE 
 
 TO ALDERSHOT CAMP. 
 LINES ON THE DEATH OF JANE CiESAR. 
 MONODY ON THE DEATH OF CATHERINE ANN WHITE. 
 THE LADIES. 
 THE MISER — A SATIRE. 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES STANLEY HEEVE. 
 
 (de la Mo. ini&re). 
 ± 
 
 ^ dj— Ficta voluptatis c ximaveris. 
 
 (T ui z2 Horace. Art. Poet, 338. 
 
 7p \- O (j) 
 
 CD "- .^ 5 Nulla venenato Littera mista joco est. 
 
 Ij al'D Frag. Vet. Poet. 
 
 3 
 
 FARNHAM & ALDERSHOT : 
 ARTHUR E. LUCY, SURREY AND HANTS NEWS OFFICE 
 

 %£&?$ry of 5upr»ms :ou 
 Aug 10,1940 
 
 jgii A.A.a*i» 
 
"3 a 7 
 
 TO 
 
 HIS TWO GOOD AND VALUED FRIENDS, 
 
 JOHN PICKERSGILL, Esq. 
 {Of Sheffield), 
 
 J. E. BOSANQUET, Esq. 
 {Of Cork), 
 
 THIS LITTLE VOLUME IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY 
 
 f? 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 TRADITIONS. 
 
 THE CHARCOAL BURNER : A LEGEND OF CESAR'S HILL 
 
 " TUMBLE-DOWN DICK " 
 
 THE MILLER OF COVE 
 
 THE " CLOCK-HOUSE" MYSTERY . . 
 
 ST HILDA — A LEGEND OF "THE LADYE-HOUSE " . 
 " GENTLEMAN JOHN " : A MYSTERY OF THE CAMP 
 LILY LADE : A LEGEND OF MOTHER LUDLAM'S CAYE 
 
 Page 
 1 
 
 27 
 
 50 
 
 79 
 
 108 
 
 128 
 
 l. r )0 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 THE LAY OF THE LOST ENSIGN , . . . . 197 
 
 THE " CARTE-DE-VISITE : " A ROMANCE OF ALDERSHOT . 202 
 
 THE BELL OF SEVASTOPOL 207 
 
 THOUGHTS SUGGESTED BY THE VISIT OF A RUSSIAN 
 
 POTENTATE TO ALDERSHOT CAMP 
 LINES ON THE DEATH OF JANE CESAR 
 
 MONODY ON THE DEATH OF CATHERINE ANN WHITE . 219 
 
 THE LADIES . 
 
 THE MISER — A SATIRE 
 
 214 
 217 
 
 221 
 222 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 A certain gentleman of literary tastes and good 
 standing in society,, once took on bim to write, and, 
 
 what is more, to publish "The Traditions of L 
 
 shire. " He was a gentleman whose unassuming talent 
 and amiable disposition had rendered him so great a 
 favourite with all classes, that if his persou had been 
 cut into one thousand portions, he could not have 
 accepted one tithe of' the invitations which fell to his 
 lot, 
 
 This was before the publication of his "Traditions," 
 and it so happened that whilst his book was being 
 published he, himself, was necessitated to leave home 
 for two or three weeks. On his return, instead of 
 finding his card-basket, and table, heaped with polite 
 pasteboard and kind invitations, he found nothing but 
 letters of abuse, and three challenges to mortal combat ! 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 The reason of all this was, that in raking up infor- 
 mation for his work, and in making use of that informa- 
 tion without any disguise, he had " shown up" the flaws 
 and blotches which presented themselves on so many 
 family shields, that indignation, rather than admiration, 
 was the result. 
 
 With this example before me, I determined, whilst 
 inditing the following " traditions," or " legends, " that in 
 all matters touching the names and reputations of indi- 
 viduals whose descendants may yet exist in the locality 
 connected with their deeds, I would not only assume 
 fictitious names, but also amalgamate facts and fictions 
 so ingeniously that no one particular event could be 
 fixed on any one particular person. Again, in several 
 instances where two or three traditions clung to the 
 same spot, or where conflicting rumours served to 
 throw historical doubt upon any one incident, I would 
 take the liberty of choosing for myself the particular 
 one best suited for recital, giving especial heed, in all 
 cases, to publish such curious incidents as are not gene- 
 rally known, rather than to re-publish such current 
 stories as were in common vogue. 
 
 Thus it will be seen that my story of " Tumble-down- 
 
PREFACE. Vll 
 
 Dick " is not the popular tradition ; that my stories of 
 " Lily Lade/' and " The Clock-house Mystery " are not 
 elsewhere recorded, although founded on fact, and that 
 my version of " The Miller of Cove " may not exactly 
 tally with that which Tom Noakes and John Styles, 
 may recount to travellers who stop to tipple in a road- 
 side inn. It must suffice to be told that the following 
 "traditions," or "legends/' are not given forth as 
 "histories/'' but merely as vehicles of amusement, 
 founded upon certain current reports, and dove-tailed 
 together so as to appear of homogeneous workmanship. 
 
 With regard to the few brief poems which are appended 
 to this little work, two or three only have any bearing 
 upon Aldershot or its neighbourhood, but as they have 
 been written in, and are dated from, this particular 
 spot, it has been thought as well to publish them in 
 conjunction with the other portion of this volume, as a 
 sort of roake-w r eight, or public offering, for which as- 
 sumption, and for all deficiencies, I beg to crave the 
 leniency of all indulgent readers. 
 
 CHAELES S. HEBVE. 
 
 (de la Mo rin icre ) 
 
 Flagstaff Villa, Bank Street Road, Aldershot, 
 March 16$, 1865. 
 
TRADITIONS ABOUT ALDEESHOT. 
 
 THE CHARCOAL BURNER : A LEGEND OE 
 CJESAR'S HILL. 
 
 " There be dreams of the future and of the past, there he 
 dreams which are prophecies, and dreams which are retro- 
 spect ; the first are begat of quick brain, the second of a slow 
 liver." — Burton's " Anatomy of Melancholy." 
 
 About two miles north by west of the ancient and 
 romantic borough of Earnham, in Surrey, or rather 
 more than half way between that place and the now 
 famous camp of Aldershot, there is a bold rugged accli- 
 vity, to which tradition has awarded the name of 
 " Caesar' s-hill," not that it is particularly much of a 
 hill, nor that it is by any means certain the immortal 
 Dictator of all conquering Borne ever placed his foot 
 upon it, for although indications exist of its having been, 
 at one time, the site of military operations, yet antiqua- 
 rian research points to a much later date' for the period 
 of such occupation — namely, to the eventful time when 
 England's " model " king — Alfred the Great — went 
 forth on his victorious march towards Reading, halting 
 by the way at several points, amongst others at an 
 
Z THE CHARCOAL BURNER : 
 
 elevated spot "anigh to Fearnham," previously to his 
 final expedition against the Danes, whom he defeated in 
 no less than seven pitched battles, the last of which is 
 supposed to be commemorated by the famous White 
 Horse, an effigy, cut out from the chalky side of a hill 
 not far from Beading, 
 
 Whether or not properly entitled, Ca3sar's-hill con- 
 tinues to be so called, and will doubtless so remain until 
 tradition be no more. 
 
 At the period of this tale, which is to say about the 
 middle of the reign of our second Henry, CsesarVhill 
 formed part of a territory granted some forty or fifty 
 years before by Henry I., to twelve monks of the Cister- 
 cian order, who, having located themselves at the village 
 of Waverley, formed the nucleus of a magnificent estab- 
 lishment, celebrated all over Christendom for the piety 
 of its members, and the extent of its possessions. 
 
 At this particular time Farnham was a place of much 
 greater importance than at present, and had recently 
 been the scene of a sanguinary battle, wherein a large 
 body of Flemish insurgents, under the Earl of Leicester, 
 were defeated by Eichard de Lucy, who, as guardian 
 of the realm, during the temporary absence of Henry in 
 Northumberland, had command over Bohun, Gloucester, 
 and Cornwall, all loyal men and powerful Barons, whose 
 assistance enabled him to make a clear riddance of the 
 enemy, 10,000 of whom were said to have perished, 
 their leader being himself taken prisoner. 
 
 The disturbed state of the country at this period 
 
A LEGEND OP (LE3AK S HILL. 6 
 
 necessitated in a great measure that all able bodied men, 
 between the ages of twenty and thirty-five, should em- 
 brace military service, indeed the state of vassalage 
 which that time imposed left little to the option of 
 anyone, the sole tillers of the land being either old men 
 or young lads, excepting one particular class, namely, a 
 very few who held tenure under ecclesiastical rule ; hence, 
 to serve the monks, or to hold land of them, was very 
 desirable to such as inclined more towards peaceful 
 occupation than towards the harsh perils of war, and 
 as those who so held tenure were but rarely able to pay 
 for their privilege in hard coin, it was a very general 
 custom to repay in either produce or in labour. 
 
 Amongst the very few who held service under the 
 monks, at Waverley Abbey, was a poor " wittal/' named 
 Michael Smudge, whose occupation as a charcoal burner 
 led him to pass a great portion of his time in the valley 
 at the base of Caesar's hill, which was not then, as now, 
 a black and barren region, but was covered with a spe- 
 cies of tall brush- wood, interspersed with a few stunted 
 oaks, and hazel in abundance, the which being of too 
 trifling a value for timber purposes, were permitted to 
 be cut and even rooted up for the purpose of making 
 charcoal. 
 
 Michael Smudge, generally looked upon by his 
 companions at charcoal burning as a "wittal," or 
 creature of little wit, was not quite what he was gene- 
 rally estimated to be; that is to say, he was by no 
 means destitute of sense, but possessed a singular 
 
4 THE CHARCOAL BURNER: 
 
 combination of acuteness in some matters, with obtuse- 
 ness in others. He was absent-minded in the extreme, 
 given to day-dreams, castle-building (in the air) and 
 man)- other peculiarities which seemed to make him the 
 butt of his fellow labourers, who would play all manner 
 of tricks upon him, such as stealing his dinner, and 
 persuading him he had eaten it, or perhaps pouring 
 water on his cone of charcoal, and even at times ex- 
 changing his sack of produce for one containing green 
 twigs only, which the poor fellow would carry on his 
 back for many a weary mile, his brains being pre- 
 occupied with some day dream or other to the great 
 detriment of his worldly prosperity. For the rest, 
 Michael was harmless and inoffensive, pursuing his way 
 through life with a plodding industry worthy of a 
 better cause and better companionship. 
 
 If, however, poor Michael was lowly rated by his 
 companions in toil, there was one other in the world 
 at least who estimated the humble charcoal burner in a 
 degree far above his actual station, and who rightly 
 perceived in his pre-occupation of mind the germ of an 
 inquiring disposition, such as might be turned to 
 account. This one person was no other than Father 
 Nicholas, a monk of Waverley Abbey, the leech or 
 physician to his fraternity, a man of remarkable know- 
 ledge for the day wherein he lived, and also one of no 
 small erudition. 
 
 Who Father Nicholas was, or how his life had been 
 
A LEGEND OE C^SAB/s HILL. 5 
 
 spent before lie became a monk,, was a profound mystery 
 to all but himself. In person he was thin, wiry, tall, 
 and ascetic of countenance ; that he had travelled was 
 an acknowledged fact, but beyond this he admitted 
 nothing, permitting rumour, with her hundred tongues, 
 to do her best or worst with his reputation, and encour- 
 aging instead of refuting the most absurd libels. 
 
 As a matter of course Father Nicholas was reported 
 to have studied the occult sciences, and it was due alone 
 to his profession of the priesthood that he was not 
 shunned, by one and all, as a dealer in the black art — 
 let this be as it may, he was, as before stated, leech of 
 his fraternity, and as such enjoyed the privilege of a 
 laboratory within the walls of Waverley Abbey, together 
 with certain immunities of a kind to lessen the restraint 
 which had else fettered his actions. 
 
 How this learned monk came to bestow notice on 
 a humble charcoal burner happened in this fashion. He 
 had, one fine summer's morning, according to frequent 
 custom, been collecting a few herbs and simples, of which 
 his laboratory stood in need. Amongst others, digitalis, 
 or fox-glove, was indispensable, and none could he find. 
 Lighting accidentally upon Michael Smudge, and nam- 
 ing to him his object, the monk was greatly pleased with 
 the alacrity with which the poor lad supplied his want, 
 as also by the readiness of his perception in knowing 
 one plant from another. 
 
 This accidental occurrence led to further intimacy, 
 
O THE CHARCOAL BUHNER : 
 
 till at last the charcoal burner became his purveyor 
 general of simples, and frequently passed whole evenings 
 with his patron whilst concocting medicines in his labor- 
 atory. 
 
 In course of time Father Nicholas grounded his 
 pupil both in reading and writing, an accomplishment of 
 singular rarity in those days ; nor did his kindness end 
 even here, for it was the monk's habit occasionally to 
 recite and greatly amplify certain passages of historic 
 record, especially such as pertained to the occupation of 
 England by the Romans. He greatly delighted to tell 
 how, in days long passed, the legions of Imperial Csesar 
 found our ancestors a race of savages, and how he 
 taught them the arts of civilization — how to clothe 
 themselves, to make, as well as to use arms to build 
 castles, erect bridges, construct aqueducts, and lay 
 down roads. He expatiated also on their prowess, their 
 martial bearing, their intellectual qualities ; not omit- 
 ting to mention the fashion of their dress, their mode 
 of attack and defence, and a vast number of other 
 matters deeply interesting to a willing listener. It must 
 also be admitted that, like nearly all retailers of histori- 
 cal romance, the monk, relying on the utter ignorance of 
 his audience, by no means fettered himself with the 
 chains of probable truth, but greatly loved to mystify 
 his hearer by exaggerated descriptions, and even some- 
 times utter impossibilities. As an instance of this he 
 described the warriors of Rome as men of gigantic 
 
A LEGEND OE CJESAB, S HILL. 7 
 
 structure, armed to the very teeth, driving about in 
 golden chariots, drawn by winged horses, and the person 
 of great Caesar himself as no less than ten feet high, his 
 glance being lightning, and his voice thunder. 
 
 Amongst other marvels of description, the monk 
 especially delighted Michael by telling him that the very 
 hill upon which he had been accustomed to follow his 
 occupation as charcoal burner had once been an encamp- 
 ment, favoured by the presence of Julius Csesar himself. 
 This, to the ears of Michael, was indeed enchantment, 
 and served as food for many an hour that had else 
 passed wearily enough. 
 
 This kind of intercourse, greatly as it was estimated 
 both by tutor and pupil, was still not relished by one 
 individual at Waverley — that one was no other than 
 Paul, the lodge porter, a lean, ferret-eyed, inquisitive 
 personage, who greatly preferred his own ease and com- 
 fort to the convenience of all other persons whatsoever. 
 Now Paul, it must be observed,- did not like to be 
 disturbed after vespers, his gate being closed at the hour 
 of curfew, and his eyes loving to close at the same time, 
 but owing to the long converse which frequently ensued 
 between Pather Nicholas and Michael Smudge, he w r as 
 frequently called upon to open his gate for the purpose 
 of letting out the latter named. This was his grievance, 
 and one for which he determined to be avenged when 
 fitting time should come. 
 
 At the expiration of some twelve months from the 
 
3 THE CHARCOAL BURNER : 
 
 date of first meeting with his patron, Michael became so 
 dissatisfied with his humble occupation of charcoal 
 burning, that it n$ed not be any matter for surprise if 
 he longed to become a soldier, to follow in the train of 
 some modern conqueror, to wield the pike, to don the 
 morion, and himself become a man of mark and mettle, 
 an ambition which might seem indeed by no means 
 difficult of attainment, inasmuch as every petty baron 
 was a warrior chief, and every slave of the soil bound 
 to follow in his wake. But then Michael was a ser- 
 vant of the Church, which just then was not quite so 
 militant as it became a few years later, and as the 
 Church's servant was bound to do her bidding, it was 
 therefore with a very heavy heart that he still found 
 himself compelled to follow his old occupation; but 
 there was no help for it. 
 
 With lagging step and heavy heart did Michael, on 
 the morning following one of Father Nicholas's most 
 glowing descriptions, find his way to the valley below 
 Caesar's Hill, for the purpose of preparing a larger 
 quantity than usual of charcoal for the use of the abbey. 
 Slowly and toilfully did he chop his wood, peel it, build 
 it up in the shape of a cone, heap up around it a covering 
 of clay, and lastly, apply a light to the mass, after 
 which he determined on taking a comfortable nap, 
 little doubting he should awake time enough to see 
 his task properly completed; but herein he was 
 wrong, as the sequel will show, for sleepers are apt 
 
to dream, and dreamers to sleep on. This was 
 Michael's case, for no sooner did his bodily eyes close, 
 than his mental optics opened to a scene so strange, so 
 vision-like, that if it were not an absolute prophecy, 
 must certainly be looked on as somewhat more than a 
 mere dream or disease of the imagination. 
 
 This, then, was Michael's dream, vision, or prophetic 
 wandering of mind. Looking up from his place of rest 
 towards the summit of Caesar's Hill, what was his 
 astonishment to behold, in the place of a few straggling 
 bushes, a very forest of pikes, borne apparently by as 
 many warriors armed and equipped after the fashion 
 described to him so often by his priestly tutor. With- 
 out doubt these stalwart forms, their heads encased in 
 glittering helmets, their loins girded, their feet sandalled, 
 their left arms bearing ponderous shields, whilst their 
 right hands grasped either mighty falchions or still more 
 mighty pikes, their eagle glance, their proud defiant 
 look, all, all bespoke the invincible legions of imperial 
 Kome, just as he had pictured them from his tutor's 
 words. Yes, there were surely the eagle-crowned 
 standards of which he had heard. There, too, the war 
 chariots, shining with gold ; there also were the engines 
 of destruction that either battered down walls, or cast 
 forth stones ; there also were the horsemen whose pro- 
 digious strength and weight were said to have struck 
 such terror into the Gauls that they fled like a whirl- 
 wind before them. There, too, in imperial state, towering 
 
10 THE CHAECOAL BUENEE : 
 
 above all liis compeers in command., was all- conquering 
 Csesar, his bald but noble brow crowned with the laurel 
 wreath his deeds had so nobly earned, his eye wearing 
 lightning in its glance, and his lips giving utterance to 
 the far-famed words, " veni, vidi, vied." 
 
 The vision, or the reality (for it seemed both) came 
 upon his senses almost palpably, picturing an army of 
 ten thousand warriors, accompanied by all the engines 
 of war, comprising horse and foot, led on by centurions, 
 and commanded by great Csesar himself; but why and 
 wherefore ? Did they arise from the dead to do deeds 
 of naught ? Or was their errand one of mortal combat ? 
 Where could arise the foe, in these degenerate days, to 
 meet such men in mortal conflict? Who, amongst the 
 pigmy race of present time, should dare withstand 
 imperial Caesar's glance ? Surely none ! but if so, why 
 their presence ? Hardly had Michael asked himself this 
 question when his ear caught the sound of distant 
 music, borne fitfully on the breeze in gushes of a har- 
 mony so beautiful that his senses revelled in the delight ; 
 anon the strain was hushed, anon it came again, soft, 
 sweet, yet thrilling. Turning his eye towards the 
 quarter whence it came there appeared in the far dis- 
 tance, as though approaching from the obscure village of 
 ildershot, a motley array of mannikin forms, no bigger 
 than himself, clad in every conceivable colour of habit, 
 though partaking mostly of red. For a time the cloud 
 of dust encircling them prevented any distinct view ; 
 when, however, the motley crew advanced nearer, Mi- 
 
11 
 
 chael was enabled to make out that their fantastic 
 habits consisted, for the most part, of close fitting 
 jerkins, the colour of blood, spotted round the neck 
 and wrists with yellow, green, or blue, their loins 
 girdled tight, their shoulders heavily laden with mer- 
 chandise, and their heads crowned with frightful cylin- 
 drical objects that looked like small church steeples 
 cut short in the building ; but strange as seemed this 
 fashion of dress, it was stranger still that no defensive 
 armour of any kind formed part of their equipment, it 
 being evident at a glance that one single stroke of a 
 Roman falchion would cut down any half dozen manni- 
 kins at a blow, there being not so much as a shield to 
 interpose, whilst their only offensive weapon, perceptible, 
 consisted of a sort of polished tube, grafted on the stock 
 of a crossbow, and fitted at the end with a prong or 
 skewer, the utility of which seemed doubtful, unless 
 with a view to the toasting of cheese ; if, however, the 
 more numerous body were thus lightly armed, there was 
 no lack of formidable looking weapons born by a smaller 
 party of mannikins, such as seemingly accompanied 
 each 700 or 800 of the former kind — this smaller party 
 being clothed in garments white as the driven snow — 
 but armed with machines of a truly formidable kind, 
 huge, bell-like, and brazen mouthed, some coiled in folds 
 like serpents, others possessing extraordinary powers of 
 elongation, but all formed evidently with deadly intent, 
 and capable doubtless of great execution. 
 
 Besides these mere foot soldiers of a so truly ridiculous 
 
12 THE CHARCOAL BURNER: 
 
 kind, there presently advanced a cavalcade of horsemen, 
 not quite so harmless looking, but still very inefficiently 
 armed to encounter the glorious cavalry of Rome, for in 
 spite of a certain daring look on each countenance, and 
 an attempt at beardliness, it became evident, on inspec- 
 tion, that these, like the former mentioned, were with- 
 out any adequate means of resisting an attack boldly 
 made, as, with the exception of a few who were indeed 
 armed with tolerable pikes, having little red and white 
 streamers attached, their only weapon seemed to be a 
 short sword, and a couple of still shorter flask-like 
 implements worn at the saddle bow. Beyond these 
 squadrons of horsemen, again, came others whose occu- 
 pation was to superintend the conveyance of an unac- 
 countably strange looking number of engines upon four 
 wheels, the purpose and utility of which it was utterly 
 impossible for anyone to guess ; they were not of a kind 
 called a catapult, although perhaps designed for a like 
 purpose, neither were they of the nature of chariots like to 
 those of the Romans, but still with an ugly look about 
 them betokening mischief. Following upon all these came 
 several yet more extraordinary looking engines, upraised, 
 like their predecessors, on four strong wheels, but look- 
 ing more like huge cauldrons than anything else, and 
 possibly intended as such, the whole being guarded and 
 accompanied by diminutive warriors, clothed a trifle 
 more like men than those who preceded them, having 
 their bodies encased in dark blue with red bandages 
 
13 
 
 adown each leg, and the wallets for their victuals, of a 
 like red colour, attached for convenience' sake to the top 
 of their head dress. 
 
 As this extraordinary looking body of mannikins 
 approached the legions of imperial Rome, the heart of 
 Michael Smudge, whilst yet inspired by the high and 
 ennobling emotions so natural to one who looked now, 
 for the first time, upon military display, could not help 
 feelings of the deepest compassion for the doomed host 
 now hastening on to its destination. That a conflict 
 was imminent there could be no doubt, and that Rome 
 would triumph was equally evident, but so unequal 
 appeared the chances, and so inevitable the result, he 
 could not but mourn the loss of so much gallant daring, 
 or help to deplore the overthrow of so much useless 
 courage* 
 
 Nearer and more near drew the opposing forces; 
 those of imperial Rome being drawn up in close 
 phalanx, after the model of ancient Greece, exposing to 
 their foe an impenetrable mass truly noble to look upon, 
 and utterly impregnable according to the usages of past 
 experience, whilst their advancing enemies, instead of 
 concentrating their power, seemed rather to spread out 
 and gather in groups or columns, forming themselves in 
 lines and squares with a rapidity marvellous to look 
 upon. Michael could not but feel wonder at the total 
 absence of all apparent command on the part of these 
 ^mannikin forces, as with the exception of two or three 
 
14 THE CHARCOAL BURNER : 
 
 horses galloping about at random, there seemed to be no 
 presiding spirit at work, unless such might have been 
 supposed to exist in the person of a little withered old 
 man whose upper clothing was a shabby cloak surmoun- 
 ted by a triangular head covering, ornamented with the 
 tail of a cock. 
 
 Impatience seized upon the legions of Rome ; they 
 shouted to be led on, their brawny arms with falchions 
 upraised, clashed on their metal shields with a sound 
 calculated to spread dismay, yet all was silenced in the 
 ranks of the foe, save that there now burst one simulta- 
 neous clang of music, entrancing to the ear, and beautiful 
 in the extreme. But what availed such effeminate sounds 
 to drown the war cry of such men as owned Imperial 
 Csesar as their head ? Again and again Heaven's vault 
 re-echoed to the hoarse throats of the Roman host, who, 
 at the command of their mighty leader, now advanced 
 to meet the foe. 
 
 It was a moment of intense excitement for Michael 
 Smudge, who looked wonderingly and with awe upon 
 the coming conflict. Onward they dashed, as with one 
 impulse, those proud defiant warriors, their arms raised 
 on high, and their heavy foot-fall shaking the earth 
 with a vibration like to a thunder peal. Onward, still 
 onward, like the surging wave of ocean tide, the manni- 
 kin foe making no response except by upraising to their 
 shoulders the tube-like instruments, it almost seemed, 
 as if in derision. 
 
A LEGEND OE CiESAR/s HILL. 15 
 
 The legions of Rome had advanced to perhaps some 
 fifty paces distant from their foe, when a marvel occur- 
 red of so startling a kind as might well arrest their 
 career. From the ranks of the mannikins, or rather 
 from tubes of their foremost ranks only, there came a 
 sudden flash, a loud prolonged roar, and a vast cloud of 
 thick white smoke. Immediately it became evident that 
 some strange event had occurred within the Roman 
 battalions, two or three hundred stalwart men having 
 met with terrible wounds, and many lying in the agonies 
 of death, without a single sword-thrust having been 
 given or received. Amazed, yet still defiant, their 
 momentary halt gave place to an intense excitement, as 
 onward they again rushed impetuously as before, to be 
 again met with the same upraising of tubes, the same 
 flash and volley, the same thunderous peal, and the same 
 death messengers that before astounded them. Mad- 
 dened with hope of revenge, reckless of all discipline, 
 onward yet again they pressed, with a determination to 
 crush their foes by a hand to hand engagement, which 
 could not fail to be successful as of yore. But here 
 again the legions of Rome were at fault, for their 
 advance was met by an impenetrable wall of iron 
 spikes, tier upon tier, at the same moment as the 
 levelled tubes vomited forth smoke and fire, carrying 
 with it death and confusion both horrible and strange to 
 relate. Nor did the marvel here end; for suddenly, and 
 as it appeared without cause, the ranks of their opposing 
 
16 THE CHARCOAL BUENEE : 
 
 foe divided, forming into two walls, whilst through the 
 opened space there issued huge tongues of fire, accom- 
 panied by a roaring sound, to which thunder concentra- 
 ted in a thousand peals might afford a poor comparison, 
 while dense clouds of white sulphurous smoke enveloped 
 all things ; but at the expiration of a few seconds a wind 
 arose, clearing off the thick smoke, discovering those 
 four-wheeled engines of ugly aspect before named, and 
 from whose polished interiors there was little doubt had 
 proceeded those awful sounds which yet rung in the 
 ears of all. 
 
 Michael, not without trepidation, turned his glance 
 towards the Roman host, but what a sight presented 
 itself; heads torn from bodies, limbs mangled and 
 bleeding, some thousand shattered corpses strewing the 
 ensanguined ground, and the whole remaining mass of 
 combatants looking aghast at each other, seeking in vain 
 for a solution of the mysterious death which stalked 
 among them. 
 
 Brief time was, however, left for either wonder or 
 reply, for like a torrent which had burst its bounds, 
 there came amidst them a rush of mannikin cavalry, as 
 well as a charge of foot, and before a single one of all 
 that gallant host, which so late looked proudly on its 
 foes, had time to recover from its dismay, there fell 
 upon all alike such unexpected and mysterious cuts and 
 thrusts, not to say winged messengers of destruction, 
 that neither shield nor morion was of avail, and death 
 
A LEGEND OF (LESATt's HILL. 17 
 
 came ingloriously, as if Mars and Jove were in league 
 together to humble the pride of their once triumphant 
 children, and to teach them humility for all time to 
 come. 
 
 In a word, the legions of Home were as a thing that 
 had departed ; they existed no longer ; they were all 
 levelled with the dust ; not one, no not one remaining of 
 all that- gallant host, to tell how their despised but now 
 triumphant enemies had called forth lightning from the 
 skies to do the bidding of a wrathful Jove upon the sons 
 of Home, now for the first time humbled even to death. 
 
 Enough. Michael had seen all this. Superstition, 
 wonder, admiration, each had by turn possessed him ; 
 but fear, never! He seemed to feel that all which he 
 beheld was but a shadow ; nay more, he was convinced 
 of it, for his own body, led on by an irresistible impulse, 
 passed through the entire mannikin ranks without meet- 
 ing the least resistance from their impalpable shape, his 
 insatiable curiosity inducing him to examine all things 
 within his reach just as if they had been realities, which 
 for the matter of investigation they did indeed appear to 
 be, until absolutely touched by his own living hand. 
 
 Unopposed, therefore, did he seek the huge engines 
 upon four wheels to ascertain the secret of their power ; 
 but he could make nothing out clearly, beyond the fact 
 that some strange characters appeared to be graven on 
 them, which a little patient investigation helped to re- 
 solve into the words " Whitworth" and "Armstrong ; ,} a 
 
 c 
 
18 THE CHARCOAL BURNER: 
 
 " spell " or " charm " doubtless ; for unless by the aid 
 of Satan, how was it possible for such troops as the 
 Romans to have been subdued ? 
 
 Michael's next point of investigation was towards 
 those very remarkable engines of brass, with the bell 
 mouths and the many snake like coils, the working of 
 which lay in the hands of the mannikins in white. 
 Here again was he foiled, inasmuch as their formidable 
 power seemed to evaporate in mere sound, terrible 
 enough in the instance of one huge monster, but gentle, 
 soft, and most musical in others. Determined on know- 
 ing something at least, he bent his prying eyes again 
 upon their form and again discovered a graven "charm " 
 in the words, with difficulty rendered, " H. Distin, 
 Maker, London/'' another device of the devil, beyond 
 all contradiction. 
 
 Once more, with a view to acquire knowledge, did the 
 undaunted Michael set forth upon his investigations, 
 chance leading him to the side of a mannikin in red, 
 who took from a sort of pouch attached to his garment 
 something white, oblong, and cylindrical, biting off the 
 end with his teeth, and plunging the remainder into the 
 tube-like instrument before described. Quickly as 
 thought, Michael picked up from the ground the re- 
 maining portion, which contained a black powder singu- 
 larly like his old friend charcoal, only of a somewhat 
 heavier grain. Determined to ascertain, he placed it to 
 his lips; the taste was acrid, like salt; to his nostrils, 
 
A LEGEND OF CLESAR^S HILL. 19 
 
 paugh ! it stunk like brimstone ! yet for all this it did 
 seem to the eye like charcoal. He would secure it, and 
 accordingly he did so ; binding it up in one corner of 
 his tattered garment safely, as he would have bound up 
 a golden coin, had he ever possessed one. 
 
 Well pleased with his acquisition, Michael determined 
 on still further seeking to unriddle the knowledge of 
 his mannikin surrounders, when, let his astonishment 
 be judged at finding his vision at an end ! the Roman 
 hosts all vanished ! the conquerors nowhere ! Caesar's 
 Hill, in exactly its usual state ! and himself cold, stiff, 
 and more than half immersed in thex water of a muddy 
 ditch ; his cone of charcoal burnt to a cinder, and lying 
 at a considerable distance from the spot to which he 
 himself had rolled in his sleep. 
 
 Rubbing his eyes, and pinching his arm to make sure 
 of being awake, Michael, philosophically enough, turned 
 his steps towards home, sadly pondering on the insta- 
 bility of mortal hopes, and the emptiness of both his 
 own pouch and stomach. For awhile he trudged on 
 doggedly, but happening to place his hand on the lower 
 part of his garment it encountered a knot ! Yes, there 
 it was, certainly a knot, the knot that his own fingers 
 had tied. Could it then be that his dream was not all a 
 dream ? With trembling digits he undid the knot, but 
 lo ! again did disappointment befal, a small roundish 
 pebble stone being all that met his view, and nothing 
 resembling the black powder he had so carefully placed. 
 
20 THE CHARCOAL BURNER: 
 
 His dream ended as it began, in nothing. Nothing 
 comes of nothing, so be it. 
 
 By the time Michael had reached Waverley Abbey, 
 whither his steps had tended of their own accord, the 
 hour of curfew had long passed, and as he well knew 
 the sour visaged Paul would not admit him to the cell 
 of Father Nicholas, it was perforce obligatory on him to 
 seek repose as best he might until the hour of matins ; 
 he therefore chose a tree, and climbing into its branches 
 continued to pass the night after a fashion, but by no 
 means cosily. 
 
 With the earliest dawn he sought Father Nicholas, 
 and repeating his dream, was not a little nettled to find 
 the holy man far less interested in its recital than his 
 own vanity had led him to expect; nor was it until 
 Michael had arrived at the point wherein he described 
 that which he supposed to be powdered charcoal that 
 the monk showed any degree of attention, but at the 
 point in question he became exceedingly interested, as 
 the following dialogue will show : — 
 
 Father Nicholas. — Powdered charcoal didst thou say ? 
 
 Michael Smudge. — Aye, reverend Father, to the eye 
 at least. 
 
 F. N. — Like salt to the mouth, art sure ? 
 
 M. S. — Like salt, only a thought more bitter. 
 
 F. N. — And like sulphur to the sense of smell ? 
 
 if. S. — No more, nor less, an it please your re- 
 verence. 
 
A LEGEND OF CMSAEi's HILL. 21 
 
 F. N. — Strange, most strange, I too have dreamed 
 of something like to this ! 
 
 Here the monk sat down musingly for a good long 
 hour or more, leaving Michael to shift his position from 
 one leg to the other, not daring to take the liberty of 
 seating himself until commanded so to do by his 
 spiritual pastor and master. At length Father Nicholas 
 awoke from his fit of musing, and, before dismissing his 
 humble friend, enjoined absolute secrecy touching the 
 matter of his dreams, promising to allow of his assist- 
 ance in the evening during an experiment of the utmost 
 consequence. 
 
 Punctual as a dial to the sun did Michael show him- 
 self at the hour of vespers, and forthwith began a short 
 series of experiments, which it is almost needless to tell 
 resulted in the discovery of Gunpowder. For several 
 evenings were the twain engaged in concocting every 
 variety of combination into which charcoal, sulphur, and 
 salt could be made ; and it was not until the monk had 
 exhausted his stock of ordinary salt that he bethought 
 him of some rock-salt or salt-petre, which had long been 
 in his possession, that the exact requirements were 
 effected. After this, all difficulties ceased, and the bold 
 ecclesiastic, together with his humble coadjutor, found 
 themselves masters of a secret destined to change the 
 fortunes of an entire world. 
 
 Little now remains to tell except the sequel of this 
 true legend, but as that little involves reasons why the 
 
22 THE CHARCOAL BURNER: 
 
 important secret just discovered was not at once made 
 known, we proceed as follows : — 
 
 father Nicholas being desirous of proving the nature 
 of his discovery on a scale somewhat more forcible than 
 the small dimensions of his laboratory would permit, 
 also with a degree of secrecy which was impossible during 
 the hours of daylight, had concocted, by the aid of 
 Michael, a considerable quantity of the mysterious com- 
 pound, which the two had agreed to dispose in such man- 
 ner and in such place, as should afford no such clue to the 
 brotherhood as might compromise them in superstitious 
 eyes. It was their intention to place a heap of the 
 compound, consisting of some quarter of a peck, within 
 the grounds of the Abbey, and at midnight to insure its 
 explosion by means of a slow match. 
 
 This notable plan was however frustrated through the 
 curiosity of Paul the troublesome porter, whose vindictive 
 feelings towards poor Michael Smudge led him to surmise 
 that he could hit upon an expedient for ruining the lad 
 by means of watching him secretly ; with this view Paul 
 had discovered that for several nights past, a light had 
 continued burning, contrary to law, in the laboratory of 
 Pather Nicholas, and that Michael Smudge had not 
 retired to Ins humble pallet, without the walls, until nigh 
 daybreak. 
 
 Determined at last to solve the mystery of what was 
 doing within the laboratory of Father Nicholas, which, 
 by-the-by, was the uppermost chamber of the building, 
 
A LEGEND OF C^ESAR^S HILL. 23 
 
 and accessible only by means of a narrow winding stair- 
 case bnilt of stone — he stealthily mounted to its door, 
 and with the cunning of an eaves-dropper applied, first, 
 his eye to a crevice, and secondly his ear, by means of 
 which he made out that a conspiracy was afloat to 
 astonish the holy brotherhood in some extraordinary 
 way or other that very night. 
 
 Full of the importance of his mission, Paul descended, 
 as stealthily as he had before ascended — called up from 
 his snug repose the Father abbot, who forthwith com- 
 manded the attendance of his twelve associates, and 
 forming themselves into procession began to ascend the 
 staircase leading above, to the loud chanting of " aves " 
 and " paternosters," thereby alarming Father Nicholas 
 and his pupil to such a degree, that in their anxiety to 
 prevent a premature disclosure of their plan, the firkin 
 containing the combustible compound was hurriedly 
 removed, and the cresset lamp, by which their apartment 
 was lighted, swung so violently to and fro through some 
 accidental contact, that a spark chancing to drop, caused 
 an instantaneous explosion of the whole mass, blowing 
 off the roof of the building, and as a matter of course 
 entailing destruction upon all within the reach of its 
 force. 
 
 After the first minute of terror and consternation, and 
 by the light of a few burning fragments, it was discovered 
 that with the exception of being blown in a body down 
 the staircase, neither abbot, monk, nor porter was 
 
24 THE CHARCOAL BURNER: 
 
 seriously hurt, although a few pieces of falling masonry 
 had caused contusions, and the terrors of superstition 
 had produced their effect on the dismayed brotherhood. 
 That the roof of their dwelling was torn off by some 
 frightful agency, all knew, and that Father Nicholas and 
 his companion had mysteriously disappeared, was also 
 evident; but until the light of the morrow's dawn came, 
 the exact state of affairs could not be guessed at, further 
 than that his Satanic majesty was, by one and all, voted 
 as the prime cause and mover ; Father Nicholas himself 
 being but a subordinate agent. 
 
 With the light of day came a wondering mass of 
 neighbours, serving men, retainers of Earnham castle, 
 and others whom curiosity brought together, all of whom 
 seemed to concur in believing that the devil had carried 
 off Father Nicholas ; but it was soon found that if such 
 were the case, it must have been his soul only which had 
 been taken, for his body, sadly mutilated, was found in 
 a dry ditch, thirty or forty paces distant from the Abbey 
 wall, stone dead and cold, whilst that of Michael Smudge 
 was also discovered upon a large heap of brushwood, not 
 quite dead, but with his left ankle bone so frightfully 
 dislocated that death appeared certain from that cause, 
 together with several contusions of an. almost equally 
 serious nature. 
 
 As for the building, with the exception of its roof 
 being blown off, little other injury had taken place, owing 
 to the solidity of its construction ; the slight proportion 
 
A LEGEND OE CLESAE/s HILL. 25 
 
 of timber in it having prevented fire from communicating 
 itself to other parts. 
 
 The body of Father Nicholas was interred in a stone 
 coffin bearing no name,* and without the usual rites of 
 sepulture, in deference to popular opinion ; and Michael 
 Smudge would doubtless have been put to a cruel death 
 from the same cause, but that there existed so intense a 
 desire to know how such a catastrophe had been oc- 
 casioned, that it was deemed expedient to restore the 
 sick lad, if possible, to health, in order that their curiosity 
 might be rewarded. 
 
 In the course of a short time the assistance of such 
 surgical aid as the times afforded was brought in. Poor 
 Michael's leg was amputated, clumsily enough, but yet 
 sufficiently well to preserve life. His shattered senses 
 were brought back, though not until several months had 
 passed over, and the abbot with his brethren were on 
 the eve of reaping their reward, when lo ! one morning 
 just after sunrise, it was discovered that their ward had 
 departed. 
 
 Lame as he was, sick as he yet continued, Michael 
 
 Smudge had departed, without leaving behind him one 
 
 single trace by which his destination could be followed 
 
 up. 
 
 * Since this tradition was penned, it has come to the 
 author's knowledge that a stone coffin was lately discovered, 
 buried several feet beneath the existing ruins of Waverley 
 Abbey. May this not have been the identical one in which 
 " Father Nicholas " was interred ? 
 
26 THE CHARCOAL BUKNEK. 
 
 For years and years he was never heard of; and indeed 
 was never, for certain, identified as one amongst living 
 men; bnt a rumour gained credit a full half century 
 afterwards, that a very learned monk, whose left leg 
 must have been amputated in early youth, had died in 
 Glastonbury Abbey, having previously signalized himself 
 by his profound knowledge of medicinal herbs, and the 
 nature of strange compounds, the secret of which, when 
 called on to divulge, he uniformly refused to impart, 
 saying, " The world of wicked men could destroy God's 
 creatures quite quickly enough without his further 
 help." 
 
 So saying, departed from life one whom there is 
 every reason to believe commenced his career as 
 " Michael Smudge,''' the charcoal burner. 
 
"TUMBLE-DOWN DICK." 
 
 " His legs were so long, and his body so small, 
 He scarce could be seen as lie climbed up a wall." 
 
 Song of the Spider. 
 
 PREAMBLE. 
 
 There is considerable doubt as to whether the tavern 
 now so well known as " Tumble-down Dick/' occupies 
 the precise site of a previous tavern which was known to 
 stand somewhere about the same spot, but although the 
 exact fact might possibly be known by reference to docu- 
 ments^ is scarce worth the trouble of ascertaining at the 
 loss of valuable time. 
 
 At all events, a tavern did exist long previous to the 
 epoch of this tale, and that too on or about the place 
 where now stands the tavern before named. But it was 
 not then called as it is now called ; for its then appella- 
 tion was, so far back as the year 1715, "The Prince of 
 Orange/'' a name, given doubtless, in honour of the great 
 Protestant hero, but one which was also changed into that 
 of "The Duke of Cumberland." There is a suspicion of 
 its having undergone a third change of name, previously 
 to its having attained its last and most popular designa- 
 tion — this is, however, so very immaterial, that the name 
 
28 
 
 of "The Duke of Cumberland" has been chosen at all 
 hazards, as sufficiently indicative for the purpose of this 
 tradition. 
 
 In the year 1770, the village of Farnborough, now so 
 well known as a prominent station on the South Western 
 Railway, was a very obscure spot, although about as 
 pretty a place as well could be, in which respect modern 
 improvement has been more detrimental than otherwise. 
 It boasted very few inhabitants, and those few scattered 
 over a considerable space, so that, in point of strictness, 
 the name of "village" was almost beyond its pretensions, 
 seeing that " Cove " with its comparatively leviathan pro- 
 portions, somewhat threw into the shade the modest merits 
 of its smaller neighbour, between which and itself there 
 existed a kind of jealous feeling amounting almost to a 
 prohibition of social intercourse. 
 
 This being the case, Farnborough proper chose to keep 
 itself to itself, as the saying is — preferring to exist upon 
 its own resources rather than depend any way upon its 
 richer neighbour for any but the most indispensable 
 supplies ; hence its few inhabitants baked their own 
 bread, made their own butter and cheese, killed- their own 
 mutton or pork (when they happened to be so lucky as 
 to possess any), built their own thatched hovels, and, in 
 short, did everything for themselves which needy hands 
 could do, and resolute wills could determine. 
 
29 
 
 Lawyers and doctors were heard of, but never seen ; 
 an undertaker, like some migratory bird, was only oc- 
 casionally visible. Grocers and linen-drapers were un- 
 known animals, and neither a carpenter nor a painter 
 would have earned ten shillings in twelve months, if so 
 rashly disposed as to venture upon seeking occupation ; 
 in short, everybody did everything for himself except 
 bury himself, which last act of our human destiny was 
 perforce carried out by its legitimate officer, the sexton, 
 who, as a necessary appendage to the parish church, was 
 somewhat of a consequential individual, embodying the 
 several occupations of parish clerk, grave digger, and 
 schoolmaster all in one, and being, as a matter of course, 
 next to the parson, and the one publican of the village, 
 a man to be regarded with respect. 
 
 It must not, however, be inferred from the preceding, 
 that there were absolutely no tradesmen in Farnborough 
 at all — for there were, at all events, two who so called 
 themselves ; the one being a blacksmith, without whom 
 the small farms of the neighbourhood would have been 
 sadly at a loss, and the other being a tailor in particularly 
 small request, who could have been readily dispensed 
 with, seeing that, like almost all of his craft, his moral 
 habits as well as his physical garments were both of the 
 loosest, their joint wearer being not only an idle fellow, 
 but a sot into the bargain, thoroughly incorrigible, and a 
 pest to all who knew him. 
 
 After this brief preamble it will be readily perceived 
 
30 
 
 ' that the inhabitants of Parnborough were very generally 
 poor, either farm-labourers or artisans of humble grade 
 in the receipt of a few shillings only per week. Amongst 
 such, the recipient of an income amounting to twenty- 
 five pounds per annum ranked as a triton amongst 
 minnows, and such was the case of an old man named 
 Thomas Thrupples, who, with Martha his wife, at the 
 ripe age of seventy-seven, inhabited a comfortable three- 
 roomed cottage upon an annuity of the amount so named, 
 and which was generously allotted them by the owner 
 of Farnborough park, for services long and faithfully 
 rendered. 
 
 This ancient couple had outlived nearly every care in 
 life, excepting one — that one being their grandson Richard, 
 or as he was familiarly termed Dick Thrupples, and ulti- 
 mately nick-named " Tumble-down Dick/'' from a certain 
 infirmity to be noted in proper place. 
 
 This lad, having lost both parents when at the age 
 of seven years, took up his residence with the ancient 
 couple before named, some twelve summers before the 
 commencement of this record, but had fallen down from 
 an apple tree, and so seriously and at the same time 
 singularly injured his spine, that from such particular 
 period it seemed as if his head, arms, and body had 
 ceased to grow, whilst his legs shot out to such an un- 
 conscionable length, as to give him the appearance of that 
 strange myth known to school boys as Mr. No-body. 
 Nor did the marvel here end, for with the stunting of 
 
31 
 
 his body there was found an equal deficiency of intellect 
 — not that poor Dick was quite a fool, but that he 
 continued to. enact the mere child in mind after he had 
 become a youth in body, and that at the age of twenty 
 — the exact period of this tradition — he was even then 
 but little removed from the same state of boyishness in 
 which his original misfortune had occurred; in particular, 
 he retained his love for all childish sports, and in con- 
 sonance with his nick-name, was for ever tumbling up or 
 tumbling down, through the amazing length of his legs, 
 which were for ever in the way, and over which he seemed 
 to have but very little control. 
 
 It must not, however, be omitted to state that in spite 
 of his deformity, Dick Thrupples was rather a good- 
 looking fellow than otherwise, having a face so extremely 
 like a rosy-cheeked apple that many a lass would gladly 
 have possessed herself of its bloom, but that somehow or 
 other, Master Dick never appeared to feel any attraction 
 towards the softer sex, as though nature had withheld 
 from him even those common passions of mankind which 
 give life a charm, even in the absence of all others. 
 
 It was just on attaining his twentieth year that Dick 
 Thrupples lost his two best friends, in the persons of his 
 old grandfather and grandmother, who both died on the 
 same day, leaving their boyish grandson almost literally 
 helpless in the world. 
 
 Previous to their death, a distant relative had bequeathed 
 the old couple a legacy to the value of thirty pounds per 
 
32 u TUMBLE-DOWN DICK." 
 
 annum, which was a source of much gratification to them, 
 insomuch as their own peculiar pension, of course, died 
 with them; and the present legacy enabled them to 
 provide for their grandchild comfortably. 
 
 With a forethought beyond their condition, the old 
 people were so prudent as to invest their modicum of 
 money in such a way as to secure a monthly payment of 
 two pounds ten shillings for the support of their grandson 
 Dick — which sum, and the manner of its payment, was 
 intrusted to one Humphreys, a farm bailiff in the vicinity 
 of Erimley. 
 
 It was a sad day for poor Dick when his aged protectors 
 were borne to the grave, attended by the whole village, 
 and he himself returned to his desolate home in spite of 
 the numerous invitations of his commiserating friends. 
 
 For several hours did Dick Thrupples cry, like a huge 
 schoolboy, refusing to be comforted, and for several days 
 did the disconsolate young man bemoan his helpless con- 
 dition — eating his meals uncooked, vainly endeavour- 
 ing to light his own fire, and pettishly rejecting all aid 
 from neighbours. 
 
 In particular he thrust aside the attentions of a young 
 woman who made no secret of her desire to better his 
 acquaintance; this young lass, Patty Smallcheek, was 
 servant of all work at an inn or road-side tavern called 
 the " Duke of Cumberland/'' only a few hundred yards 
 beyond the village on the road towards Farnham. 
 She was one of those good-natured, artless, but ignorant 
 
" TUMBLE-DOWN DICK. - " 33 
 
 creatures, who in this age of knowledge would have been 
 pronounced Cl an impudent hussy/'' but yet was in reality 
 a simple-minded woman who saw no wrong in speaking 
 exactly as she thought with very scant ceremony and no 
 reserve. She was also what is termed a "strapping 
 figure" — meaning she was full five feet ten inches in 
 height — and strong in proportion, being quite capable, 
 and not at all shy, of taking^er ^^ part in a game at 
 fisticuffs if necessity arose^? > ^s? 
 
 It had pleased Patty Smajlcjteek to fancy poor Dick 
 Thrupples for her intendea\ftusband ; and it also had 
 pleased her to tell him so %j a thousand feminine arts 
 more eloquent than words, such, for instance, as the 
 present of any little delicacy in season, a^ boiled pig's tail, 
 a roasted onion, or occasionally some hard-bake of her 
 own making. She also invariably took his part in all 
 half childish quarrels, and stood in some sort his guardian 
 whenever a wicked jest was sought to be played upon 
 him, such as the drawing away of a chair when he was 
 about to sit down, and upon one occasion was nigh 
 getting herself into serious trouble through saving her 
 favourite from being " tripped up," by gently tapping 
 his assailant's head with a rolling pin, which happened 
 to weigh three pounds or so, and thereby fracturing his 
 skull so badly as to necessitate his visit to a lunatic 
 asylum. 
 
 Why Dick Thrupples should have resisted Miss Patty 
 Smallcheek's advances in his hour of trouble, is one of 
 
 D 
 
34 
 
 those mysteries known only to the deeply learned in life's 
 philosophy. Byron has said, " 'Tis best to begin with a 
 little aversion/' and if this be true, then the loves of 
 Dick and Patty argued well, for Dick would not suffer 
 his protectress to help him in any fashion, but sate and 
 sobbed on the door step of his cottage like a child who 
 had broken his best toy. 
 
 At last, and only when driven by hunger, Dick 
 Thrupples consented to take board and lodging with a 
 poor old woman named Pipkins, and who dealt in such 
 small commodities as needles and thread, laces, bobbins, 
 pipe-clay, slate pencils, and, to a limited extent, in 
 matches and tinder-boxes. Under her roof the young 
 man found himsflf very comfortable for the space of two 
 years, during which time his intellect, although it did 
 not greatly improve in strength, yet advanced slightly, 
 so that he forsook the companionship of absolute children, 
 and began to associate with grown men; his chief 
 favourites being three decidedly dissolute fellows, to wit, 
 the blacksmith, the tailor, and the sexton — all of whom 
 loved nothing better than to drink themselves tipsy, 
 except to play tricks on their kind benefactor Dick, whose 
 savings from his monthly income were all spent on them 
 at the "Duke of Cumberland" tavern. 
 
 There was but one other " person " in all the world 
 who had a strong claim on Dick's affection, and that one 
 was " Jack/' a tame magpie of wonderful sagacity, living 
 
" TUMBLE-DOWA T DICK. - " 35 
 
 at the " Duke of Cumber] and/' and generally understood 
 to be trie chief personage on that establishment. 
 
 With " Jack " Dick Thrupples had long since formed 
 a close intimacy and was believed almost to converse 
 with it rationally on subjects political, social, and senti- 
 mental. At all events, if the two friends did not 
 absolutely converse, they assuredly understood one 
 another, and the magpie would do Dick's bidding when 
 he would neither obey nor seem to understand the 
 behests of anyone else. 
 
 Tor two years, as before noted, Dick Thrupples, now 
 approaching his three and twentieth year, had lodged with 
 poor Mrs. Pipkins, enjoying the very height of human 
 felicity, with a splendid income of two pounds ten 
 shillings per month, with four valued friends (including 
 the magpie), and with one declared lover, or loveress, in 
 the person of Patty Smallcheek — his time passing in one 
 continued round of contentedness, varied only by the 
 nature and frequency of his " tumbling down," which 
 feat he usually accomplished once in every four and 
 twenty hours at the very least. 
 
 But now, an event was about to occur, and demands 
 another chapter, insomuch as its character is greatly at 
 variance with all which has preceded. 
 
36 "TUMBLE-DOWN DICK. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 At about five miles, or may be six, from Farnborough, 
 there now stands a house called " Warren's Corner/' in 
 the occupation of a wealthy bookseller from London. 
 At the period of this tale it was in the occupation of 
 Squire Beechborough, a gentleman of great wealth but 
 eccentric habits ; like most of his class he was a sports- 
 man, and dearly loved to follow the hounds over a break- 
 neck country. 
 
 Squire Beechborough had not married until late in 
 life, and having no children by his lawful spouse had 
 adopted his own natural son, a well educated and 
 estimable young gentleman, as his successor; but as, 
 unluckily, the whole of his landed estate was strictly 
 entailed, it was out of his power to provide for this son, 
 otherwise than by setting aside a portion of his yearly 
 income for future contingencies. 
 
 This, Squire Beechborough had clone to the extent of 
 seventy thousand pounds ; all of which was invested in 
 government securities. But, with all this caution, the 
 squire had omitted to make his will, thereby ' failing to 
 secure his son's right to the property in question. 
 
 It was on a fine hunting morning in the month of 
 November, with a " southerly wind and a cloudy sky/' 
 when the Squire, and a large field of brother sportsmen, 
 were in full chase of a remarkably sly fox, close upon 
 
" TUMBLE-DOWN DICK.'' 37 
 
 the neighbourhood of Earnborough, when at an unlucky 
 moment his horse first threw, and then fell down on him, 
 smashing in his ribs and lacerating his lungs to so 
 dreadful an extent that death, from excessive bleeding, 
 was inevitable, unless instant relief could be obtained. 
 
 The Squire was taken to the " Duke of Cumberland " 
 tavern, and there placed upon a bed whilst one of his 
 friends went in search of a medical man to Farnham, a 
 distance of six miles. 
 
 The Squire, although in frightful pain, felt the 
 necessity of making his will without a moment's delay ; 
 and as no lawyer could be obtained any more readily 
 than a doctor, it was decided by his friends, that a will 
 should be extemporised on the spot; for this purpose 
 his son produced a small Russian leather memorandum 
 book, and amidst the lamentation of all did the poor 
 Squire dictate a brief will — leaving his son the whole of 
 his available property, the said will being witnessed and 
 signed within the period of one quarter of an hour. 
 
 No sooner was that solemn formality effected, than a 
 rush of blood choked the Squire's utterance, and in the 
 confusion of the moment, coats, hats, memorandum book, 
 and all other matters scattered about the bed, were 
 thrown on one side — the newly executed will being 
 amongst them. 
 
 Before any medical man could arrive, the poor Squire 
 was a corpse; his weeping son and sorrowing friends 
 being in the utmost consternation. 
 
38 "TUMBLE-DOWN DICK." 
 
 At the moment of tin's lamentable event sever x 
 persons, including the host of the inn, entered the room, 
 and none passed into that adjoining, whereto the coats, 
 hats, and papers were carried ; but nevertheless, when 
 search came to be made for the dead man's will, neither 
 
 IT NOR THE EUSSIAN LEATHER MEMORANDUM BOOK COULD 
 BE EOUND. 
 
 Great was the dismay of the Squire's party at this 
 unaccountable loss. The Squire's son declared that he 
 had, himself, deposited the will in the memorandum 
 book, and one of the witnesses of the will declared he had 
 removed every article, including the said memorandum 
 book, from the bed to the adjoining room which he had, 
 himself, locked. Questions were asked — accusations 
 almost made—search effected — but no will found \ and 
 no possible mode suggested by which its loss could have 
 occurred, unless through an open window in the adjoining 
 room, and to which access could only have been found 
 by means of a ladder. 
 
 Shortly after death the Squire's body was removed to 
 his own residence, and in due time consigned to its last 
 resting place, yet still no intelligence respecting the tes- 
 tamentary document came to hand ; every chamber, cup- 
 board, drawer, nook and cranny of the inn was searched, 
 and, as a last resource, a printed placard was circulated, 
 offering a reward of five hundred pounds for the 
 missing will ; but entirely without result. 
 
 As a matter of course the Squire's legitimate nephew 
 
1 e TUMBLE-DOWN DICK. ' 39 
 
 took possession, not only of the entailed estate, but also 
 of the large sum in government securities, which his 
 predecessor had intended for the inheritance of his son — 
 there being no shadow of legal excuse why administration 
 should be stayed, although a " protest " was certainly 
 entered into against his nephew's rather precipitate 
 claim in the forlorn hope that the missing will might yet 
 " turn up " somewhere. But all without avail, for six 
 months passed over — the month of May arrived, and 
 all hope was finally abandoned by the parties most 
 interested, 
 
 Meanwhile Dick Thrupples continued his monotonous 
 round of blissful indolence, living upon his income, 
 drinking with his friends, conversing with the magpie, 
 and tumbling down or up, as the case might be, in his 
 usual fashion ; as to his love episode with the strapping 
 Patty Smallcheek, it also continued in "statu quo;" the 
 maiden, however, keeping steadfast to her attachment, 
 and acting his guardian angel as heretofore. Many were 
 they who advised Dick to marry the young woman for 
 his own comfort's sake, but Dick invariably replied in 
 the negative, " he did not understand what was meant by 
 a wife ; but that when he grew richer he would take her 
 as a grandmother ! " 
 
 It was a somewhat singular circumstance, that with all 
 Dick's easy indolence of mind touching affairs in general, 
 he yet took reasonable care of his money — never spending 
 one shilling beyond his monthly income, and frequently 
 
40 
 
 " threatening " to save up something towards the future ; 
 a glimpse o*f intellect deemed very remarkable by all who 
 knew his general want of forethought. He even used to 
 express himself as intending to do such and such a thing 
 when he grew "richer," till it become a standing joke 
 against him that he should " find the Squire's will," and 
 thus become, what he desired to be, "richer" by five 
 hundred pounds. 
 
 It was on a sunny afternoon, towards the latter end of 
 May, that Dick Thrupples, the blacksmith, and the 
 sexton, entered their usual haunt, a back parlour in the 
 "Duke of Cumberland" tavern ; and the blacksmith, as 
 a preliminary to the evening's mirth, had taken pains to 
 arrange a chair, with one of its legs loose, in the place 
 usually occupied by Dick, intending to enjoy the fun of 
 seeing him sprawl upon the floor; but the ever watchful 
 Patty Smallcheek had observed this benevolent intention, 
 and determined to defeat it ; for which reason she called 
 attention to some matter out of doors, and cunningly 
 exchanging the two chairs, provided for her favourite a 
 plate of Welsh rabbit, thus ensuring his taking the right 
 place at table. 
 
 This having been done, the wily blacksmith fell into 
 his own trap by sprawling on the floor just as he had 
 anticipated the enjoyment of seeing poor Dick in a 
 similar position ; and so great was the laughter of all 
 parties standing by, that " mine host " forthwith deter- 
 mined on having a picture painted to commemorate the 
 
" TUMBLE-DOWN DICK." 41 
 
 occasion, so soon as he could find an artist equal to the 
 "job/' as he called it* 
 
 After harmony had been restored, conversation turned 
 upon the " lost will." Dick Thrupples was interrogated 
 as to where he had last searched (for he searched some- 
 where almost every day), when a luminous idea struck 
 the sexton, who turned abruptly towards Dick, and in a 
 tone of earnest inquiry said, " Dick, my boy, didst ever 
 ax the magpie?" 
 
 Now Dick had never asked the magpie, whether 
 because he did not, himself, believe in those powers of 
 inter- communication which were ascribed to him by his 
 companions, or whether, simply because he believed the 
 magpie could not tell him ; but certain it is that Dick 
 immediately responded to the sexton's question by 
 answering, " No, but I will ask him now." 
 
 Accordingly Dick, followed by his quondam friends, 
 sallied forth, and finding "Jack" the magpie on his 
 usual "beat," namely, before the front of the house, 
 inspecting the poultry, he attempted to capture the bird 
 after his usual manner, but found, contrary to expecta- 
 tion, that " Jack " refused to be captured or cajoled, 
 hopping off as fast as he was pursued, and looking 
 suspiciously at a morsel of bread held forth as a lure. 
 
 * The picture was soon afterwards painted, representing 
 the actual fact, and the sign of the house also changed to 
 that of " Tumble-down Dick." It is only the popular error 
 of to-day which supposes the sprawling figure to be that of 
 "' Dick," it being, in reality, that of the blacksmith. 
 
42 " TUMBLE-DOWN DICK." 
 
 " Jack's " wings had long since been clipped, the bird 
 could therefore only hop, or at best ascend, by means of 
 his wings, to very slight elevations from the ground, 
 through a series of short flights ; and on the present 
 occasion exerted, to the utmost power, his abilities that 
 way by perching firstly, upon the house-door top, next, 
 upon the gutter over the house front, then upon a low 
 gable point, where, supposing himself safe, he looked 
 and breathed defiance at' Dick, who forthwith sought a 
 ladder, determined not to be outwitted by his small 
 friend. 
 
 Just as the ladder was brought, " Jack," looking upon 
 the proceeding as quite "unparliamentary," shifted his 
 quarters to the top of a chimney pot from which he 
 looked down, his head knowingly on one side, with some 
 degree of apprehension, but nevertheless kept his post. 
 
 Now it should be told that the "Duke of Cumberland" 
 was a tavern which had received many additions since its 
 first building, the latest of all being a three-story wing, 
 surmounted by a tall stack of brick built chimneys, 
 towering high above the gable roof of old and rotten 
 straw thatch that covered in the ancient portion of the 
 house. 
 
 Dick had ascended, by means of his ladder, to the 
 first roof, in hopes of capturing the magpie; but "Jack" 
 was in a coquettish mood, and would not be captured, 
 at least, till driven from all his resting places by sheer 
 compulsion. With a great effort, Jack had contrived to 
 
" TUMBLE-DOWN DICK." 43 
 
 mount the window sill of the third story, when Dick, 
 putting up the ladder to the roof of the old house, placed 
 it against the wall of the brick building, in order to 
 pursue the bird to the last of her possible perching 
 places, when his usual luck followed, as a matter of 
 course, the ladder he was ascending slipped aside, and 
 poor Dick fell crashing through the rotten thatched roof 
 into a space between it and the ceiling of a room below; 
 Jack the magpie retaining his elevated post, and chuck- 
 ling over the fall of his best friend, almost as if he had 
 been a Christian. 
 
 Great was the outcry of Dick Thrupples when he 
 found himself struggling amidst a cloud of dust, an 
 avalanche of straw, and an uncomfortable bed of broken 
 rafters ; to rise up and shake himself vigorously was his 
 first effort; and on finding no bones broken, to look 
 about him was his second ; but almost before he could 
 do so, " Jack " the magpie descended of his own accord, 
 and began to take measures of his own for inspecting 
 the place, which was no other than a disused loft that 
 had never been entered for many long years, and the 
 very entrance to which had been boarded over ; the only 
 peculiarity of the place consisted in its having a chimney 
 or air vent, descending from the same stack as served for 
 all the rooms of the old portion of the house itself; and 
 upon the flooring, or rafters, immediately below this lay 
 an accumulation of odds and ends, all of which had been 
 lost or missed for half a generation. There were old 
 
bones, several silver tea spoons, a thimble, some lace 
 ornaments, the remains of sundry old ballads, one or two 
 short pipes, and, wonderful to relate, Squire Beech- 
 borough's missing will, safely folded up in the Eussian 
 leather memorandum book ! all of which items were 
 doubtless dropped down, from the chimney above, by 
 master " Jack " the magpie. 
 
 With a shout of exultation, Dick Thrupples proclaimed 
 his good luck, and descended from the loft, not merely 
 a wiser but a richer man; for he obtained, the five 
 hundred pounds reward ; the Squire's son obtained his 
 rightful legacy ; and Dick Thrupples consented to marry 
 Patty Smallcheek, to the satisfaction of all parties con- 
 cerned, even of the magpie, who chattered his approbation 
 to the understanding of all. 
 
 The five hundred pounds, obtained as a reward for the 
 lost will, Dick deposited, for safety's sake, with the before 
 named Humphreys, from whom he obtained his monthly 
 pension, and who had, for some years past, been collector 
 of the assessed or King's taxes for his district, being 
 reputed a rich and thriving man. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 It would have been very easy, as well as convenient, to 
 have ended this story with the marriage of Dick and 
 Patty ; but truth, which is stranger than fiction, must 
 be told, and the truth is well worth reading. 
 
"tumble-down dick." 45 
 
 One month, exactly, after the preceding event, 
 preparations having been made on a grand scale for the 
 approaching wedding, Dick went, as usual, to Mr. 
 Humphreys for his monthly stipend, as also a small 
 addition of funds to meet coming expenses, when he was 
 apprised of a terrible fact. 
 
 Mr. Humphreys, the rich, honest, well-to-do collector 
 of public taxes, and the depository of numberless sums 
 belonging to poor people (whose hanker he was supposed 
 to be) — had levanted — gone — disappeared — run away — 
 was gone off to AMERICA ! Upon inquiry, it was 
 found that he had secretly disposed of his land, collected 
 all his debts, received all available monies, and had really 
 disappeared in toto. 
 
 Dreadful and astounding was the loss to very many, 
 but to poor Dick Thrupples it was total ruin. The blow 
 fell upon his small intellect, crushing all the little 
 amount of energy it had ever possessed ; but not so did 
 it fall on Patty Smallcheek, who girded up her loins, 
 brushed up her faculties, put on her best clothes, 
 collected all her savings of several years, and finally 
 announced her determination to follow old Humphreys 
 and get her lover's money back, even if she had to go 
 to America. 
 
 Of course all Parnborough thought Patty Smallcheek 
 mad; firstly, because it w r as by no means sure that 
 Humphreys had started for America, when he might 
 have a thousand other places to choose from; and 
 
46 " TUMBLE-DOWN DICK." 
 
 secondly, because Patty was a poor ignorant wench who, 
 probably, did not know that America was absolutely out 
 of England. But Patty took her course in spite of all 
 advice or ridicule, and walked off to London that same 
 night, carrying all her worldly wealth, consisting of nine- 
 teen pounds five shillings and sixpence, securely sewed 
 within her stays, leaving Dick Thrupples in care of his 
 old hostess. 
 
 Before following the honest hearted girl on her strange 
 journey, it will be necessary to premise, that then, as now, 
 America was truly the favoured destination of all run- 
 away rogues, but was not then, as now, accessible any 
 day of the year, for the mail packets, which sailed but 
 once a month from Liverpool, and an occasional merchant 
 vessel, were the only means of transit. Also, that run- 
 away bankrupts, thieves, and defaulters, were scarcely 
 ever followed beyond the shores of the three kingdoms ; 
 no police force, of any tolerable organization, being 
 available, and not even "Bow-Street runners " as yet 
 invented. 
 
 So far as Old Humphreys'' defalcations went, the 
 government took little heed, seizing upon the property 
 of the old man's sureties, without the slightest delay or 
 remorse, and leaving them to obtain whatever restitution 
 they could. 
 
 Such being the case, and the sort of case pretty well 
 anticipated by the run-away collector, Patty Smallcheek's 
 enterprise was not quite so forlorn as it looked to be. 
 
" TUMBLE-DOWN DICK." 47 
 
 We will now follow our brave heroine, but in order to 
 avoid circumlocution will be very brief in our detail. 
 
 On arriving in London, Patty lost no time, but paid 
 her money at the "Spread Eagle" in Gracechurch Street, 
 booked herself by the waggon stage for Liverpool, and 
 at the end of seven days from the time of leaving Farn- 
 borough, reached that now celebrated port, then only in 
 the childhood of its commercial importance. 
 
 Taking no counsel but her own shrewdness, Patty 
 arranged her dress so as to avoid being conspicuous, 
 obtained information as to what vessels were about 
 leaving port, watched every passenger who embarked, 
 and was at last rewarded by detecting Old Humphreys, 
 through the disguise of a juvenile wig, and clutching him 
 on the shoulder. 
 
 '* So Ize caught ee at last, old wagabone ! " were the 
 mellifluous words addressed by the Amazonian lass to her 
 prisoner ; and it would require the pencil of a Hogarth 
 to do justice to Old Humphreys' amazement as he 
 recognized his capturer. 
 
 u Get away, Jezebel," shrieked the astounded rogue, 
 " get away — you mistake me, woman." 
 
 " Mistake ye — is it ? " again spoke Patty, " may be 
 then your name isn't Joe Humphreys, and ye don't 
 come from Primley, and yer haven't my Dick's five 
 hundred pounds in yer pocket, and yer didn't run away 
 with the King's taxes, and yer — '' 
 
 "Stop, stop," cried Old Humphreys, who wished for 
 
48 
 
 nothing so little as an exposure to the crowd now gather- 
 ing round. u Stop, come aside with me, and I will prove 
 you are mistaken/' 
 
 Patty, who saw her bird securely caught, was nothing 
 loath to arrange matters privately, and went with him into 
 an open doored tavern, where, after much determination 
 on the side of Patty, and much reluctance on the part 
 of Old Humphreys, it was agreed that Dick Thrupples's 
 five hundred pounds, and Patty's own nineteen pounds 
 five shillings and sixpence should be instantly refunded 
 by Humphreys, as the price of his departure for America, 
 unscathed. 
 
 The old rogue essayed all means in his power to avoid 
 this alternative, but in vain ; his victor was a determined 
 woman, strong as a man, armed with the power to bring 
 destruction on his head, and with the full intention of so 
 doing, if her demands were not complied with ; he there- 
 fore unbuckled a capacious pocket-book, drew forth five 
 Bank of England notes for one hundred pounds each, 
 unburdened his pocket of nineteen guineas, and with a 
 sigh like that of a dying grampus, resigned himself to 
 his fate, taking Patty 's assurance for his sole guarantee 
 against exposure. 
 
 Calling up the landlord of the tavern, Patty Small- 
 cheek requested him to word a receipt, and sign it in her 
 name ; she forthwith appended her mark, and delivering 
 the paper to Old Humphreys in a business like style, took 
 
49 
 
 her departure, whilst the old rogue stood shaking in his 
 shoes before the astonished innkeeper. 
 
 What became of Old Humphreys for several years 
 after no one could tell, but America did not seem to 
 agree with his health, for he was known to " turn up " 
 again in England, still in the farming line, and was a 
 great stickler for Tory principles. As for Patty and Dick, 
 they married, and thrived, despite all prognostications to 
 the contrary by all Patty's friends. 
 
 In course of time, they became proprietors of the 
 " Duke of Cumberland " tavern, which, after their death, 
 was called by its present name of " Tumble-down-Dick, '' 
 to be so remembered, by all posterity, in honour of its 
 celebrated tenant. 
 
THE MILLER OF COVE. 
 
 " I care for nobody, no not I, 
 And nohody cares for me." 
 
 Old Soxg. 
 
 About the middle of last century, or more properly 
 speaking, about the year of grace 1745, just after 
 Charles Edward Stuart, surnamed the Pretender, had 
 left both his friends and his enemies in the lurch, there 
 stood in the midst of that dreary waste known as "Cove 
 Common/'' a ricketty tumble-down old windmill, built 
 after a fashion long gone by, and, at the time now 
 alluded to, fast falling into the last stage of decay. 
 
 To those readers not versed in the topography of 
 Hampshire, it may be necessary to state that Cove Com- 
 mon, even to this hour, is a dreary waste of land to the 
 south west of " Cove/'' a secluded village in the vicinity 
 of Farnborough, and consisting, for the most part, of 
 land unfitted for agricultural purposes, being extreme- 
 ly variable in its character, showing here and there 
 patches of heather or gorse, exhibiting long deserts of 
 sand, with a few straggling blades of grass occasionally 
 appearing, some few trifling water courses, and occasion- 
 ally a small clump of pine or fir trees, not particularly 
 luxuriant in their growth, excepting where the common 
 itself was traversed by the well known turnpike road 
 
THE 3IILLEX OF CO YE. # 51 
 
 from Bagshot to Farnham, a portion of which, at 
 the present day, exhibits the frill growth of what was, a 
 century before, a mere sapling plantation. 
 
 Dreary as was this spot at even the best of times, it 
 was rendered more than even objectionable to travellers, 
 through the fact of its being the one especial rendezvous 
 of art the four winds of heaven; if there was no wind 
 anywhere else there was plenty of it on Cove Common, 
 and if there was a wind anywhere else it blew hurricanes 
 on Cove Common, and if there was a wind tempest on 
 the - "Hog's Back/' or on Salisbury plain, there were 
 cyclones and typhoons rattling, tumbling, and tearing 
 about on Cove Common, uprooting the very blades of 
 grass, and driving up the sand in eddies and whirlpools, 
 like the waves of a turbulent sea. 
 
 It was probably for this reason that a windmill had 
 been erected in the locality, the only marvel being that 
 the said mill had ever retained its integrity in a spot so 
 entirely destitute of shelter, as was the particular one 
 on which it appeared at the opening of this story. 
 
 Simon Burr, the occupant of this identical mill, had 
 arrived . at that locality together with his wife and infant 
 daughter, some seventeen years and a half previously 
 to the events now about to be related, and a brief 
 recapitulation of intermediate occurrences is indispensable 
 to the proper understanding of what follows. But 
 before entering upon particulars, it is necessary to 
 state that the " mill " in cptestion was so situated as to 
 stand a good, mile and a half distant from " Cove " itself 
 
52 t THE MILLER OE COVE. 
 
 and scarcely nearer to any other habitable district, so 
 that its isolation was as complete as its desolate appear- 
 ance was uninviting, rendering it a matter of great sur- 
 prise to the neighbourhood that any man of common 
 sense should have the temerity to speculate in so strange 
 a place of business as the mill of Cove Common. 
 
 Be this as it may, at the period before specified, 
 the mill was found to be tenanted by one Simon Burr, 
 a heavy-made repulsive-looking man, his wife, a small, 
 good-looking, smartly-dressed woman, and their infant 
 daughter, a bright-eyed merry-hearted little thing, just 
 then beginning to "toddle" about in the thirteenth 
 month of her age. 
 
 It will be needless to enter into minute particulars 
 regarding transactions long antecedent to the main 
 interest of this tale ; it shall therefore be said merely, 
 that Simon Burr, who to his other unamiable quali- 
 ties, added those of unsociability and extreme igno- 
 rance, appeared to care very little about business 
 matters, and although not quite unversed in the 
 routine of his trade, yet showed so little alacrity as to 
 pay no heed whether much or little corn found its way 
 up to be ground, thereby giving his neighbours reason 
 to suspect that he and his small family did not depend 
 on the profits of the mill for their living, absolutely — a 
 matter in which they were probably right ; but whatso- 
 ever was the exact source of the miller's income, it re- 
 mained a secret locked up in the bosom of the miller's 
 
THE MILLER OF COVE. 53 
 
 wife, who kept that secret to herself, not even acquaint- 
 ing her husband with it, far less any one of the several 
 gossipping neighbours who occasionally made their way 
 up to the mill, almost for the sole purpose of obtaining 
 information. 
 
 For nigh upon ten years, Simon, his wife, and child 
 led a somewhat unobtrusive life ; the miller in his 
 stolid indifference to all things, going very little into 
 the society of his fellow-men, avoiding the vice of 
 drunkenness so common in his day, and keeping very 
 early hours at the mill, being rarely out of his bed 
 later than eight o'clock in winter, and nine in summer ; 
 his wife devoting much of her time to the education of 
 little " Nelly " in which occupation it was hereafter 
 found that she had evinced both knowledge and abili- 
 ties beyond her apparent station in life, whilst the child 
 herself grew apace and had become a tall, graceful, merry- 
 hearted girl, the pet of all who knew her, and the 
 chosen playmate of such few farmers' children as the 
 neighbourhood afforded • all of whom were proud and 
 lofty to claim " Nelly Burr " as their very particular 
 friend. 
 
 But a period had now arrived when it was found 
 
 necessary to place the young girl under somewhat better 
 restraint than that of her mother ; and it was ultimately 
 determined that a famous " Seminary for young ladies," 
 situated at Guildford, should be resorted to for the comple- 
 tion of Miss Nelly's education j accordingly, much to the 
 
54 THE MILLER OF COVE. 
 
 surprise of some, arid to the envy of others, all of whom 
 wondered " where the money was to come from/'' Miss 
 Eleanor Burr, the miller's daughter, was forthwith 
 despatched to the destination before named, there to 
 consort with young ladies, whose parentage was, gene- 
 rally speaking, of much higher caste than her own, and 
 by associating with whom she speedily became greatly 
 improved, not merely in outward appearance, but also in 
 all the scholastic acquirements of the day then in vogue. 
 
 For seven years, Nelly Burr continued the course of 
 study marked out for her, during which time no per- 
 ceptible change took place in the affairs of her parents, 
 both of whom followed their usual routine of general 
 indifference to what most people called the " pleasures of 
 life, rarely venturing beyond the walls of their mill, 
 which, being built upon a solid basement of brick, served 
 both for residence and business purposes as well, and, 
 not being so forlorn looking within as it seemed to be 
 from without, served tolerably well for all household 
 purposes; but suddenly, and almost without warning, 
 there came a change. Mrs. Burr was taken ill, not 
 very seriously, as was supposed, but yet sufficiently so 
 to necessitate the visits of a surgeon who lived at the 
 distance of two or three miles at least, and for whom 
 a messenger was instantly despatched. 
 
 Before, however, the surgeon could come, Mrs. Burr 
 became speechless, greatly to the disturbance of her hus- 
 band, who evidently sought to obtain from her some in- 
 
THE MILLER OP CO YE. 00 
 
 formation to which he attached the utmost value ; vain 
 were the attempts of Mrs. Burr to attain utterance, — ■ at 
 length the surgeon arrived, and it was at once pro- 
 nounced that a paralytic fit had set in, which would 
 probably terminate only with her life ; at this juncture a 
 sheet of paper, together with pen and ink, were placed 
 before the suffering woman, but all in vain, she was 
 powerless to make any communication, and before an 
 hour had passed away, died, having "made no sign." 
 
 This melancholy termination appeared to greatly 
 affect the miller, who, sending immediately for " Nelly/'' 
 betook himself to a degree of such frantic sorrow as 
 appeared wholly incompatible with his previous course 
 of life, indeed so greatly, that even the poor girl herself, 
 in the first fulness of her own grief, was compelled to 
 attempt the lessening of her father's trouble, lest it 
 should fall into violence. 
 
 No sooner, however, were performed the funeral rites 
 of Mrs. Burr, and the office of housekeeper had become 
 devolved on Nelly, — than a most remarkable difference 
 began to show itself in the temper and habits of the 
 miller himself. 
 
 Never sociable or intelligent, Simon Burr became 
 downright rough and almost cruel in his treatment of 
 his daughter, as well as reckless in his general demeanour, 
 going out late of nights, seeking companionship with 
 low, brutal fellows of suspicious character, and com- 
 mitting all sorts of eccentricities more allied to absolute 
 
56 THE MILLER OF COVE. 
 
 stupidity than to intentional crime. He would quarrel 
 with the very few harmless people who might have been 
 his friends, and would thrust his company on others 
 who made no secret of detesting him for his 
 surly habits in former times ; above all, he appeared to 
 have taken deadly hatred towards a certain young 
 gentleman, the son of a well-to-do farmer at Crondall, 
 and whom both he and his late wife had looked upon 
 as the affianced husband of Nelly, with the full concur- 
 rence of all parties concerned. 
 
 The young gentleman, by name, Stephen Boldash, 
 was the handsomest lad, the best swimmer, the finest 
 cricketer, and most powerful wrestler of all the country 
 round, and, in the ardour of his love for his young 
 and beautiful affianced, had not only joyfully submitted 
 to all the miller's bad temper, but had sought to 
 propitiate his good will by every means in his power, 
 not, as it once seemed, without effect; but suddenly, 
 without ostensible cause, and wholly without either 
 rhyme or reason, the miller interdicted his visits to the 
 mill, giving him to understand that if he ever should 
 be seen within its precincts "he (the miller) would 
 break every bone within his (Stephen Boldash's) skin/' 
 which elegant piece of oratory was replied to by the 
 said Stephen to the effect that " such a game was one 
 which two gentlemen could engage in with equal advan- 
 tage," whereat Simon Burr took additional offence 
 and would have attempted summary vengeance, but 
 
THE MILLER OF COVE. 57 
 
 that his half-amazed and half-annoyed dispntant showed 
 so much good temper, and so much gymnastic activity 
 (a science in which he excelled), as fairly astonished 
 the burly miller into something akin to admiration. 
 
 Matters had gone on in this way for six months 
 after the death of Mrs. Burr, when the incidents about 
 to be related took their origin. 
 
 Stephen Boldash, in defiance of the miller's interdict, 
 had contrived to see his lady-love pretty nearly every 
 night, choosing for his time of visit, those hours when 
 the miller himself was invariably away from the mill. 
 For some few weeks past, the young woman who acted 
 in the capacity of domestic servant had been discharged, 
 and a poor slip of a lass, from Cove, made her ap- 
 pearance every morning, taking her departure in the 
 afternoon, whereby sundry domestic offices fell to the 
 share of Nelly beyond custom. Alterations had also 
 been made in the interior economy of the mill; the 
 chamber once occupied by Simon and his wife being 
 appropriated to the use of Nelly, whilst that in late 
 occupation of the serving girl was now the miller's own 
 bed-room, the large semi-circular apartment forming 
 one side of entire basement of the mill being used as part 
 sitting-room, part kitchen, and part warehouse; its 
 floor being kept in continual disorder by the piling of 
 sacks, both full and empty, with an admixture of other 
 nuisances greatly distressing to the eye of a female 
 accustomed to tidiness. 
 
58 THE MILLER OF COVE. 
 
 It had also lately become apparent to Nelly that the 
 funds of the establishment were becoming somewhat 
 low, that certain little luxuries were missing— that, in 
 fact, her only parent was scarcely so thriving in cir- 
 cumstances as w r as his wont, and more than once had 
 she endeavoured to arrive at a positive conclusion in 
 the matter, only to be repulsed almost savagely. 
 
 Now, it must here be intimated, a little, no doubt, 
 to the lowering of Miss Nelly 's dignity, as a heroine 
 of romance, that she and her father had never been 
 upon those terms of affectionate love which should 
 properly subsist between father and daughter ; true it is 
 she had always yielded him obedience, but it was from 
 habit only, not from choice; and of late years the 
 bonds of this habit had greatly loosened themselves, 
 through the gradual decline of that regard which is 
 the result only of respect felt and acknowledged. 
 
 Within the last two months, poor Nelly had 
 found that her father looked upon her as an incum- 
 brance, a something which stood in his way, a restric- 
 tion on his own movements ; and it was with extreme 
 pain that the young girl found her suspicions of such 
 becoming more warrantable every day. The miller's 
 habits, too> were becoming somewhat mysterious ; he 
 attached himself to the company of one man in par- 
 ticular, a barber, named Norcutt, whose unmannerly 
 disposition had long since driven away all customers, 
 
THE MILLER OF COVE. 59 
 
 leaving him no friends except such as were, like him- 
 self, at war with fortune. It was to this man Simon 
 Burr attached himself, going out with him very 
 late at night, in which case it was his custom to 
 lock the door of the mill outside, leaving his daughter 
 positively a prisoner — more even than that, he had 
 lately not merely locked the outer door of the mill, 
 but on several occasions even locked her up in her 
 chamber, so that she might not await his return by 
 sitting at the fireside for hours together in anxious or 
 curio as speculation as to the cause of his absence. 
 
 It was on the evening of a cold and windy November 
 day, eight or nine months after the death of Mrs. Burr, 
 that the miller and his daughter sat by the fireside 
 of their general apartment, having finished their latest 
 meal, and both regarding in silence the ruddy glow of the 
 half burnt logs as they blazed steadily in the grate. 
 Scarcely a word had passed between them for the last 
 half hour, and the miller himself was beginning to doze 
 in his wide, leather arm-chair, when a peculiar sound, 
 somewhat like frhe whistling of a bird outside the mill, 
 caused Nelly's ears to tingle and her cheek to be 
 covered with a burning blush; whatever might have 
 been the particular nature of the sound, it appeared 
 to have escaped the miller's own observation, and was 
 immediately followed by the uprising of the miller's 
 daughter from her chair, and by the lighting of a tallow 
 
60 THE MILLER OF COVE, 
 
 candle — of that thin kind now out of use, but then 
 known as " twenty to the pound/' giving a very poor 
 and uncertain light. 
 
 The appearance of the apartment itself was some- 
 what incongruous : immediately before the fire stood 
 the table on which was spread the material of a sub- 
 stantial evening meal, but it was not the heavy square 
 table in general use which used formerly to occupy 
 that post, being one of those which stood upon a single 
 claw; the form of the apartment was semi-circular, 
 and pretty nearly all the articles of furniture in gene- 
 ral requisition filled up one end of it, whilst the other 
 end was appropriated to the stowage of certain imple- 
 ments and appurtenances connected with the business 
 of the mill. Bushel measures, tools of various kinds, 
 sieves and baskets were piled up carelessly together, 
 some dozen sacks, filled with' corn, flour, and potatoes, 
 stood supporting each other against the outer edge 
 of the room, whilst a couple of dozen empty sacks were 
 doubled up in halves and lay piled up in a heap beside 
 those which were full — overhead, where thick rafters 
 of solid oak served to support the story immediately 
 above, there hung one solitary flitch of bacon, partly 
 cut through, and several paper bags of herbs with a 
 large dried pumpkin or gourd occupying a central spot 
 immediately opposite the fireplace; on either side of 
 the mantel stood a door, the one opening upon a stair- 
 case which led to Nelly's chamber, and the other 
 
THE MILLER OE COVE. 61 
 
 leading into a small closet which contained the miller's 
 own bed. 
 
 Scarcely had the candle been lighted than three 
 distinct taps were heard on the outer door of the mil], 
 upon hearing which, the miller started up quickly. 
 and instead of receiving his visitor within the apart- 
 ment, himself issued out, closing the door immediately 
 afterwards. 
 
 Nelly, who, for special reasons, was tolerably well 
 versed in the art of signalling, knew perfectly well that 
 her father's visitor was the man Norcutt, whom she 
 greatly disliked, fearing, as she did, that he was 
 leading her father into mischievous courses ; his myste- 
 rious " three raps " had always preceded some excursion 
 or enterprise which kept the miller out later than usual 
 and sent him back gloomy and discontented. 
 
 On the present occasion, Simon Burr re-entered the 
 mill with his countenance bearing a particularly deter- 
 mined aspect; his first words to Nelly were, "to your 
 chamber, wench " — a command which provoked some 
 little remonstrance on the young lady's part, leading 
 to a reiterated order on the part of the miller, who 
 forthwith almost thrust his daughter up the stairs, and 
 into her room, the door of which he locked, taking 
 with him the key in his pocket, and afterwards descend- 
 ing the stairs — thinking doubtless his own actions to 
 be free from observation. 
 
 But herein the miller was' wrong — not only as 
 
6£ THE MILLER, OE COVE. 
 
 regarded this latter calculation, but also as regarded 
 the one which preceded it — for Nelly, who had been 
 locked up several times before, had provided herself 
 with a second key, and had also discovered for her- 
 self a mode of observing whatever might occur in the 
 lower apartment, by means of a tolerably broad chink 
 in the flooring of her room, exactly at the very best spot 
 for making observations; it may, or it may not be 
 that she widened the chink herself, but if so, where 
 is the woman, so devoid of curiosity, that would not 
 have improved the circumstances in a like way under 
 similar provocation? 
 
 No sooner had the miller descended the stair, than 
 Nelly betook herself to the friendly chink, wherefrom she 
 beheld her father button himself well up in a large 
 loose wrapper which enveloped his whole person, 
 after which she saw him take from the press cup- 
 board, which formed a part of the partition wall of 
 the mill, some dark-looking object and a flask containing, 
 as she was always given to suppose, brandy or spirit ; 
 — he then drew over his brow a large leafed black 
 hat, very different from the light-coloured head cover- 
 ing required by his trade, and prepared to sally forth, 
 so different a kind of being from his usual self, that 
 no small portion of alarm mixed itself with the sur- 
 prise his daughter felt at so unusual a transformation. 
 Before, however, Nelly could suggest any interpre- 
 tation of the mystery, Simon Burr had departed, 
 
THE MILLER OF COVE. 63 
 
 locking the outer door of the mill, as usual/ after 
 which the sound of retreating footsteps told suffici- 
 ently that she might re-open the door of her own 
 room, and descend to the lower apartment, if she chose 
 so to do. 
 
 As it happened, she did so choose, bearing in mind 
 the recollection of a certain signal, given immediately 
 before the arrival of her father's quondam acquaintance, 
 Norcutt. 
 
 Descending the stairs, Nelly lost no time in raking 
 together the dying embers of the fire, and placing upon 
 them several small logs, which soon sent forth a merry 
 blaze, sufficient to have notified to the miller how vain 
 had been his precaution, had he happened to turn his 
 head from the path he was actually pursuing. 
 
 There Avas one, however, whose head was not turned 
 away, for, so soon as the merry blaze gave indication of 
 a presence within the mill, then a window, some ten feet 
 above the ground, opened from without, and a joyous • 
 looking pair of jet black eyes, belonging to a sun-burnt 
 yet ruddy countenance peered saucily into the room, 
 quickly followed by the entire corporeality of an extremely 
 active and strongly built young man — no other than the 
 Stephen Boldash before named as the acknowledged lover 
 of Nelly Burr. 
 
 Jumping into the room with a bound like a cork, 
 Stephen made scant ceremony of saluting his lady love, 
 who, in return, after the slightest possible show of coyness, 
 
64 THE MILLER OF COVE. 
 
 suffered her lover to place his arm round her waist and 
 lead her to the fireside, where the two accommodated 
 themselves in the one large roomy leathern chair lately 
 vacated hy the miller himself, and the following conversa- 
 tion ensued. 
 
 Stephen Boldash. — Well, Nelly darling, you see I never 
 break a promise, let come what may ; I have vowed to 
 see and speak with you every evening, in spite of you 
 know who, and here I am. 
 
 Nelly. — Yes, dear Ste,, but what terrible risks you 
 run; were my father to detect you here, evil would 
 befall us both, perhaps all there, for he is violent and 
 you are rash ; but how comes it you ventured so close 
 without my signal being given ? 
 
 S. B. — I was in a place of safety and secrecy. 
 
 N. — How ? where ? surely not on that side of the 
 mill at the back of its entrance ? 
 
 8. B. — No, dearest, in a better place than that. I 
 found the mill sails stopped, so made a flying leap at the 
 one nearest the ground, climbed up it, like a cat up a 
 ladder, and took my station at the cross- centres, where 
 it would have required a sharp pair of eyes, on such a 
 night as this, to have known me from a huge spider 
 setting in the middle of its web. Ha ha ! 
 
 N. — Silly fellow, and you have run such a foolish risk 
 of detection, or other danger, for a portionless girl like me? 
 
 S. B. — Not portionless, dear Nelly, for you have 
 youth, beauty, and the sweetest temper in the world, 
 
THE MILLER OE COVE. 65 
 
 which are of more worth than all the gold and jewels in 
 existence ; while, as for danger, why I like it, I glory in 
 it ! besides, where and what is the clanger I would not 
 face for such a reward as this ? 
 
 Whereat Stephen Boldash, not at all shy of displaying 
 his affection, took just so many kisses as could well be 
 taken without drawing breath, and then was shocked to 
 find that the face of Nelly, instead of being wreathed 
 with smiles, was positively bathed in tears; a matter 
 which surprised him greatly. 
 
 There is no need to detail any further conversation 
 between the pair, for on being tenderly pressed to com- 
 municate her grief, Nelly made a clean breast of her 
 sorrows, telling Stephen how much cause she had to fear 
 that the miller had taken to wicked courses, and not 
 scrupling to inform him that Simon Burr had left the 
 mill in company with Norcutt, a confession she might 
 well have omitted, insomuch as Stephen acknowledged 
 he had seen all from his position on the mill sails ; when, 
 however, Nelly communicated the fact of her father's 
 having armed himself with some suspicious looking 
 weapon, Stephen immediately guessed the said weapon 
 to be a horse pistol, in which supposition he was con- 
 firmed by seeing upon the table an ounce, or more, of 
 coarse gunpowder, which had evidently been spilt from 
 a flask in the darkness and hurry of a moment. 
 
 This terrible confirmation of Nelly's fears rendered 
 the remainder of an hour's conversation the reverse of 
 
 F 
 
66 THE MILLER OF COVE. 
 
 agreeable, but notwithstanding this, time flew on quicker 
 than was supposed, and the pair were taken at much 
 surprise by hearing shuffling footsteps, accompanied by 
 the voice of the miller himself, approaching the door of 
 the mill. 
 
 Time was not for consideration, scarcely for action ; 
 but in one moment's space, Nelly contrived to envelop 
 the form of her lover in one of the empty sacks, before 
 alluded to, and to place him beside those full sacks which 
 stood close behind the others — in one moment more, she 
 had tripped up stairs, and with her own key locked her- 
 self up again, just as if nothing had occurred since the 
 departure of her father. 
 
 Scarcely had this been effected, than the miller opened 
 the door, and by the whispered conversation, as well as 
 by the shuffling noise made, it became evident that he 
 was still accompanied by his ill-favoured companion, as 
 also by something else — a heavy load, which the two 
 bore in, with some difficulty, between them, and let fall 
 upon the floor with a heavy " thud/' 
 
 Immediately afterwards the door closed, and from her 
 post of observation up above, Nelly was enabled to 
 observe that her father appeared as if in great trepida- 
 tion, for his hand trembled violently as it essayed to 
 thrust the tallow candle, which he had taken from the 
 table, into the yet smouldering embers of the fire, 
 muttering, as he did so, unintelligible words of im- 
 patience. 
 
THE MILLER OF COVE. 67 
 
 At length, some of the melted tallow falling on the 
 hot embers, ignited the candle wick and produced a 
 sudden flash of light, revealing to the poor girl's horror- 
 stricken faculties the presence of a ghastly corpse, which 
 was indeed the burthen brought in between her father 
 and the man Norcutt, and which, in all the rigid agony 
 of death contortion, lay with its glassy eyes wide open, 
 and the clotted blood yet clinging to a wound in the jaw. 
 
 Spell-bound in horror, and with a stifled scream upon 
 her lips, Nelly yet continued to look down upon the 
 awful scene below. After having lit his candle, Simon 
 Burr, and Norcutt, each surveyed the dead man's body 
 in silence; after which they raised their eyes simul- 
 taneously, and meeting each other's glance, appeared both 
 half stupefied. At length the miller spoke : — ' ' A black 
 night we have made of it ; " to which Norcutt replied, 
 "Why did the fool resist then? we had nowght for it 
 but to stop his noise after he had bawled out." " He 
 will bawl out no more," again spoke the miller, " and 
 now the deed is done we had best see what it is worth ; 
 so let us search his pockets." 
 
 "With this the two men proceeded to rifle the dead 
 man's pockets, when, for the first time, it became 
 apparent what sort of personage it was that had fallen 
 their victim. 
 
 The murdered man, judging from his ample overcoat, 
 and neat suit of black garments, together with his 
 possesion of a large silver watch and a bulky black 
 
68 THE MILLER OE COVE. 
 
 leathern pocket book, had the appearance of a lawyer, or 
 of some confidential traveller belonging to a well-to-do 
 employer, a sum of money too, amounting in all to 
 several guineas, gave extra proof of his respectability, 
 whilst the absence of the usual sword (at all times then 
 worn by individuals calling themselves "gentlemen" 
 whilst travelling) proved that he must have arrived to 
 within a short distance, in some public conveyance, 
 probably by the newly established Portsmouth light 
 waggon. 
 
 After minutely searching, the two men, finding no 
 more money nor other valuables, proceeded to undo the 
 leather case, which was found to contain papers and 
 documents only, none of which they were enabled to 
 decpiher by reason of their ignorance of reading or 
 writing; besides which, none of the papers in question 
 possessed any particular claim to their curiosity excepting 
 one large sealed envelope, tied up with red tape, and 
 bearing a superscription in large characters ; this the 
 man Norcutt took occasion to secure, whilst Simon 
 Burr, after counting the money, and placing the gold 
 and silver in two separate heaps, rose up from his stooping 
 position with a deep drawn sigh, and addressing his 
 companion in crime with a saddened voice, spoke — 
 
 " We have sold our souls and bodies for fifty -three 
 shillings each, I wish I had had nowght to do with it." 
 
 "Thee'st a fool, Simon Burr," replied Norcutt, "if 
 thee beest sorry, I beant; so let us e'en pocket our 
 
THE MILLEE OF COVE. 69 
 
 gains, and pnt this carrion away afore the day comes to 
 tell tales." 
 
 Hereupon arose a discussion as to how the body should 
 be disposed of; it being ultimately decided that they 
 should place it in a sack, and take it betwixt them to a 
 large sheet of water called Fleet Pool, there to be thrown 
 in at a certain place where the water was deepest. 
 
 Having thus decided, the two proceeded forthwith to 
 thrust the murdered man's body into one of the empty 
 sacks from that heap which had already done service in 
 concealing one living body ; a few minutes sufficed for 
 the task, but instead of immediately carrying away their 
 burthen, a sudden whim, or perhaps the sight of the 
 money yet lying where Simon Burr had placed it, in two 
 heaps, caused them to place the sack, with its ghastly 
 burthen, upright against the line of sacks standing close 
 by, and exactly next that wherein Stephen Boldash, 
 more dead than alive, jet contrived to preserve his 
 perpendicularity. 
 
 After pocketing their separate shares of money, Simon 
 Burr and Norcutt fell into an argument touching their 
 horrible crime, in which high words were nigh ending 
 in blows, till, struck with terror lest his daughter should 
 be disturbed from her supposed slumber, the miller 
 ceased speaking, just as his candle, burning down in the 
 socket of his candlestick, gave note of dissolution. 
 Whereupon he and his comrade set about, in all haste, 
 to carry forth their intention of bearing away the corpse ; 
 
70 THE MILLER OF COVE. 
 
 and now occurred an incident of so singular a kind that 
 the like was perhaps never before heard of— for the sack 
 which held the corpse having slid down from its upright 
 position to one horizontal, was, in the nickering light 
 which only yet remained, suffered to lie where it fell, 
 whilst that which contained the living body of young 
 Stephen Boldash, was hurriedly shouldered by the miller, 
 in mistake, and, by the assistance of Norcutt, carried out 
 away from the mill ! 
 
 Up to this last moment, an agony of fear and horror 
 had chained Nelly Burr in silence ; but no sooner had 
 the miller and his companion set forth on their unholy 
 errand, than an hysterical scream burst from her sur- 
 charged bosom, and with the peril of her lover yet upper- 
 most in thought, she unfastened her door, rushed down 
 the stairs, and proceeded to liberate, as she supposed, 
 him whom she had left in such dreadful plight ; but the 
 room was in darkness — her lips refused giving utterance 
 to a sound — she felt as if losing her senses — but with 
 yet one effort of self-possession, searched a spot where 
 she knew there was a tinder box, and succeeded in 
 striking a light, though not in finding a candle. 
 
 By aid of the match, however, she was enabled to 
 perceive the one sack lying on the floor, and judging 
 immediately that Stephen Boldash had become insensible 
 through fright, she put forth all her own strength, pulled 
 away the covering and lifted up the inanimate body 
 she supposed to be that of her lover, and placed it in a 
 
• 
 
 THE MILLER OE COVE. 71 
 
 sitting position in her father's leathern chair, making use 
 of the most endearing terms to promote reanimation: 
 finding all efforts vain she once more searched for a 
 candle, and now with success, whereat a second light 
 was rekindled, and the candle lit. 
 
 Turning its full light upon her supposed lover, the 
 terrible certainty of truth struck a chill through the very 
 marrow in her bones. The corpse of the murdered man 
 sate bolt upright, or rather only leaning slightly back, 
 with its white features, its glassy eyes, and its blood- 
 bedabbled clothing, a hideous sight to see, and one the 
 more appalling from the conviction it brought to mind of 
 the terrible exchange made, by which the living burthen, 
 carried away in mistake, might also be consigned to 
 death when the fatal error should be discovered. 
 
 For a few moments surprise enveloped all the young 
 girl's faculties ; but in one brief space longer, a frantic 
 hope of being yet in time to save her lover swallowed up 
 all minor considerations, and caused her to rush out of 
 the mill, the door having been left on the latch only, 
 and with a speed such as nothing but desperation could 
 give, make her way across the common ; her white dress 
 and dishevelled hair floating in the utmost disorder, like 
 those of a maniac. 
 
 Leaving poor Nelly to pursue her course towards Meet 
 Pool, it is necessary to recur to the position of Stephen 
 Boldash, who, when he suffered himself to be covered 
 over by the sack, was too much bewildered to offer any 
 
72 THE MILLER OF COVE. 
 
 resistance, and whose extreme peril, after the miller had 
 entered the apartment, obliged him to keep perfectly 
 motionless as the only course of safety left under 
 circumstances. 
 
 In breathless horror he listened to the words of the 
 two murderers, and was more than once on the point of . 
 throwing off his disguise and attempting to rush forth 
 and denounce them, but prudence, almost for the first 
 time in life, restrained him, the more so that one of those 
 whom his testimony must condemn was the father of 
 the girl he loved. 
 
 On hearing them determine to carry the body of their 
 victim to Meet Pool, his hopes of escaping detection 
 beat high, and it is just possible that the slight move- 
 ments he unconsciously made caused the sack containing 
 the body to slip down. But when he felt himself 
 taken on the brawny shoulders of the miller, in, mistake 
 for the bod// of the dead man, a panic of uncontrollable 
 terror seized him, and had the miller been otherwise than 
 greatly excited, would have betrayed him to inevitable 
 death. It so happened, however, that Simon Burr was 
 himself labouring under too much excitement to note 
 the difference between a living and a dead weight ; con- 
 sequently Stephen Boldash had time to consider his 
 position, and wisely to determine on keeping up the 
 cheat, if possible, until such time as he should be thrown 
 into the water — under which circumstance he hoped to 
 escape, being able to swim like a fish and dive like a 
 
THE MILLER OF COVE. 73 
 
 duck. Somewhat comforted by such a curious possibility, 
 he now determined on "enacting the corpse" as well 
 as he could, holding himself rigid, and giving way to no 
 impulse of vitality. In this he succeeded pretty well, 
 although the stifling heat of his covering was both hard 
 to bear, and greatly irritating to his olfactory nerves. 
 But what will not a man endure for his life's sake? 
 Meanwhile the miller and Norcutt took their way 
 silently, until about a mile of the distance to be over- 
 come had been past over, when, growing tired, the miller 
 proposed Norcutt's taking his turn for carrying the sack, 
 to which Norcutt demurred, saying he was not strong 
 enough, but suggesting, as Fleet Pool was yet three 
 miles distant, that the body should be flung into the 
 nearest pond or water-course available. 
 
 This being acceded to, it was not long before Stephen 
 Boldash found himself brought to a sudden halt ; and 
 by the splashing of a stone thrown into water, he knew 
 that the man Norcutt was endeavouring to ascertain if 
 there was depth enough for the purpose contemplated. 
 
 This proving to be the case, it then became a matter 
 of contention whether they should throw him in sack 
 and all, or tie a stone to his neck and throw him in 
 minus the sack — and terrible was the fear lest this last 
 alternative should be adopted. 
 
 Fortunately, a distant sound, like the tinkling of bells, 
 put an end to all further argument, by giving indications 
 of an approaching team, and Stephen felt himself thrown 
 
74 THE MILLER OE COVE. 
 
 heels foremost into the water whilst the sack was at the 
 same time drawn from his head, and a precipitate retreat 
 made by the two murderers — thereby enabling him to 
 struggle out of his watery but friendly haven, with no 
 more damage than a smart ducking in a somewhat less 
 savoury bathing place than he would have chosen under 
 pleasanter circumstances. Within five minutes after- 
 wards, he had the satisfaction to perceive advancing 
 towards him a four wheeled waggon, drawn by a team of 
 six horses, bound for the village of Cove, and of which 
 he gladly availed himself by its driver's permission — 
 heartily thankful for his deliverance. 
 
 After having thrown their supposed victim into the 
 water, the miller and his companion Norcutt made their 
 way together for half a mile or so, when Simon Burr, 
 having no further fancy for the company of his partner 
 in crime, declared his intention of proceeding alone to 
 his home, and a curt "good night"" was exchanged 
 between them ; the miller proceeding as he had stated 
 he would, to the mill alone, whilst Norcutt took his 
 path another way. 
 
 On reaching within sight of the mill, Simon Burr was 
 somewhat astonished at perceiving the door open, and a 
 light burning within; greatly discomposed, and yet 
 fancying that he himself must have left the place thus 
 unsecured, he made his way cautiously up the two steps, 
 and then, only by the light of the long-wicked candle, 
 which Nelly had left upon the table, did his eye meet the 
 
THE MILLER OF COVE. 75 
 
 frightful vision of his late victim, sitting up in the 
 leathern chair, as if in mockery of the attempt to dispose 
 of him, after the fashion just narrated. 
 
 Aghast ! with his hair standing erect upon his head, 
 and with his teeth chattering, the conscience stricken 
 wretch stood rooted to the spot — in vain did he essay to 
 fly — he could not move, except forward ; in vain did he 
 try to speak — his mouth seemed full of sawdust ; but 
 with eyes fasciuated by the horrible object before them 
 he tried to convince himself that the thing was still 
 unreal, a marvellous deception of fancy ; yet no ! there 
 was his own leathern chair, and in it the tangible form 
 of him he had murdered, and with his own hands thrown 
 into the pool of muddy water. Soon, however, a frantic 
 determination seized him — he would advance into the 
 mill — he would himself touch the horrible thing — he 
 would be sure it was real. No sooner did this idea 
 possess him than he had no power to resist its achieve- 
 ment. He dashed into the mill, seized hold of the 
 candle, and placed his hand upon the shoulder of the 
 corpse, shaking it so violently that it fell forward into 
 his very arms; and so great was the terror of Simon 
 Burr that he fancied himself embraced in a deadly 
 struggle. 
 
 With a shriek of almost maniacal character, he flung 
 aside the lighted candle, and upset the table, causing the 
 few particles of gunpowder which his own carelessness 
 had deposited, to ignite. In one moment the tablecloth, 
 
76 THE MILLER OF COVE. 
 
 and other combustible matters, were ablaze; but notwith- 
 standing this, the wretched man writhed and rolled about 
 the floor, clasping in his arms the object of his terror, 
 and in the wildness of his fancied combat heeded not the 
 flames which now enveloped the entire room. 
 
 Gnashing his teeth and foaming at the mouth, Simon 
 Burr hurled maledictions upon his supposed adversary, 
 till human nature could bear no further strain ; over- 
 powered bj the smoke and perfectly insensible, he 
 relaxed his hold of the dead man's body, only to fall a 
 prey to the flames that now ascended the staircase and 
 seized upon the upper portion of the old mill, which, 
 being composed mostly of wood, and that too abundantly 
 dry, was in a few moments wrapped in sheets of fire from 
 its foundation to the very mill sails — the latter being 
 put into quick motion by the powerful element, and 
 adding a last and crowning feature of the catas- 
 trophe. 
 
 Thus perished the chief actor in this terrible drama, 
 and very little more remains to be related. Stephen 
 Boldash, from his position on the waggon before men- 
 tioned, perceived the burning of the mill, at the same 
 time that his quick eye caught sight of a human figure, 
 with dishevelled hair and flowing garments, running 
 about wildly as if without method- 
 
 That this was Nelly need scarcely be told, and that 
 he lost no time in arresting her aimless flight may also 
 be supposed ; but it was not until the morning following 
 
THE MILLER OP COVE. 77 
 
 this event that the poor girl recovered her senses 
 sufficiently, to be informed of all that had happened. 
 
 Daring the next day crowds of visitors found their 
 way to the spot where a few smouldering ruins alone told 
 that the mill had once been. A magisterial investigation 
 of all the facts caused the immediate apprehension of 
 Norcutt, upon whose person was found the sealed packet 
 which he had taken from the dead man's pocket, and 
 which proved to be a letter addressed to Simon Burr, 
 conveying intelligence that the child who was supposed 
 to be the daughter of his late wife, before marriage, was 
 indeed the child of wealthy parents whose necessities had 
 compelled them to depart for a distant part of the world, 
 leaving their treasure in charge of Mrs. Burr, who had 
 authority to receive the sum of two hundred pounds 
 yearly for its maintenance ; but which sum was only to 
 be obtained through a special form of application, un- 
 known to her husband. The letter furthermore stated 
 that the child's parents having now returned to their 
 native land, were desirous of reclaiming her, and had 
 commissioned the bearer of that despatch (a partner in a 
 legal firm at London) to present the miller with an order 
 for five hundred pounds as a reward for the care taken 
 of their child. 
 
 Thus, Nelly, to the great joy of all knowing her, was 
 found xot to be the offspring of guilt, but the happy 
 daughter of wealthy parents who lost no time in showing 
 their affection, and were too wise to refuse their sanction 
 
78 THE MILLER OE COVE. 
 
 to a marriage with StepKen Boldash, although the altered 
 position of the young lady might have served as an 
 excuse for refusing it. 
 
 As for the man Norcutt, the law made short work of 
 him, and should any one think fit to inquire fuller 
 particulars, they may be found in a certain record kept 
 in the city of Winchester, where amongst a long list 
 of names, alphabetically arranged — that of " James 
 Norcutt"" may even yet be seen; appended to the same 
 being the mysterious words <c sus per coll." 
 
THE "CLOCK-HOUSE" MYSTERY. 
 
 " All men wondered while the thing was a mystery, even 
 the great Dr. Johnson ; but when the mystery was cleared 
 up, all men wondered why they had been such fools as to 
 believe in it." — Story of the Cock- Lane Ghost. 
 
 There is no period in England's history of which 
 Englishmen have so little reason to be proud, as that 
 of the reign of James II., during which, closely following 
 upon the suppression of Monmouth's rebellion, almost 
 every post of honour, emolument, and trust, was in the pos- 
 session of individuals unworthy of honour or confidence. 
 Setting aside all matter irrelevant to the present story, 
 it will be sufficient to tell that the clergy — in general — 
 were such a sorry body of rogues that they were not 
 merely disregarded in their spiritual character, but were 
 absolutely ignored in their social position, being, as 
 Lord Macaulay observes, almost entirely banished from 
 the presence of the gentry, and sent to take their meals 
 in the servants' hall, whenever called upon to officiate in 
 the mansions of persons above the rank of petty squires. 
 Nor was the contempt of respectable people confined to 
 this class especially, for it extended to nearly all such 
 functionaries as " Justices of the peace, Churchwardens, 
 Collectors of taxes, &c, &C./' all of whom seemed to 
 
80 THE 
 
 share in the common obloquy — possibly whether they 
 deserved it or not. In brief, so badly was organised 
 the machinery by which the state was governed, even in 
 its most subordinate branches, that there is little wonder 
 if crimes, frauds, and tyrannous practices, were suffered to 
 go wholly unpunished, so long as they did not touch upon, 
 or interfere with, the Royal prerogative, a matter the con- 
 tempt of which alone touched His Majesty King James, 
 always setting aside that monarch's determination to crush 
 the Protestant religion, and re-establish Catholicism. 
 
 One of the peculiar evils of this disgraceful epoch, was 
 the systematic neglect of Churchwardens, and parish 
 authorities of all kinds, to exert their influence and 
 power in the repair of public highways, and the pre- 
 servation of public rights. There was, at that time, 
 scarcely a public road throughout the entire kingdom, 
 over which a waggon or carriage could travel ten miles a 
 day : even those in the immediate vicinity of large towns 
 were woefully neglected, whilst such as connected together 
 places of minor importance, were impassable during the 
 winter months, or only to be travelled at the risk of life 
 or limb by reason of bog and quagmire. 
 
 This brief introduction, rendered necessary by the lead- 
 ing features of this legend, will account for and excuse 
 itself as we now proceed to the business of narration. 
 
 During the latter part of the reign of King James the 
 Second, a large tract of land, bordering upon the counties 
 of Hampshire and Surrey, now well known as Aldershot 
 
THE " CLOCK-HOUSE " MYSTERY. 81 
 
 Camp, and its vicinity, stretching towards the vale of Ash, 
 was of such an anomalous character as to be only des- 
 cribed as a mixture of sand, swamp, and bog, occasion- 
 ally relieved by stunted herbage, and dotted here and 
 there with a few clumps of trees. This land, then 
 literally no man's land, was useless for the purpose of 
 cultivation (the science of draining being then not under- 
 stood), its herbage was insufficient for the support of 
 even stray animals, its bog was not even available for 
 such purposes as even bog may be turned to, and its 
 sandy portions were fit for nothing at all. 
 
 Such persons as might have proved a legal claim, did 
 not appear to think it worth their while to do so ; and 
 it would not, therefore, be a matter of surprise, if a few 
 miserable " squatters/' as we should now call them, chose 
 to appropriate to themselves a portion here and there, 
 on which to erect a hut, or otherwise shelter themselves 
 from the weather. 
 
 One man, bolder or richer than some of his neighbours, 
 having " squatted " upon a portion of this land, situated 
 some four or five hundred yards distant from what is 
 now the Greyhound Inn, upon the high road from 
 Ash to Aldershot, and looking north-west from that 
 place, had built for himself a house of very considerable 
 pretensions, being of brick and stone, three stories high, 
 and substantially roofed in with strong red tiles. The 
 man who had built this lonely and solitary looking house 
 lived not to tenant it, but, dying suddenly, willed it 
 
82 the "clock-house" mystery. 
 
 away to his only sister's husband, one Donald Ramsay, 
 of London, a watch and clock-maker, and not unlikely 
 to be a descendant of the famous David Eamsay, well 
 known to King James the First. 
 
 At the time this property fell to the share of Donald 
 Eamsay and his wife, commercial pursuits were in so un- 
 nourishing a condition, that tradesmen of unambitious 
 character, were fain to retire from trade, with their 
 moderate gains intact ; and of this number was Donald 
 Eamsay. He determined on, and succeeded in, trans- 
 ferring his establishment for clock-making into the hands 
 of a successor, for somewhat less than its real worth, and 
 very gladly turned his back upon the metropolis, intend- 
 ing to pass the remainder of his days on his own ' e landed " 
 estate, namely, on the premises willed to him by his 
 wife's brother. 
 
 He therefore betook himself, with all his goods and 
 chattels, to the lonely house before described, but had 
 no sooner done so, than an ague carried off his wife, 
 leaving the childless old man to pass the rest of his days 
 as he best might, in such companionship as the neigh- 
 bourhood afforded, or in the pursuit of such occupation 
 as circumstances might turn up. 
 
 For a while he remained in seclusion, his domestic 
 affairs being conducted by a staid matronly female, long 
 past the age of suspicious dealings with the sterner sex. 
 But absolute seclusion did not suit Donald Eamsay after 
 his experience of town life — he pined for the companion- 
 
THE " CLOCK-HOUSE " MYSTERY. 83 
 
 ship of thought , for occupation, and for a definite object 
 in life. His income was sufficient for all reasonable 
 wants, he was content to remain single, although not 
 more than fifty years of age, and he had no desire to 
 shift his quarters, although the loneliness of his house 
 was greater than bargained for, and its inaccessibility a 
 great drawback to social intercourse with such neighbours 
 as might be found if sought. 
 
 After a few months' residence, and finding that none 
 of his neighbours sought him, Donald E-amsay determined 
 on endeavouring to conciliate them by personally seek- 
 ing their acquaintance, but found only three individuals 
 within reach, whose position, being accessible to him, 
 was worthy of possible cultivation ; these three were the 
 parish clergyman, or parson of Aldershot, one Simon 
 Bullockwash, a man said to be of considerable scholastic 
 acquirements, but of dissolute drunken habits, the other 
 two were Gideon Walsh and Thomas Mutton, the two 
 churchwardens of the parish, boon companions and worthy 
 associates of their superior, the Rev. Simon Bullockwash. 
 
 A few very short interviews with these gentlemen, 
 convinced Donald Ramsay that the companionship he 
 sought lay not in their direction, and he was fain to rely 
 upon the resource of his books, which he had brought 
 with him, in mechanical pursuits, having also the tools 
 and certain material of his old trade, and above all, in 
 certain astronomical studies which had been his ambition 
 in early life, and in order to further which, he had con- 
 
84 THE 
 
 verted the attic chamber of his house into a sort of ob- 
 servatory, by extending its windows and adding a balcony 
 or extra stage, giving his tall house the appearance of 
 being exceedingly tall for its width. 
 
 After having passed twelve months in his lonely resi- 
 dence, Donald Ramsay at length formed one promising 
 acquaintance in the person of a gentleman living at the 
 obscure village of Farnborough, and whose name was 
 Bateman. He was independent, but of small means, and 
 had an only son whose inclination led him towards me- 
 chanical pursuits as an amusement only, the ingenuity of 
 clock-making being one which took his fancy, impressing 
 upon his mind the vague idea of his acquiring, in time, 
 the long supposed feasibility of perpetual motion. 
 
 Mr. Bateman, the elder, was a plain common sense 
 gentleman, of no peculiar or individual character, but 
 Mr. Bateman, the younger, was a strange mixture of 
 imagination, and matter of fact — an innate poet, and yet 
 a keen observer of matter of fact things. It was his de- 
 light to pass whole days, nay weeks, in the large lumbering 
 half workshop, half observatory, of Donald Ramsay, acquir- 
 ing knowledge of many kinds, but without any definite 
 pursuit. At length it was agreed on between young Bate- 
 man and Donald Ramsay to build a clock of gigantic 
 proportions — Ramsay finding the money, and directing 
 the manufacture, whilst young Bateman gave the utmost 
 of his time and labour. 
 
 This clock was to be made on a very comprehensive 
 
THE " CLOCK-HOUSE " MYSTERY. 85 
 
 plan, somewhat after the kind spoken of as fashioned in 
 Holland, notifying the month of the year, the day of the 
 week as well as month, and several other additions to 
 the ordinary seven- day clock then beginning to come in 
 use. 
 
 Two years passed away before this clock was completed, 
 during which time Donald Eamsay had several times 
 visited London to purchase materials, and had spent no 
 less a sum than twenty pounds out of his own pocket, a 
 circumstance scarcely calculated on by the shrewd Scots- 
 man, whose love for the " siller " was very considerable. 
 Still the honest craftsman did not much regret the ex- 
 pense, seeing that after all he had done something beyond 
 the common run, and had got something tangible to 
 show for the outlay. 
 
 It was a great day for Donald Eamsay and young Bate- 
 man, when their clock was to be for the first time seen 
 by any other eyes than those of its makers ; and also a 
 great day for old Mr. Bateman, when he, and several 
 friends, determined on making a journey from Farn- 
 borough in order to inspect the work upon which his 
 son's ingenuity had been, in part, expended. 
 
 A fine morning in the month of October, a.d. 1690, 
 saw Donald Eamsay and young Bateman eagerly await- 
 ing their expected guests, with their wonderful clock — 
 its huge face, nigh two feet in diameter, covered over 
 with a linen cloth, and its ponderous weights (attached 
 by short cords only, there being no room for lengthened 
 
86 THE "clock-house" mystery. 
 
 ones) dangling nearly to the floor of the workroom, and 
 its pendulum, six feet in length, describing its segments 
 of a circle to the music of its own loud "tick, tick, 
 tick." 
 
 In due time arrived, not only Mr. Bateman, the elder, 
 and his several friends, but, also, the Rev. Simon Bul- 
 lockwash, and the two churchwardens, Gideon Walsh 
 and Thomas Mutton, to each and all of whom the worthy 
 clock-maker did the honours of the domicile, by inviting 
 to a substantial dinner, or rather luncheon, of cold boiled 
 beef and strong ale; after which the entire party was 
 ushered into the workroom, and the face of the wonder- 
 ful clock uncovered after all due ceremony. 
 
 An exact description of this piece of mechanism will 
 not be needed, insomuch as in these days of mechanical 
 wonders there is scarcely anything which can be wondered 
 at, and our worthy clock-maker had only done that 
 which any mechanic of education would deem a mere 
 trifle, but in the days of which this legend takes cogni- 
 zance, a clock that told the day of the week, the week of 
 the year, and the age of the moon was no small wonder, 
 and it was, therefore, with acclamations of astonish- 
 ment that all voices recorded their praise of the cumber- 
 some-looking collection of weights, cog-wheels, pullies, 
 and cranks, faced by a moderately ill-painted dial plate 
 (the work of Donald himself), showing exact likenesses 
 of the sun, moon, and stars, according to the artist's best 
 ability. 
 
THE " CLOCK-HOUSE " MYSTERY. 87 
 
 Of those who were loudest in the commendations the 
 Eev. Simon Bullockwash must be placed foremost. He 
 examined the clock with the air of an amateur in mechan- 
 ism, conversed over technicalities, commended the exact- 
 ness of Ramsay's arithmetical calculations, and displayed 
 a much greater knowledge of mechanical matters than 
 his host had ever given credit for, thereby winning for 
 himself a higher place than he had previously taken in 
 the clock- maker's estimation, and concluded his lauda- 
 tions by expressing a wish that the parish church of 
 Aldershot should have a clock placed in its tower, the 
 want of such a thing being a standing reproach to the 
 inhabitants. 
 
 This last observation having been coincided in by the two 
 churchwardens, who almost always re-echoed the opinion 
 of their superior, the party broke up, Mr. Bateman and 
 his friends to their home at Farnborough, and the Eev. 
 Mr. Bullockwash, with his two boon companions, to their 
 haunt at the Greyhound Inn, there to booze away the 
 remainder of the day, and possibly the night as well, such 
 being their frequent custom. 
 
 The action of this legend must now halt for the space 
 of two years, at the end of which time an event took 
 place of considerable importance, being no other than the 
 death of Mr. Bateman, the elder, which occurred in the 
 ordinary course of nature only, but produced important 
 results, as time will show. 
 
 Amongst other provisions in the will of Mr. Bate- 
 
THE 
 
 man, was that of the sum of thirty pounds for a clock 
 to be placed in the tower of Aldershot Church. 
 
 Now, there is no doubt that the clock intended was 
 the identical one upon which Mr. Bateman' s own son 
 was so long employed, and the thirty pounds to be 
 given in payment was intended to re-imburse Donald 
 Eamsay for the expense he had been put to in construct- 
 ing it. But Mr. Bateman had made his own will, 
 employing no lawyer, and the consequence was, as 
 usual in such cases, that the will was informal upon 
 many points; not so much so as to deprive young 
 Bateman of his rights, but sufficiently to admit of 
 several misconstructions in minor matters ; and in respect 
 of the clock, was very indefinite indeed. 
 
 The only matter quite certain was, that the thirty 
 pounds to be paid for a clock, was to be paid through 
 the office of the two existing churchwardens, and in 
 accordance with this provision was so paid by young Mr. 
 Bateman, in full expectation that it would be handed 
 over to Donald Eamsay in exchange for his clock. 
 
 But in this both Mr. Bateman and Donald Eamsay 
 were mistaken, for week after week passed by ; whilst 
 hour after hour saw the two churchwardens and the 
 Eev. Simon Bullockwash boozing and boozing away 
 over their cups of strong wine, and yet stronger spirits, 
 at the Greyhound tavern, each particular " booze " 
 costing two or three crown pieces; and each crown 
 piece being a constituent part of Mr. Bateman's thirty 
 
THE " CLOCK-HOUSE MYSTERY. b\) 
 
 pounds'' legacy, till, after the period of four months, 
 not a coin was left of the entire sum; all having been 
 expended on liquor, even to the very last fraction ; and 
 yet no one had authority to call any one of the three 
 delinquents to account — the two churchwardens being 
 legally and morally irresponsible — or if partially so, 
 only to their superior officer, the Eev. Simon Bullock- 
 wash, who was responsible to nobody. 
 
 Matters having arrived at this point, Donald Ram- 
 say, in disgust at the ill treatment he had experienced, 
 determined on fitting up his famous clock at his own 
 place, but finding it necessary to have a greater depth 
 of fall for the weights of his machinery than could 
 be conveniently arranged within his house, decided, 
 after much cogitation, on erecting the clock just as he 
 would have erected it in a church tower, namely, with 
 its face high up, on the outside of his house, whilst 
 an ingenious provision for its ropes and weights was 
 made by digging a kind of well, with a drain attached 
 to carry off all moisture. 
 
 In order to effect this last provision, he had recourse 
 to the son of his housekeeper — an honest youth enough, 
 and one of some talents in his way, especially in the 
 matter of well-sinking and excavation. This youth, 
 therefore, after digging in the sandy soil upon which 
 Donald Rainsay's house was built, about six feet down- 
 wards — thereby enabling the clock ropes to have a fpof 
 of twenty-two feet or more, found it necessary, in o t for 
 
90 THE 
 
 to carry off all undue moisture, to construct a drain 
 of tiles one hundred yards, or nearly so, which drain 
 was made terminable at a certain outlet, nigh to which, 
 he, himself, had constructed a hut for his own resi- 
 dence. 
 
 Donald Ramsay's plan having been satisfactorily 
 carried out, his famous clock was at length made 
 manifest to such as chose to view it, and in course of 
 time gave to his domicile the name of "The Clock 
 House/' 
 
 This story must again halt for the space of two years, 
 daring which political affairs went on from bad to worse, 
 and the administration of all public matters became 
 totally unchecked, except where they were interfered 
 with by illegal and perversely interested persons. Parson 
 Bullockwash and his two worthy colleagues (still in 
 office because no one took the trouble to kick them out) 
 continued, as usual, to drink all parish proceeds which 
 came into their hands ; the roads and lanes in their 
 district were all impassable ; the church was left with 
 its door unhinged, and it sittings broken down, and an 
 unusually wet season had converted almost all the bog- 
 land stretching away from Aldershot village to Tarn- 
 borough, into a marsh, leaving only such sandy portions 
 as were elevated above the rest safe to travel over, 
 a Donald Ramsay's house — now generally designated 
 cosThe Clock House/' stood upon a patch of sandy soil, 
 piece very slightly elevated ; but all between it and 
 
THE " CLOCK-HOUSE " MYSTERY. 91 
 
 Farnborough was either bog-land, or absolutely covered 
 with water; and yet there was a road through all, 
 formed of stepping stones, small sandy ridges, and, 
 here and there, patches of grass through which the 
 clockmaker contrived once a week to penetrate, for the 
 purpose of visiting his friend Mr. Bateman, on which 
 occasions, if it were moonlight, he was sometimes in- 
 duced to stop after sunset ; although he never ventured 
 to prolong his visit beyond daylight on any other occa- 
 sions. He, moreover, always adopted the precaution of 
 having a well trimmed lamp lighted in his observatory 
 even on moonlit nights, to serve as a sort of beacon ; 
 and which was always carefully tended by his house- 
 keeper. 
 
 It was on a bright frosty day in January, a.d. 1694, 
 that Donald Eanisay, journeying over the marsh to 
 visit his friend Mr. Bateman, happened to meet the 
 Rev. Simon Bullockwash coming from an opposite 
 direction; that some words of altercation passed be- 
 tween them, is pretty certain, but are unnecessary to 
 be recorded here. All that is accurately known is, that 
 the clockmaker, after passing several hours with his 
 friend at Farnborough, set forth on his journey home 
 by the light of a brilliant moon, somewhat later than 
 usual, namely, at six o' clock, saying, "that he should 
 pick his way easily enough across the swamp ; the 
 ground being a little harder than usual, by reason of 
 a frost, and his beacon light specially made ready for 
 his housekeeper to light at five o'clock." 
 
92 THE 
 
 We must now introduce our readers to the parlour, 
 or private receiving room of the " Greyhound " tavern, 
 where, seated in their accustomed places, were to be 
 found the Eev. Simon Bullockwash and his two insepa- 
 rable companions, Gideon Walsh and Thomas Mutton. 
 
 The first mentioned of these three — a jovial, red-faced, 
 and rotund personage, wearing a wig and long flowing 
 bands after the fashion of his day, looked more like a 
 farmer than a clergyman, and wore upon his counte- 
 nance a strange mixture of low humour with a shrewd 
 intelligence ; he also gave signs of being a little the 
 worse for liquor, and to complete the unclerical nature 
 of his "tout ensemble," smoked a pipe of tobacco, at 
 least one clear yard long. 
 
 Gideon Walsh and Thomas Mutton were each and 
 both " men after their master's own heart," being, like 
 him, bloated although seasoned drunkards, only far 
 lower in the intellectual scale, as well as still more 
 disreputable in a social point of view ; these two, like 
 their master, smoked long pipes. 
 
 The three sat cosily enough beside a large wood fire ; 
 the time being seven in the evening, and the drink 
 placed before them being strong hot punch. 
 
 " So you met the clockmaker, this morning, crossing 
 the marsh ? " said Thomas Mutton, addressing his 
 reverend friend. 
 
 "Aye, that I did," replied Parson Bullockwash, 
 " and told him a piece of my mind, too, which he will 
 scarcely forget." 
 
THE " CLOCK-HOUSE " MYSTERY. 93 
 
 "What didst tell un," spoke Gideon Walsh. 
 
 "Never you mind/' again spoke the Parson — "our 
 quarrel is our own — he has no right to call me to ac- 
 count whatever he may you ; it was you, not I, who 
 received old Bateman's money." 
 
 "But you who counselled us to spend it — and who 
 helped to drink it too/ - ' chuckled Thomas Mutton — 
 
 " And who ought to set un a better example/' 
 said Gideon Walsh. 
 
 "All three of us are pretty well alike for the mat- 
 ter of that/' responded the Parson, " but till we find 
 some one qualified to catechize us in the matter, let us 
 be merry — ' Dum viviinus, vivamus/ which being trans- 
 lated from the Latin of King Solomon, means — 'Let 
 us get drunk whilst we can/ so let us have a toast." 
 
 Hereupon the hopeful trio filled their glasses with 
 steaming punch, and stood up. 
 
 "Here," shouted the Rev. Simon Bullock wash, "here 
 is, may that infernal clockmaker, Donald Ramsay, tum- 
 ble into a bog, some day, and get smothered." 
 
 Immediately upon which the three half drunken 
 reprobates shouted their delight in an uproarious chorus 
 of cheers, — the punch bowl being upset in the excite- 
 ment of the moment, and a fresh one speedily called 
 for. 
 
 There is no need to detail any more of the conver- 
 sation between these worthies, our concern being only 
 in its' upshot, which was as follows : — that it would 
 
94 THE 
 
 be a very pretty piece of innocent fun to take a ladder 
 from the inn — visit the clockmaker's house — place the 
 ladder outside— open the window, and blow out the 
 lamp which served as a beacon, and afterwards to decamp 
 as quickly as possible for their several homes. 
 
 Pilled with the humorous and humane idea, the trio 
 sallied forth from the inn — but found a change of 
 weather had taken place, for the moon, which in the 
 early part of the evening was brightly shining, now hid 
 herself behind dark clouds, and a thick fog enveloped 
 all around, leaving scarce sufficient light for the three 
 to pick their way along, especially as a deep hole, full 
 of black, stagnant water, interposed between the high 
 road and their place of destination. 
 
 Heedless of all obstacles, and more than two-thirds 
 drunk, the Eev. Simon Bullockwash, Gideon Walsh, and 
 Thomas Mutton, sallied forth on their errand, carrying 
 between them a long, strong ladder from the inn- 
 yard, and succeeded in reaching the clock-maker's 
 house. 
 
 By this time, it wanted only a few minutes to eight 
 o'clock ; and, as the beacon-lamp was yet burning, there 
 existed no doubt that the clock-maker was still away 
 from home. 
 
 With somewhat unsteady hands, the ladder was 
 adjusted, the Window opened, and, by the hands of the 
 Bev. Simon Bullockwash, was the beacon-lamp — which 
 stood on a table quite close to the window — deprived of 
 
THE " CLOCK-HOUSE " MYSTERY. 95 
 
 its Ko'llt : THE LIGHT WHICH WAS TO HAVE LIGHTED THE 
 
 o 
 
 POOR CLOCK-MAKER TO HIS HOME. 
 
 This wicked deed done, the clock struck eight ; and, 
 whilst its last vibrations were yet sounding, the three 
 conspirators, as they may be justly called, took their 
 departure for those homes which two out of the three 
 were destined never to reach, for, by the time they had 
 succeeded in removing the ladder, all three were so 
 overcome by the fumes of liquor, acted on by the cold 
 night air, that they were fairly drunk and incapable — 
 Thomas Mutton being the only one who succeeded in 
 reaching his home : the Eev. Simon Bullockwash and 
 his crony, Gideon Walsh, both falling into the deep pool 
 before mentioned, and being found there, stone dead, the 
 following morning. 
 
 Had the tragedy here ended, poetic justice would have 
 been sufficiently done. But it did not here end ; for, 
 unfortunately, Donald Ramsay, the worthy clock-maker, 
 fell into the very trap which was laid for him, having, 
 through the loss of his accustomed beacon, and also 
 through the density of the fog which arose from the 
 marsh through which he was passing, floundered into a 
 deep morass, which occupied a space on the western side 
 of what is called "North Town" at the present moment 
 — and in that wretched plight must have met his death 
 through cold and cramp, for, when found, the upper 
 part of his body was still above water, whilst his feet 
 and leg's were imbedded in slime. 
 
96 THE " CLOCK-HOUSE " MYSTERY. 
 
 Thus ended the " tragedy " of the Clock-House : but 
 not so the entire interest of our tale, for there ensued a 
 mystery which needs some little preparation before the 
 telling. 
 
 On the day following these events, the body of the 
 Bev. Simon Bullockwash, as also that of Gideon Walsh, 
 were found floating on the surface of the stagnant pool, 
 as before told, and, on the following day, that of Donald 
 Bamsay. 
 
 Great was the consternation of all the neighbourhood, 
 and great the indignation of many, particularly after — 
 on the confession of Thomas Mutton — the truth of the 
 matter became known. An inquest was held on all 
 three of the bodies, which resulted in a verdict of ' ' died 
 by misadventure "—the Coroner "reprimanding" Thomas 
 Mutton with all due solemnity, and the clergyman of 
 " Ash " burying the three bodies with all due formality. 
 
 Now, and not till now, Mr. Bateman, as the only 
 friend of the late worthy clock-maker, took upon himself 
 to examine the papers of his late friend, in order to 
 ascertain if any will was made, or if any other document 
 could furnish the information requisite for communicat- 
 ing with his relatives. But, amidst the very few papers 
 found, nothing bearing upon either point came to light. 
 The old housekeeper had never heard him mention the 
 name of any relative, and a journey to London failed to 
 obtain from the clock-maker's successor in trade any clue 
 to a heir-at-law, or any other relative. 
 
THE " CLOCK-HOUSE " MYSTEltY. 97 
 
 Having done all in Ins power, Mr. Bateman deter- 
 mined on shutting up the clock-maker's house very 
 securely, and waiting till information through some 
 other channel should turn up; he accordingly trans- 
 ferred a few necessary articles of use from the house 
 itself to the hut built by the clock-maker's occasional 
 servant, namely, the son of his old housekeeper, to which 
 the woman herself was contented to retire. And, having 
 so done, he caused the windows to be boarded up, and 
 the door to be safely barricaded in such manner that no 
 robber should break in, or mischievous person commit 
 damage ; after which, and at the expiration of eight days 
 only, the once famous Clock-House was left to its soli- 
 tude — a gloomy memorial of the past. 
 
 As a matter of course, Donald Ramsay's famous clock 
 had stopped several days before the final locking up of 
 his domicile, and the neighbourhood, which had up to 
 that time greatly rejoiced in its punctual striking of the 
 hours, began to note the loss with regret and lamenta- 
 tion, when suddenly, on the evening of the ninth day, 
 and whilst the air was cold and calm, the hour of eight 
 tolled slowly and distinctly, as of yore, from the shut-up 
 Clock-House ! Amazed, and almost doubting his ears, 
 the landlord of the u Greyhound " Tavern, now almost 
 deserted since the death of its two best customers, rushed 
 wildly up towards the direction of the mysterious sound, 
 being joined on his way by several other wondering 
 parishioners. 'Whether or not they expected the clock 
 
 H 
 
98 the ""clock-house" mystery. 
 
 to re-strike the hour of eight, is not evident; but certain 
 it is that, by the light of the just rising moon, they 
 looked up, open-mouthed, at the house itself, seeing, of 
 course, nothing but what they had seen a thousand 
 times before. Questioning each other, doubting, and 
 incredulous of their own senses, they muttered their 
 astonishment, talked about ghosts, and ultimately de- 
 parted, expressing their joint intention of being on the 
 spot the evening of the next day, to hear if the clock 
 would again strike. 
 
 It very soon got noised about that something 
 mysterious had occurred, and might occur again. ; the old 
 woman of the hut was called upon to know if she had 
 heard the clock strike, but she, being very deaf, had 
 heard nothing of the kind, and had, besides, been in her 
 bed sound asleep long before the hour of eight. 
 
 On the night following, even so early as six o'clock, 
 and whilst it was yet very dark, — the moon not being 
 due till seven, a crowd of some dozen men, women, and 
 children, assembled before the mysterious house, expect- 
 ing, no one knew exactly what, but with their imagina- 
 tions speculating on various possibilities. It was com- 
 mented upon, that the hour of eight was precisely the 
 hour when, according to Thomas Mutton's confession, 
 the beacon light had been put out, and that, consequently, 
 that hour might be the identical hour on which the 
 honest clock-maker had fallen or stumbled into the quag- 
 mire, or even the very moment of his very death. Of 
 
THE " CLOCK-HOUSE " MYSTERY. 99 
 
 course, in event of such being the case, it must be the 
 clock -maker's own ghost that tolled the hour of eight. 
 
 After waiting nigh two hours, general expectation 
 grew to its height, one female spectator, or rather ex- 
 pectant, declared she should faint if the clock really 
 should strike the hour ; another declared she should do 
 nothing of the sort, but immediately knock at the house 
 door, and demand admittance; some of the men declared 
 one thing, some another, but all agreed that if the clock 
 should strike, it would be a wonderful thing indeed, and 
 one to be looked upon as a striking evidence of the 
 existence of ghosts. 
 
 At length the hour of eight approached, according to 
 the evidence of a watch possessed by the landlord of the 
 " Greyhound " tavern, and, lo ! — exactly as its hand was 
 upon the expectant hour, there slowly, clearly, and loudly 
 boomed the eight distinct sounds of the Clock-house bell, 
 exactly as it used to sound when the clock-maker himself 
 was alive ! ! ! 
 
 A fact so undeniable and astounding could not fail of 
 producing an extraordinary effect upon a superstitious 
 audience. The woman who declared " she should knock 
 for admittance" was the first to faint away outright with 
 terror, whilst she who declared "she should faint" 
 thought better of it, and began to mutter a " paternoster " 
 (being a Catholic). As for the men, some of them, 
 bolder than the rest, went straight away up to the house, 
 examined its door-fastenings with their hands, as if ex- 
 
100 THE " CLOCK-HOUSE " MYSTERY. 
 
 pecting to find them unlocked, but without result, others, 
 awe-stricken, gaped at the dark outline of the house 
 itself as it cut harshly against the still cold sky, whilst a 
 profound and inexplicable superstition hung over all 
 more or less, as each one departed severally home, thence 
 to tell the tale of mystery wide-spreading around. 
 
 It was noticed as somewhat singular that Thomas 
 Mutton was not amongst those who bore oral testimony 
 to this extraordinary fact ; he having declined the invita- 
 tion to become one amongst them, but it was afterwards 
 ascertained that he too had been a listener, though a 
 solitary one, to the solemn tolling of that awful bell; 
 also, that he went, afterwards, home, took to his bed, 
 and became so exceedingly ill that his friends were obliged 
 to call an humble professor of the art of medicine, who 
 pronounced his patient "charmed," and under the 
 necessity of paying him (the professor aforesaid) the sum 
 of two shillings per diem every day, until farther notice, 
 in return for pills, potions, and phlebotomy, &c. 
 
 On the day but one following this event, the clock 
 striking eight as before in the intermediate time, a 
 deputation of villagers, from Aldershot, made its way to. 
 the residence of Mr. Bateman, at Parnborough ; but 
 were sadly disappointed in finding that gentleman had 
 departed on a long pilgrimage to Scotland ; having, at 
 length, obtained some clue to the relatives of the deceased 
 Donald Ramsay, whom he was most anxious to acquaint 
 with the fact of their good fortune in possessing 
 
THE " CLOCK-HOUSE " MYSTERY. 101 
 
 a reversionary interest in the clock-maker's solid 
 property. 
 
 As posting, travelling, and post letter carrying were 
 all in their infancy one hundred and fifty years ago, it 
 was impossible to recall Mr. Bateman, and he was, 
 therefore, suffered to progress on his way unchecked; 
 but meanwhile the news of some mysterious visitation 
 or other continued to spread abroad ; and for some 
 weeks afterwards a score or two of idlers were sure to be 
 congregated near the now mysterious Clock-house, 
 awaiting the moment when its ghostly clock should 
 strike the hour of eight, which it never failed to do, up 
 to the period of two months from the time of its 
 mysterious commencement. 
 
 Political events were occurring of engrossing moment ; 
 men's minds were full of the expected crisis, travelling 
 was dangerous, and the various sections of society each 
 afraid of the other ; but notwithstanding all this, many 
 visitors from London found their way to the lonely Clock- 
 house, wondering, speculating, and sometimes doubting 
 the evidence of their own senses ; but so surely as the 
 hour of eight in each evening arrived, so surely did the 
 mysterious clock strike its mysterious eight strokes ; and 
 yet every eye that scanned and every hand that sought 
 the fastenings of that mysterious house, failed to detect 
 any flaw in its perfect inviolability. It became clear at 
 least, that if any living creature existed within the house, 
 he, she, or it must live chameleon-like, on air; for no 
 
102 THE "CLOCK-HOUSE" MYSTERY. 
 
 provisions of any kind could possibly find entrance, and 
 no inhabitant could find egress, without being seen. 
 
 Two months had elapsed, and the newly appointed 
 clergyman of Aldershot, a very different sort of individual 
 from his predecessor, had begun to entertain serious 
 thoughts of seeking forcible entrance to the Clock-house, 
 when it was rumoured that Mr. Bateman had returned 
 safely from Scotland with an undeniably legal heir to the 
 property of the late Donald Eamsay. 
 
 This rumour turning out true, all the inhabitants of 
 Aldershot were congregated on an appointed day, when 
 it was declared that the Clock-house should be publicly 
 opened, and the mystery* of its ghostly tenant solved — 
 if solvable. 
 
 Accordingly, at the hour of nine, on the morning of 
 March 1697, Mr. Bateman, Mr. Alexander M'Evoy from 
 Scotland, the vicar of Aldershot, and a large assemblage 
 of tradesmen, farmers, farm-labourers, and artisans, 
 together with women and children, found themselves 
 congregated before the lonely Clock-house, expecting 
 some wonderful revelation. 
 
 Mr. Bateman, who had himself superintended the 
 fastenings of the house, gave directions for their being 
 removed, and whilst so doing was particular in observing 
 that none had been tampered with even in the slightest 
 degree. One by one the door barriers were removed, as 
 well as the boards from the lower windows ; and it was 
 not without trepidation that Mr. Bateman's own hands 
 
THE "CLOCK-HOUSE" MYSTERY. 103 
 
 turned, not without some difficulty, the large coarsely 
 made key in the rusted lock, thereby affording him, and 
 his special associates, entrance to the house itself. 
 
 Three persons only made their way inside, namely, 
 Mr. Bateman, Mr. M'Evoy, and the vicar of Aldershot, 
 first into the half empty lower rooms, where all 
 was intact, solitary, and covered with dust, giving 
 abundant evidence of having never been violated by 
 mortal touch ; thence into the chambers above, where all 
 was equally undisturbed ; and lastly, into the upper 
 chamber itself, whence was visible the entire works of 
 the mysterious clock as motionless and solitary as of old, 
 when one of its constructors, now alas ! no longer amongst 
 the living, was in the habit of looking upon its mechanism 
 with the fond eyes of vanity. 
 
 Apparently all was as it had been left, not a thing 
 had been displaced, nor even touched, for the dust of 
 more than two months was visible and tangible on every- 
 thing within sight. 
 
 This result being communicated to the expectant 
 <;rowd outside, by whom the intelligence was received in 
 silence, Mr. Bateman and friends descended to the base- 
 ment story, determined, after visiting the old housekeeper, 
 to watch, personally, on the premises, until the hour of 
 that mysterious visitation should come, when the trick, 
 if trick it were, should be at once exposed. 
 
 Accordingly, to the hut of the old housekeeper Mr. 
 Bateman went, accompanied by his two friends, and a 
 
104 THE "CLOCK-HOUSE" MYSTERY. 
 
 very long interview ensued during which high words 
 were heard, supplications, and even some slight laughter, 
 then a long consultation ensued, followed by an equally 
 long silence — the crowd outside gradually diminishing 
 until it numbered merely a score or so, amongst whom 
 was the landlord of the " Greyhound." After an hour, 
 Mr, Bateman, Mr. M'Evoy, and the vicar, reissued from 
 the hut, and the latter-named gentleman, taking upon 
 himself the office of spokesman, acquainted all within 
 hearing that the mystery of the Clock-house was at an 
 end — that the clock would never more strike — that, in 
 fact it would be taken down, packed off and transported, 
 together with all the furniture of the house — away, far 
 from Aldershot, and the very house itself dismantled or 
 even pulled down, seeing that it was built on land that 
 did not belong to the builder. As for the ghost, he 
 declared that measures had been effectually taken for 
 laying it ; that, in fact, it was no longer an inhabitant 
 of this world, and would never more trouble anybody. 
 
 The crowd departed, evidently disappointed in the 
 result of the day's enquiry. Mr. Bateman and all others 
 concerned went back to their homes; but that* same 
 evening witnessed another congregation on the same 
 spot as before, with the same expectation and the same 
 curiosity, awaiting the accustomed striking of the clock, 
 in which expectation they were doomed to be dis- 
 appointed — for that clock had struck its last stroke — the 
 
THE " CLOCK-HOUSE " MYSTERY. 105 
 
 ghost was clearly laid, and the wonder-seeking crowd had 
 no resonrce but to disperse itself home — never more to 
 assemble for the same purpose, but ever yet to cling 
 with superstitious fear to the memory of that strange 
 mystery. 
 
 It was three or four weeks after the .-"laying of the 
 ghost," that an event occurred which explained, but not 
 to the popular satisfaction, how this strange matter had 
 come to pass. The Clock-house being dismantled of its 
 contents, and its doors, windows, &c, &c, carted off, 
 leaving a mere shell behind, curiosity led many persons 
 to examine what remained of the house itself, and 
 especially became directed to the dry well, into which the 
 heavy weights of the wonderful clock had been arranged 
 to fall. As the depth was but six- or seven feet, one or 
 two inquisitive lads descended, and whilst groping about, 
 found a piece of small rope" projecting from the covered 
 drain passage, mentioned in an earlier portion of this 
 legend, as made to carry off all moisture detrimental to 
 its position. This piece of rope> on being violently 
 pulled, broke off to the length of twenty feet, thereby 
 proving a continuation of its length somewhere or other. 
 General curiosity was aroused, the drain itself was exca- 
 vated, and proved to terminate at the hut wherein had 
 dwelt the old housekeeper and her son, who had sudden- 
 ly disappeared together several days before. A continua- 
 tion of the broken rope was found to extend the remain- 
 
106 THE "CLOCK-HOUSE" MYSTERY. 
 
 der of the way, terminating, as all expected to find it, in 
 the hut itself. Surmise instantly connected this artifice 
 with the circumstance of mystery which had puzzled so 
 many for so long a time. There could, indeed, be little 
 doubt that the very ingenious son of the old woman, and 
 who had constructed the drain itself, had contrived, for 
 motives scarcely clear, to attach the rope now discovered 
 to the machinery by which the clock bell was struck, and 
 so contrived to mystify an entire neighbourhood. It was 
 also surmised that he had confessed the fraud to Mr. 
 Bateinan and his two friends, who chose rather to leave 
 the mystery unexplained than to hazard a communication 
 which might bring mischief upon the old housekeeper, 
 who was perfectly innocent of all participation in the 
 fraud, and in so doing it is very probable he acted wisely, 
 as all experience has gone to prove that the world in 
 general is more indignant for being set right, in matters 
 of superstition, than it is for being imposed on. 
 
 Thus ended the " Clock-house mystery," one now en- 
 tirely forgotten in the neighbourhood of its occurrence, 
 and but dimly shadowed forth in a mere name, which yet 
 clings — for no apparent reason — to a house of low repute 
 in Aldershot town, as also to some private residence in 
 the neighbourhood of the Ash-road. 
 
 "What became of Mr. Bateman and the Scotch gentle- 
 man Mr. M'Evoy,no record serves to tell. The Greyhound 
 tavern yet exists, a well-built private mansion occupies 
 
THE " CLOCK-HOUSE " MYSTERY. 107 
 
 very nearly the precise spot whereon stood the " Clock- 
 house/'' and the descendants of Thomas Mntton now 
 live somewhere at the east end of London, dealing, we 
 believe, in the very article represented by their peculiar 
 name. 
 
ST. HILDA.-A LEGEND OF " THE LADYE- 
 HOTJSE." 
 
 " It was a custom, often practised, for girls to be vowed 
 to celibacy from their birth, and yet not to compel them to 
 take the black veil ; and it was sometimes held sufficient that 
 they should keep themselves chaste only, habiting themselves 
 in white. Hence the phrase, ' voue au blanc,' or 'vowed to the 
 white.'" — T. C. Grattan. 
 
 PREAMBLE. 
 
 In the district of " Upper Hale," some good half mile 
 on the road from Hale (proper) towards Crondall, there 
 stands a domicile bearing the singular name of " The 
 Ladye-House." The building in question is of a most 
 unpretentious, not to say vulgar, character, and offers 
 no one feature of interest to either the antiquary or 
 wayfarer, except that of its singular name, to account for 
 which the author of these pages has been at some pains 
 and research almost, yet not entirely, in vain. 
 
 It would be a needless occupation of the reader's 
 time to recount the many failures encountered amidst 
 endeavours to obtain information from the peasants 
 and general inhabitants of the neighbourhood, not one 
 of whom offered to take the slightest interest in the 
 matter, and it was only by the merest chance that one 
 
ST. HILDA : A LEGEND OF 
 
 small atom of intelligence turned up, whereby a coin- 
 cidence of tangible form was discovered to exist between 
 ( ' The Ladye-House " and Parnham Castle, in the fol- 
 lowing particular, which, after all, is but a mere 
 rumour. 
 
 On digging for a cesspit, many, many years ago, in a 
 portion of the garden land attached to the house in 
 question, there was discovered a few corner blocks of 
 masonry, which had evidently formed the angle of some 
 foundation wall of very ancient build. On a further 
 examination it was found that the stone of which it was 
 constructed was of character identical with that of the 
 " old keep " at Parnham Castle. 
 
 Unfortunately there is no record extant as to what 
 became of this piece of masonry, whether it was broken 
 up, or whether it even yet remains buried in the earth, 
 but the inference to be thence drawn is, that a building 
 of some especially solid kind once existed on that par- 
 ticular spot, and one which, very probably, might have 
 given rise to the peculiar name which now attaches. At 
 all events, a very singular legend connected with the 
 early days of Farnham Castle, has suggested the following 
 possible solution of a mystery which appears, otherwise, 
 to be unfathomable. 
 
 The reader will, therefore, please to accept the 
 annexed apocryphal legend for what it is worth: — 
 
110 ST. HILDA: 
 
 THE LEGEND. 
 
 When Henry of Blois, brother to King Stephen, a 
 titular bishop as well as an actual prince, had succeeded 
 in building for himself the Castle of Earnham, which he 
 did at remarkably small expense, seeing that he " appro- 
 priated " the stone from the estate of a neighbouring 
 landowner, and "pressed" every able-bodied vassal 
 into his service, as labourers, for love of the Church, 
 he is said to have been called away to France on, what 
 is now termed, in military phrase, "urgent private 
 affairs " ; being indeed no other than the necessity of 
 doing battle for his territorial rights, which, just then, 
 were in some jeopardy. 
 
 Of course, it need scarcely be told that very many 
 bishops in those remote days wore more of the breast- 
 plate than the sacerdotal robe, and more naturally in- 
 clined to the sword than to the crozier. Henry of 
 Blois was not only of such particular mind, but was, 
 perhaps, the most warlike of all his brethren, being an 
 able leader in the field, and a knight of much prowess, 
 as evinced by his having become victor in no less than 
 eight single combats. 
 
 Now Henry de Blois, bishop and warrior, being called 
 away on foreign service, just as he had finished his 
 beautiful and convenient palatial residence, was sadly at 
 a loss to find some trustworthy soldier and friend to 
 whom he might entrust the safety of his castle during 
 
A LEGEND OF "THE LADYE-HOUSE." Ill 
 
 his absence abroad. As for the brave knights of his 
 retinue, he wanted them all for service in the field, he 
 could not spare even one, but ultimately bethought him 
 of a friend whose peculiar intimacy with himself was of 
 a kind which must be recorded, in order to justify 
 events. 
 
 At the period of this tale, a vast but justifiable ani- 
 mosity existed between all individuals of the Anglo- 
 Saxon race and those of their Norman conquerors. 
 Hastings and its bitter memories rankled in the hearts 
 of all owning British blood, and led to innumerable 
 deeds of cruelty as well as gross injustice. It had hap- 
 pened that in one of these bitter broils, which were of 
 almost daily occurrence between the two factions of 
 Anglo-Saxons and Anglo-Normans, that an impov- 
 erished Thane, named Englebert, having been overcome 
 in a skirmish by one of the most powerful Norman 
 knights, had had his sword arm barbarously out off by 
 his enemy, who, not satisfied with the infliction of this 
 terrible vengeance, was about to have cut off the other 
 arm likewise, when Henry, the bishop-prince, touched, 
 possibly, with a tinge of Christian mercy, not only pre- 
 vented such further outrage, but absolutely caused the 
 poor Thane to be carried to his newly — or then only 
 partly — erected castle of Parnham, and attended by a 
 very learned leech, by whom he was as sufficiently 
 restored to health as the knowledge of those days per- 
 mitted. 
 
112 ST. HILDA: 
 
 This incident — the best which is recorded of the 
 valiant bishop — was the means of cementing a somewhat 
 unusual friendship between the two representatives of 
 rival races. Thane Englebert, together with his wife 
 and infant daughter, became residents in the calfle of 
 Parnham, and it was to no other than the Thane himself 
 that Henry of Blois determined on entrusting the 
 safety of his stronghold. 
 
 Our story will now dispense with all farther particular 
 reference to Henry of Blois, and go on to narrate only 
 ♦ such incidents as pertain to its own development. 
 
 Thane Englebert and his lady had been married for 
 twenty long years without offspring, and the time had 
 K nearly arrived when, according to the order of nature, 
 
 none might be expected; about this time, according 
 to the custom of those rude days in which they lived, 
 both husband and wife determined to offer up their joint 
 prayers to the Giver of all good, holding forth, as a 
 'j sort of bribe to the Almighty, a promise or vow to 
 
 dedicate such gift as might be vouchsafed them, to the 
 service of . heaven itself. In other words, they prayed 
 for a child, and whether male or female, solemnly swore 
 to make the desired child either monk or nun, as the 
 case might be. 
 
 Curiously enough their prayer was heard, or at least 
 their wish was granted, for in due course of time there 
 was born to them a lovely female child, which was bap- 
 tized in the name of Hilda, after the Thane's own 
 
A LEGEND OF " THE LADYE-HOTJSE." 113 
 
 mother, and grew up, to the age of ten years, a perfect 
 prodigy of loveliness, virtue, and good temper. 
 
 It was about this time, or indeed seven years after the 
 period of Englebertfs domiciliation in Parnham Castle, 
 that a marked change came over the disposition of little 
 Hilda — and here, it must be observed, that " gover- 
 nesses" being scarce in those days, the education of 
 pretty Miss Englebert had been most carefully — left 
 alone by her mother, and would have been left alone 
 entirely but for the kind interposition of a sort of 
 chaplain, or resident priest, whom the prince-bishop 
 thought an indispensable adjunct to the reasonably 
 small chapel which his position rendered necessary as a 
 portion of his residence. 
 
 This chaplain, or priest, had heard of the vow made by 
 Hilda's parents, and judging that'a young lady dedi- 
 cated to the service of God ought to be able to read her 
 breviary, not only took upon himself, without call, to 
 instruct the young lady in the rudiments of Latin, but 
 also lost no opportunity of informing her that she was 
 predestined to celibacy, and must then and for ever con- 
 sider herself as bound to carry out the intention of her 
 parents, as vowed before her birth. 
 
 In accordance with the instructions of her tutor, the 
 little Hilda evinced every disposition to become a nun — 
 she threw aside all childish games and notions, became, 
 all at once, a staid, demure little creature, and insisted, 
 
114 ST. HILDA! 
 
 like Mr. Wilkie Collinses famous heroine, upon wearing 
 nothing but white. 
 
 If mamma Englebert, in the pride of her heart, pre- 
 sented the little lady with a beautiful pink frock, trimmed 
 with silver or gold lace, and even took the trouble of 
 arraying her in it, the little minx would go straightway 
 up into the nursery, disrobe herself of the obnoxious 
 garment, and in lieu thereof display, outwardly, a por- 
 tion of white attire which need not be otherwise men- 
 tioned than as intended to be worn inwardly next her 
 skin. 
 
 She also, about this time, evinced a most remarkable 
 amount of self-will, verging, we are afraid, upon 
 obstinacy; and although she failed not in love or 
 obedience to her parents, whom she loved most tenderly, 
 it was yet apparent that whenever and wherever she had 
 made up her mind to any one matter, she pertinaciously 
 clung to her opinion, and would never suffer herself to 
 be moved by any argument. Her " yes " was yes, and 
 her " no " was no ; " dictum et factum" was the elegant 
 eulogium passed by her priest-tutor upon this said quality 
 of mind, which seemed to meet his approval, and upon 
 this principle will be found to turn those after events of 
 her life which have made her name remarkable. 
 
 And now, before going further, it is the chronicler's 
 sad task to record a melancholy instance of bad faith on 
 the part of Miss Hilda's parents. "When Englebert and 
 his lady wife made their joint vow to heaven, it was their 
 
THE LADYE-HOTJSE." 115 
 
 intention to have kept that vow, and indeed very rare 
 are the instances wherein snch vows were ever broken — 
 the church almost invariably visiting such defaulters 
 with the severest penalties known to its law ; but never- 
 theless such vows were occasionally broken — sometimes 
 by individuals of high station and great wealth, their 
 delinquency being covered by ample donations to the 
 church, and occasionally by individuals of lesser note 
 simply by virtue of their insignificance and poverty. 
 But Thane Englebert was neither very insignificant nor 
 very poor, two facts which greatly aggravated his crime 
 in the eyes of the one solitary priest who formed the 
 " staff " of Bishop Henry's ecclesiastic establishment at 
 Parnham Castle. 
 
 Nevertheless, and despite all possible contingencies, 
 Englebert, his lady wife, and their little lady daughter, 
 contrived to pass six inharmonious years without arriving 
 at any climax. The little lady rigorously conformed to 
 all the usances of ceremonial laid down to her by her 
 spiritual adviser — she would dress in white, she would 
 fast and pray, it was even said that she flagellated her 
 own snowy shoulders once with a knotted flaxen cord, 
 in humble imitation of her preceptor, whose back and 
 shoulders were declared, by himself, to be one mass of 
 weals and blotches, an assumed fact, the truth of which 
 is wanting. 
 
 During this time the Thane himself, but slightly 
 pricked in conscience, and having become sadly inat- 
 
116 ST. HILDA: 
 
 tentive to his religious duties,, took pains to find a 
 becoming husband for his daughter, now approaching 
 the marriageable age of sixteen years. His choice fell 
 upon a stalwart Breton Knight, of good extraction, and 
 some martial fame; but one totally in want of those 
 personal attractions which go far towards winning the 
 female heart. His name was Bras-de-fer, and a much 
 uglier fellow, or a more uncourtly soldier, never donned 
 morion or couched a lance. 
 
 He was, however, high in favour with the bishop, then 
 as usual away in France, and was greatly enamoured 
 with the beauty of Miss Hilda herself, whose visible 
 loathing of his company served but as a whet to the 
 appetite of his unholy love. 
 
 The matter of a marriage between Bras-de-fer and 
 Miss Hilda having been satisfactorily arranged and 
 decided on by three out of the four personages most 
 concerned, it was determined that scant ceremony should 
 be used in compelling our young heroine to fulfil the 
 wishes of her parents ; but herein they did not calculate 
 upon the force of will which they had to encounter in 
 the disposition of the young lady in question ; who, on 
 being told that she must marry Bras-de-fer, replied by 
 stamping her pretty foot violently upon the ground, and 
 uttering the monosyllable " no, no, no," in a manner so 
 decisive, that there could be no possible doubt about the 
 fact, and that the "no" she said was the "no" she 
 meant, unequivocally as well as irrevocably. 
 
A LEGEND OF "THE LADYE-HOUSE/ V 117 
 
 Long and stormy were the debates which ensued 
 between parents and child ; little Hilda, now grown np 
 beyond the stature, and past the age of being treated as 
 a mere child, though yielding perfect obedience to her 
 parents in all other than the one command which would 
 have had her break the vow made at her birth, yet 
 showed herself so immovably resolute upon this occasion, 
 that it was deemed expedient by the Thane and his lady 
 to have recourse to some strong measure, in order to 
 force that obedience which they found themselves unable 
 to obtain by the weak agency of mere words. 
 
 Accordingly, after tasking their wits to the utmost, 
 they at length arrived at a determination to imprison 
 their daughter in a remote chamber of the castle, and 
 starve her into compliance with their wish ; a determina- 
 tion which was no sooner arrived at than communicated 
 to the young lady herself. 
 
 Here was an unpleasant predicament for a young 
 virgin of sixteen, whose one single crime was an aversion 
 to matrimony ! 
 
 Faithful to her principles, and to her convictions, 
 Miss Hilda determined to endure every privation rather 
 than violate her own mental vow; and equally determined 
 to maintain their own resolutions were the Thane and 
 his lady. Consequently the very next day saw our 
 young heroine closely imprisoned in the highest chamber 
 of Farnham Castle — most probably that of the old keep, 
 which then numbered some four stories, and which was 
 
118 ST. HILDA: 
 
 an apartment of very scanty accommodation, seeing that it 
 contained absolutely no furniture whatsoever excepting 
 a few rushes strewed upon its floor, an apology for a 
 bed, and one rough three-legged stool, minus even the 
 decency of a covering. 
 
 In common with all such structures, the chamber in 
 which our heroine was imprisoned, had a loophole on 
 each side of its doorway, and it was, therefore, easy 
 enough for persons stationed outside to observe all that 
 might transpire within. This being the case, Thane 
 Englebert and his lady wife stationed themselves upon 
 the stone staircase, at much personal inconvenience, in 
 the hope of seeing their child succumb to the powerful 
 argument they were endeavouring to maintain; but in 
 this they were signally disappointed, for no sooner did 
 the pangs of hunger begin to manifest themselves, than 
 Miss Hilda, already on her knees, in prayer to heaven, 
 beheld three beautiful turtle doves perched up on the 
 stone lattice which did duty for a window — bearing in 
 their beaks a sufficient quantity of beautiful ripe cherries 
 and fresh plucked strawberries, to form a most delicious 
 meal, the like of which, for luxurious enjoyment, had 
 never before touched mortal lips. On the evening of 
 that same day, three more birds of the same tribe, equally 
 well laden, made their appearance, followed by three 
 linnets, who carolled an evening song, for her delecta- 
 tion, more beautiful and musical than anything she had 
 before heard, lulling her to sleep in an ecstasy of delight 
 that resulted in dreams of heaven itself. 
 
A LEGEND OE "THE LAE-YE-HOUSE." 119 
 
 On the day following, the same miracle arrived, 
 giviog Thane Englebert and his lady wife fully to un- 
 derstand that a Power superior to their own ruled over 
 the destinies of their child. But half credulous, the 
 strongly minded pair decided on yet another mode of 
 annoyance to their fair child. They determined on 
 stripping her of all garments, leaving her a prey to 
 all the winds of the earth, which just then blew hurri- 
 canes enough to melt the heart of a poor-law guardian 
 (not that poor-law guardians were then invented, 
 although we have reason to believe that such monstro- 
 sities followed rapidly on the invention of gunpowder) : no 
 sooner was this thought decided on, than it was put 
 into practice ; the Thane's lady, herself, stripping from 
 her child's body every vestige of raiment, leaving the 
 fair maiden to conceal her condition, as best she might, 
 amidst the rushes of her miserable bed. 
 
 But no sooner had the mother left her child, to hold 
 confab with the male partner of her iniquity, who, 
 despite his reasonably warm leather jerkin and overcoat 
 of sheep-skin, sat shivering upon the stone staircase, 
 than some half-a-dozen magpies were seen making 
 their way through the air, carrying between them a 
 tapestried garment of the richest possible material, 
 beautiful to look upon, and luxurious to wear, being 
 lined with the finest of wool, and bearing on its exterior 
 side a golden threaded pattern worthy of royalty itself. 
 This garment, the pied chatterboxes, who had doubt- 
 less stolen it from the wardrobe of a princess, lost no 
 
120 ST. HILDA: 
 
 time in thrusting in between the bars of the windows, 
 by means of their united strength and ingenuity ; 
 talking all the time, after their own peculiar way, in 
 evident enjoyment of the having done a good action — 
 as indeed they had. 
 
 When the Thane and his lady observed this new 
 manifestation of a Power superior to their own, they 
 well-nigh went frantic with rage and disappointment, 
 but not yet acknowledging the full force of that In- 
 visible Power, which was in very truth the Power of 
 heaven, they decided on yet one other combat with 
 fate, and in accordance with this determination went, 
 both of them, into the tower chamber of their child, 
 and removing from under her the entire mass of rushes, 
 forming her bed, left the unfortunate Hilda to take 
 what repose she might upon the bare and damp stone 
 flooring of her desolate chamber. 
 
 But herein, once more, and for the last time, they 
 were disappointed; for no sooner had they left the 
 apartment than, late as it was, at eventide, whole legions 
 of small birds, consisting of sparrows, linnets, robin 
 red-breasts, and fieldfares, made their way through the 
 window casement, each bearing in its beak a particle 
 of feathery moss, soft as eider-down, and fragrant as 
 the breath of flowers, which, being deposited on the 
 stone floor in thousands upon thousands of tiny layers, 
 quickly assumed the appearance of a couch more luxu- 
 riant than had ever before been known, and one which 
 
THE LADYE-HOUSE.'" 121 
 
 afforded the awe-stricken maiden not only a delightful 
 night's repose, but also a clear conviction that Heaven 
 itself approved of the course she was taking, and would 
 continue to support her under whatever trials and 
 temptation might in future beset her. 
 
 After this third evidence of their incapacity to bring 
 their daughter into their own way of thinking, the 
 Thane and his lady gave up all further attempts — at 
 least for the time being, and, at once liberating our 
 heroine from her confinement, suffered her to take again 
 her place in the household; to hear the exhortations 
 of their chaplain, and to wear whatever she pleased, 
 even her own favourite white, and beyond this, counselled 
 their protege Bras-de-fer, to restrain his attentions within 
 becoming bounds, on pain of being utterly discarded. 
 
 For a time, all things went well with Miss Hilda ; 
 she progressed wonderfully in her studies, — learned her 
 " Propria quae maribus," we beg pardon, and her " ave 
 maria," and " pater noster/' with extreme avidity ; 
 was soon able to copy and transcribe some of the 
 characters in an illuminated missal, — and had even 
 begun to learn some of the routine exercises necessary 
 to qualify her for a novitiate, when her cruel parents, 
 bent upon once more testing her faith, and promoting 
 their own base ends, devised a scheme so utterly 
 revolting and wickedly impious, that the pen of a 
 chronicler is reluctant, even in the extreme, to record 
 its unnatural development. 
 
122 
 
 ST. HILDA: 
 
 Determined to test their daughter's faith to the very 
 uttermost stretch, the Thane and his wife hit upon the 
 following experiment. They caused the chapel of Farn- 
 ham Castle to be decked out in fashion for a bridal, 
 its altar to be festooned with flowers, its walls to be 
 hung with tapestry, borrowed from the Bishop's own 
 " Sanctum sanctorum/' its pavement to be strewn with 
 rushes, and even went so far as to make a new em- 
 broidered petticoat, for an image of the virgin, out of 
 one of her ladyship's old robes, in order to render the 
 scene impressive; which done, and all matters being 
 duly prepared, they caused their daughter to be brought 
 as far as the altar rails, where, to her astonishment 
 and dismay, she found Bras-de-fer, arrayed in all his 
 finery, a priest who was utterly unknown to her, and 
 her father the Thane, together with her mother, both 
 decked out in their holiday suits, as for an occasion of 
 importance. 
 
 Startled by surprise, and overcome by presentiment, 
 she held back from approaching the sacred fane, but was 
 speedily prevented from retreating, by the advance of 
 both parents, who, after forcibly leading her to the altar, 
 at once made known to her that unless she immediately, 
 both there and then, suffered herself to be united in the 
 bonds of matrimony to Bras-de-fer (whose natural 
 ugliness appeared to ten-fold disadvantage in his bride- 
 groom's attire) they, her parents, would, before her very 
 eyes, plunge two daggers into their own hearts, and 
 
A LEGEND OF "THE LADYE-HOUSE." 123 
 
 leave her an orphan, at the mercy of all the world; 
 in evidence of which, and in support of which most 
 outrageous declaration, the pair displayed a couple of 
 highly polished poignards, of Italian workmanship, both 
 long enough and sharp enough to carry out the some- 
 what bombastic threats of those who held them. 
 
 Bewildered with the suddenness of her misfortune, 
 staggered by the threat of her parents, and utterly at 
 a loss to find any way out of her difficulties, poor Hilda 
 threw herself upon her knees, and lifted up her eyes to 
 Heaven more in agony than in prayer, and more in 
 desolation than either — she wept, groaned, cried, but 
 all in vain ; she uprose from her kneeling position, 
 threw herself at the feet of her parents, petitioned, 
 prayed, nay, almost raved herself into fits with agony 
 of intercession, but all uselessly — the Thane was immov- 
 able; her mother, without one tinge of compassion, 
 and her would-be lover, without one spark of manly 
 generosity in his wicked looking eyes. She saw, too, 
 the bright blades of the two daggers which her parents 
 somewhat ostentatiously displayed in their left hands 
 (the Thane, be it remembered, had lost his right arm), 
 and her tender nature shrunk from the horrible possi- 
 bility which might follow the course of action that 
 her own heart dictated in accordance with its already 
 recorded vow. 
 
 Where was her friend and instructor the priest? 
 why was another, and a stranger at the altar where he 
 
124 ST. HILDA: 
 
 so long had ministered ? The thought instantly arres- 
 ted her mind, and saved her from utter prostration; 
 with a bound she started up, with a glance of her 
 eye she searched surrounding space, and with the 
 quickness of lightning she detected high over head, 
 but almost entirely concealed by the tracing of a small 
 window, the face of her friend and instructor ; that he 
 had been forcibly kept away was evident, and that he 
 had broken from his durance was more than probable ; 
 with a cry of joy she besought him to descend, but 
 a gesture on his part at once told the impossibility of 
 so doing, and imposed silence on herself. She accep- 
 ted both, for the gestnre was that of a hand pointing 
 to Heaven, and the injunction of silence was in accor- 
 dance with her own heart. 
 
 Silently, therefore, and in an attitude of passive faith, 
 did Hilda withdraw herself from the feet of her parents, 
 and standing up boldly, yet meekly, await the further 
 course of events. 
 
 Mistaking her passiveness for resignation, the priest 
 commenced the marriage service, and had proceeded so 
 far as to put the usual question authorized by the 
 ritual — which question, answered in the affirmative by 
 Bras-de-fer, was next in rotation put to our heroine, with 
 the full expectation of being likewise answered in the 
 affirmative, when silence ensued. " Wilt thou take this 
 man for thy wedded husband ? " thundered forth the 
 priest. But yet no answer. 
 
A LEGEND OE f: THE LADYE-HOUSE."" 125 
 
 Hereupon the Thane and his lady both raised their 
 daggers in an attitude suitable for striking. The priest 
 for the third time,, gave utterance to the words, " Wilt 
 thou take this man for thy wedded husband ? " Poor 
 Hilda lifted up her eyes, she saw her parents with deter- 
 mined faces and determined hands, ready, as she firmly 
 believed, to immolate themselves, and nature almost 
 conquered ; but again she turned her glance towards the 
 spot where even yet appeared the face of her spiritual 
 friend, and a somewhat in his look, an expression of 
 hope, faith, and reliance, united in one, served to fill her 
 heart with a holy trust that would not be swayed by any 
 earthly consideration. 
 
 For the fourth and last time, the priest thundered out 
 those awful words which were destined to form the 
 crisis of her fate. u Wilt thou take this man for thy 
 wedded husband? " A pause of few instants only now 
 ensued, when with a voice choked by emotion, but yet 
 sufficiently distinct to be plainly heard, Hilda spoke the 
 fatal monosyllable, "No!" 
 
 A wild shriek followed — or a horrible yell, rather. 
 Our heroine clasped her hands over her face, she felt as if 
 turning to stone, but expressions of amazement being 
 uttered in the voices of her parents — whom she supposed 
 to be dead — caused a revulsion of feeling under which 
 she became instantly aware that a catastrophe had ensued 
 of a nature differing from what might have been anti- 
 cipated. And so there had. Tor lo ! on the utterance 
 
126 ST. HILDA: 
 
 of that fatal monosyllable which was to have become the 
 death-warrant of the Thane and his wife, a miracle had 
 ensued, for the two daggers which were directed towards 
 the hearts of Englebert and his lady, flew suddenly and 
 by their own accord, away from the breasts intended, 
 and plunged themselves simultaneously in the heart of 
 Bras-de-fer, who fell dead, with a yell of anguish ; and 
 so ended the troubles of his intended wife. 
 
 It need hardly now be told, that with such manifes- 
 tations of the will of Heaven before their eyes, Hilda's 
 parents no longer opposed her wish to become dedicated 
 to the service of God. They forthwith reconciled them 
 to the thought, and even favoured it after their own 
 peculiar fashion, by giving their child the control of 
 all their worldly possessions to dispose of in charity. 
 
 It needs now only to be told that Thane Englebert 
 and his lady, dying very shortly after these events, left 
 Hilda at liberty to do exactly as she pleased, and this is 
 what she pleased to do. Not altogether choosing the 
 restraint of a convent, and being possessed of some 
 original ideas of her own, she caused a substantial house 
 or tower to be erected on a spot chosen by herself, and 
 within about a mile of Earnham Castle, in the parish of 
 " Hale/'' where she led the life of a kind of a female her- 
 mit, living entirely by herself, dressing entirely in white, 
 passing her time in prayer and deeds of charity, whereby 
 she became a sort of saint on earth, worshipped by all the 
 poor of the locality, and respected by all the rich, even 
 
A LEGEND OF "THE LADYE-HOUSE."" 127 
 
 by those thorough scoundrels, the "knights of old," 
 who, when they passed by the " Ladye-House," as her 
 domicile was called, bowed low their plumed heads, and 
 dipped their lance's pennon, in all reverence for a virtue 
 that was as much beyond their understanding as it was 
 above their reach. 
 
 It is not recorded when, or under what circumstances, 
 this estimable lady died, but the odour of her good 
 works lives after her, and if she was not actually canon- 
 ized, all we can say is, that she ought so to have been — 
 and thus concludes our legend. 
 
"GENTLEMAN JOHN:" A MYSTERY OF THE 
 CAMP. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " There is no curb for passion like a strong will." 
 
 Rev. Dr. Collyer. 
 
 During the spring of the year 1859,, when the gallant 
 "201st" were quartered in the North Camp, Alder- 
 shot, a sergeant, whom we will call by the convenient 
 name of " Smith," was sauntering leisurely down 
 towards the south camp, and had already crossed over 
 the pontoon bridge, when his attention was called, by a 
 comrade, to the uncommonly fine, indeed noble propor- 
 tions of a young man who walked a little in advance. 
 
 The object of their attention stood over six feet high, 
 his shoulders were uncommonly broad, his waist — for a 
 male — particularly small, and the muscles of his legs 
 plainly visible through their loosely-fitting encasements, 
 — his whole figure denoting strength and activity beyond 
 the usual average. 
 
 The dress of this young man was singular in the 
 highest degree, being of the material and colour gener- 
 ally known as " workhouse grey," whilst its make was 
 
 % 
 
A MYSTERY OF THE CAMP. 129 
 
 on a quality with its material, being such, as would have 
 made a less striking figure look commonplace and un- 
 gainly. 
 
 " A splendid mark for a rifle-ball/" suggested Ser- 
 geant Smith to his comrade (a Corporal of the military 
 train) . 
 
 '" Aye ; I wonder if his face will bear inspection as 
 well as his back/' replied the Corporal. 
 
 Just at that moment the young man turned his head, 
 for one instant only — but that one instant was sufficient 
 for his two admirers to pronounce it fully equal to their 
 expectations, being of that rare stamp which impresses 
 itself indelibly on the mind, like the beauty of an 
 Antinous, or the severity of an Apollo — that of the 
 stranger seeming to unite the graces of those two 
 immortal personages in one. 
 
 After a few words of comment, Sergeant Smith and 
 his acquaintance parted company, the latter to his duties, 
 and the former towards the town of Aldershot, whither 
 also the stranger youth preceded him. 
 
 It was about half-past five o'clock, and the retreat 
 had sounded twenty minutes before, so that, according 
 to custom in all garrison towns, there was a strong 
 muster of men hurrying towards the various places of 
 amusement which abound in the principal thoroughfares ; 
 our Sergeant himself, being of the number so inclined, 
 and hesitating only as to which place of recreation he 
 should direct his steps. 
 
 K 
 
130 " GENTLEMAN JOHN : " 
 
 Whilst in the act of reading a printed placard in 
 one of the shop windows, announcing the " benefit " 
 of some noted "professional," Sergeant Smith was 
 politely accosted by the stranger he had so greatly 
 admired, and asked if he conld spare time for a few 
 moments' conversation. 
 
 Somewhat astonished, but not at all displeased, the 
 Sergeant replied in the affirmative, adding, that it 
 would be best to "turn in somewhere/' to which the 
 stranger acceded; and the pair speedily found them- 
 selves " vis-a-vis " in the snug parlour of a well-known 
 beer house, called the "Irish Harp/' 
 
 After asking the Sergeant what he would take, the 
 stranger called for some bottled stout, and proceeded to 
 question his companion touching certain particulars, 
 as will be shown in the following conversation. 
 " You are a Corporal, I believe, in the Line ? " 
 " Sergeant, if you please, young gentleman. Do 
 you not perceive my three stripes, and sash ? " 
 " Ah ! Does that denote a Sergeant ? " 
 " I thought all the world knew that ; you can have 
 seen or heard very little of military life, or you would 
 have known better ; but no offence, no offence." 
 
 " None has been intended, I assure you ; pardon my 
 ignorance, which would fain be enlightened. I wish to 
 know something of military life, and it is therefore I 
 have accosted you. May I be so bold as to ask who is 
 the most severe commanding officer in this Camp ? 3> 
 
A MYSTERY OF THE CAMP. 131 
 
 " A strange question, young gentleman, very strange. 
 Allow me to reply by demanding why you ask, for it is 
 a little out of order for men like myself to canvass 
 the quality of our superiors, especially amongst stran- 
 gers." 
 
 " Oh ! I did not think of that. You suppose I may 
 be drawing you into an improper admission, may be, 
 but, if so, you are wrong." 
 
 "And I may have my reasons for what I tell, or 
 don't tell." 
 
 "That is true also. It is clear, therefore, that I 
 have offended you unwittingly. Pray accept my apolo- 
 gies, and I — I — I — will seek my information elsewhere ; 
 so good evening, Sergeant." 
 
 Thus saying, the young gentleman rose to depart, 
 but Sergeant Smith, feeling that he had expressed him- 
 self harshly, checked the young man's departure, by 
 resuming the conversation, as follows : — 
 
 " Not so fast, friend, you mistake me, as I, possibly, 
 have mistaken you — listen. We, of Her Majesty's 
 army, are a class of men bound to speak only with the 
 utmost respect of our officers, whatever our private 
 opinions may be ; to name any one of them as a severe 
 man, might be construed into disrespect, were any 
 listener to tell tales, but as we are alone, and as you 
 appear to be unversed in such matters, I will answer 
 your questions to the best of my ability, so say on." 
 " Enough, and thank you ; please, then, to answer 
 
132 
 
 my first question by telling who is the severest com- 
 manding officer in this camp — north or south? The 
 camp you belong to, whichever that may be, who is the 
 greatest martinet — for that is the word, I believe, in use." 
 
 " Martinet ! aye, that is a word we all understand well 
 enough ; aud perhaps I know exactly the man too." 
 
 " Is it your own commander ? "• 
 
 " Perhaps it is." 
 
 « Nay tell me— is it t " 
 
 " Well, then, it is, and it is not." 
 
 " Explain your paradox." 
 
 " Here goes, then. Our regimental Colonel, that is 
 to say, Lieut. -Colonel Jones, who is now absent on 
 urgent private affairs, is by no means what you call a 
 martinet, quite otherwise, being as kind-hearted a gentle- 
 man as ever breathed, and rather a lax disciplinarian ; 
 but Brevet-Colonel Robinson, who commands the regi- 
 ment, and is only Major by right, is a thorough -going 
 martinet, or worse — for he is not merely a strict disci- 
 plinarian, but has the devil's own temper; forever hold- 
 ing a court-martial on some unlucky non.-com., or 
 sending his men to the cells for a trifle that the Colonel 
 would wink his eye at." 
 
 " Indeed ! and the common soldiers hate him, of 
 course?" 
 
 " Hold hard, friend. Common soldiers ! common 
 soldiers ! Who may they be, friend ? " 
 
 " Why, the men, of course. I mean those who are 
 not like yourself, Sergeant." 
 
A MYSTERY OF THE CAMP. 133 
 
 "See there now — how you civilian folks would degrade 
 us military — private soldiers you mean, or privates, 
 which you please — only don't call them common/' 
 
 " I beg pardon. But tell me how and in what way is 
 Major Eobinson severe ? Supposing a com — I mean a 
 private soldier — were to disobey orders, what would he 
 do? " 
 
 " No one ever dreams of such a thing as disobeying 
 orders — if our Major were to command any of our men 
 to e swallow his grandmother? be would have to do it, 
 and no mistake/'' 
 
 " Bless my soul, how very ridiculous ! But suppose 
 the man had no grandmother, what then ? " 
 
 " He would have to swallow her just the same, for all 
 that, if the Major commanded it, or — " 
 
 "Or what?" 
 
 11 If he refused, for the first offence he would have the 
 guard-house — for the second, cells — for the third, the 
 cat." 
 
 " That will do — I'll enlist under him, if you think he 
 would take me into the regiment ? " 
 
 "If he would take you in — catch him refusing a man 
 of your inches. But you are joking, youngster ? " 
 
 " Not I, on my soul ; I am as much in earnest as ever 
 I was in all my life. So please intercede for me." 
 
 " It will require small intercession if you really mean 
 what you say ; but excuse me, young gentleman, I have 
 served Her Majesty nigh twenty years, man and boy — 
 
134 " GENTLEMAN JOHN : " 
 
 I have also known many worthy lads, such as yourself, 
 for instance, who have quarrelled with their homes, 
 their fathers and mothers, who have enlisted in a moment 
 of disappointment, but who have repented long before 
 they had learnt the ' goose-step/ and then moved 
 heaven and earth to get bought out. Have I hit the 
 right nail on the head, eh ? " 
 
 " Partly so — but partly not so. I thank you, Ser- 
 geant, for your good-nature, but you mistake your man. 
 My mind is made up, and if I join your regiment, no 
 living being will ever see me flinch." 
 
 "Not from the enemy, Fll be sworn, but from the 
 rough-and-tumble drudgery of the barrack- room — the 
 service generally ? " 
 
 " Erom nothing, Sergeant. Never again whilst I breathe 
 the breath of life " {and here the young man threw a degree 
 of earnest solemnity into his voice and manner which 
 startled his listener), — " never, never again will I suffer 
 my impetuosity of temper to be surprised or forced into 
 collision with any other human being." 
 
 " You seem excited now — but — " 
 
 "Am I? it shall be for the last time. Hark ye, 
 Sergeant, nature has given me strong passions, which it 
 is my desire to have curbed. Take me into your regi- 
 ment, I would serve under orders, the more severe the 
 better, the most harsh the best." 
 
 " Then Major Eobinson is the man for you; but take 
 my advice yet, sleep on it, take the night to consider in. 
 
A MYSTERY OP THE CAMP. 135 
 
 If by to- morrow yon are in tlie same mood, come to 
 me, Sergeant Smith, No. 2 Company, 201st Kegiment, 
 North Camp. But I must go now ; can yon tell me the 
 exact time ? " 
 
 Hereupon the young gentleman drew forth a valuable- 
 looking gold watch, at the same instant displaying a 
 superb diamond ring upon the little finger of his right 
 hand, such as none but a rich man could honestly pos- 
 sess'; the hand itself being small and white, almost 
 like that of a woman. After declaring the time to be 
 half past six, the Sergeant took his departure for some 
 place of amusement, and the stranger gentleman for his 
 hotel ; each occupied with his several thoughts. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 On the morning following, it was with mixed feelings of 
 pleasure and surprise, not altogether unmingled with 
 pain, that Sergeant Smith saw his friend of the evening 
 previous present himself as a recruit. 
 
 After once more cautioning his young friend against 
 precipitancy on finding his mood unchanged, the Ser- 
 geant complied with the request made to him ; and all 
 preliminaries of inspection, including that of the medical 
 department, being satisfactorily passed through, the 
 young man was duly enrolled as " Private John Humble 
 of Her Majesty's 201st Regiment," in receipt of a mag- 
 
136 " GENTLEMAN JOHN : " 
 
 nificent income amounting to thirteen pence per diem, 
 exclusive of deductions for " kit " — daily rations, extra 
 clothing, barrack damages, &c. &c. &c. The balance 
 whereof, in support of contingencies, may be set down 
 at somewhere about three-pence half-penny. 
 
 It shall not be said that we have any unpatriotic 
 intention of " showing up " the life of a soldier by 
 entering upon the unsavoury details of barrack-room 
 conversations, and of the little pleasantries attendant 
 upon sleeping sixteen or eighteen persons within the 
 space that common-sense would have allotted to three 
 or four only ; nor is it worth while to record the rough 
 and senseless custom of practical joking which always 
 seeks its victim in a new-comer, in spite of all the 
 restraint exercised, or supposed to be exercised, by a non- 
 commissioned officer, appointed for that purpose. Pri- 
 vate John Humble passed through all these unscathed, 
 indeed he scarcely seemed to be conscious of their exis- 
 tence, but went through his daily routine of rising at 
 gun-fire, issuing from a warm atmosphere across the 
 chilly road into a cold " ablution" hut, where he 
 " soused " himself in water, rubbed himself on a towel 
 coarse as a rasp — recrossed into his sleeping room, 
 there to dress for early drill; after an un-luxurious 
 breakfast to examine his arms, accoutrements, &c. &c, 
 then to parade ; after which, to route marching or field- 
 day evolutions, as the case might be, and to return to 
 clean arms, dress, &c. &c, to take turn to guard, or 
 picket service, to acquire the knowledge necessary for 
 
A MYSTERY OP THE CAMP. 137 
 
 his daily drill,, to recognize certain little mysteries 
 known only to the initiated, to answer the names, roll- 
 calls, and, finally, to yield implicit obedience, without a 
 look, a word, or a thought of question, to all and every 
 command dictated by his superior in grade. 
 
 All of this, Private Humble endured, aye, cheerfully, 
 never once giving cause for the slightest reprimand; 
 he learnt all he had to learn almost intuitively, he never 
 forgot anything once told him, and cheerfully, almost 
 lovingly, performed any laborious or disagreeable work, 
 such as scrubbing tables, washing floors, carrying coals, 
 &c, which could be apportioned to him or even thrust 
 on him through the laziness of others ; in short Private 
 Humble was the " heavy labourer'''' of his mess, and 
 would have been a prime favourite among his com- 
 rades, but that he ignored their foul language, their 
 blasphemous expressions, and certain of their repulsive 
 manners, even to loathing. 
 
 Sergeant Smith, the only man whose conversation 
 he might be said to seek; observed, or fancied he ob- 
 served, " many a time and oft " that Private Humbled 
 face would flush up for a moment or two on receiving 
 some imperative command of a trivial nature, and 
 would afterwards become of a death-like white, as though 
 a mental revolt had been conquered by a still stronger 
 mental effort, or possibly by shame at its own weakness, 
 and yet instead of avoiding all such positions as involved 
 a possibility of caution, Private Humble positively 
 
138 " GENTLEMAN JOHN : " 
 
 courted them ; seemed to thrust himself forward into 
 the very jaws of difficulty as if to afford himself the 
 greatest possible chance of being humiliated, and 
 seemingly undergoing the punishment of self degra- 
 dation with a positive relish. 
 
 As a matter of course these peculiarities in a private 
 soldier gave occasion for remark, and at length reached 
 the ears of Captain Dash, commanding the company, 
 who, with the kind intention of lessening the burden 
 of his young recruit, one day called him aside, and 
 offered him the grade of Lance Corporal, merely, as he 
 observed, that his hands might be saved from those 
 contaminating offices which were so opposed to cleanli- 
 ness. But Private Humble, to the astonishment of his 
 officer, finally, but thankfully refused, saying, " he had 
 made up his mind to undergo all the hardness of a 
 soldier's lot, and did not even intend to seek those 
 immunities which a superior rank would give him.'" 
 But at the same time he took the liberty of asking one 
 favour ; it was that Captain Dash would take charge of 
 his watch and ring — value beyond one hundred pounds, 
 as the possession of such articles exposed himself to 
 robbery, and his comrades to temptation. 
 
 With a look of deep wonder, and his own secret 
 thoughts thereon, Captain Dash accepted Private Hum- 
 ble's trust, and feeling that a scrutiny into the young 
 man's motives would be the reverse of delicate, dismissed 
 him, with something very like an unintentional bow. 
 
A MYSTEltY OF THE CAMP. 139 
 
 So far, the life of Private Humble had passed on 
 without bringing itself into collision with Major, — we 
 beg pardon, with Brevet-Colonel Robinson, who, strict 
 as he was, in matters of dicipline, usually made his 
 complaints known through the adjutant, and not by 
 word of mouth; but a very slight occasion gave rise to 
 an infraction of his habitual rule. 
 
 Private John Humble happened, one night, to be 
 on guard opposite the hut in which Brevet-Colonel 
 Robinson was quartered, and, as usual, marched to and 
 fro over a well worn beat, after the manner of all his 
 predecessors in that eligible department, a complete 
 channel having been formed by the hourly, daily, 
 weekly, and yearly passage of one single pair of feet, till 
 it was as distinctly marked as the bed of a small stream, 
 and to stray from which was almost difficult. It was 
 about eleven o'clock at night, the moon was at its full, 
 and the sky nearly as bright as day. Brevet-Colonel 
 Robinson had just left the mess-room and walked with 
 that elasticity of step which denotes the attempt of a 
 well-bred gentleman to disguise from himself the possible 
 fact of his having taken a little too much wine. To hint 
 that he was intoxicated would be unjust, he might have 
 been slightly elevated, or the sudden change from a warm 
 to a cold atmosphere might have had its effect; but 
 certainly, the Brevet-Colonel's walk was slightly out of 
 the line termed by. Euclid "a right line/' and demon- 
 strated as being the most direct course from one given 
 
140 
 
 point to another ; for it serpentined and swayed, grace- 
 fully, of course, and far more after the fashion of Ho- 
 garth's " line of beauty," than after that before alluded to. 
 
 On approaching Private Humble, Brevet-Colonel 
 Robinson addressed him in a loud voice, asking why he 
 did not keep precisely to his own line of beat, instead of 
 winding about in that unsoldierly way. To which 
 Private Humble, after presenting arms,' and not know- 
 ing how to reply without offence, first ventured on a 
 " salute," and then marched on his beat as if nothing 
 had occurred. 
 
 " Guard, Guard," roared out Brevet-Colonel Robin- 
 son, and in a trice, up came a Sergeant's guard, who 
 were immediately commanded to place Private Humble 
 under arrest. 
 
 " On what charge, Colonel," demanded the Sergeant. 
 
 " Disobedience of orders/'' roared Brevet-Colonel 
 Robinson ; after which he stalked on to his quarters, 
 and Private Humble was marched off, " in charge " to 
 the guard room, somewhat unexpectedly enlightened as 
 to the species of discipline sometimes indulged in by 
 officers of the strict school. 
 
 On the following day, Brevet-Colonel Robinson, 
 whilst examining the charge sheet, was positively 
 oblivious of the particular charge laid against Private 
 Humble, but not choosing to admit as much before his 
 brother officers, ordered Private Humble to be dismissed 
 with a reprimand ; he was therefore " reprimanded and 
 
A MYSTERY OF THE CAMP. 141 
 
 dismissed accordingly/"* and was about to return to his 
 duty when the Captain of his company, the same who 
 had kindly taken charge of his gold watch and diamond 
 ring, whispered a few words, and Brevet-Colonel Robin- 
 son turned sharply upon John Humble, saying : — 
 
 ' ' So you are a fine gentleman in disguise, eh ? " To 
 which the young man replied, "I am Private John 
 Humble, and nothing more, Colonel.'" 
 
 " Humph/' rejoined Brevet-Colonel Eobinson. 
 " That is all you choose to tell, but I'll find you out, 
 and if I detect you for a scoundrel " — 
 
 " Scoundrel ! " retorted Private Humble, his face and 
 forehead being in a moment of the deepest scarlet, 
 " Scoundrel ! " 
 
 But before another word could be uttered, Private 
 Humble had fallen down in a fit, and was carried out 
 of the guard-room, insensible. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 On returning to consciousness, Private John Humble's 
 first question to the friendly comrade who ministered to 
 his recovery, was, "Did I strike him/' to which the 
 man replied, " Strike him ! who, the Colonel ? — cer- 
 tainly not, certainly not." " Thank God for that/' 
 vehemently exclaimed Private Humble; "then I have 
 conquered myself at last," with which comfortable 
 
142 
 
 reflection he passed out to his regular duties with a 
 firm step, and proud eye; no remains of his sudden 
 indisposition being visible to the puzzled gaze of his 
 comrades. Soon after this little incident, one of the 
 subaltern officers of the 201st announced his intention 
 of exchanging with a gentleman from some other regi- 
 ment which was ordered abroad, from a desire to see 
 more active service; and very shortly the desired 
 change became effected. It should here be observed, 
 that with the sole exception of Brevet-Colonel Robinson, 
 there was not an officer of Her Majesty's 201st regiment 
 who was not popular with his own men in particular, 
 and with the regiment in general, all of them being 
 gentlemen, not merely by birth, but by education, as 
 well as by circumstances. It had never been said of 
 them, that they incurred debt beyond their means to 
 liquidate, that they annoyed each other, or scandalized 
 propriety by becoming the theme of public exposure ; 
 they neither gambled nor drank, nor committed any of 
 those eccentricities which have made other regiments 
 better known than respected, such as " The Shab- 
 bies,'' "The Incurables/' &c, &c, but will ever 
 
 be remembered in the vicinity of Aldershot, as the most 
 exemplary that ever entered its camp, with the one soli- 
 tary exception of its commanding officer " pro tern." 
 The gentleman who supplied the vacancy created by 
 
 the retirement of Ensign was announced to the 
 
 company of Captain Dash as Mr Tremain, and when 
 
A MYSTERY OE THE CAMP. ll<3 
 
 that name was heard for the first time by Private John 
 Humble, it was noticed that he gave a sudden start, 
 and was, for a considerable period afterwards, lost in 
 meditation. What could the new comer be to him ? 
 was the question amongst his comrades; and it was 
 decided to watch him on parade, when the new officer 
 should make his first appearance. This was accordingly 
 done, especially by Sergeant Smith, to whom the inci- 
 dent had been reported. 
 
 On the day following, this occasion occurred — Mr. 
 Tremain took up his position in the company, and al- 
 though Private Humble had no means at command for 
 disguising his general appearance, it was noted that the 
 expression of his countenance was somewhat different 
 from usual, seeming more stern, more pale, and with the 
 jaw more firmly set. Mr. Tremain passed through the 
 ranks, before the ranks, and behind the ranks, but not 
 a hint of any kind betrayed any sort of recognition 
 either to him or to Humble, and when after several 
 passings and repassings, the officer in question took his 
 departure with the rest, an appearance of manifest relief 
 took the place of deep anxiety in the aspect of Private 
 Humble ; but for all this, a notable change still took 
 place in his demeanour ; inasmuch as he quite suddenly 
 ceased to display certain accomplishments which had 
 almost, in spite of himself, previously begun to make 
 him talked about. It had been ascertained, by the 
 Major's lady, that Private Humble was an accomplished 
 
144 
 
 pianist ; by his Captain that he was an able mathemati- 
 cian ; by the Chaplain that he was a ripe Greek scholar, 
 and by the bandmaster that he was a far more learned 
 contrapuntist than himself; all of which distinguishing 
 peculiarities the young soldier now kept in positive 
 abeyance, and would have utterly concealed, but that 
 the mischief of their publicity was already made evi- 
 dent. 
 
 The singularity of Private Humble' s connection with 
 the regiment had long acquired for its hero the soubri- 
 quet of te Gentleman John," and was a common theme 
 of conversation, not only with the company to which he 
 was attached, but throughout the regiment itself. His 
 actions were watched; the desire to know who he 
 really was, and why he entered upon such a career, 
 became stronger and stronger every day; but the 
 mystery of his incognito remained intact. 
 
 It became known that he received one single letter 
 only, every week, and that always on the Monday 
 afternoon, the said letter awaiting his presence at the 
 Camp Post Office, and never being delivered to him 
 through the ordinary channel; it was surmised, and 
 justly so, that the said letter was addressed in a name 
 different from that he bore in the regiment, but all 
 the ingenuity of his comrades failed to detect its ad- 
 dress, and it only remained for them to note that its 
 receipt invariably brought with it an accession of 
 melancholy to the usually quiet countenance of the 
 mysterious young man. 
 
A MYSTERY OF THE CAMP. 145 
 
 It was now the period at which route marching 
 ceased, and the routine of field duties began throughout 
 all the departments of the camp, when the time ap- 
 proached for the solving of this mystery. 
 
 On Monday evening at the officers' mess, the last 
 before Easter, and only when the dinner was ended and 
 dessert was on the table, a conversation ensued upon 
 the subject of insanity, given rise to by some incidental 
 circumstance. Now the particular subject of insanity 
 was not one especially suited to the mess table, but 
 nevertheless, having been once broached, continued to 
 arrest attention, when Mr. Tremain observed that he 
 had only that very day received a letter wherein it was 
 stated that an old and valued friend had suddenly 
 recovered, in a very remarkable way, from a terrible visi- 
 tation of that kind. He was, of course, asked to relate 
 the circumstance, which he did, in something like the 
 following strain. 
 
 Sir Arthur Pendragon, a wealthy Cornish Baronet, 
 having two motherless children, one son, and one daugh- 
 ter, conceived a dislike to the routine of an English Uni- 
 versity for his son, and chose to have his education con- 
 ducted at the great and deservedly celebrated Marischal 
 College, Aberdeen, under very strict superintendence, 
 for reasons of his own. These reasons bein^ that the 
 lad possessed so violent a disposition as to require an un- 
 common degree of curb. 
 
 Young Pendragon was therefore placed under the 
 
Ii6 " GENTLEMAN JOHN : " 
 
 charge of the Rev. Dr. Anderson, one of the Baronet's 
 oldest friends, and was also, in some other sort, com- 
 mitted to the medical superintendence of a physician 
 equally well known and respected. After passing 
 through the curriculum of that celebrated University, 
 with the highest honour to himself, and without once 
 visiting his paternal home through four long years, young 
 Pendragon returned to his father and sister, a prodigy 
 of manly beauty and intellectual refinement. 
 
 The advices which Sir Arthur Pendragon received, at 
 various times, from his two old friends in Scotland, were 
 apparently satisfactory, but it soon became evident 
 that the great difference between the state of society 
 iu the cold northern city of Aberdeen, and the more 
 hot-blooded intercourse of the London world (for it was 
 to London the young man came, where his family was 
 on a visit), was beginning to act upon his son's constitu- 
 tional temperament. 
 
 Accomplished, generous, and habitually courteous in 
 all the relations of life, young Pendragon was yet inca- 
 pable of bearing contradiction, and would have em- 
 broiled himself in many a duel if that wretched institu- 
 tion of a by-gone age had been in vogue. As it was 
 the Baronet withdrew himself and family to their native 
 county of Cornwall with all expedition, hoping to work 
 a favourable change in his son's habits by patient expos- 
 tulation, and in some measure through the affectionate 
 
A MYSTERY OF THE CAMP. 147 
 
 love of his kind and gentle sister, of whom young Pen- 
 dragon was passionately fond. 
 
 In the quiet round of domestic happiness all went 
 well with the young man for several weeks. Female 
 society, of the most attractive aspect, was provided, 
 in the presence of which, habits of self-control were 
 imperative, but the restraints thereby entailed were 
 chiefly exercised over his in-door life, and seemed to ex- 
 tend no further than the threshold of the family man- 
 sion; for elsewhere than in the actual presence of his 
 sister's coterie, the ungovernable temper of his nature 
 burst forth with redoubled violence, and was only 
 brought to a climax through the perpetration of a fear- 
 ful act, which occurred thus : — 
 
 Sir Arthur Pendragon and his son had occasion to 
 accompany their timber bailiff beyond the precincts of the 
 park in order to select certain trees for felling, when 
 a slight difference of opinion took place between 
 father and son ; little things proverbially lead to greater, 
 and so was it in the present case. The Baronet waxed 
 warm, his son still warmer; the timber bailiff en- 
 deavoured to stand between the two, but with the 
 usual mischance of peace-makers ; for he only made 
 matters worse; at length, in an evil moment of un- 
 governable fury, young Pendragon felled his parent to 
 the earth, bleeding, insensible, and to all appearance 
 dead. 
 
148 
 
 No sooner was the unpardonable act done,, than the 
 young man, appalled, and conscience stricken, would 
 have given his right hand to have undone that wicked 
 blow, but repentance came too late. 
 
 By the united aid of the timber bailiff and several 
 peasants, the unfortunate Baronet was carried to his 
 home, there to remain a raving lunatic for many 
 months, in spite of the most scientific medical advice, 
 or the most affectionate care of his tender daughter, 
 and now thoroughly repentant, and remorse-stricken 
 son. 
 
 The lapse of a few months rendered the services of 
 two keepers from a celebrated asylum indispensable, 
 and it was then that young Pendragon, with the full 
 force of his crime hanging over his conscience, formed 
 some secret determination which resulted in his leaving 
 his home, secretly, silently, without leaving any clue to 
 his whereabouts, even with his beloved sister. 
 
 Here — one universal look of recognition seemed to 
 affect all but the speaker himself. Each gentleman 
 regarded his neighbour inquiringly, and Captain Dash, 
 in three brief words, spoke the opinion of all, " Private 
 John Humble ; " and Private John Humble it proved 
 to be, who, in the plenitude of his repentance deter- 
 mined to punish his own pride — to submit himself to 
 almost penal servitude, to subject himself to a discipline 
 the slightest infraction of which would entail heavy 
 consequences, or even, possibly, degradation. 
 
A MYSTERY OF THE CAMP. 149 
 
 All this young Pendragon had dared,, his pride had 
 submitted itself to a curb, his passion to a conqueror ; 
 for in the one severe mental shock which had ended in a 
 fit of subdued rage, his mind had found a better bal- 
 ance ; and when he returned to his native home, which 
 desirable release was effected through the purchase of 
 his discharge, it was with a heart deeply thankful to 
 that Providence which not only restored his beloved 
 father to reason, but which also directed him to the 
 means of ruling himself, his passions and his pride. 
 
 For the rest — Sir Arthur's recovery was only inti- 
 mated to young Pendragon in a letter by post — the 
 friendly timber bailiff being the writer. Sergeant 
 Smith became the envied possessor of the gold watch, 
 and Captain Dash was prevailed on to accept the 
 souvenir of the diamond ring; whilst on the day of 
 his discharge Private Humble was recognized in his 
 true character of Mr. Arthur Pendragon, and asked 
 to join his brother gentlemen at mess ; an honour 
 which was politely but firmly declined, from motives 
 of delicacy. 
 
LILY LADE: A LEGEND OE MOTHER 
 LTJDLAM'S CATE. 
 
 PREAMBLE. 
 
 " A man he was to all the country dear, 
 And passing rich on forty pounds a-year." 
 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 Having, in another tradition, given an illustration of 
 clerical character not exactly to the credit of " the cloth/' 
 it is with the very greatest of pleasure that circumstances 
 enable the author to afford a counterbalancing example 
 of integrity and holy living, combined with simplicity and 
 rare self-denial, in that of & gentleman, whom the license 
 of literature permits to be placed in the same identical 
 position as that occupied by his unworthy opposite. The 
 Rev. James Lade, like the Eev. Simon Bullockwash, is 
 a portrait drawn from nature, and the times ; but, as the 
 reasons which operated in rendering it necessary to con- 
 ceal identification in the one case, equally operate in the 
 other, it will be useless for the reader to attempt raising 
 the veil of mystification that enwraps both. Lily Lade is 
 also no creation of the fancy, but a real personage, and 
 the chief incidents of her career perfectly true, with the 
 substitution of ideal for real names, and the alteration of 
 a few dates. 
 
LILY LADE. 151 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 During the reign of William III., when to the chaos of 
 revolutionary entanglement had succeeded a state of 
 comparative order, and at the time when native partiali- 
 ties led the husband of Mary to import noblemen of his 
 own creating from the swampy shores of his own water- 
 land, there lived, on his own patrimonial estate, in 
 Essex, the high and mighty, Philip Augustus Plantagenet 
 Bragge, second Earl and tenth Baron of Knuckledown, 
 a peer of the realm, immensely rich, terribly proud, and 
 utterly insignificant in his personal exterior, being 
 scarcely five feet high in his highest heeled shoes, with a 
 voice like a cracked tin trumpet, and an eye that squinted 
 so prodigiously, as to give him the appearance of forever 
 trying to look into his own left ear. 
 
 In common with very many, whose physical disqualifica- 
 tions were obvious, the Earl of Knuckledown, from con- 
 stantly believing himself to be the subject of invidious 
 remark, consoled himself by an intense admiration of self, 
 and indulged in such an exaggerated pride of everything 
 belonging to, or even distantly related to his own style 
 and dignity, that the ruling passion of his life became 
 pride, not merely as the word itself is generally accepted, 
 but a kind of pride which swallowed up his every thought, 
 hope, and feeling ; a kind of delusion which amounted 
 nigh to insanity, and which led him to believe that all 
 the rest of the human race were vastly inferior to himself 
 
152 LILY LADE : A LEGEND OP 
 
 because they were more than five feet high, had voices of 
 musical power, and did not squint abominably. 
 
 This eccentric nobleman, who, apart from his absorb- 
 ing weakness was not altogether a fool, had been twice 
 married ; firstly, to a lady who brought him three children 
 — all females — named respectively, Agatha, Blanche, and 
 Maude, all of whom were fine, well-grown, and healthy, 
 as was their mother, who died at the expiration of ten 
 years from her marriage ; secondly, the Earl married a 
 young and beautiful Frenchwoman, the daughter of an 
 Ambassador, and by her had three children, all boys, 
 who, taking after their father, were so extremely the op- 
 posite of their three step-sisters as to provoke uncompli- 
 mentary comparisons whenever opportunity afforded. 
 
 As a matter almost of course, the Earl idolised his 
 three unsightly boys, and cared very little for his three 
 beautiful girls; indeed, he would scarcely have cared for 
 the latter at all, but that they were a portion of his per- 
 sonal dignity, were enrolled at Herald's College as leaves 
 of his family tree, and were registered in his big family 
 Bible, as having been born, &c, &c, whereby their persons 
 became a property to be made the most of in some way or 
 other for the credit of his high and mighty name. 
 
 When the death of his first Countess rendered the ele- 
 vation of a second necessary, the Earl of Knuckledown 
 bethought him that female children, if they were good for 
 nothing else, were still available as a means of aggran- 
 dizement, matrimonially considered. With this view, 
 
153 
 
 lie caused his daughters to be educated as would most 
 befit them for the elevated positions to which he men- 
 tally destined them — a French governess, the selection of 
 his French wife, was engaged, and the three young ladies 
 were carefully taught everything which fashion brought 
 into vogue, to the utter exclusion of all that was truly 
 good and really useful, a system which made the two 
 youngest daughters all but utterly depraved, and the 
 eldest of all, a romantic, thoughtless, but still good- 
 hearted young woman, whose knowledge of the world 
 was confined to the area of romance literature, such as 
 then emanated from the impure French school. 
 
 When Lady Agatha, the eldest of the EarFs daughters, 
 had arrived at the age of twenty-one years, Lady Blanche 
 at that of eighteen, and Lady Maude at that of nigh 
 seventeen, it pleased his Lordship to select for them as 
 husbands, a Duke, a Marquis, and a Yiscount, with each 
 of whom, severally, he" had made compact, and arranged 
 preliminaries ; let, therefore, his horror and consternation 
 be described, by whosoever can describe it, when it was 
 found that his eldest child, the Lady Agatha Plantaga- 
 net Bragge, had positively and indubitably eloped with a 
 penniless subaltern officer, in a foot regiment, whose 
 name was Lade, whose family were " nobodies/' and 
 whose acquaintance with his daughter was of but one 
 fortnight's date, accidentally made on the hunting-field. 
 
 The English language is not strong enough to por- 
 tray the rage, astonishment, and indignation of the 
 

 154 LILY LADE: A LEGEND OF 
 
 Earl of Knuckledown or that of his Countess ; it would 
 therefore be utterly useless to attempt giving even a 
 'very faint idea, particularly when it became known that 
 the young lady, being full twenty-one years old, could 
 not be punished in any way, nor her husband be ren- 
 dered amenable to any known law. All that the Earl 
 could do was to be revenged to the utmost of his power ; 
 for which purpose he, as preliminary to all else, sum- 
 moned to his presence the whole household, from his 
 Countess, children, and chaplain, down to the lowest 
 menial of his kitchen ; and, calling for his big family 
 Bible, then and there erased from its record the name 
 of his daughter Agatha ; after which he swore a fright- 
 ful oath to disown her as his child, never to acknow- 
 ledge her or her posterity, never to bestow one farthing 
 on her or her husband, and to use his best endeavour to 
 bring both to starvation, if such could be compassed 
 by any means within his power. 
 
 It would serve no good purpose to relate those 
 means which the Earl did take to blight the prospects 
 of his discarded child's husband. Though not upon 
 particularly friendly terms with King William, whom the 
 Earl of Knuckledown looked upon as a mushroom — nay, 
 a mere toadstool, compared with himself, yet there were 
 ways and means by which a tortuous policy always ena- 
 bled a rich man to damage or to ruin a poor man ; and 
 of these ways and means the Earl availed himself, where- 
 by Ensign Lade, at the expiration of eight months from 
 
 
MOTHER LUDLAM's CAVE. 155 
 
 his marriage, found himself mixed up — innocently, but 
 still ostensibly — with one of those intrigues amongst the 
 Jacobins, which led to his being indicted for high 
 treason, and ultimately executed at Flushing, just as 
 his young wife was delivered of a female child. 
 
 It is one of those strange incongruities, inexplicable 
 to our nature, that the Earl of Knuckledown, who 
 could see dishonour and degradation to his nams in 
 the alliance of a poor but honest family, should yet 
 feel none at the commission of a foul crime, or even at 
 the odium resulting therefrom, in the recorded death of 
 his son-in-law as a felon; but so it was. The Earl, 
 who had fully calculated on the result of his machina- 
 tions, heard of the terrible result without a pang, or 
 stranger still, even with a degree of relish ; the words 
 "executed for high treason," sounding to his mental 
 ear almost as a slight increase of dignity, such as 
 brought the hated name of "Lade" within legitimate 
 reach of his eternal animosity. 
 
 In order that this history may be as little as possible 
 disgraced with the doings of the Earl and his family, 
 this chapter shall conclude by a very brief outline of 
 two or three matters, which will enable the subsequent 
 thread of events to progress unbroken. 
 
 The Countess of Knuckledown, together with the 
 Ladies Blanche and Maude, so thoroughly identified 
 themselves with the Earl's resentment, that they re- 
 jected all overtures on the part of Lady Agatha Lade, 
 
156 LILY lade: a legend of 
 
 refusing to enter upon any communication, and en- 
 tirely discarding her from their hearts. The Lady 
 Blanche married a Duke, and the Lady Maude a Mar- 
 quis, in exact accordance with their father's command ; 
 whilst their sickly, undersized brothers grew up in due 
 course of childhood, making vast exertions to become 
 tall, but never realizing any advance beyond that of the 
 smallest possible altitude. 
 
 As to poor Lady Lade, who, on the death of her 
 husband, was left in absolute starvation, she was 
 enabled, only through the charity of strangers, to em- 
 bark on board a fishing vessel, bound for Harwich ; at 
 which port she arrived penniless and broken-hearted — 
 to die of grief and shame, leaving her fatherless child 
 utterly unprovided for. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The Reverend James Lade, elder brother and sole 
 surviving relative of the late Ensign Lade, was Per- 
 petual Curate of Aldershot, and by reason of the 
 slenderness of his income, rather than any other cause, 
 a solitary bachelor at the age of thirty-five. A very 
 learned man was the Rev. James Lade, deep in the 
 mysteries of Mathematics, Greek, and Hebrew ; an 
 eloquent preacher, an able teacher, humane and chari- 
 ble almost to a fault ; a man to be esteemed, to be 
 
MOTHER LUDLAM'S CAVE. 157 
 
 reverenced, almost to be worshipped, by his parishioners ; 
 a man who, as Oliver Goldsmith has told, was 
 
 " To all the country dear, 
 And passing rich on forty pounds a-year." 
 
 For such, indeed, was almost literally the fact, that 
 exact sum being precisely what his income would have 
 been, had he not taken " private pupils " to increase it, 
 and spent one clear half of his entire emolument in 
 charitable doings. 
 
 It would but serve to prolong the narrative to 
 narrate all the noble deeds of this kind and affectionate 
 parish priest, who, so far as human eyes could judge, 
 was a perfect specimen of the true Christian pastor, 
 unstained by those vices of mock humility and empty 
 show of devotion which disfigure so many others of his 
 cloth. 
 
 At the particular epoch of which we now write, 
 the Rev. James Lade was beginning to feel the solitari- 
 ness of his position ; cooped up in a small Parsonage 
 House, away from anything like society, in receipt 
 of a very slender income, and with but one pupil to 
 enliven his daily occupation. In brief, the Eev. gentle- 
 man was pondering in his mind the propriety of taking 
 unto himself a wife, in the person of a lady who was 
 both beautiful and amiable, lacking only that one de- 
 sideratum, which, to a man situated like himself, was 
 almost indispensable, namely, wealth. 
 
158 LILY LADE : A LEGEND OF 
 
 The lady of his love was poor, true ; but then, had she 
 been rich the Rev. gentleman would have incurred 
 the imputation of seeking her for her money alone. 
 Now that the lady in question was indubitably poor 
 — that is to say, as poor has himself — no such odious 
 crime could be laid to his charge. Even as it was, 
 would the lady accept him if he proposed ? That was a 
 serious question; he had not as yet proposed, and was 
 in the deepest depths of cogitation regarding the pro- 
 priety of making an offer, when his servant, a staid, 
 matronly female, entered his study, presenting a letter 
 superscribed in so strange a fashion, that the messenger 
 who brought it remained in waiting to know if its delivery 
 was correct. 
 
 The letter bore an address as follows : — 
 
 "The Reverend j Laide — Parson Holdershote 
 ni London — to be red direcly — in haste." 
 
 The caligraphy of it was abominable, and the place- 
 mark was Harwich. Alter turning and twisting the 
 letter about, like any less educated person, the Eev. 
 gentleman at length opened it, and with the greatest 
 difficulty was enabled to decipher the intelligence con- 
 tained therein, which was to the effect that a lady, who 
 claimed to be his sister-in-law, lay dead at a certain 
 hotel, and that her living child, as well as her dead body, 
 awaited his immediate attention. 
 
 Horror-struck and dismayed, for he had had no 
 
MOTHER LUDLAM's CAVE. 159 
 
 previous intimation of his brother's death,, the be- 
 wildered clergyman packed up a few clothes, and stocked 
 his slender purse with all his available cash, amounting 
 to less than ten pounds only and set out forthwith on 
 his melancholy pilgrimage to Harwich, where he arrived 
 on the day but one following, just in time to look upon 
 the face of his dead relative before she was committed 
 to a grave but ill fitting for an Earl's daughter. 
 
 The sorrowful task of collecting together such infor- 
 mation as was afforded by a few private letters, and his 
 late brother's journal, occupied him two days, during 
 which time he was seriously puzzled what to do with the 
 little waif thrown upon his sole protection by the hand 
 of fate — the mode, too, of his brother's death, the 
 mysteriousness of all the circumstances attending it, and, 
 almost more than all, the poverty of his own means, 
 rendered his situation singularly unhappy; what to do 
 he knew not, nor whom to seek for advice, much less 
 for assistance — his worldly wealth being reduced to 
 somewhat less than twenty shillings, after having paid 
 the expense of his poor sister-in-law's funeral, and other 
 incidental matters. 
 
 To leave the little child in Harwich, under the care of 
 some female, was his most prominent idea; but so often 
 as it obtruded itself, one look upon the fair, frail, little 
 creature, with its dimpled, innocent face, instantly 
 banished so cold a thought, and set him longing to clasp 
 its tiny shape within his muscular embrace; no, the 
 
160 LILY LADE : A LEGEND OF 
 
 thought must be dismissed, and for ever. He would 
 carry the child with him to London ; submit it, as in 
 duty bound, to the care of its maternal grandfather, and 
 if rejected, as he had reason to anticipate, he would 
 carry it to his own home, fondle it in his own heart, 
 dismiss from his mind the half-formed intention of 
 matrimony, and rear, up the treasure sent him by heaven 
 as a sacred trust which should be its own reward through 
 all the remaining years of his life. 
 
 This decision arrived at, his only difficulty was how to 
 obtain money, and how to convey his little charge to 
 London; as regarded the first difficulty, he could certainly 
 have borrowed money had he been at home, but he was 
 in a strange place where he was unknown, also, he had a 
 great repugnance to borrow at any time : well — he could 
 sell something — his watch — true. So the Rev. gentleman, 
 having no other resource, did sell his watch, an old- 
 fashioned silver time-keeper, much more like a turnip 
 than anything else ; and the proceeds of the sale, three 
 pounds ten shillings, afforded him all the means he could 
 desire; but as regarded the second difficulty, he was 
 even yet more embarrassed. There were but two ways 
 of reaching London — by sea, or by waggon. By sea 
 would be too long and tedious ; by waggon only a trifle 
 less so; but it was the preferable of the two. Next 
 came the difficulty of attending to the child" s wants 
 and nourishment ; here he was clearly at fault. A female 
 attendant was indispensable, and his funds would not 
 
161 
 
 suffice for the payment of one. At length, an unexpected 
 piece of good fortune presented itself. The master of a 
 sailing vessel, having his wife on board, offered to take 
 charge of the infant so far as London, and right joyfully 
 did the poor clergyman accept an offer of safe conveyance 
 to that place for the sum of forty shillings, inclusive of 
 everything needed. 
 
 On arriving in London, a hackney coach, or vehicle 
 doing duty for such, quickly took the Rev. James Lade 
 and his delicate charge to the residence of the Earl of 
 Knuckledown, in Wardour Street, Soho, where, leaving 
 his little niece in the care of its nurse, whilst he himself 
 should attempt to soften the grandfather's heart, he 
 ascended the wide staircase, and found himself face to 
 face with the diminutive nobleman, who no sooner 
 learned his applicant's mission, than he fell into an insane 
 passion of rage, and after commanding his servant to 
 " kick " his reverend visitor out, took an awful oath 
 before heaven that, " if he ever so much as looked upon 
 his daughter Agatha's child, he hoped he might be stricken 
 
 Overwhelmed with horror at the impiety of such 
 wickedness, the humbled servant of God took his way 
 out of the bad man's presence, descended to his 
 inhospitable threshold, and there, shaking the dust from 
 his feet, departed, more in sorrow than in anger, yet 
 almost glad his mission had failed, only but for the 
 manner of its failure. 
 
 M 
 
162 LILY LADE: A LEGEND OF 
 
 Being yet reduced to great straits for the means of 
 reaching Aldershot village, a task in those days much 
 more difficult of achieving than now, the poor clergy- 
 man, in his horror of borrowing money, was constrained 
 to sell his travelling cloak for the means wherewith to 
 ensure a place in the Portsmouth waggon ; where, unaided 
 by female assistance, and accompanied only by a bottle 
 of milk, he continued to minister to the wants of his 
 little charge through ten weary hours, and at length 
 found his courage and devotion rewarded by entering his 
 own cheerful home about nine o'clock on the fifteenth 
 day of his departure from its threshold. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Geeat indeed was the astonishment of Mrs. Sterne, the 
 Rev. James Lade's housekeeper, on perceiving her master 
 without his travelling cloak, and with some burthen in 
 his arms which looked more like a huge bundle of straw 
 than anything else, for the poor parson had been able to 
 procure nothing better or more serviceable than that to 
 enwrap the outer garments of his treasure ; but greater 
 even than her astonishment was the housekeeper's 
 admiration, when from the unfolded straw appeared the 
 fairy loveliness and warm beauty of the little nestling, as 
 radiant and happy in its unconsciousness as if it had 
 been the child of an emperor, cradled in ermine and 
 swaddled in eider down. 
 
MOTHER LUDLAM'S CAVE. 163 
 
 Prom that day forth the hamlet of Alclershot was 
 greatly divided as to whether or not its minister would 
 become a married man. The ladies, one and all, declared 
 that it was impossible he could bring up and educate a 
 young niece without proper female assistance and advice, 
 whilst the male portion thought he was too circumspect 
 a man to introduce a wife whose maternal cares would 
 be forestalled. And these latter prophets were in the 
 right, for the Rev. gentleman did not take unto himself 
 a wife, but by the aid, firstly of his housekeeper, and in 
 later times, of a benevolent female friend, did contrive 
 to educate his young niece, who, on the day following 
 her arrival at the parsonage, was duly christened by the 
 name of Lilian, after her paternal grandmother — a name 
 which very soon become shortened to "Lily/"' not so 
 much for the convenience of familiar use, as because of 
 the extreme fairness of its bearer, whose skin was so 
 delicately white, and whose form was so graceful and 
 fragile, that no comparison, save with the lily of the 
 valley, could do justice to its modest and retiring beauty. 
 
 Sixteen years passed over and away. The Rev. James 
 Lade, now in his fifty-first year, continued unmarried, not 
 so much to the astonishment of his fair parishioners as 
 might have been calculated on, for the constant residence 
 of his little niece, as she progressed from infancy towards 
 womanhood, served the purpose of making his Parsonage 
 House a constant source of attraction to female visitors, 
 all of whom seemed to think the presence of that one 
 
164 LILY LADE : A LEGEND OF 
 
 small instance of womankind a sufficient excuse for 
 loading the poor parson with, presents of one kind or 
 another, whilst " Lily " herself became the pet of every 
 one, gentle or simple, rich or poor, old or young; and 
 well did the fair creature merit the favours showered upon 
 her, for a more affectionate, winning, and artless little 
 beauty never stole away people's hearts, or used them 
 more tenderly when stolen, than pretty " Lily Lade," the 
 parson's orphan niece. 
 
 All that the most affectionate kindness could do, and 
 all that the most careful teaching could effect, had served 
 to render this young lady a mark for the admiration of 
 the neighbourhood, without making her in the slightest 
 degree vain of either her accomplishments or her good 
 looks. It would seem, indeed, that in outward form as 
 well as in mental disposition, she was perfection's self, 
 were it not that such an implication would savour of 
 insipidity; for where was ever yet seen that mortal 
 creature so absolutely perfect, as not to be susceptible of 
 much improvement by means of a little — a very little 
 flaw ? Lily Lade had one slight drawback in her dis- 
 position, if it might be so called, which was as follows. 
 Her likings were all towards humility, towards plainness 
 of apparel, towards rusticity of ideas. She loved flowers 
 more than gems ; a simple muslin dress better than silks 
 or satin ; a ramble on foot more dearly than a carriage 
 ride, and simple country " talk " infinitely beyond the 
 refined conversation of her dear uncle's fashionable 
 
MOTHEE LTJDLAM's CAVE. 165 
 
 visitors — a peculiarity of so remarkable a kind, con- 
 sidering the lordly stock whence she sprung, that it 
 excited universal comment. But notwithstanding this 
 drawback^ Lily Lade was indisputably the belle of all 
 the country round, and might have had her pick and 
 choice of all the eligible young gentlemen within a 
 certain rank of life, throughout the whole parish, or 
 beyond it either. 
 
 During the sixteen years which had elapsed since the 
 opening event of this tale, the Rev. James Lade's 
 monetary affairs had prospered considerably ; not that 
 any increase of stipend had accrued from Church patron- 
 age, but by reason of his having taken pupils, at a fair 
 rate of remuneration, during the whole of that time, 
 several of whom had since made a figure in life, and 
 spread the fame of their teacher. It was to the aid 
 thus gained that he was enabled to give his darling 
 niece the sort of education that had made her an orna- 
 ment as well as a treasure in his house, the chief agent 
 of this good result having been a very kind widow lady, 
 a schoolmate of his mother, who, falling into distressed 
 circumstances, had accepted the post of ee gouvernante," 
 which she resigned only with her life, just as Lily had 
 attained her fifteenth year. 
 
 During, also, this sixteen years, nothing had been 
 heard of the Knuckledown family, and so completely 
 had the connexion between them and the young heroine 
 of this tale been severed, that all recollection of it 
 
166 LILY LADE : A LEGEND OF 
 
 had nearly passed away. As for Lily herself, the 
 subject had never been mentioned to her at all during 
 fifteen years, and was only entered upon at the ex- 
 piration of that time in order to account for certain 
 matters which her ripe understanding rendered neces- 
 sary. 
 
 The Rev. James Lade had intended to have given 
 his niece but a very brief outline of what had occurred 
 within his own knowledge, trusting to the meekness 
 of Lily's disposition for her being satisfied with but 
 little. He was therefore rather startled when, for the 
 first time in his life, he found that young lady's eyes 
 kindle, and her bosom heave convulsively, on hearing 
 her parents' fate detailed; as also by her somewhat 
 imperatively insisting upon every iota of information 
 he could give, down to production of her father's diary, 
 and a few fragments of letters in the handwriting of 
 her mother. He was also greatly pressed to tell the 
 exact particulars of his visit to the Earl in London, 
 where that wicked oath was sworn — never to look upon 
 the face of his daughter's child, on the penalty of blind- 
 ness. 
 
 Outwardly, his niece soon regained her equanimity of 
 disposition, but inwardly a striking change had taken 
 place. She looked upon her grandfather as the actual 
 murderer of her parents, and although no one can 
 rightly be said to hate a person never actually 
 seen, yet Lily Lade, if she did not personally hate the 
 
MOTHER LUDLAM'S CAVE. 167 
 
 Earl of Knuckledown, yet looked upon him, mentally, 
 as one so despicably odious, and wickedly beyond 
 the pale of forgiveness, that she determined no power 
 on earth should induce her to claim affinity with him 
 under any circumstance that fortune might offer. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Up to the age of sixteen, Lily Lade, although in a 
 manner besieged by would-be lovers, never showed the 
 slightest preference for any one over another, but 
 laughingly turned aside from all, not so much in dislike 
 or indifference,, as in a humble contentment with her 
 present condition. Being so young, her uncle made no 
 comments, rightly thinking there was yet plenty of time 
 wherein to choose a protector through life, even in five 
 or six years to come, but yet there was a nervous some- 
 thing about the prospects of Lily's future life, which 
 hung like a cloud about his mental vision, and which 
 would not have indisposed him towards the favouring of 
 a thoroughly eligible lover for his niece, if fortune 
 should think fit to throw one in her way. It was not 
 that he felt any misgivings about his own health, or 
 reasonable prospect of living over years to come, where- 
 in he himself might be her protector ; but if the idea 
 could be said to wear any definite form, it seemed as 
 though he would have been happier to know that his 
 darling might be married " and settled," as the phrase 
 
168 LILY LADE : A LEGEND OF 
 
 goes, under his own eye, and within his own guardian- 
 ship, than to incur the possibility of her becoming torn 
 away by some yet unseen agency of her mother's rela- 
 tions, far off as seemed any such possibility. 
 
 As yet, Lily had shown no preference. Handsome 
 young men, of good family and condition, had presented 
 themselves, rich young men had sought opportunities of 
 introduction, but their time was not come. Humbler 
 suitors had timidly followed in their wake with no better 
 success, and one, out of the two private pupils whom 
 her uncle admitted into his house, had shown strong 
 indications of attachment. He was the son of a Baro- 
 net, and would some day or other become immensely 
 rich. Lily, whose daily occupations brought her into 
 hourly contact with this young gentleman, had shown 
 him more deference than she had ever before shown to 
 one of the opposite sex, and had raised in his breast 
 something akin to hope, greatly to the annoyance of his 
 fellow-pupil, the son of a poor physician in the 
 neighbourhood, who also had dared to hope, though 
 without the same slight reason, as the Baronet's son. 
 It was now that an incident occurred which broke the 
 monotony of affairs, and led to something more definite 
 in their relative positions through life. 
 
 It had been the custom of the Rev. James Lade to 
 devote the Monday of every week to out-door recreations, 
 combined with the exercise of botanical science, in 
 
MOTHER LUDLAM's CAVE. 169 
 
 which Lily, as well as his two pupils, were advanced 
 students. 
 
 Upon the present occasion, the party of four took 
 their way from Aldershot towards a rising ground 
 covered with wood, about half a mile east of Parnham, 
 and in which place there is situated a very remarkable 
 cavern, known to the present day as " Mother Ludlam's 
 Cave." A foolish superstition had hedged this place 
 with all sorts of terrors for the vulgar, and made it to 
 be little visited except by the educated classes, who 
 viewed it as a rare natural curiosity, or by professed 
 marvel-seekers, who made it the theme of absurd tradi- 
 tions. 
 
 This natural cavern, which had probably been the 
 resort of robbers in the olden time, contained many 
 objects worthy of a botanist's curiosity ; in it grew 
 mosses, lichens, and fungi of species somewhat rare, 
 whilst in its vicinity grew wild flowers, weeds, and medi- 
 cinal plants in great abundance, forming, within a small 
 nucleus, a botanical garden every way worthy of exami- 
 nation and study by real lovers of nature.* 
 
 * For a detailed account of this remarkable cavern (said to 
 be of extraordinary extent), see the local histories of the place, 
 some of which relate remarkable stories of it — amongst others, 
 that a " duck" placed within the cavern, and prevented egress 
 at the Moor Park end, was found to come out at St. Catherine's 
 Hill, near Guildford, a distance of ten miles off. This account 
 of the duck is most probably what our French neighbours 
 call a " CANARD," 
 
170 LILY LADE : A LEGEND OF 
 
 To this spot then, so favourable for their purpose, 
 wended the Eev. James Lade, together with Lily, and 
 the two pupils before mentioned, whose names were 
 Lionel Fitzgibbon and Walter Harewood. 
 
 After wandering through a portion of Moor Park, then 
 in the occupation of Sir William Temple, and select- 
 ing a few specimens of rarity, the party betook them- 
 selves to. "Mother Ludlam's Cave/'' and set out about 
 the more serious business of their day's -labour; several 
 hours had elapsed, the cheerful brightness of a June 
 sun had made their excursion pleasant in an unusual 
 degree, being neither too powerful in its heat, nor leaving 
 the shady forest glades too cool for enjoyment ; but by 
 the hour of three, a sudden change came over the sky — 
 deep, dark, and unfathomable clouds suddenly obscured 
 its brightness, and a thunderstorm appeared imminent. 
 Our party were beginning to congratulate themselves on 
 their good fortune in being possessed of so safe a shelter 
 as the cavern, when on looking out, they espied several 
 ladies and gentlemen, evidently sight-seers from one of 
 the neighbouring seats, advancing rapidly towards the 
 same shelter, as if well aware of its locality. Withdraw- 
 ing themselves considerably from the cavern's entrance, 
 our party sought rather to avoid impertinent collision 
 than to secrete themselves from notice; but it was 
 evident that the in-comers, whoever they might be, 
 considered that they were alone in their place of refuge. 
 
 These new comers soon betrayed their own identity, 
 
MOTHER LTJDLAM'S CAVE. 171 
 
 by means of their conversation, and proved to be no less 
 personages than Sir "William Temple, his far-famed 
 secretary Jonathan (afterwards Dean) Swift, several 
 ladies of fashion visiting Moor Park, and last, though 
 not least, in one sense of the word, the high and mighty 
 Earl of Knuckledown himself, then in his sixty-sixth 
 year, and smaller, as well as more insignificant, .than, 
 ever. 
 
 No sooner did the Eev. James Lade recognise the 
 latter personage than he shrunk still further back than, 
 before, and those whose eyes had accustomed themselves 
 to the dim light of the cavern might have remarked a 
 pallor of countenance betokening some inward pang, not 
 easily to be kept under subjection. 
 
 Listeniug to a conversation not intended for strange 
 ears has ever been considered the act of an ill-bred 
 person. Now the two youths Pitzgibbon and Howard,. 
 totally unacquainted with the feelings which might have 
 actuated their tutor towards violating extreme propriety, 
 felt all the awkwardness of their position, and endeavoured 
 by sundry means to indicate the fact of their presence, 
 merely to prevent the possible suspicion of their being 
 deemed eavesdroppers, and not without suecess, for the 
 new comers immediately ceased conversing, and Mr. 
 Jonathan Swift, who wore no outward mark of being a 
 clergyman, commenced questioning the two young 
 men as to whether they, likewise, had- been, overtaken by 
 the storm. On being told that they and their party 
 
172 LILY LADE : A LEGEND OF 
 
 were "botanizing," he expressed pleasure at the fact, 
 and turning round somewhat briskly, introduced them 
 to the notice of Sir "William Temple, the Eari of 
 Knuckledown, and their accompanying ladies, during 
 which time our poor parson and his niece kept syste- 
 matically in the background, the former bearing upon 
 his mind an undefined dread of something impending, 
 which was not within his power to avoid. 
 
 The storm was now at its height; rain fell in torrents, 
 and lightning flashed— not the harmless sheet lightning 
 of midsummer heat, but the blue, forked, and vivid flash 
 which rends huge trees asunder, and strikes living 
 creatures dead on the instant. Each individual within 
 the cavern shrunk back, the ladies of Sir William 
 Temple's party with much real, and some affected, terror. 
 In the commingling of persons thus occurring, it happened 
 that the Earl of Knuckledown and the Eev. James Lade 
 met together somewhat unceremoniously ; the recognition 
 —now that all eyes had become accustomed to the sub- 
 dued light— was both mutual and instantaneous, notwith- 
 standing the long interval since their first meeting. 
 Common politeness necessitated a bow on either side, 
 and an accession of courage on the part of our parson, 
 as inexplicable to himself as disagreeable to the Earl, 
 forced him into making allusions to the past which had 
 more discreetly been avoided; there rushed into our 
 poor parson's mind an idea that could but Lord 
 Knuckledown once look upon the beautiful features 
 
MOTHER LUDLAM'S CAVE. 173 
 
 and womanly form of his grandchild, all past feelings 
 would become forgotten in the new-born admiration of 
 the present ; with this view the Eev. gentleman pressed 
 one single requisition on the Earl, he urged him to look 
 upon the fair Lilian's face, if only for one single moment, 
 and on the Earl's endeavour to repulse him by advancing 
 to the front of the cavern, followed him up so closely, 
 that in a moment of overpowering rage, the old nobleman 
 once more invoked from heaven the curse of blindness 
 if ever he sought to look upon his grandchild's face. 
 
 Scarcely were these unnatural words uttered, than one 
 vivid flash of lightning illumined the whole cavern, followed 
 by a shriek of agony such as nature evokes only from 
 the lips of man when a terrible visitation from on high 
 speaks through heart and brain together. 
 
 " My eyes, my eyes ! gieat Heaven, my eyes are burn- 
 ing/' shrieked the Earl of Knuckledown, and in one 
 moment the whole cavern was in commotion. The old ■ 
 nobleman had fallen down flat on his face, endeavouring, 
 as it were, to quench imaginary flames by rolling himself 
 in the dust ; as for the ladies, they one and all, not even 
 excepting Lilian, expressed their horror and consternation; 
 whilst Sir William Temple, calling to the other gentlemen 
 present for their assistance to restrain Lord Knuckle- 
 down, issued quickly from the cavern in order to search 
 for his carriage and servants, which he knew to be nigh 
 at hand. 
 
 Fortunately for all, the carriage was within a few 
 
174 LILY LADE : A LEGEND OV 
 
 paces, and in a short time his lordship, totally blind, as 
 well as nearly insensible, was borne off, attended by his 
 commiserating companions, to the mansion of their host 
 at Moor Park, where we will leave them all to their 
 reflections and sorrows ; merely concluding this chapter 
 by adding that from that day thenceforward, the Earl of 
 Knuckledown remained totally blind, and although feel- 
 ing, within himself, that his visitation was a reprimand 
 from on high, continued to hold towards his grandchild 
 that degree of unrelenting hate which had characterized 
 him from the beginning. 
 
 chapter v. 
 
 It was not until their return home that our parson 
 informed his young relative and friends whom it was they 
 had been so unfortunate as to encounter, and who had 
 been so signally punished in the vanity of his presump- 
 tion ; his recital fell deeply on the minds of all, but as 
 none could say within their own hearts, that the punish- 
 ment of his Lordship was otherwise than in accordance 
 with justice, both divine and human, it could scarcely be 
 told they sorrowed for his sorrow, although assuredly 
 they pitied him, even as men pity a dying malefactor. 
 
 In course of time this incident became, if not forgotten, 
 at least not spoken of, and Mother Ludlam's Cavern 
 was, by general agreement, avoided in ail their subsequent 
 excursions of a botanical character; but from that 
 
MOTHER LTJDLAM's CAVE. 175 
 
 memorable day one other incident may nave been said to 
 claim date, though why exactly from that particular time 
 is not quite apparent ; this new incident was no less than 
 a growing germ of preference on the part of Lily Lade for 
 one of her two "resident"" admirers, as she called them, 
 over the other. 
 
 Walter Harewood was the fortunate man upon whom 
 Lily began to bestow her smiles, greatly to the chagrin 
 of the baronet's son, Lionel Fitzgibb on, who had flattered 
 himself that the prospect of future wealth and position 
 would have had its weight with the young lady in favour 
 of himself ; but herein he was mistaken, as men frequently 
 are, when they endeavour to fathom the motives of the 
 other sex, for so nicely balanced were, at one time, the 
 merits of both suitors, that Lily was compelled to search 
 the very depths of her own heart in order to discover 
 such little motive cause as might determine her course, 
 and found it at last, not in the wealth of the one suitor, 
 but in the poverty of the other ; her innate independence 
 of mind revolting at the base notion of marrying for 
 money, whilst a tinge of romance, coupled with a little 
 female obstinacy, united to bring about such feelings as 
 enabled Walter Harewood to improve his opportunities, 
 which he, on his part, was not slow to do, being a young 
 man of acute perceptions as well as sanguine tempera- 
 ment. 
 
 A few weeks later, Lionel Fitzgibbon, being called on 
 to rejoin his parents at a foreign watering-place, whither 
 
176 LILY LADE : A LEGEND OF 
 
 they had gone for the benefit of their health, took leave 
 of his Bev. tutor, of Lilian, and of Walter Harewood, 
 clearly foreseeing the entire destruction of his own hopes, 
 but generous enough to forego all vain jealousy, as also 
 to feel cordially within his heart those loving wishes for 
 the welfare and happiness of all which trembled on his 
 lips at parting. 
 
 Prom the period of this young man's departure, 
 Walter Harewood and Lily Lade were considered as 
 affianced lovers, so far as their chances of a settlement in 
 life could be viewed in advance ; but Lily being still 
 very young and Walter in anticipation of his career at 
 the University, their betrothal was to be regarded more 
 in the light of a compact hereafter, to be completed or 
 broken off according to circumstances, than as an 
 irrevocable event. 
 
 It is strange how very quick is the growth of love, 
 when once the germ has taken root and put forth its 
 first tender leaflets to the warmth of a summer sun ; 
 two or three months back, Lily had really not felt the 
 slightest preference in favour of Walter Harewood, but 
 now her attachment began to grow with such rapid 
 strides that she could scarce bear him to go out of her 
 sight beyond an hour together ; and the prospect of his 
 departure for Cambridge began to inflict tortures upon 
 her heart. She even attempted to induce him to forego 
 the advantages of a college education, and content him- 
 self with the very excellent progress he had made under 
 
MOTHER LUDLAHl's CAVE. 177 
 
 her uncle, but in this matter Walter himself could not 
 decide, insomuch as it was his father's dearest wish that 
 he should adopt the profession of medicine, the highroad 
 to which was through the University alone, and in 
 furtherance of which his only wealthy relative had 
 promised, pecuniarily, to assist. 
 
 Man, however, proposes, and God disposes. The father 
 of Walter Harewood most unexpectedly fell a prey to 
 his beloved profession, with scarce an hour's notice. He 
 had been most assiduously attending a succession of 
 fever cases, more as a lover of art than of necessity, for 
 they occurred in the parish poor-house, where other pro- 
 fessional attendance than his own was legitimately bound 
 and paid for ; the infection was of a new and strange 
 kind, baffling ordinary experience, and therefore deeply 
 interesting to pathologists. Dr. Harewood took the 
 infection, which quickly deprived him of all consciousness, 
 and before any arrangement of his affairs could take 
 place, or even his dear son could be recognised, the good 
 and faithful disciple of mercy was himself a corpse. 
 
 The shock to Walter was very very great, far greater 
 indeed than that he subsequently received when it was 
 found that, through the failure of some mercantile 
 speculation, in which his father had rashly embarked, the 
 good physician had died not only intestate, but some- 
 what also in debt. 
 
 This great misfortune left him no means of following 
 any profession at all, except through the kindness of 
 
 N 
 

 178 LILY LADE : A LEGEND OF 
 
 the one rich but distant relative who had promised to 
 pay the expenses of his University career. But mis- 
 fortunes rarely come single, for, after an interval of time, 
 vainly spent in a struggle with his own love of indepen- 
 dence, it was the young man's still deeper misfortune to 
 hear that his wealthy relative, acting under the advice of 
 designing persons, had made a will devising his entire 
 property to some charitable foundation — all except one 
 hundred pounds, which was the extent of his own legacy, 
 and that the old man had died suspiciously soon after 
 that transaction. 
 
 With these misfortunes on his head, Walter became a 
 sadly changed young man, but in proportion as his 
 fortunes lowered, and his elasticity of spirits yielded, so 
 did the strength of Lily's affection increase; we are 
 almost afraid to add that so deeply did the sympathies 
 of our young heroine become excited, that she almost 
 prayed that still further misfortunes might occur in order 
 that the strength of her own love might develop itself. 
 Not so with her reverend guardian, for parson though 
 he was, the world had wrought upon him the usual 
 experience of mankind, and taught him that poverty, 
 though not indeed a crime in the abstract sense, was yet 
 the gravest of all sins against love and matrimony. 
 Walter Harewood was his favourite pupil and most 
 esteemed young friend, one whom he trusted in implicitly 
 as regards honour, honesty, and virtue ; but the sudden 
 accumulation of misfortunes he had suffered had left 
 
MOTHER LTJDLAM's CAVE. 179 
 
 him without a profession, and with scarce any means of 
 adopting one of those semi-professional occupations 
 which were just then beginning to step between the 
 tradesman and the gentleman; but whilst the good 
 parson was turning about in his mind the pros and cons 
 of his pupil's future career, one other, and the crowning 
 misfortune of all fell upon the devoted head of Walter 
 Harewood. He had been to the house of his late parent, 
 in Farnham, in order to collect together the few books 
 and personalties which the kind consideration of his 
 father's creditors had left to his disposal, when, whilst 
 using a pair of tall library steps, his foot slipped and he 
 fell heavily, breaking his leg and straining his back so 
 as to entail a severe surgical operation, the result of 
 which was lameness for life, after an interval of three 
 months'' severe torture. 
 
 The climax of Walter Harewood' s misfortunes was 
 also the climax of poor Lily Lade's affection for her 
 unhappy affianced, whom she now looked on as all her 
 own by virtue of his poverty, his sufferings, and his 
 totally ruined prospects ; a devotion which, on the part 
 of young Harewood, was so deeply appreciated as to be 
 almost deplored, for his own feelings, however warm and 
 buoyant, were almost crushed under the weight of his 
 many severe visitations. 
 
 As for the parson, his unworldly mind prevented him 
 from looking altogether disapprovingly on the beautiful 
 strength of affection which his niece displayed, but he 
 
180 LILY LADE : A LEGEND OF 
 
 still felt all the difficulties of his trust without seeing 
 the way to avoid yet greater future evil. He held con- 
 sultation after consultation with his pupil, in order to 
 suggest some line of conduct which might offer a hope 
 of future prosperity; but after exhausting all their 
 patience, the one uniform result for ever presented itself, 
 and that only in the very untempting form of a scholastic 
 establishment. After a time this plan was agreed on, 
 and by the aid of the one hundred pounds'' legacy 
 bequeathed by his distant relative, Mr. Walter Harewood 
 issued the advertisements and notices which intimated 
 that he would be happy to instruct a limited number of 
 young gentlemen in the elements of a sound classical and 
 commercial education, including mathematics both pure 
 and mixed, &c, and it was then agreed that so soon as 
 his pupils (in perspective) should amount to twelve in 
 number, his marriage with Lily should take place; Lily 
 being at that present time close upon her twenty-first 
 birthday, and Walter* Harewood fully arrived at his 
 twenty-third. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 It is now time that our story should return to the 
 fortunes of its most patrician character. 
 
 Since the terrible day which had brought the fearful 
 curse of blindness on that illustrious nobleman the Earl 
 of Knuckledown, misfortunes had rained down upon his 
 
181 
 
 devoted head thick and threefold. Of his two daughters, 
 the one who married a duke died childless, and the 
 second, after nine years of misery entailed through utter 
 dissimilarity of tastes, and mutual personal dislike, com- 
 mitted herself to such an extent as to elope with an 
 Austrian prince, who no sooner obtained possession than 
 he neglected her, and finally deserted her in a foreign 
 land, where she ultimately fell a prey to absolute want. 
 
 Of this nobleman'' s three sons there remains yet worse, 
 if possible, to record, for the eldest, a weak and puny 
 creature, lived only till five years of age, the second only 
 till four, leaving the third sole heir to the immense 
 family wealth — a youth of eighteen, the exact counterpart 
 of his father both in person and in mind, only, if possible, 
 a thought more insignificant, self-sufficient, and passionate 
 of disposition. It was with Iris whole hopes concentrated 
 on this last scion of the house of Knuckledown, that the 
 Earl had ventured out of his native land on a visit to 
 Paris, where the more refined arts of dancing and 
 personal deportment were then, as now, carried out to 
 their utmost perfection. Among other accomplishments 
 that of fencing was greatly to be desired for the young 
 nobleman, and to the " atelier " of an eminent professor, 
 therefore, was the young gentleman consigned for two 
 mortal hours every day, under the able tuition of 
 Monsieur Adolphe de-la-tour Baroche, ci-divant Maitre 
 (V amies to the second battalion of Chasseurs-a-pied. 
 
 Persons who are in the habit of frequenting the rooms 
 
182 LILY LADE : A LEGEND OF 
 
 of Mons. Angelo in London, and wlio there become 
 accustomed to the safe-looking foils which are, we 
 believe, made with a sort of permanent button at the 
 end, may perhaps feel a little surprised at being told 
 that one century ago, and particularly in Paris, foils 
 were neither more nor less than bona fide small-swords, 
 or truly speaking u spits/' with little buttons at their 
 extremities easily taken off or put on, for indeed so great 
 was the skill of most gentlemen, in those days, that it 
 was only very rarely that they even practised the art of 
 fence with any blunt weapon. 
 
 In order not to protract the reader's expectation, we 
 will at once proceed to the end of this portion of our 
 tale, and record that, in an unlucky moment, the heir of 
 the house of Knuckledown, whilst engaged with his 
 vigorous tutor, in the art of fence, was most unluckily, 
 and quite accidentally, run through the lungs with a foil, 
 from which the button had dropped only a moment before. 
 His death was almost instantaneous, and fell so heavily 
 upon the old Earl himself, that for many months his 
 own life was in danger, and though he did ultimately 
 recover his bodily health, his mind, preying on itself, 
 became so unhinged that his medical advisers counselled 
 rapid change of air and scene as the only means of its 
 recovery from utter prostration. 
 
 For several months the Earl wandered about from 
 place to place, an object of pity rather than commisera- 
 tion, till by degrees his thoughts wandered towards the 
 
MOTHER LUDLAM'S CAYE. 183 
 
 one sole relative that fortune had left him in the wide, 
 wide world. 
 
 Lily Lade, the repudiated child of his discarded and 
 disowned daughter, stood before his mind's eye, the 
 one small bright spot between present misery and 
 future utter darkness. He would seek her out, claim 
 her from her guardians, whoever they might be, would 
 make her rich, would cover her with jewels, would 
 marry her to some man of high rank, would yet call 
 her " daughter/'' " grandchild/' and listen to the voices, 
 though he might never see the features, of one more 
 generation having his own blood in its veins. The 
 more he dwelt on this possibility, the more determined 
 he became, and having once made up his mind, he lost 
 no time in setting on foot all necessary inquiries where- 
 by the habitation of the Honourable Miss Lade (as he 
 persisted in calling Lily) was made known. 
 
 Fully determined on obtaining possession of his 
 grandchild, and never for one moment doubting her 
 joyful consent to exchange her humble position for one 
 of grandeur and ostentation, the Earl commanded 
 his state-coach to be made ready, and relays of horses 
 to be forwarded to every convenient post-town on the 
 line of road to Earnham (the then nearest place of note 
 to Aldershot) ; but before setting out on his journey, 
 with a mixture of childish folly and silly pride, caused 
 to be procured and packed, several changes of costly 
 dresses, together with jewels and other finery, the sight 
 

 184 LILY LADE : A LEGEND OF 
 
 of which was calculated, as he hoped, to carry delight 
 and pleasant envy into the heart of a young maiden 
 whose aspirations had probably never ascended beyond a 
 fine muslin dress and a coral necklace. Armed with this 
 " heavy ammunition " of vanity, we leave the Earl of 
 Knuckledown to complete his arrangements, whilst, for 
 the last time, we carry our reader back to the humble 
 Parsonage House of the Rev. James Lade at Aldershot. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A beautiful summer's evening was about to close a 
 day of entire and perfect happiness to the inmates of 
 that happy home ; it was the evening before the mar- 
 riage day of Lily Lade and Walter Harewood, and only 
 a few months after Lily's own twenty-first birthday. 
 
 Walter Harewood's pupils had now reached twelve in 
 number. His school was established, his fortunes on 
 the increase, although far from magnificent in their 
 aspect; the happy party of three had just concluded their 
 last meal, for it was then bright daylight at half-past 
 eight o'clock. Walter and Lily were sitting together 
 in that loving and confident familiarity which betokens 
 perfect confidence, and our Eev. friend was calmly con- 
 templating their enjoyment from his easy chair opposite 
 them. A gentle knock at the door, responded to by 
 an instantaneous "come in," produced the immediate 
 entrance of a cherry-cheeked damsel, bearing a very 
 
185 
 
 light but yet somewhat bulky package. " Please, Miss 
 Lily, the milliner has sent this home at last, and 
 wishes to know if she may help dress you to-mor- 
 row morning, if she comes at eight o'clock." Where- 
 upon up rose Lily, and after a good deal of whispering 
 at the door, dismissed her handmaid with a message, 
 supposed to be satisfactory. 
 
 A little bantering took place between Walter and 
 Lily, relative to the propriety of his seeing the wed- 
 ding dress before it was put on, which little matter 
 ended, as any one would suppose it might, by the dis- 
 play of the article in question, which, after all, was 
 ndeed but a very humble display, consisting of nothing 
 but a pure white muslin dress, set off with white ribbons 
 of the plainest and most inexpensive kind imaginable, 
 such as the poorest milkmaid in the parish might have 
 afforded, without ornament of any kind — white, pure, and 
 spotless. 
 
 Walter looked with approving eyes, and Lily listened 
 with blushing face to his remarks upon the simplicity of 
 his bride's attire, and it was whilst thus mutually happy 
 and contented, that the attention of all three was 
 suddenly arrested by the stoppage of a gorgeous state 
 carriage, drawn by four smoking horses, and escorted 
 by several liveried attendants, at the outer gate of the 
 Parsonage House. 
 
 Still more was our party astonished, when one of the 
 liveried menials somewhat ostentatiously opened the gate, 
 
186 LILY LADE : A LEGEND OF 
 
 walked up the pathway, and demanded of the open- 
 mouthed servant-maid if her master was at home. 
 
 As a matter of course, the Eev. Mr. Lade himself 
 questioned the man, and learned to his utter bewilder- 
 ment, that his visitor was no less a personage than 
 the Earl of Knuckledown himself. Almost before an 
 invitation could be extended, the old nobleman, assisted 
 by two servants, descended from the cumbrous vehicle, 
 and made way towards the house. 
 
 Time had indeed wrought fearfully upon the humbled 
 nobleman, for his form had shrunk from five feet in 
 height to little more than four feet six inches. His 
 hair was white, thin, and straggling, tied behind in a 
 very small bag, and his thin, hollow features, made 
 ghastly by the palpable loss of sight, looked more like 
 those of a shrivelled mummy than those of a living 
 creature. Yet, with all this utter- prostration of physical 
 power, there was that in his countenance which be- 
 spoke the old nature still — pride, self-confidence and ex- 
 treme vanity had set their seal too strongly ever to 
 become effaced, and their sign was on him still ; for the 
 old man, when guided to the parson' s vacant easy-chair, 
 flung himself upon its seat as if more inclined to cavil 
 at its homeliness than to feel thankful for the repose it 
 gave him. 
 
 After the first surprise of arrival had sobered down, 
 and not until after the two liveried servants were ordered 
 beyond earshot, did the Earl communicate the object of 
 
MOTHER LTJDLAM'S CAVE. 18 
 
 his mission, concluding his somewhat imperious recital by 
 commanding Lily to bid her friends farewell, and depart 
 with him instantly, never minding her clothes or any 
 other rubbish ! 
 
 " Hold ! " exclaimed a stentorian voice, which no 
 one then present recognised as that of the meek country 
 parson, whose voice in truth it was, now, for the first 
 time in his quiet and virtuous life, roused to absolute 
 passion. 
 
 " Hold ! Earl of Knuckledown — peer of the realm — 
 grandfather of your innocent child — murderer of your 
 own daughter — fiend in human shape! — all, each of 
 these, and more, if that I were to insult the Majesty of 
 Heaven by speaking it. Listen, and hear me. 
 
 c ' Touch but my dear niece with your little finger, in 
 the way of command, and that very instant I thrust 
 you out of my doors. She is my child, not yours — my 
 own brother's child by blood, my own dear child by 
 love and adoption ; she was never yours ; you disowned 
 her, repudiated her, would have left her to freeze, to 
 starve, to die ; she is mine, not yours ; mine till to- 
 morrow morning only, when she will become a happy 
 wife in the possession of a deserving husband. Why do 
 you come to disturb our felicity? why do you bring 
 the dishonour of your presence upon our reputable 
 home ? Go back, old man, go back. I speak but with 
 the heart and in the name of my dead brother's child, 
 now standing in the room, when I bid the destroyer 
 
J 88 LILY lade: a legend of 
 
 of her parents to depart this house, lest evil be- 
 tide—" 
 
 Exhausted by the unwonted effort, and, for the only- 
 time of his life, overcome by emotions beyond control, 
 the Eev. gentleman sunk down in a chair almost power- 
 less ; Lily, at the same moment, throwing herself into his 
 arms and hiding her face in his breast. 
 
 Before the Earl of Knuckledown could half recover 
 from the astonishment into which he was thrown, Walter 
 Harewood, now fully cognizant of his position, rose up 
 calmly, and addressed him as follows — 
 
 " My Lord — Earl — I, a humble schoolmaster of this 
 parish, but destined, nevertheless, to become the husband 
 of yonder fair maiden before this time to-morrow, with 
 the full consent of her only recognised relative, and by 
 virtue of her own promise, hereby acquaint you that I 
 am cognizant of Miss Lilian Lade's whole history, and of 
 the position she holds with regard to yourself. Were it 
 not that to doubt her repudiation of your authority would 
 be an insult, I would leave the choice to her verbal deci- 
 sion ; but, as it is, I have only to join my request to that 
 of her uncle, and call upon you to depart — peaceably — 
 lest, as my Eeverend friend has observed, evil should 
 betide." 
 
 " And I, too/' spoke Lily, as, with the dignity of a 
 queen, she uprose from her position, " and I too, Lilian 
 Lade, the child of your own daughter and my dear 
 uncle's brother ; I, too, happy in my obscurity, to be 
 
189 
 
 rendered still more happy to-morrow, in the protection 
 of a husband I shall be proud to own, do also bid you 
 depart. As one whom Heaven has punished, I may not 
 add my reproaches to those of your own conscience ; as 
 one allied to me, though only far apart, in blood, I will 
 not use the language of upbraiding, but, once for all, 
 depart, leave us all to our humble contentment ; as for 
 myself, my home is here, where it has ever been — I would 
 not have even you suffer humiliation in it. Your fine 
 carriage is at the door, let it bear you hence, arid for ever 
 — I, the schoolmaster's destined wife, repudiate all claims 
 to noble birth, or noble associations, and will keep the 
 rank of life in which I have been reared." 
 
 Amazed, astounded, the old Earl first listened to 
 one, then to the other, and lastly to his grandchild, in 
 silent, stupefied wonder. His eyes, albeit sightless, turned 
 from the direction of one sound, to that of another, as 
 though their orbs were yet powerful to discern the 
 speakers' motions, and it was to the full a minute after 
 Lily had resumed her station, before the old man found 
 words to express himself. 
 
 " You are my grandchild, and must obey my command. 
 The law will help me if you refuse/'' 
 
 "Not now, that I am twenty-one years of age, as 
 was my poor mother, when she married" replied Lily. 
 
 This last sentence appeared to strike the Earl like the 
 shot from a gun. He sat down, or rather, he collapsed 
 into a small heap of humanity, utterly broken by this 
 
190 LILY LADE: A LEGEND OF 
 
 chance shot, and became so pitiable in bis extremity that 
 both the gentlemen then present were compelled to 
 tender him their assistance, and even Lily wept as she 
 saw his humbled pride writhe and struggle with those 
 pangs of remorse which seemed really to overpower him. 
 
 A glass of wine served at once to moisten his lips and 
 to bring forth a few words to the effect that he wished to 
 speak with his servants. 
 
 The servants instantly obeyed call, and received some 
 whispered commands, which sent them quickly towards 
 the carriage, still waiting at the outside gate. In a few 
 moments they returned, bearing with them two boxes. 
 
 Meanwhjle, a lamp was called for, and brought in, 
 throwing its bright light upon the old nobleman's withered 
 form, now greatly excited by a multiplicity of feelings, 
 over which it appeared that some one, possibly that of 
 hope, predominated. 
 
 At a few words from their master, the men unpacked 
 both boxes, notwithstanding some opposition on the part 
 of Walter Harewood. 
 
 From the boxes they took forth a magnificent dress 
 of superb silken taffeta, made in the height of fashion, 
 and trimmed as richly as the art of the sempstress and 
 embroiderer could devise. Another dress followed, 
 equally grand — and from a smaller box the leading 
 menial displayed, in all the magnificence of a gold and 
 morocco jewel case, a set of diamonds, pearls, and 
 rubies, such as would have made a duchess envious. All 
 
MOTHER LUDLAM'S CAYE. 191 
 
 these things, with others equally attractive, did the 
 smirking lackeys display upon table, chair, and conch, as 
 though the sight of them ought to bring every beholder 
 into an attitude of worship. 
 
 Side by side with the plain white muslin dress, ar- 
 ranged for the morrow's wedding, did those dazzling 
 jewels and those costly satins shine, but their brightness 
 called forth no respondent admiration from the eyes either 
 of Lily Lade, or her two protectors, who all looked on in 
 wondering silence. 
 
 u All these," said the Earl of Knuckledown, " and ten 
 thousand times more, will I give my long lost grandchild, 
 if she will but come and be the solace of my old age." 
 
 "Too late, too late," replied the Rev. gentleman. "I 
 know my niece sufficiently well to answer for her ; a few 
 years back and the door of reconciliation was not entirely 
 closed — it is now shut for ever. Christian minister that 
 I am, and loving, as I do love, the sacredness of mercy 
 aud forgiveness, the whole tenor of your conduct towards 
 my niece and her parents has been such that no reflecting 
 person could look upon your future guardianship in the 
 light of a desirable change for a young lady, whose future 
 career is already marked out in accordance with her 
 education and with the sanction of her own heart. The 
 law gives you no claim over her person ; you have 
 severed all natural links, and will but expose yourself to 
 universal obloquy by attempting to defend yourself. Go, 
 therefore, in amity if you please, and in all Christian 
 
192 
 
 LILY LADE : A LEGEND OF 
 
 forgiveness for the past ; but let those whom humility 
 and contentment have made far happier than rank and 
 station could effect, follow their own path likewise." 
 Turning towards Lily and her betrothed, the Eev. 
 gentleman once more spoke : " Betire, my children. As 
 • host and master here I will do the honours of my 
 
 domicile alone/'' 
 
 With a somewhat ceremonious obeisance, Lily Lade 
 took the arm of her lover, and with a look of pity for 
 the old nobleman whose utter prostration was evident, 
 she left the room in company with her future husband. 
 
 The Earl of Knuckledown, stupefied into passive 
 obedience, beckoned to his servants, who immediately 
 upraised him by either arm, and all but carried him out 
 of the house and into his carriage, when the Eev. James 
 Lade, following in his Lordship's wake, obtained from one 
 of the outriders the knowledge that his lordship had 
 already bespoke apartments at the Bush Inn, Parnham. 
 Satisfied on this point, the Eev. gentleman directed 
 others of his Lordship's retinue to replace the dresses and 
 jewels in their respective boxes, and himself saw them 
 consigned to their original resting-place, in one of those 
 receptacles belonging to the carriage; after which the 
 equipage itself was driven away at a slow pace, and the 
 repose of the Parsonage House was left unbroken for the 
 rest of that eventful night. 
 
MOTHER LUDLAM'S CAYE. 193 
 
 CHAPTER VIII., AND LAST. 
 
 On the following morning, so early as ten o'clock, there 
 was great commotion in the little straggling village of 
 Aldershot, for it was known through all the country 
 round that pretty Lily Lade, the rustic belle of the 
 parish, was about to be married to the chosen of her 
 heart, Walter Harewood, whose character was equally 
 respected with that of his bride. White robed children 
 were there, bearing baskets of flowers with which to 
 strew the short pathway between the Parsonage House 
 and the church, where it was understood that the 
 ceremony of marriage would be conducted by a neigh- 
 bouring clergyman, the Rev. James Lacle himself 
 officiating as father to the lady. 
 
 Shortly after the hour had struck, Lily and her two 
 bridesmaids, each robed in virgin white, and bearing no 
 other ornaments than befitted the modest quality of the 
 bride herself, issued from the Parsonage House and 
 entered the sacred edifice, where awaited the bridegroom 
 and his chosen friends, decorously tricked out for the 
 occasion. Every pew of the old church had its occupants, 
 and a fair assemblage of honest, hearty, country faces, 
 being those of more privileged friends, ranged around 
 the immediate precincts of the altar. 
 
 Pew, but very few of the assembled witnesses bore the 
 stamp of rank ■ perhaps it might even be said that none 
 there assembled were of station beyond that of well-to-do 
 
 o 
 
194 LILY LADE : A LEGEND OF 
 
 farmers, their wives and families — for in those days, 
 though little more than one hundred years before our era, 
 the clergy did not take rank with the gentry of the land 
 as a matter of right, but only when they happened to be 
 possessed of revenues which placed them on a monied 
 level with their patrons. But upon the faces of all 
 there assembled there sat a look of approving gladness, 
 such as well compensated for the absence of a more 
 refined presence. 
 
 At a quarter before eleven, precisely, the marriage 
 ceremony began, but scarcely was the first sentence 
 delivered by the officiating clergyman, when a slight 
 commotion at the door caused the turning of all heads, 
 excepting those of the bride and bridegroom, who, with 
 faces concealed in the cushion of the altar rails, seemed 
 absorbed in their own feelings. Whilst the ceremony 
 proceeded, there appeared, supported by two servants, 
 the Earl of Knuckledown, who with his white head and 
 tottering form, made his way slowly down the centre 
 aisle, placid as a child, and to all appearance totally 
 bereft of his former manner and bearing. By the time 
 the happy pair were made one, and their fortunes united 
 for better or worse, for richer or poorer, till God should 
 part them for ever, the old nobleman had reached the 
 altar group, and became as one of the other spectators, 
 offering no interruption, nor in any other way deviating 
 from the strict line of propriety. All that was observed 
 of him was that in his hand he bore an ominous looking 
 
195 
 
 folded roll of parchment, tied round with lawyer-like red 
 tape, and having one large official looking seal after the 
 manner of important legal documents. 
 
 The ceremony ended, and those immediately concerned 
 took their way towards the vestry room for the purpose 
 of signing the certificate in all due form. 
 
 It is uncertain whether or not the bride and bride- 
 groom observed the presence of the aged nobleman ; but 
 whether or not, it is certain that the Earl followed the 
 party into the vestry, where, after the usual signatures 
 had been affixed, he walked boldly to the table and 
 claimed to add his name to those of the other witnesses, 
 a request which none thought fit to oppose. 
 
 With wonder in their looks, and some slight mis- 
 givings, did the newly-uuited pair, and their reverend 
 guardian, observe the old man affix his name to those of 
 his predecessors; but all cause of apprehension was 
 happily dead. His Lordship, by one of those singularly 
 late touches of remorse, had buried all animosities in 
 the grave of the past, and had no sooner completed his 
 task, than he placed in the hands of Walter Hare wood 
 that legal looking parchment which had excited so 
 strange a feeling of curiosity. Brief were the words of 
 the old nobleman, but suffinciet to render still more 
 complete the happiness of all. For he bade the bride- 
 groom and his bride " good speed," commending them 
 to each other, and asking to be remembered in their 
 prayers as one repentant and forgiven. With this, he 
 
196 LILY LADE. 
 
 turned away, slowly, sorrowfully assisted by his servants 
 into his carriage, which presently drove away, and was 
 no more seen in the neighbourhood of Aldershot. 
 
 When the Rev. James Lade, as the one most in 
 authority, opened the parchment scroll, it was found 
 to be a deed-gift of ten thousand pounds, and although 
 at first sight repudiated, was, after some brief argument, 
 accepted as a peace offering, such as Christian feeling 
 and prudential wisdom could not reject. 
 
 Thus ends the tradition of Lily Lade. 
 
POEMS, ETC, 
 
 THE LAY OP THE LOST ENSIGN. 
 
 Young Ensign " Dobbs " got up one day, 
 
 At Aldershot Camp, in a very poor way, 
 
 He'd joined but one month, it is proper to say, 
 
 And had got his mess expenses to pay, 
 
 Besides an account with Mr. Gray, 
 
 For " billiards " — at which he could not play ! 
 
 With sundry odd matters to tailors and hatters, 
 His laundress — his servant — with others en suite, 
 Not forgetting his et Artist" for cartes-de-visite ; 
 
 In short he'd a dozen long bills to pay, 
 
 Amounting perhaps to what shall we say ? 
 
 Some fifty pounds won't be out of the way ; 
 
 And all with five-shillings-and-sixpence-a-day ! 
 
 He jump'd out. of bed, with a pain in his head, 
 And thus to his servant bemusingly said; 
 
198 THE LAY OF THE LOST ENSIGN. 
 
 "Come tell me my man — and tell me true, 
 What can an Officer hope to do, 
 When lie's been so rash, as to spend all his cash 
 When his creditors threaten to settle his hash, 
 And his credit's all gone to immortal smash ! " 
 
 ii. 
 Now Private Small, whom he chose to call 
 His valet de place, was a man so tall, 
 He could leap with ease o'er a six-foot wall, 
 And therefore because of his extra size, 
 Believed himself to be extra wise : 
 So he answered, " Were I in a fix like you, 
 I know exactly what I should do ; 
 I'd borrow some cash of that excellent Jew 
 Who lends it without any other secu- 
 Eity than an Officer's I U, 
 And who lives in M * * * x street, Number £." 
 
 in. 
 
 " Go call me a cab,'"' quoth Dobbs, with a sigh ; 
 " I don't like these things, but suppose I must try ; 
 I'll haste to London by quickest express, 
 And return in good time to prepare me for mess." 
 So saying, he went. * * 
 
 Behold him there, 
 He reaches a house near Hanover Square, 
 He knocks, at the door, he mounts the stair, 
 He enters a room, he takes a chair, 
 
THE LAY OP THE LOST ENSIGX. 199 
 
 While a tallow-faced Jew with crinkley hair, 
 Politely requests him his wants to declare. 
 
 " Vat vifty ! no more ? Pless your soul, my tear friend, 
 
 Yy it ain't vorth de trouble to porrow or lend ! 
 
 Say vun underd — or two — ve shall charge you de same, 
 
 De expenshe vosh no more — but vun trifle to name : 
 
 Yet stay ! you vant courage ! so pleas take som vine, 
 
 You'll find it, pelieve me, unkommonly fine ! 
 
 Here ish vite — here ish red/' — (here his shoulders he 
 
 shrugged) 
 "Ye imports it ourselvs, and ve vorrints it " (drugg'd !). 
 
 IV. 
 
 Behold poor Dobbs — he swallows some wine 
 Which he does not think " uncommonly fine/' 
 But drinks notwithstanding, in hope to progress 
 With his mission in time to return to mess ; 
 He drinks and grows poorly — he drinks and grows 
 
 worse, 
 Still hoping in haste to replenish his purse 
 He drinks and grows stupid — he takes pen in hand 
 And signs a small paper at Smouchy's command ; 
 He pockets one note (tis for fifty, — no more — 
 Though his I U stands for exactly five-score), 
 He gets to his cab, which still waits at the door, 
 And starts for the railway exactly at four, 
 
200 THE LAY OF THE LOST ENSIGN. 
 
 He readies the Station — He reaches the Camp, 
 Unconscious of having been " done " by a scamp, 
 Till, next day, — to his grief and his horror he found, 
 He was charged for bad wine — bad cigars — £30 ! 
 
 v. 
 
 Three months glide by quickly, when sure as the day, 
 There comes a slim bill, with " I promise to pay ;" 
 Which promise poor Dobbs is unable to keep, 
 Por reasons which rob him of many nights' sleep ; 
 " Yot harm," quoth the Jew, " ve can easy renew, 
 De expenshe vos ten poun', to vich ve add two, 
 For de trouble of callm' ven next it is due." 
 
 VI, 
 
 Three months pass on, — and three to that, 
 
 The slim little bill begins to wax fat : 
 
 Six months — then twelve — the bill grows fatter — 
 
 Two hundred pounds ! but then " What matter ? >} 
 
 The Jew so polite is, it seems that he quite is 
 
 A man to whom doing good acts a delight is — 
 
 Till one sad day, when he comes to say, 
 
 Poor Dobbs must perform his " Promise to pay," 
 
 Without the slightest demur or stay, 
 
 In short before he will go away, 
 
 Or 
 
THE LAY OF THE LOST ENSIGN. 20] 
 
 Concerning what next poor Dobbs befel, 
 
 The muse is extremely reluctant to tell ; 
 
 But the matter must out — so thus it fell : 
 
 He had not the cash, and the thought was so sad. 
 
 It drove him quite frantic,, in short, raving mad : 
 
 He did such queer things that his visitor swore 
 
 That "by Moses" and "Aaron" he'd "stand it" no 
 
 more : 
 He pull'd out his beautiful hair by the roots ; 
 He emptied the water-jug into his boots ; 
 He rush'd to a shelf — whence a bottle he took — 
 Turned full on the Usurer one horrid look 
 Then — ere one could guess his terrific design — 
 He had poisoned himself ! — with the jew's own 
 pout- wine ! ! [ . 
 
THE "CABTE-DE-YISITE:" A EOMANCE OE 
 ALDEKSHOT. 
 
 Young Neddy Fitzmaul, of the Aldershot Blues, 
 
 Stood four- feet-six in his birthday shoes ; 
 
 He readily would — have much rather stood, 
 
 Some five-feet-ten if he possibly could. 
 
 But the fates were against it, so Neddy was fain, 
 
 At four feet six to sigh and remain, 
 
 Though not without striving to lessen his pain 
 
 By sundry manoeuvres all equally vain. 
 
 Brandy he took — beat up with raw eggs, 
 
 In hopes that his stature might swell ; 
 But it nourished his nose instead of his legs, 
 
 And made him extremely unwell. 
 A hat he bought very tall in the crown, 
 
 Adding nearly one foot to his height — 
 But the little boys came and flattened it down, 
 
 A measure by no means polite. 
 A pair of new boots he then sought to get made, 
 By an artiste well known in the boot-making trade, •, 
 With soles very thick and with heels very high, 
 Which raised him some three inches nearer the sky. 
 But the "dodge"scarce succeeded, 
 So well as was needed ; 
 
THE " CARTE-DE-VISITE." 203 
 
 His walk being very much thereby impeded : 
 In short 'twas no "walk" so to call, but a "toddle/" 
 Which ended one morning in cracking his noddle. 
 Despairing at last, he grew sick of his life, 
 
 And determined on ending its trouble, 
 When somebody whispered, " Go get you a wife ; 
 A single man's portion is sorrow and strife ; 
 
 You'll be thought of much more when you're double" 
 Now this, to tell truth of young Neddy Pitzmaul, 
 Was a notion he long had debated, 
 But how to succeed was the question of all, 
 Which to solve was a trouble in no measure small. 
 Yet solve it he did in a way one may call 
 Ingenious, if strictly not o-ri-gi-nal, 
 
 As briefly below shall be stated. 
 " I'll put an advertisement in," quoth our Ned, 
 
 " There are papers in plenty — diurnal, 
 With weeklies as well — all extensively read, 
 
 Such as Cassell's, the Herald, and Journal. 
 I'll top my advertisement, ( Wanted a Wife/ 
 And answers will follow, I'll wager my life !" 
 He did it, and answers came surely, galore, 
 From "Jessie" and "Bessie" and ninety-nine more, 
 But strangely enough each objected to treat, 
 Till he sent, for her album, his "carte-de-visite." 
 So poor Neddy was fain, while his innocent brain, 
 With joy was nigh turned topsy-turvy, 
 Go stand for his "carte" with a love-yearning heart, 
 
204 THE 
 
 To that famous photographer " Herve. - " 
 
 Now, please let me whisper a secret — 'tis this, 
 
 When a well-bred photographer sees aught amiss, 
 
 He can modify, somewhat — the short can make tall; | 
 
 The little make large — the large can make small, i 
 
 By a slight piece of "dodgery" not known to all, 
 
 Yet clearly within his legitimate call, 
 
 And thus did it happen with Neddy Fitzmaul. 
 
 For the cunning photographer — bidding him stand 
 
 As gracefully as he was able, 
 Placed closely, but gingerly, at his right hand, 
 
 A child's parlour chair and low table. 
 The contrast served well — his portrait, when done, 
 
 Was correct, as no one can deny; 
 And yet for all that the best part of the fun, 
 
 Was, it made him look six feet high. 
 Away with twelve copies (ten shillings they cost), 
 
 He rushed in a phrenzied delight, 
 Despatching them off by that evening's post, 
 To the twelve correspondents who pleased him the most, 
 
 Then went to his bed for the night. 
 
 One day elapsed — one tedious day — when lo ! the post- 
 man's knock ! 
 
 Twelve letters for Fitzmaul was cried, producing quite a 
 shock ; 
 
 Young Neddy opened them — Oh, bliss ! to find his love 
 requited 
 
A ROMANCE OF ALDERSHOT. 205 
 
 By just eleven out of twelve (that twelfth he straightway 
 
 slighted) ; 
 Each one of the eleven made a separate assignation 
 To meet him by the self-same hour at Tongham railway 
 
 station. 
 He went, they came, they saw enough — those pretty 
 
 damsels all; 
 But not one single girl of them would marry one so 
 
 small ! 
 Each took a ticket by return and whirFd to town away, 
 Leaving poor Eitz. to grieve and mourn his wretched 
 
 luck that day. 
 The train swept on, — Eitzmaul had turned to seek his 
 
 lonely home, 
 Erom which he vowed he never more would wander forth 
 
 to roam, 
 "When to his side a fairy form of dazzling beauty crept, 
 Whose faultless features, blushingly, alternate smil'd or 
 
 wept — 
 il You sent me this," she slily said, discovering his "carte," 
 Then fondly placed it back again, to rest upon her heart — 
 ' ' 1 read your declaration, but replied not to its call, 
 Eor fear — to tell the downright truth — for fear you 
 
 were too tall — 
 I wish'd to look before I leapt." 
 " Sweet angel !" Neddy cried, 
 " You're much the prettiest girl I've met — say, will you 
 
 be my bride ? " 
 
206 THE " CAETE-DE-VISITE." 
 
 Of course she blush'd, of course she bent her lovely eye- 
 lids down, 
 Then whispered "yes" becomingly, without' the slightest 
 frown. 
 So Neddy Fitzmaul of the "Aldershot blues/' 
 When he walked from the Tongham station, 
 Stood flve-feet-ten — if not in his shoes — 
 
 At least in his own estimation. 
 No happier couple e'er travelled through life, 
 Or found this world's pleasure more sweet, 
 Than Neddy Fitzmaul and his beautiful wife, — 
 Aud all through a carte-de-visite. 
 
 II 
 
THE BELL OF SEVASTOPOL* 
 
 What sound is that which zephyr brings 
 
 Prom yonder low-browed hill ? 
 That sweeps along on fluttering wings, 
 
 Or tinkles like a rill ! 
 Now " booming " on the startled ear 
 
 With note of thrilling tone : 
 Now like an echo sweet and clear, 
 
 That murmurs and is gone ! 
 It is the bell — the Russian bell — the bell whose iron 
 
 tongue, 
 Hath tolled full many a hero's knell — hath many a re- 
 quiem sung ; 
 Whose voice hath mingled with the breeze that swept the 
 
 Black Sea wave. 
 From Azoff to Sevastopol o'er many a true man's grave. 
 The bell that once, in joyous strain, 
 
 From pinnacle or tower, 
 Proclaimed a Czar's imperial reign, 
 
 A tyrant's boastful power. 
 The bell that never more shall ring 
 
 Where listening serfs abide, 
 
 * For the information of those who do not live in or near 
 Aldersbot, be it noted that the bell upon which are struck 
 the hours of day and night in the Camp, was brought 
 from Sevastopol, and is supposed to have been one belonging 
 to a convent. 
 
208 THE BELL OF SEVASTOPOL. 
 
 Or crouching helots shivering sing 
 
 The hymn of Tartar pride ; 
 Tor England's blood hath ransomed now, 
 
 And British valour won, 
 That trophy from a barbarous foe, 
 Whose power it trampled on ; 
 Whose flag it trailed along the mire, 
 Through seas of blood, through flames of fire, 
 Where tears and groans, commingling, sent 
 Their incense to Heaven's firmament, 
 In witness of the boastful deed 
 Which caused all honest hearts to bleed, 
 That monarchs in their pride of will 
 Should make a sport of human ill ; 
 And proud ambition vault so high, 
 That — failing Heaven — it falls to die. 
 That bell ! — its voice all silent now to speak of pomp or 
 
 power, 
 Time's messenger alone behold ! — to note each passing 
 
 hour, 
 Meet office for a captured slave, to warn of life's decay, 
 How pride may fall — how pomp may fade — how power 
 may pass away ! 
 It hath a cadence in its chime, 
 
 Like some funereal knell; 
 That loud-ton gued messenger of time, 
 That solemn Russian bell. 
 
THE BELL OE SEVASTOPOL. 209 
 
 Perchance it was this self same bell whose deep and 
 
 sonorous boom, 
 Aroused the men of Inkermann through morning's misty 
 
 gloom,* 
 That warned the sentinel's quick ear, and bade him mark 
 
 its note, 
 As stealthily the foe came down Tchernaya's winding 
 route, 
 Which ushered in that awful day 
 Of weary strife and bloody fray, 
 When Newman, Greville, Townsend fell 
 Like men who did their duty well. 
 When Strangways, Cathcart, rashly brave, 
 Each sought and found a soldier's grave. 
 When Barker, Butler, Goldie, Wynn, 
 In honour's brotherhood akin, 
 Died nobly for their country's cause 
 And won in death the world's applause ! 
 That bell ! that bell ! whose iron tongue 
 So many a dirge hath fitly sung, 
 Oh ! could it but in language speak 
 
 The tale of days gone by, 
 How many a bursting heart might break, 
 How many a bosom sigh, 
 
 * Soon after midnight in the dark hours which preceded 
 the battle of Inkermann, the booming sound of one single bell 
 was heard by the outposts of the Allied Army, and caused 
 some speculation as to what it meant. 
 
 P 
 
210 THE BELL OF SEVASTOPOL. 
 
 O'er friends and loved ones left to bleed, untended where 
 
 they fell, 
 Who else had lived to hear again that solemn Russian bell. 
 
 Away with grief ! Let sterner passions rise, 
 Behold ! earth's lightning flashing through the skies, 
 Whilst mimic thnnder — deadly as Heaven's own — 
 Pours forth in volleys from the Mamelon. 
 Redan, and Malakoff, with deadly aim 
 Send iron messengers from mouths of flame. 
 
 The sea, too, hurls its vengeance gainst the shore, 
 
 Whose bulwarks frown its ruffled bosom o'er, 
 
 Earth, air, and water trembling with the roar. 
 Britannia's sons with Gallia leagued in one, 
 Sardinia and the Turk- — led bravely on ; 
 United press their legions on the foe, 
 Resolved to strike one overwhelming blow. 
 Sevastopol ! that maiden of the sea 
 (Her white robe stained with blood of liberty) 
 Stands forth the mark ! by justice doomed to fall 
 Unmourned, unpitied, unbeloved by all ! 
 
 What need of poet's feeble strain to tell how England 
 fought ! 
 
 How brave Sardinia's green-clad sons the van of danger 
 sought ! 
 
 How Gallia's host dashed ruthlessly, nor deigned its 
 head to quail 
 
 Beneath a storm of hissing shot — of pelting iron hail ! 
 
 
THE BELL OF SEVASTOPOL. 211 
 
 How, turned aside, yet conquered not, each dared again 
 
 the foe, 
 Nor owned repulse, nor feared reproach, but answered 
 
 blow with blow. 
 Till death-crowned valour awed itself, whilst Heaven 
 
 looked weeping o'er, 
 And pride's endurance sought a lull for strength to strike 
 
 once more. 
 What call for poet's humble lay to speak the crowning 
 
 deed? 
 How foiled ambition stayed its flight, and curbed its 
 
 erring speed ! 
 How Menschikoff, the parasite, bent low his supple 
 
 knee,* 
 How Nicholas, the bold and bad, succumbed to fate's 
 
 decree. 
 How martyred Raglan fought and died, nor less on 
 
 glory's bed 
 That fever racked his manly form and bowed his noble 
 
 head ! 
 That tale is writ on history's page by Time's almighty 
 
 pen, 
 Unblotted by one tear of shame before the eyes of men. 
 
 * Menschikoff was officially reported to have died of fever, 
 but Russian fevers are proverbially difficult to understand. 
 Very many of the Russian peasantry believe, even to the 
 present day, that Menschikoff is not dead at all, but has 
 hidden his sins within the walls of a monastery. — Vide Wood's 
 ' History of the Crimean War." 
 

 212 THE BELL OF SEVASTOPOL. 
 
 The " flaunting flag " of victory, the drum's trium- 
 phant roll, 
 Proclaim how justice did its work on dead Sevas- 
 topol ! 
 Such whispered chronicles as these 
 
 Of man's unbridled will, 
 Methinks come travelling on the breeze 
 Prom yonder low- crowned hill, 
 
 Where caged and guarded, like a bird, the captured tell- 
 tale swings, 
 
 Now yielding music to the ear, now flapping loud its 
 wings. 
 
 That bell ! that solitary bell ! 
 Must bitter tidings ever tell : 
 No marriage rite may claim its voice, 
 No joy-note be its happy choice, 
 
 No peal of welcome ever ring the listener's hope to 
 cheer, 
 
 But one dull round of duty fill with each succeeding 
 year.*" 
 
 How sorrowful, how sad a fate, 
 Was ever bell thus desolate ! 
 Nor wonder they who note its sound 
 On hill, or dale, or marshy ground. 
 
 * We believe that the bell is never struck but for the 
 purpose of noting the lapse of time; certainly it is never 
 rung upon any joyful occasion, nor even for the hour of 
 prayer. Its vocation is solely that of an hour-bell. 
 
THE BELL OF SEVASTOPOL. 213 
 
 It hath a cadence in its chime, 
 
 Like some funereal knell ; 
 That loucl-tongued messenger of time — 
 
 That solemn Russian bell ! 
 
THOUGHTS 
 
 Suggested by the Visit of a Russian Potentate to 
 Aldershot Camp, November %nd, 1864. 
 
 Why sounds the clarion ? and why beats the drum ? 
 
 This peaceful morn, 
 
 Of wintry dawn, 
 Hath tidings of some mighty victory come ? 
 That martial ardour lights each soldier's eye, 
 
 And pride of country fills 
 
 Each heart that thrills 
 Beneath the medal of Crimea's die ! 
 
 No fight victorious doth these sounds denote, 
 
 But yet a triumph still 
 
 Of might and will, 
 Dear to the stalwart men of Aldershot. 
 Por one there comes — a man of mighty name — 
 
 Those serried ranks to meet, 
 
 To honour, and to greet, 
 To hail — as kindred spirits dear to fame : 
 
 Whose glance will scan them with a soldier's eye 
 That hath seen battles, and whose breath of praise 
 
 Will be more worth, to men of chivalry, 
 
 Than thrice the shout which panderers can raise. 
 
EUSSIAN POTENTATE AT ALDEESHOT. 215 
 
 Behold him here ! That chief of northern clime, 
 See how he reins his charger o'er the plain ; 
 
 His keen eye hath a light well nigh sublime, 
 "Which, like his sword blade, never falls in vain. 
 
 His glance surveys — it marks each several man, 
 
 Takes note of all that claims a soldier's meed ; 
 The head erect, the chest of ample span, 
 
 The martial bearing (pledge of strength and speed) • 
 The dauntless brow, with freedom's stamp of pride 
 
 That quails not 'neath the aspect of command, 
 Which — save in Britain's sons — the world beside 
 
 Can show not, in the breadth of all its land. 
 
 Tall and erect, in simple habit clad, 
 
 With martial cloak alone 
 
 O'er his broad shoulders thrown, 
 He looks around him — haply with a sad 
 
 But solemn eye — 
 
 Wherefore ! and why ? 
 Because [and let no false, ideal shame 
 Obscure the light of an illustrious name) — 
 
 Those self same men, and he, had met before * 
 As foes — not friends — on a far distant shore, 
 
 * As a matter of course this expression must be taken in a 
 figurative sense. It is not quite certain that the famous 
 Russian engineer was actually in Sevastopol at the time of 
 its evacuation, although there is a strong suspicion of his 
 having been there very shortly before. 
 

 216 EUSSIAN POTENTATE AT ALDEESHOT. 
 
 His force 'gainst theies had matched — but matched in 
 
 vain, 
 His skill had met a skill of deepee strain. 
 Those veteea.n eanks, whose manly breasts display 
 
 The badge of conquest, valour's proudest dole, 
 Are those he met — one ne'er forgotten day 
 
 When Britain's flag waved o'er SEVASTOPOL ! 
 
 'Tis done, and past. Let time his votaries send, 
 Man's vanquished foe should ever be his friend. 
 Be welcome all to fair Britannia's isle 
 Who come, unarmed, to meet her willing smile. 
 England is rich in fame — with wealth to spare, 
 
 Nor grudgingly bestows on honoured men ; 
 Proud in herself — her pride she deigns to share, 
 
 And thus a weeath awards to TODLEBEN. 
 
LINES ON THE DEATH OF JANE C^SAE. 
 
 January 22nd, 1865. 
 
 " Heb, end was peace."" She tarried not 
 
 Through all life's sorrowing day, 
 Nor turned from out her onward path 
 
 To wander by the way. 
 She bore her cross without one sigh, 
 
 Nor shed one useless tear ; 
 But calmly smiled amidst her pain, 
 
 In hopes that Heaven was near. 
 
 A Christian pure, a loving child, 
 
 A friend to all who knew ! 
 What sorrow may bespeak the worth 
 
 Of one so good and true ? 
 What vain regret shall mourn her loss 
 
 In parent, kindred, friend, 
 Whose love is with her Saviour now 
 
 'Midst joys that ne'er may end. 
 
 'Twere surely best for soul like hers 
 
 To climb the starry sky, 
 Without one taint of earthly sin 
 
 To blot its purity ; 
 
218 LINES ON THE DEATH OF JANE C^SAR. 
 
 Than in this world to tarry long 
 
 Amidst temptation's wiles, 
 And barter Heaven's eternal love 
 
 Por earth's deceitful smiles. 
 
 Be therefore hushed the struggling moan 
 
 Which from your breasts would rise, 
 And check within its crystal home 
 
 The fountain of your eyes. 
 .Be sure God's wisdom falters not 
 
 In claiming for his rest, 
 But ever chooses for himself 
 
 The purest and the best. 
 
 " Her end was peace" — let yours be so, 
 
 And when that end shall come, 
 How great your joy to find a place 
 
 In that eternal home ; 
 Where child and parent meet again, 
 
 And meet to part no more : 
 Partakers of a Saviour's joy, 
 
 And Heaven's all-bounteous store. 
 
MONODY 
 
 On the death of Catherine Anne White, September 4, 1864. 
 
 In virgin beauty, like a star, 
 
 Her light hath passed away, 
 No more the pilgrim-path of life 
 
 To gladden with its ray; 
 No more some watcher's heart to thrill 
 
 That worshipped by its gleam, 
 As, silently and smlessly, 
 
 It shone with placid beam. 
 
 Upon the threshold of life's joys 
 
 She stood — yet entered not ; 
 Her dreams of youth all unfulfilled, 
 
 Her half-born hopes forgot, 
 The sweets of life untasted, all 
 
 Save those of youth's brief hour. 
 (The rose bud's joy, which hopes, ere long, 
 
 To bloom a glorious flower.) 
 
 Her well-loved home is desolate, 
 
 Her kindred weep in vain, 
 Her place is vacant by their hearth, 
 
 Nor may be filled again ; 
 And yet she is not dead to all, 
 
 For they, so pure, who die 
 Have living virtues, which embalm 
 
 Their fadeless memory ; 
 
220 MONODY. 
 
 Which, like some sweet perfume distilled, 
 
 Yet speak of beauty gone, 
 Of crumbling leaves now turned to dust, 
 
 That once a floweret shone. 
 " She is not dead, but sleepeth," thus 
 
 Doth holy wisdom tell ; 
 Her trust was in her Saviour's love, 
 
 And lo ! she sleepeth well ! 
 
 The star of her young life hath set 
 
 To every mortal eye, 
 Yet shines with ten-fold loveliness 
 
 In some far distant sky, 
 Where light is quenchless as Heaven's love, 
 
 Immortal as Heaven's throne, 
 A thing too bright for human eyes, < 
 
 Or human hearts to own. 
 
 Be ours to think on, from afar, 
 
 The glories of that home, 
 Where every soul may shine a star, 
 
 'Neath God's celestial dome. 
 Be ours, with inward peace, to look 
 
 On death's o'ershadowing day, 
 To bless the hand which giveth all, 
 
 Which taketh all away. 
 
 n 
 
THE LADIES. 
 
 God bless their pretty little hearts — I love to see them 
 
 smile, 
 They look so very innocent, so very free from guile ; 
 I love to see them pout — and toss their head, as some 
 
 can do, 
 It sets off rosy lips so well, and glistening ringlets too ; 
 I love to hear them scold— a bit — but not too loud or long, 
 It proves their lungs are really good, and shows a taste 
 
 for song ; 
 I almost love to see them weep — it makes their eyes so 
 
 bright 
 With diamond-dropping sympathy, or tender pity's light. 
 
 I love to hear them whisper " Yes " in fitting time and 
 
 place ; 
 I love to hear them answer "No/' if spoken with a grace ; 
 I love to see them " walking out " in fashion's fullest 
 
 pride, 
 I love to see them robed in white — as may befit a bride; 
 But most of all I love to see them clothed in modest form, 
 The pride of some domestic hearth, where love is pure 
 
 and warm, 
 'Tis there — at home — they brightest shine, in queen-like 
 
 state — alone ; 
 Their children's love — a diadem ; their husband's heart 
 
 — a throne. 
 
THE MISEE-A SATIRE. 
 
 After (and a very long way after) Juvenal, 
 
 " Quaerenda pecunia primum est 
 Virtus post nummos." Horace. 
 
 " Avant tout, l'argent, et apres 
 
 L'argent tout " Piron. 
 
 " Save a thief from the gallows 
 And he will — bury you decently." 
 
 (Old English proverb, slightly improved.) 
 
 Where London's countless steeples proudly rise, 
 Like angel fingers, pointing to the skies ; 
 Where Commerce sits npon her bales enthroned, 
 A goodlier monarch than the world e'er owned ; 
 Where pomp, and power, and wisdom, wit, and pride, 
 With crime and poverty, stand side by side ; 
 Where ignorance, with husky voice, aloud 
 Proclaims his folly to the gaping crowd, 
 A miser once — a man of strange renown — 
 xibided, 'midst the jeers of half the town, 
 Hoarding his wealth in piles of bond and deed, 
 The fruits of usury at blackest need ; 
 Holding within his grip of iron hate 
 The lands of many a lord that ruled the state. 
 
 His garb was of the meanest man could wear, 
 His food was of the scantiest man could bear, 
 
THE MISER A SATIRE. 223 
 
 His wants were of the fewest Heaven could yield, 
 
 And even such he stinted or concealed, 
 
 Till nigh he went that problem strange to prove 
 
 Of " how a man may live on hate or love/' 
 
 Dining on " naught/'' within his own house-door, 
 
 Then giving all thafs left to feed the poor. 
 
 Aged was he, and wrinkled at the brow, 
 
 With hair as white as is the driven snow, 
 
 And eyes of fire, which, sparkling as they shone, 
 
 Forbade the thought that intellect had flown, 
 
 As many found, who, to their sorrowing cost 
 
 Had sought to prove which could overreach the most ; 
 
 Nor kith nor kin he owned, no friend he knew \ 
 
 Save one — a thief ! — from justice snatched, and who, > 
 
 Though false to all the world, to hum was true. ) 
 
 Strange men strange fancies have ; some have been shown 
 
 To love another's child, and hate their own, 
 
 Of such was he, that miser, stern and cold 
 
 To all the world from whom he held his gold, 
 
 But to that thief he bore a father's love, 
 
 Was careful, tender, gentle as a dove, 
 
 He fed him, feasted him, and clothed him well, 
 
 Pressed money on his palm, as gossips tell, 
 
 Bade him be merry whilst it held in store, 
 
 And when 'twere gone, to hasten back for more. 
 
 The gaping world wherein he chanced to dwell, 
 Look'd on in wonder more than tongue can tell, 
 It wonder' d why the thief no longer stole — 
 That thief to as now past poverty's control ; 
 It wonder' d that the miser still lived on — 
 That thief was there to guard him like a son ; 
 
224 THE MISER A SATIRE. 
 
 It wondered that the old man, day by day, 
 Grew better clad and kindlier in his way, 
 It guess' d not that the thief his will had spared, 
 By grateful love his better thoughts ensnared, 
 Till, one by one, each vice of miser kind 
 Departed from the old man's brightening mind ; 
 His friend and he grew generous of their store, 
 Feasted the rich, nor yet denied the poor, 
 Lived in esteem with all, in wealth and pride, 
 Till one sad day, wherein — the old man died ! 
 
 They buried him in all the pomp of state, 
 With countless mourners to bewail his fate, 
 They came in shoals to hear the miser's will, 
 And bade the very whispering winds be still. 
 But horror sat on each expectant face 
 When lo ! — 'twas told he left no single trace 
 Of wealth behind him, scarce enough, though \ all, 
 To pay th' expenses of his funeral ! 
 
 The thief went back to his first trade again, 
 
 A wiser thief — but in a sadder strain. 
 
 He stole, and stole, and hoarded all he stole, 
 
 Grudging his own poor wants, a poorer dole, 
 
 Till — counting up the wealth his theft had brought 
 
 He found it well sufficient for his thought : 
 
 He raised a marble tomb — now, mark the end, 
 
 In memory of his one and only friend, 
 
 Then, with his relic of ill-gotten pelf, 
 
 Bought two poor yards of rope, and hang'd himself. 
 
 Printed by Aimiuu E. Lccy, Farnhaua and Aldershot. 
 
 JUL -1 I9/.3