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of a long narrow lane, in the well-known village of Reydon, where four cross country roads terminate, in the entrance to Goose Green, a piece of common so called from the number of geese which are bred upon it. Each of these roads forms a pleasant summer's walk, shaded from the heat of the sun by tall hawthorn hedges full of fine old trees. The grave rises to a considerable height in the centre of a pretty waste, of a triangular form, which attracts the notice of the traveller from each of its approaches. Generally, it is covered with a soft mantle of verdure, rivalling the emerald in brightness. The ground about it is thickly studded with broom and stunted black thorn bushes, seldom rising to the height of four feet above the turf, and affording, with their low branches, a shelter for the violets that open their deep blue eyes beneath, and grow in profusion around the grave, while the more aspiring primrose rears her pale star-like crest above the mossy mound, and encircles it with a diadem of living gems. When both violet and primrose have faded before the iucreasing heat of the sun, the harebell comes forth in her beauty, entwining her slender flowers among the gay, garish blossoms of the purple heath and yellow broom. The voice of the bee murmurs there through the long days of summer, and the blackbird trolls his merry lay from his bower of May-flowers, and is answered by his rival minstrel of the grove, the lively thrush, from the branches of the lofty elms which soar far above his head. In truth, it is a lovely quiet spot, and I have often thought it would make a pretty picture.

The green is nearly a mile in length, and exhibits in detached groups, several specimens of the style of architecture which existed two centuries ago, the high turreted chimneys and lofty indented roofs peeping from between fine old walnut and elm trees, conveying in this age of luxuries, the idea of a good substantial country residence for the yeoman or farmer. The history of the Dead Man's Grave has been related to me, with variations, by many different people; but the account which most interested me was from the lips of an old woman, born and brought up in a cottage on the green, which had been rented by her father and grandfather, and whom I considered a worthy chronicler of every strange legend connected with the spot.

It was one of those warm still evenings which often occur at the latter end of August, that I met the 'dame-her and her grandson-returning from her day's

labour in the field. She was seated on the bank opposite the grave, guarding a large sack of gleaned corn, and the boy, a rosy curly-pated infant of three years old, was lying on the unconsecrated mound, playing with a branch of ash, scattering the keys one by one on the turf, and humming playfully to himself. After some preliminary converse, and in answer to a request, that she would relate the history of the Dead Man's Grave, "Alack a day," said she, "that were a hard matter to do. It was so called before my grandfather's day, but I have heard him tell the story many a time, and a dismal tale it is, but the family names of the parties are gone from the memory of man. The lady was called fair Margaret, and her lover the handsome young yeoman of the green. But his beauty was of no avail, there he lies, folks do say, in a very unquiet grave, but how can that be wondered at, when the spot was never blessed or hallowed by the word of God, and he died by an act of desperation! My grandfather and neighbour Silverstone affirmed they had often seen Richard's ghost, when the moon was bright, hovering round the pool in which he drowned himself, but at the sound of human steps he always disappeared in the water.'

Many,

The old woman proceeded :many years ago, lived at the old hall, you left to the right of you, when you took the road that brought you hither, a very grand family-one of those, which our old clerk says, came from foreign parts, when England was conquered in the olden time. The lord, who held all these manors, had an only son, a youth of great promise, who was finishing his education abroad. The last of his race, and having no young kinsmen, he was very fond of his fosterbrother, the son of a stout yeoman who rented a fine farm on the green, and mayhap lived in that old-fashioned white house with the great firs before it. The young lord, however, was plain in face, and mean in stature, while Richard was remarked for the beauty of his countenance, and the comeliness of his form, and though lowly born, had the carriage and dignity of a prince. Many a damsel of high degree was fain to cast an eye of affection on the handsome young yeoman. Richard was true to one, and she was as dear to his heart as light to the blind, or health to the sick. Fair Margaret was the grand-daughter of the rich old 'Squire who lived in the mansion-house just off the Green, and though she secretly preferred Richard to all her many wooers, she held him as a fellow of no reckoning, and one far beneath her.

But

Yet who shall

say nay to love-who has humbled in all ages the spirit of the proud, and exalted them of low degree?—Richard dared not openly avow his passion for the beautiful heiress, but when they chanced to meet, his eyes told what his tongue could not utter; and their language was soon understood and returned by fair Margaret. As her passion increased her pride diminished. She would leave the park and gardens to wander with her old nurse down the lanes that led towards the green, in the hope of meeting the object of her affection. One lovely summer's evening, when the moon had risen over the woods, and the nightingale was singing, and the new-mown hay perfumed the whole air, fair Margaret sat her down on yonder stile just opposite the spot which after wards contained his grave. She had not seen her lover for many days; and her cheerful heart forsook her, and she was fain to weep, and being verysorrowful she flung from her hand the nosegay of wild flowers she had culled from the neighbouring hedges, in the dust at her feet, and would not suffer the old nurse to pick them up; for she said they were, like her, withering in silence and decay. Who should cross the lane at that instant, and come up to the stile, but Richard of the green, with his scythe on his shoulder-for he had been mowing in that very field, till late, with his men. I trow his confusion equalled the damsel's, and his knees trembled, and his colour went and came; but he was too brave a man to let this opportunity pass. So picking up the torn flowers, he presented them to the lady, and so well pleaded his suit, that she plighted her troth on this very spot, and called heaven to witness that she would love him, and only him, and be constant and true, whatever might betide; and they parted that night, as young hearts will part that have received each other's earnest of affection, with bosoms overflowing with joy.

deep on the ground, that the lovers could no longer frequent their former place of meeting. However, the young lord had taught Richard to write, and the nurse found the means of conveying their letters to each other. Matters went on in this way till after Christmas tide, when the' old Squire was given a hint of their correspondence; but he was a wise man, and never troubled himself with many words. He did not mention aught of his knowledge to his pretty kinswoman, but gave orders for a journey to London, affirming that he wished to consult a learned doctor on his increasing infirmity of the gout, which was fast depriving him of the use of his limbs, and which, alone, induced him to undertake such a journey in the bitter season of the year. This was the reason he gave the world for his conduct, and the plan he adopted to remove his grand-daughter from so dangerous a neighbourhood. Fair Margaret never sus pected the snare, and though the order for her attendance was very painful to her feelings, she thought it only her duty to comply. The night before her departure, the lovers took the most tender farewell of each other, and vowed, with mingled tears and sighs, that death alone should separate their affections.

"The summer passed on, and they met here every evening; and mayhap he has whispered many a love tale to the maiden beneath the shade of the very elm under which we are sitting. At length Richard entreated her to allow him to ask the old Squire's consent to their union; for he was an only son, and his parents were wealthy people. But she dreaded the old man's wrath, and put him off by telling him that her grandsire was an aged man, bending beneath infirmities-that he might die, and then she should be her own mistress: and, if he waited patiently, all would be well.

"Winter set in earlier than usual, and a cold winter it was, and the snow lay so

"Fair Margaret had been born and brought up in the country, and had formed no idea of the grandeur of a town life; it lifted up her heart with pride and vanity; and when fine gentlemen said all manner of bright things to her, and made songs in praise of her beauty, she began to despise her own true love, and sorely repented of the promises she had made him. Now it was in the time of Pope and Pagan, and the wicked monks told her they could get her off her vows with little or no trouble. She had only to fast a few days, and say a few penitential prayers, and God would forgive her for her falsehood. While her heart yet wavered between ambition and love, the young lord of the manor returned from France; and hearing that his old neighbour, the Squire, was in London, he paid him a visit, and became deeply enamoured with fair mistress Margaret. Margaret was bewitched with the idea of being called My Lady; and though the young lord was very plain in his person, and grave in his conversation and deportment, she joyfully accepted his proposals. This was the middle of May, and the wedding-day was to take place the first week in June, and the family returned into the country to make the necessary preparations for the bridal. The news of the grand match she was ahout to form spread like wildfire through the country, Richard

was the first to hear the fatal intelligence. If this be true,' said he, dashing his hand against his head, there is no faith in woman, no honour in this world. O, Margaret! Margaret! think you the God, who witnessed your vows, will shut his eyes on your falsehoold?-I will see her myself,' he cried, and learn from her own lips the truth of this horrible tale.' He rushed with all speed towards the mansion house. The gay London servant did not know him, and when he asked to speak to Mistress Margaret he was readily admitted. Little thinking who was the visitor, she entered the room with a smiling countenance; but when Richard advanced to meet her, she cast a hasty glance on his agitated face, turned her back on him, and would have quitted the apartment, but he caught her clothes and detained her.

"After all your solemn promises-all your vows of love and constancy-is it thus, Margaret, we meet? Has your visit to the great city learned you to be false hearted, or were you all along deceiving me?' Sobs choked his utterance, and he sank weeping at her feet. Margaret gazed on her stricken lover till tears came into her own eyes; but she called pride to her aid, and though she still loved him, she hardened her heart against him. "Richard!' she said, I beseech you rise, and leave the house directly. Your being here will expose me to the displeasure of my grandfather. You must be well aware that a lady of my birth and fortune is no mate for you.'

"Oh, God! it is true then!' he called out in an agony of sorrow; it is your own voluntary act and deed that condemns me to despair. Cruel, treacherous lady! how often have I held this lovely form in my trembling arms-how often have I felt your heart throb against mine, as I vowed on those sweet lips eternal constancy? Margaret! I have kept my.vow; and think you that heaven will so easily forget yours ?9

"Insolent peasant!" returned the scornful maiden, 'you do well to insult me by recalling my weakness. I knew not the crime I was guilty of when I stooped to listen to you. Instantly leave my presence!' Richard rose from the ground, and regarded her with a glance which she never afterwards forgot. Farewell, Margaret!' he said; you have this day rent my heart in twain. I shall be hold you in this world no more. I wish you joy of your splendid bridal. He whom you have chosen is deserving of a better bride. Farewell! be happy if you can in another's woe!" He left the room, and she stood looking after him with a

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mind ill at ease. Never had he appeared so handsome in her eyes; and but for very shame and pride, she would have called him back and renewed her old promises.

"Early the next morning, her waiting woman knocked at her chamber door, and told her, by way of news, that the body of the young yeoman had been discovered in the pool at the bottom of the garden and that the quest was shortly to be held on him at the next cottage. What she felt on the occasion is known only to herself: if it was agony, she suppressed it; if remorse, she hid its pangs from the observation of those around her. From that moment his name never passed her lips, nor did she once allude to the circumstances which led to his death. When told that he was buried in the cross-ways on the very spot where they had so often met, she was seen to shudder and turn pale; but if she wept, it was when no eye saw her, and people marvelled at the hardness of so young a heart. Even her lover was troubled in spirit, for he had tenderly loved the unhappy youth. The preparations went on just the same for her wedding, and the night before that joyful event was to take place, Margaret complained of a pain in her head, and retired early to rest. It was a beautiful moonlight evening; and the woodbine and the new-mown hay smelt as sweetly as they did that day twelvemonth, when she had plighted her faith, beneath the shade of the elm, to Richard of the green. She looked out on the face of nature-but there was no joy in her heart. She paced to and fro, and listened, and started at every sound. Her old nurse marked her disquietude, and called to her to undress and come to bed. She knelt down, and tried to pray, but her spirit was sore troubled, and she could only sigh and groan; and when she lay down on the pillow, she muttered to herself, and turned from side to side, till the old woman said it was fearful to hear her lamentations. At length, all was still, till about the dead hour of the night; when they heard a sweet voice singing beneath the window, and Margaret flew up in the bed to see whom it might be; but fear came upon her, and she sank down weeping on the pillow. But it was Richard's voice, and the old nurse heard his song on that night, and she often afterwards repeated the words, which as nearly as I can recollect were these:

'Pale shines the moon on my grave, Margret,
But colder far is thy heart, Margret,
Oh, cold, cold, are her beams!
Than ice on the wintry streams.

My grave is dark, and deep, Marg❜ret; And the earthworm shares my rest, But the grave is not so dark, Marg❜ret,

As the thought in thy troubled breast!

"Thou art thinking of titles and wealth, Marg❜ret,

Thou art thinking of rich array,
But thou never shalt be a bride, Margret,
Or smile on the coming day!

Thy troth was pledged to me, Margret,
Beneath yon paly moon ;-

I come to claim thy vow, Marg❜ret,
At midnight's solemn noon;

Then come and dwell with me, Marg❜ret, Sweet smells the yellow broom, And the violets' purple eyes, Marg❜ret, Weep o'er my lowly tomb!

"You need not fear the storm, Margret, The bail or sleety shower;

For the grave is as still and calm, Marg❜ret, As the holy twilight hour.

'No sound disturbs my sleep, Marg❜ret, But the heavy thought of thee

Is the canker-worm in my breast, Margret, Which gnaws eternally!

'For thee I bartered heaven, Margret, And every holy trust;

And my soul will find no peace, Margret, Till thou art in the dust!

"Then come to my lowly grave, Marg❜ret,
Thy true love waits for thee;
Resign each earthly tie, Marg'ret-
Haste! haste! and sleep with me.'

"All the time this sad song was singing, Margaret lay trembling like an aspen leaf. At length the voice died away on the night breeze, and the maiden sprung from the bed. It is the voice of my love,' she cried, my murdered love. List! he calls me, and I must not stay.'

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"The old woman, shaking with terror, tried in vain to hold her. She darted from the chamber, and, undressed as she was, left the house. The old crone also arose; but for a long time her fears hindered her from following the maiden. At length she gained courage to call up some of the servants, who instantly went in search of their young mistress. The sun had well nigh risen when they reached the Dead Man's Grave; and his first rays glanced on something white, that was stretched over the newly-raised turf. On approach ing the spot, they found it to be her whom they sought; but the breath of life was no longer in her nostrils. The wind lifted the long tresses of fair hair, which were scattered over her face, but the ashy hue of the cheek they shaded was chilled by the hand of death. The body was in stantly removed to the mansion house; and I trow there was wailing and weeping in hall and bower for the loss of the fair bride. Her promised ford saw his beau

tiful Margaret laid in the silent dust, then left the country for many years, till the memory of the old things had nearly died away. But I have heard the people say, that on the first of June a white shadow is seen at midnight lying upon this grave; and they doubt not that it is the ghost of her whom heaven requited for her pride and perjury."-La Belle Assemblee.

ILLUSTRATIONS OF HISTORY.

KNIGHTS TEMPLARS.

THIS military order had its commencement in the year 1118. When certain religious knights under Hugh de Paganis and Godfrey de St. Andomaro, engaged themselves in the service of the Church, and proceeded to the Holy Land, where they determined to form a brotherhood. Upon their arrival at Jerusalem they held a council among themselves, to consider what acts they should do that might be a service acceptable to God, and being informed that the town of Zaff was infested by hordes of marauders, who subsisted by preying upon the pilgrims that resorted to the Holy Sepulchre, they resolved upon dispersing the robbers: their intention was by so doing to render all the approaches to Jerusalem safe. Their tenance of King Baldwin II, who assigned good undertaking gained them the coununto them a house adjoining the Temple of Solomon, from which circumstance they derived the name of Knights Templars.

King Baldwin and the Patriarch of Jerusalem, finding that success attended their actions, offered to supply them with all necessary provisions, as their poverty was extreme; in token of which Fuller says, "they gave for their seal two men riding upon one horse," and hence it was that if any of their fraternity fell into the hands of the infidels, that their ransom was always a sword and a belt, it being conceived that their poor state could afford no higher price." During the first nine years they experienced such great privations that they were often compelled to resort to the degradation of asking alms for their support from well disposed persons, although their modest deportment and the valiant services they performed made them acceptable unto all, insomuch that their feats and praise-worthy actions made many desirous of joining them, thereby augmenting their numbers, and being the occasion of their receiving the full countenance of those high personages that had so long been wanting towards them. The King, the Prelates, and other rich men now gave them sums of

money as well as grants of land, to be held by them either for a set term of years, or to the end of their institution. At this period the order that was begun at first by nine individuals, might now boast of containing three hundred knights, sworn to protect the pilgrims from the cruelty of the infidels, and keep the passes free for such as undertook the voyage of the Holy Land. The rules for the regulating of their fraternity were made at the council of Troyes in Champagne, when Pope Honorius, at the request of Stephen the Patriarch of Jerusalem, prescribed to them the wearing of a white garment, and afterwards, in 1146, Eugenius III added a cross to be set upon the shoulder part of their cloaks. The order performed their vows in the presence of the before mentioned Patriarch, of obedience, poverty, and chastity, and to live under the rule of the regular canons of St. Augustine. When the kuights were at war, their banner was half white, the other black, signifying white and fair to Christians, but black and terrible to their enemies.

The Knights Templars (according to Dugdale), wore linen coifs and red caps, close over them ; their bodies were encompassed in shirts of mail, with swords hanging from their girdles; over the above they had a white cloak which reached to the ground, with a cross on the left shoulder of it. The beards of the members of this order were worn of great length, whereas most other orders were close

shaved.

The order of the Templars now went on flourishing, increasing in numbers, and daily gaining fame, being high in favour with all the Christian potentates of Europe, great in wealth, and its attendant power, till their excessive pride drew on them the indignation of those who had been attached to them. One of the acts of their proud and insulting independence was the withdrawing themselves from the patriarch of Jerusalem, and joining with the pope. But in the end they did not find the favour from his holiness which they expected, for by him, charges were preferred against them for rapacious acts committed by them, such as plundering the christians, the attacking of crowned heads, and seizure of their estates, the holding of correspondence with the infidels, the giving of advice to the Soldan of Egypt, which information gave him an opportunity of surprising and taking prisoner the Emperor Frederick II. who had then made an expedition to the Holy Land. Being convicted of these crimes, and other charges for impiety, by commissioners appointed by Pope Clement V., and Philip

the Fair of France, the grand master James of Molai was burned at Paris. The whole order throughout Europe was imprisoned,and many of the Knights,against whom singular acts of cruelty and extortion had been proved, were executed in various provinces, and the whole of their possessions seized upon. The order being abolished the year previous to their being found guilty of the above enumerated enormities, by a decree of a general council held at Vienna, under Pope Clement V., 4th of Edward the II. After this, Clement, in the 7th year of his papacy, gave the principal part of their possessions to the Knights Hospitalars of St. John of Jerusalem.

The first settlement of the order in England, was in Holborn in London, but their chief residence was the place called the New Temple, in Fleet-street, which they erected, together with a Church (built after the form of the Temple at Jerusalem) which Church was dedicated to God and our Blessed Lady by Heraclius, Patriarch of Jerusalem, in the year 1185, the 31st of Henry II, who was present at the ceremony attended by most of the nobles.

In the thirteenth century the entertainments given by the Templars were often honoured by the presence of the King, the pope's nuncio, foreign ambassadors, and the chief of the nobility of the land. The King's treasure was accustomed to be kept in the part now known as the Middle Temple, and from their chief officer, who as master of the Temple, was summoned to Parliament in the 47th of Henry III, the chief master of the Temple Church is still called the Master of the Temple.

Among the liberal benefactors to this order was Henry II, who gave to it the water course of Fleet, with the buildings standing near the bridge, together with land to erect a mill upon, near Castle Baynard. He also granted the church of Clement Danes to them. Henry III gave their Masters and Brothers of the Order, and their successors, the annual sum of £8, to be paid out of the Exchequer, to maintain their three Chaplains. And he also gave his body upon his disease, as a deed of grant unto them to be buried in their Church, which grant was followed by a similar one of his Queen Eleanor. The abiding place of the Templars in Fleet-street, was ordained a place of sanctuary by Pope Innocent, they had also another privileged place called the parish garden in Southwark, granted to them by John Duke of Bedford. Among the various other parts of England, where they possessed manors, lands, &c.. may

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