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ter a fair lady alone and unprotected. with a cullen and malignant smile, and Trust rather to the continued importunity then uttering a loud and discordant laugh, of your noble mother. The Duchess has disappeared amidst the recesses of the a persuasive speech, and the King a sus forest. ceptible heart. Let us return to the Ma The Lady had sunk on the ground, nor and hope that all will yet be well.” exhausted and stupified with terror. Her
The lady turned round to retrace her deliverer hastened to raise her up, while steps in compliance with the advice of the boy, whose bosom heaved with sobs, her attendant, when she found herself caught her hand and covered it with his suddenly seized in the grasp of a man who kisses, and Adelaide, sprinkled her pallid had followed her unperceived, and who and death-like features with water from now, with very little ceremony, proceeded the river. When she once more opened to overwhelm her with his embraces. her eyes, they rested upon a being very The author of this outrage was by no dissimilar from him in whose arms she
one whose personal attractions had last found herself. The perfect grace could render the viulence which he com and symmetry of his forin was only eqralmitted less unpalatable. He was a short led by the sweetness and noble expression and meagre figure, hump-backed, with of his features, which, save that the curl legs of an unequal size, and teeth, or of his lip and the proud glance of his eye rather fangs, which protruded from his indicated something of a haughty and mouth, and gave an hideous expression to imperious temperament, approached as his face, which otherwise might have nearly as possible to the beau ideal of possibly been called handsome. His manly beauty. The simplicity and moforehead was high and fair, his eyes desty of his dress were', as strikingly opblack and sparkling, and his broad arched posed to the gorgeous apparel, as were his brows gave an expression of intelligence graces of form and feature to the ghastand dignity to the upper part of his coun liness and deformity of his late opponent. tenance, which strangely contrasted with “ Thanks, gentle Sir,” said the Lady the grotesqueness and deformity of his Gray, “ thanks for thy timely aid.”. figure. He was very richly habited in a « No thanks are due to me, sweet lady, robe of blue velvet, lined with silk, and but to thy fair self I owe unbounded glittering with gold--a sword hung by thanks for an opportunity of gazing on so his side, and a cap, adorned with a plume much loveliness. Yet must I be a petiof feathers, and a sparkling diamond in tioner for a further favour-permission to the front, was placed in rather a fantastic escort you home.” and foppish manner upon his head.
The lady accepted with gratitude the The lady shrieked fearfully when she service which was proffered as a boon : found herself in the arms of this hideous and giving her hand to the graceful cavabeing. - Silence, madam, silence," he lier, she proceeded under his escort home
or,” and he touched his dagger, wards, attended by the stripling and while a cloud as black as midnight gather- Adelaide. During this short journey, ed on his brow, which, however, instantly she had an opportunity of discovering gave place to a smile of even bewitching that the elegant and accomplished form of sweetness. " Pardon, pardon," he her deliverer was but the mirror of his added; “ that one used to war and strife refined and cultivated mind.
The wit, should begin with menaces, even when vivacity, knowledge of men and manners, addressing so fair a creature as thou art.” originality of thought, and courteous and
“Unhand me, monster!" said the Lady chivalrous demeanour which he evinced, Gray.
were such, that, if they did not positively si Sweet lady," he said, “ you must win the heart of the Lady Gray before unheart me first."
this their first interview terminated, cer“ Désist,” said a voice behind them, tainly laid the foundation of a passion,
or, by Heaven ! your heart shall rue which, as the reader will subsequently the boldness of your hand.”
learn, exercised a powerful influence over With these words a young man habited the destinies of both. in Lincoln green, with a bow and quiver “And now, gentle Sir," said the lady, slung over his shoulders, and bearing a as they arrived at her residence, “ weldrawn sword in his hand, rushed upon come to Grafton Manor. Will you please the lady's assailant. He paased, how- to enter ?” ever, as his eye encountered that of this " Not now, sweet Madam !" answered mis-shapen being—whether it was that he the cavalier ; “ I am in the King's train, recognized a face familiar to him, or that and my services will be missed. Yet he felt an emotion of surprise at the hi- may I crave leave to call to-morrow, and deousness of the creature which he beheld inquire after the health of ?" He was not apparent The latter eyed hiin paused, but the lady soon concluded his
- it is a
“ Of the Lady Gray of Groby," she was Jaqueline of Luxembourg, the Dowsaid, extending her hand to him.
ager Duchess of Bedford, who had, after “ Ha !” he said, and started, while a the death of her husband, so far sacrificed dark frown lowered for a moment over her ambition to love, that she espoused in his fine features, “ the widow of the second marriage Sir Edward Woodville, a Lancastrian knight who fell at St. private gentleman, to whom she bore Albans.”
several children; and among the rest “ Even that ill-starred woman," said Elizabeth, who was remarkable for the the Lady Gray, while the tears streamed grace and beauty of her person, as well down her features. " Farewell ! fare as for other amiable accomplishments. well! I see that it is a name which is This young lady had married Sir John unpleasing to all ears.
Gray, of Groby, by whom she had two “ Nay, nay, sweet Madam," said the sons; and her husband being slain in the youth, gently detaining her ;
second battle of St. Albans, fighting on name which friends and foes ought alike the side of Lancaster, and his estate being to honour as identified with manly and for that reason confiscated, his widow had heroic devotion to a falling cause, and retired to live with her mother at her seat
" his voice faltered as he added, in a of Grafton, in Northamptonshire. The softer tone,
“ with the perfection of Duchess herself resided principally in female grace and loveliness, You have London, as well for the purpose of leavbeen a suppliant to the King, Madam, ing her daughter as much as possible in for the restoration of your dead Lord's complete possession of Grafton Court, as forfeited estates.
to afford the Duchess, by her vicinity to “I have been,” she replied, “ and a the palace, opportunities for pressing most unhappy and unsuccessful one." upon the King the propriety of restoring
“ The King, Madam, is surrounded to the widow of Sir John Gray the forby men who entertain small love for the feited estates of her husband. These unhappy adherents the House of Lan- solicitations, however, had as yet been caster. I have the honour to serve his unavailing, and she was in daily expectaHighness If Edward March, his poortion of hearing that the estates, which Esquire, can advance the cause of the formed the subject of them, had been Lady Gray, small as may be his abilities bestowed upon some adherent of the to do her good, they shall be all devoted House of York. to her service."
Such was the posture of her affairs when Thanks, once a thousand Lady Gray became acquainted with thanks, generous Sir,” said the Lady. Edward March, in the manner which we “ The cause of Elizabeth Gray indeed have narrated. The young esquire called needs all the efforts of her friends to in. on her the next day, and their second sure for it a prosperous issue. If Master interview confirmed in the bosoms of both Edward March can do aught to serve it, the passion which had been excited by the blessing of the widow and the father- the first March, in addition to his per less will rest upon his head."
sonal attractions, expressed so much “ And the blessing of the widow," anxiety for the interests of the lady and thought Master Edward March, after he her children, and such a determination, had taken leave of the lady, and was as soon as the King returned to London, retracing his steps to the river side, “ will and was at leisure to attend to business, be the blessing of the prettiest woman in to press the fair widow's suit upon his atEngland. That of the fatherless I could tention, that the surrender which the lady e'en dispense with; yet, methinks, it is made of her heart, seemed to her to be well that they are fatherless, Heaven rest no less a matter of policy than affectheir father's soul !"
tion. The youth was not slow in This short interview caused a strange perceiving thë impression which he had disturbance in the heart of Elizabeth made on the susceptible bosom of Eliza. Gray. The interests of her orphan chil. beth ; and one day, when the parties had dren, and anxiety to obtain for them the scarcely been acquainted a month, he took restitution of their father's forfeited pro- like Othello “ a pliant hour," poured perty, had for a long time occupied her into the lady's listening and not offended mind exclusively. Now a new feeling, ear a confession of his passion, and made she would not venture to call it a passion, an offer of his hand and heart. seemed at least to mingle with if not to “ Alas! good Master March," said absorb all other considerations. Yet she, “ thou talkest idly. What hopes even this came disguised in the garb of can a poor Esquire and the portionless her children's interests, who, she now felt widow of Sir John Gray have of future more than ever stood much in need of a pro- happiness, by uniting their forlorn fortector to supply the place of their deceased tunes together." parent. The mother of the Lady Gray “ I have a sword, Madam, which has
already done good service, and which, I world, ought to have known how delusive doubt not, will, on the next field on are its brightest prospects, and how false which it is brandished, win for me the its most solemn promises. Edward March badge of knighthood."
has proved inconstant and untrue, and " Or the grave of an esquire !” said the Elizabeth Gray must remain desolate and lady, mournfully.
(To be continued.)
The youth's eye flashed fire as he put
Where lies the lov'd one dead!
the tear quickly ; her heart beat within it tumul. Which Nature kindly sped ! tuously, and her whole frame trembled But oh! there is a wound we feel,
More painfully severe,
'Tis venom'd, past the pow'r to heal,
To one, who seemed to give
Another for it, was to part “ Now Heaven's richest blessings fall
With honey for the hive! upon that fair head !” he said, imprinting But oh! to find it emptied, and a fervent kiss on her forehead.
Its sweets all stole away,
Is all at once to feel a pang,
Unknown before that day!
And find it coldly rove;-
That dared so cruel be ;
Oh! Pity should have more controul
And she the loveliest toolnear the person of the King, to be able to
The Aluses from the dark thought speed; advance the successful progress of their And bid the theme adieu ! suit to his Highness. To this letter she
R. JARMAN had received an answer, saying that it had been forwarded to her mother by Mr. March, but that he had not himself called upon the Duchess, nor had she received
MORETTI, THE TOE ARTIST, from him any intelligence as to the success of his efforts on the Lady Gray's
(A Street Circular.) behalf. Days and weeks rolled on, and
His frame supported by his knees,
He's sitting on a stool,
Of all the circulars in town,
Moretti's not of least renown.
To keep his morceau clean,
And by the workings of his toes,
"Who'll buy the rose ? a penny each !
His loss of arms supplies : it was a wild and an idle hope, and Eliza
But Nature for the artist feels, beth Gray, who has seen so much of the
And makes bim handy with his heels.
Round him the gaping people stand, and he certainly belaboured his bree And wonder that his toes
thren somewhat roughly with his poetic Should be so flexiole to make So fanciful a Rose !
quarter-staff in his works; all else that Created in a London street,
is surmised of his personal history is By other name 'twould smell as sweet. “ hemmed in with saucy doubts, and
fears." His face is sun-burnt, and its form
The next greatest name in the list of Of pure Italian caste; Thin, middle-aged and pensive, he
the illustrious who followed him is Kit Combats misfortune's blast:
Marlowe, the precursor-star of a greater In an old braided jacket, green,
genius. Some who believe in his existence Antonio, when 'tis fine, is seen,
as Marlow, have assassinated him in a
drunken brawl with a bully, as to the Hast thou spare pence when passing him? His stumps though hand led not,
right of proprietorship in a punk ; whilst To sbake in friendship's joyous press, others have merged him into that sea of Relieve hiin on the spot :
immensity Shakspeare, (who has Coppers,' as Franklin says,-'in lumps, • Will fructify' his h-arm-less stumps.
tainly, like the "Leviathan of another
water, swallowed up whole shoals of Were Raphael and Vandyke alive,
Marlows, as if they had been minnows,) His effigy they'd take,
roundly asserting, and believing too, that And hang him in a canvas iine,
Kit was no other than Will. Shakspeare For des-cent lineal sake : Like · Shakspeare,' on the Bellows' side,
in a domino. It is true, that the one He'd down to future artists ride,
star had just set in the west as the other rose in the east, but whether the first star was identical with the last, even the New
tons, who have interpreted the intellecRecollections of Books and tual firmament, and measured the distantheir Authors.--No. 4.
ces between one literary orb and another have left us in the dark. Of Shakspeare,
too, how little more than nothing is asTHE AUTHOR OF “JOHN
certained. We know that he lived, and BUNCLE."
that he died, and that his works,” which AMONG the most acute of the many were not intended to “ follow him," still thorns which gall the feet of him who live, and will, perhaps, never die; the plods along the bye-paths, and even of bark that bears this vast venture of our him who boldly travels the broad roads to knowledge of him is then bound in “shoals fame, and which make the literary adven- and shallows,” which it shall as soon turer half repent that he ever set out on pass over as time get the start of eternity. so perilous" a pilgrimage, must be the Dr. Drake, who had gathered together all recollection, that, of many of the greatest the few doubtful facts which are known and some of the most erratic of men who of him, was forced, from the paucity of are included in the long line of English his materials, to illustrate rather the day geniuses, scarcely more is known than in which he lived than the poet himself, serves to give an edge to the appetite of which is about as germane to the matter, the curious, but denies them the banquet as if, in illustrating the solar system, we they desire.
gave the life and times of twelve o'clock Much learned ink has been dribbled in the day. away in authenticating the rank and con Of Spenser, who came between these dition of Chaucer, him who held the key two kindred stars, Marlow and Shakof “ the well of pure English undefiled,” speare, we learn from his own pen only, and what has been proved after all !--that that, after flattering and gilding the great he was a 'franklin,'-a rank equivalent ones of his day with praises which must to that of gentleman' in these days! have dyed his cheek with blushes for And who that has read his Romaunts, their fulsomeness, he was, notwithstandmade beautiful with delineations of man- ing, poor and neglected, and, it is supners which were not those of his period, posed, died as much darkened by the rude as they may now be considered, but clouds of misfortune as he had lived": and rather those of centuries unborn,-who this, which is all that is known of him, that has discerned and admired his almost is by no means well authenticated, and prophetic perception of the coming mille- is rather inferred from that eloquent nium of more gentle manners, --who that stanza, in which he has so pathetically has listened to his yearnings after the painted the miseries of dependency, than reigns of reason and right, goodness and from any facts which are to be gathered gentleness, could believe him to be less of his personal history. Indeed, his suc · than a gentleman ? He is said to have cesses and his disappointments are equally well cudgelled a friar in Fleet Street; doubtful, the only instance related of any
thing like a liberal reward having been when she, tou, dies, and after the usual rendered to his merit, (that of the patron- lachrymatory eye-offerings, he remounts age of Sir Philip Sidney, who as he his horse, with many philosophical reflec. read verse after verse of his “ Faërie tions upon those two important things in Queene, sent hundreds after hundreds life this and that, comes to another pleaof pounds to reward his “ high emprise”) sant haunt, where some new Cynthia lives even this poor compliment is considered in a forlorn state of single-blessedness, he by his latest biographer* to be a very soon discovers that she has no extreme apocryphal sort of story.
objection to herself and chosen friend We might stretch out this long line of living together as one,-he marries her, the neglected and the little known of great and all that; she dies in proper time-is names “ to the crack of doom ;" but we still more perfect than her most perfect forbear, and descend abruptly to the predecessors—but still he does not deauthor of “ John Buncle," a writer who spair ; on the contrary, he looks out for deserves to rank next to John Bunyan for Mrs. Buncle the fifth, and so he goes on spiritual romanticism.
to the end of his adventures, which are “ The Life of John Buncle” is perhaps impossible to be laid down when you have the most singular romance that this or any once entered into them, and equally imcountry has produced. It is a work full possible to be read without wondering of the most strange contradictions and at the heterogeneous mixture of passion impossibilities ; it abounds with portraits with philosophy, of common place inciof mental beings, such as no one ever met dents mingled with the marvellous,- of with, and, what is more, would scarcely the knowledge and no-knowledge it exhiwish to meet with. Each of his heroes bits of mankind, and the medley of rationand heroines is the very perfection of indi- a! piety and religious puppyism. One viduality. The gentlemen are old, interest- might almost imagine that it had been ing, and without heirs male, and (as meant as a travestie of Rousseau's fanelderly gentlemen should do), die like good tastic philosophy and superfine amorous Christians in the very nick of time at fooleries, but that it is throughout made which they are required to die,- for the the vehicle of serious discussions of points interests of the hero and his tale. The ladies of faith, in which John engages tooth expire in child-bed of young Buncles, and nail with the various Mrs. Buncles before their duting husband, our hero, of his adventures, who are all and sevehas ceased to dote ; he bewails their loss rally equally well-grounded in theological with a becoming quantity of tears and a matters, and able to cope with metaphy due proportion of pocket handkerchiefs; sical John himself, and break his head in two or three days dries his eyes, orders with his own weapons; John, however, his horse, leaps into his stirrups, and after is never without resources ; if he fails in travelling a few miles, is attracted by conquering their heads he is sure to van some beautiful mansion in some more quish their hearts, so that he is always beautiful situation ; rides up to it, hangs his triumphant, one way or the other. horse on any indifferent hook which hap We have rhodomontaded thus far on pens to be at hand—introduces himself to the work—now to speak of its author, mine host, who is hospitable enough to Miss Hawkins lets us a little into his chaentertain both man and horse-finds him racter, and shews him to have been into be old and a widower, with a lovely deed a very sensible one-a genius more daughter; the father is all perfection, the partial to the pudding than to the praise lady rather more ; John then measures of his profession. the old gentleman's foot-fits him to a “ A winter-evening visitor to my fahair ;-next he takes measure of the lady's ther, (Sir John Hawkins,) when in Lon
--fits her also to a nicety; the old gentle- don," says that pleasant, gossiping old man then dies, but, before he departs this lady, " was a little, scarlet-faced Anaworld, begs him, as a dear, considerate baptist divine, of the name of Bulkley;" friend, to take his daughter ; John then for whom, on account of some great confalls into a critical comparison of the in- scientious sacrifice, which I cannot recal tended Mrs. Buncle the third, with the to my memory, he had a kind respect. deceased Mesdames Buncle the first and He had written - The Life of John Bunsecond, and discovers that she is still a cle,' a work of fiction, 'intended to give nearer approach to perfectibility than the basis to discussions of points of faith and previous most perfect ladies of their kind, moral philosophy : as far as I could then marries her off-hand, in nine months ano- judge, he appeared to be a warm disputher young Buncle becomes payable, tant, without the smallest acrimony. My
father would shake his head with a smile when Bulkley maintained what he could not admit ; and Bulkley would laugh