tered and sat down by the corpse, without a word or look which testified regret or unwillingness to fulfil his fearful engagement. The soldiers who had witnessed this singular interment of the dead and living, rolled a huge stone to the mouth of the tomb, and piled so much earth and stones above the spot as made a mound visible from a great distance, and then, with loud lamentation for the loss of such undaunted leaders, they dispersed themselves like a flock which has lost its shepherd.

Years passed away after years, and a century had elapsed, ere a noble Swedish rover, bound upon some high adventure, and supported by a gallant band of followers, arrived in the valley which took its name from the tomb of the brethren-in-arms. The story was told to the strangers, whose leader determined on opening the sepulchre, partly because, as already hinted, it was reckoned an heroic action to brave the anger of departed heroes by violating their tombs; partly to attain the arms and swords of proof with which the deceased had done their great actions. He set his soldiers to work, and soon removed the earth and stones from one side of the mound, and laid bare the entrance. But the stoutest of the rovers started back when, instead of the silence of a tomb, they heard within horrid cries, the clash of swords, the clang of armour, and all the noise of a mortal combat between two furious champions. A young warrior was let down into the profound tomb by a cord, which was drawn up shortly after, in hopes of news from beneath. But when the adventurer descended, some one threw him from the cord, and took his place in the noose. When the rope was pulled up, the soldiers, instead of their companion, beheld Asmund, the survivor of the brethren-in-arms. He

rushed into the open air, his sword drawn in his hand, his armour half torn from his body, the left side of his face almost scratched off, as by the talons of

some wild beast. He had no sooner appeared in the light of day, than, with the improvisatory poetic talent, which these champions often united with heroic strength and bravery, he poured forth a string of verses containing the history of his hundred years' conflict within the tomb. It seems that no sooner was the sepulchre closed than the corpse of the slain Assueit arose from the ground, inspired by some ravenous goule, and having first torn to pieces

and devoured the horses which had been entombed with them, threw himself upon the companion who had just given him such a sign of devoted friendship, in order to treat him in the same manner. The hero, no way discountenanced by the horrors of his situation, took to his arms, and defended himself manfully against Assueit, or rather against the evil demon who tenanted that champ on's body. In this manner the living brother waged a preternatural combat, which had endured during a whole century, when Asmund, at last obtaining the victory, prostrated his enemy, and by driving, as he boasted, a stake through his body, had finally reduced him to the state of quiet becoming a tenant of the tomb. Having chanted the triumphant account of his contest and victory, this mangled conqueror fell dead before them. The body of Assue it was taken out of the tomb, burnt, and the ashes dispersed to heaven; whilst that of the victor, now lifeless, and without a companion, was deposited there, so that it was hoped his slumbers might remain undisturbed, The precautions taken against Assueit's reviving a second time, remind us of those adopted in the Greek islands, and in the Turkish provinces, against the Vampire. It affords also a derivation of the ancient English law in case of suicide, when a stake was driven through the body, originally to keep it secure in the tomb.

THE SPECTRE OF GORMIRE HALL.
A YORKSHIRE LEGEND.
Concluded from p. 214.
For the Olio.

THE breeze of heaven swept over the shivering trees, and cooled the burning cheek of Sam Feast, who at that instant would not have exchanged feelings with Fawcett for the possession of a universe; and he could scarcely refrain from expressing aloud his gratihim thus far untainted by depravity and tude to the Almighty for having kept unstained by crime. Fawcett, lifting up his head, beheld him.

"You seem in a fiery hurry, Sam; what is the matter? Has Sir Ralph got

home ?"

"No; nor when he does do I think he will ever go back, or the gallows will be cheated! Know ye that, Fawcett?" said he, throwing down the discovered haminer.

Fawcett dropped the spade from his hands, gazed wildly on the remembered tool, then, with an expression of bewil

derment, fell on his knces, and ejaculated, in a tone of heart-broken repentance, "Yes, I do, Sam, I do!-it was mine! But I am no murderer, else I could not have lived; for, having as sisted to cloak that bloody act, my guilt is more than I can well bear! Take me where you please! punish me as I deserve any torture will be happiness to what I have suffered!"

"Fawcett!" exclaimed Sam, "how came ye to let the devil entrap you in such a hellish snare?"

"It were too long and too hideous a tale to tell the whole. It was following a gloomy day on which I had been repairing a dismal vault in Bagby church, that I was called at midnight from my quiet pillow,quiet to me no more,- -awoke from pleasant dreams, never to dream again but of that deed, and hurried into the presence of Sir Ralph. Holding a loaded pistol to my head, he pointed to a space in the wall, which he ordered me to cross with laths, and plaster over. I obeyed, and sending for my tools, in the presence of Sir Ralph and that accursed French valet of his, I proceeded with my task; but before I had finished, the fear which was upon me, knowing well, Sam, that I was nailing up the body of the Lady Priscilla, caused me to drop my hammer into the opening, when Sir Ralph immediately sent for another. After finishing, I was sworn to secresy on the Bible. Long before daybreak, Sir Ralph and the valet set off for France, pretending to take my lady with them. God forgive them!-she had taken a longer journey. The place was afterwards painted, and the room locked up. I received gold for my share in the business; but I ask ye, Sam, how has that wealth been obtained which prevents a man, through fear, from mingling with his neighbours? This is the first peaceful moment I have enjoyed for seventeen years. I know your generosity, Feast; forgive me, and aid my escape; for the officers of justice will soon be at my heels!"

"I pity you," said Sam; "but this is no time to talk about it-quick, secure your money-take the fleetest horse in the stable, and fly for your life; and may God pardon you, Fawcett !-Farewell, for we shall never meet again."

Fawcett, after a paroxysm of passionate tears, obeyed this advice; and in little more than an hour, Sam heard the last sound of his horse's hoofs, as he left Gormire Hall for ever. Secresy was the watchword to be observed at

the hall; and so completely unconscious were the household of the discovery made by Feast, and of the fight of Fawcett, (some specious excuse being made for the latter,) that every thing went on as usual. There was a little extra bustle and preparation, to be sure, owing to Sir Ralph being expected the following night. A letter had been received, which directed that the boat should be in readiness on the opposite side of the lake during the night; for Sir Ralph, who travelled by post, had a decided aversion to the circuitous route by the old carriage-way, which lay through the village-the attentions of the watchful gossips of Sutton being what he was most anxiously wishful to dispense with.

It was a charming night; the moon had been up three hours, and held her queenly progress through the vaulted blue which arched the towering and terrific precipice of the White Mare, enveloping in shadow Garbutt Wood and Gormire Hall. Distantly were seen the conical form of Hode Hill, capped with the pale moonlight; the steep and hoary rocks of Rowston Scaur; and the dim perspective of the far-stretching and woody Vale of Mowbray; intermediately a glimpse of the hamlet of Sutton caught the eye, seated below the ling-clad banks of the lake, whose undulating waves broke gently on its marly shores. On the mountainous side of the prospect, the heathy hills of Hambleton stretched their furzy sides, forming a noble amphitheatre, the top of which seemed to aspire to the stars; beneath these, in the barren solitude, mouldered the rude relics of Hode Abbey, a ruin strikingly coinciding with the wild sublimity of this part of the country.

Sam had been commanded by Sir Ralph's letter to have the gamekeeper, Tom Kirk, who resided at the village, with him in the boat; but he deemed it better for the development of his plot, to wait alone, intending to confront Sir Ralph with his discovery-a design which was forestalled by accident. He had waited nearly four hours, and was admiring the beautiful scenery which surrounded him, and meditating on his approaching meeting with Sir Ralph, when he heard the rattling of the wheels of a post-chaise slowly descending the main road, which was cut through the deverging rock; the vehicle halted at a few paces from him; Sir Ralph and his valet speedily alighted, and meeting Sam, cordially saluted him; the former inquiring most affably after the

health of the personages, and the news at the hall; a conversation in which Sam bemeaned himself with extreme caution, carefully abstaining from any remark which might have been construed as allusory to the dreadful deed. "How is it, Feast," quoth Sir Ralph, "that Kirk is not with you ?"

"He is very poorly, Sir Ralph, and I thought it a pity to bring him, especially as I could manage with myself."

Assisted by the wily Dumont, Sam stowed away the luggage in the boat: as they rowed across the rippling lake, the moonbeams fell on the moustachioed face and braided figure of Sir Ralph, and Sam was enabled to take a full view of his wretched master. Guilt and remorse had whitened his hair, and blanched the sanguine hue of his cheek, which wore a haggard paleness. Dumont assumed a more cheerful look, and chatted to Sam about the picturesque scenery, astounding the ears of the unclassical villager by quoting Homer's exquisite picture of moonlight; and so far did his accomplished manner of recitation and his behaviour win upon the rustic's feelings, that he was more than half inclined to alter his opinion of Dumont. Sir Ralph uttered not a syllable; and by this time the little boat was moored on the north side of the lake, within a stone's throw of the hall. After having aroused the other servants to assist him, Sam returned to the boat, and began to disembark the luggage. Whilst in the act of stooping, against Sir Ralph, the bracelet found with the remains of the Lady Priscilla fell out of his waistcoat-pocket, and dropped at the feet of her vengeful husband. His attention was immediately arrested, and whilst Sam was searching for it in another direction, Sir Ralph picked it up; the light of the moon falling full on the ornament, he immediately recognized it.

a

"What have ye here, Feast? bracelet -ay, and a valuable one too, apparently," glancing at Dumont ; "how came ye by this, man?"

"I will tell you, Sir Ralph, when we get to the house," said the undaunted young man, "it is all in good time yet.'

The truth flashed upon Sir Ralphthe gathering storm had now broke, and his frowning and fiery eyes met the fearless gaze of Sam; while the former exclaimed, "Perhaps we both may never reach the house again. But, however, let us make the essay come on,"

Sam, leaving Dumont with the boat, followed his master, from whose scowling looks he inferred that violence was intended, and therefore kept his eye upon him; but, the subtle murderer, in spite of his servant's caution, wrested the secret from him, with the added information, that no one at present, except himself, was acquainted with it.

This was enough. They were just in the middle of a sedgy hollow leading from the boat, from which Dumont watched their movements, with a loaded pistol in his hand, when Sir Ralph, stepping back, made a sudden effort to draw his sword, but was timely prevented by Feast, who immediately closed with his treacherous master; but his weight overbalancing that of his antagonist, Sam fell tremendously, with Sir Ralph upon him. The cowardly Dumont was now on the alert to distinguish between them, for the shadow of the wood was on the scene of combat, and rendered them difficult of recognition. Sir Ralph rising first, was mistaken by Dumont for Feast; with this impression he fired, and the fatal ball pierced the breast of Sir Ralph, who, with dreadful imprecations, made another attempt to extricate his sword, but staggered and fell. Sam's efforts were now directed towards the securing of Dumont, but he might as well have essayed to track the viewless course of the wind; for, loaded with valuables, he had fled towards the hiding recesses of the rocky mountains, intending to proceed from thence, in disguise, to the eastern coast, and so ship for France.

The life-blood of Sir Ralph Myton was flowing fast, as he was promptly borne, by his domestics, to the hall. After laying him on an easy couch, and administering to him some stimulants, his speech returned, and he cried out vehemently, in reference to a surgeon having been sent for from the neighbouring town of Thirsk-

"Cursed fools! I will have no help! Death is what I have long desired-I should not fear it, for I have died a thousand deaths-but what is to become of my miserable soul? Feast," clasping the hand of Sam, "I murdered your mistress! I will tell you why, that you may take warning. The curse of gambling allured me, and I preferred rioting in that den of devils, Paris, to residing at home, where, amidst my contented peasantry, and surrounded by a virtuous family, with a once good name, I might have lived and died happy.

Whilst at Paris, a villain-curses on his head!-seduced the ear and affections of my wife. The blasting fever of jealousy laid hold upon me; and, prompted by that fiend Dumont, I returned home with her, and, at midnight, in this very house, the scene of many a blessed hour in her society, I murdered her-Fawcett knows the rest-I hid her body in the wall, because I feared to trust it to the tell-tale earth. But I go to my account: I feel I shall not be long here. Feast, I should like to have the curate from Felixkirk, to give me the sacrament-but no-it is too late! Take a lesson from my end-and-" Here the paralysing stroke of death was upon the wretched man, and, turning convulsively on the bed, with horror and agony blended in his countenance, he breathed his last.

Gormire Hall has vanished; but its deserted site, the wild and sublime scenery, and the legend of the Spectre of Gormire Hall, still remain, as fearful mementoes to the neighbouring nobility of the EVILS OF ABSENTEEISM.

G. Y. H-N.

Londoniana.

ST. DUNSTAN'S (in the west) church. The demolition of this ancient fabric is rapidly proceeding with, and before many weeks have elapsed it will be entirely rased. The period when the Church of St. Dunstan, Fleet-street, was built appears to be unknown; yet it must be of a very ancient date, for Stow informs us of the burial there of Thomas Duke, the builder of Saint Catherine's Chapel, as early as the year 1421. It was anciently a rectory, in the patronage of the convent of Westminster. Richard de Barking, the Abbot, in 1237, granted the advowson to King Henry III. which continued in the Crown till 1362; it was afterwards in the gift of the Bishop of London till 1386, when Robert de Bragbrooke granted it to the Abbot and Convent of Premonastratenses, of Alnwick, Northumberland, where the patronage remained till their suppression. King Edward VI. granted it to the Lord Dudley; but both the rectory and advowson were afterwards granted to Sir Richard Sackville, till alienated to George Rivers in 1625: it is now in the gift of Richard Taylor, Esq. Saint Dunstan's Church escaped the fire of London in 1666, which ended very near it on the north side of Fleet-street, and at no great distance from it on the south.

Perhaps no religious edifice in London is so much sought for by the curious as St. Dunstan's,-not so much on account of its architectural beauty, as for the celebrity it has attained by the two wooden figures placed on a pediment in the south side of the church, near the west end. These figures, which were set up in the year 1671, represent two wild men, armed with knotty clubs, with which they alternately indicate the hours and quarters by striking a bell with their substantial weapons. As they are very visible in the street, they are, says Hatton, in his view of London, "more admired by the populace on Sundays, than the most elegant preacher from the pulpit within." For the sake of religion, we hope this is not the case, especially as some of the brightest members of our church have been preachers here; we need only name Dr. Donne, the celebrated Richard Baxter, and the pious author of the Life, Walk, and 7 riumph of Faith. On the 1st of April a piece of waggery is often practised upon the unwary, which involves in it this sacred edifice; it is no other than sending persons with checques drawn upon Messrs. Thumper of Fleet-street, meaning the wooden heroes of clock-striking notoriety.

The Nate Book.

MAHOMEDAN FANTACIES.

For the Olio.

Seven Members of Prostration.-The adoration which the Mahomedans make when they pray, prostrating themselves, and touching the earth with their foreheads, is what the Greeks call proskuensis, when seven of the members of the human frame touch the ground, viz.— the feet, hands, knees, and the head.

Origin of Angels and Genii.-They hold that the angels and genii were all made out of an exceeding hot fire.

God's Enemy. This epithet is given to the devil, he that was stoned and driven out of Paradise. When he is spoken of, it is with a curse, to be preserved from the vanquished Satan.' This expression is before every chapter in the Alcoran.

Three essential points of Faith and Practice.-They affirm that all things animate and inanimate, the mountains, rocks, seas, rivers, trees, plants, herbs, &c., perpetually serve and worship God after their manner, corresponding with the often quoted phrase, Sermons in stones, &c. and good in every thing.'

Prayer, they say, leads half way to heaven; fasting carries them to heaven's-gate; and alms gains admittance. In Fielding's 'Journey from this World to the next,' these individual virtues are satirically illustrated for the benefit of those of the three professions, who, before they travel to that bourne whence none return, might avert the course by prayer, fasting, and alms. Sentiments worthy of a more discerning and intellectual people.

The sharp-edged Bridge and unavoidable Passage.—This imaginary bridge is represented sharper than a razor, narrower than a hair, and exceeding slippery. Sinners miscarry through want of resolution, strength, and agility, being terrified with the horrors of h―l, over which it is believed to have extended; whereas the good, armed with courage and innocence, succeed happily. Monsieur Chardin, in his voyage to Persia, observes, that the apprehension of this passage has a mighty influence over the morals of the Mahomedans.'

THE DRUIDS.

The superstitious veneration which the Druids had for the misletoe, oak, and serpent, caused those of the Druidical college of Autun to bear on their banner-a field argent with a serpent thereon, ornamented with a sprig of misletoe and acorns vert. They probably, says Saintfoix, assumed the serpent from the virtues they attributed to its egg. The symbol of the chief Druids was keys.

JESUITS.

From the papers lately made public at their establishment at Montrouge, it appears that they have five assistories, 39 provinces, 24 professed houses, 669 colleges, 60 noviciates, 176 seminaries, 335 residences, and 223 missions. These include the whole of their institutions in Europe, Africa, and America. Their numbers amount to 22,787, of which 11,000 are priests.

PRELATES GOING TO PARLIAMENT.

Before the building of Westminsterbridge, the Archbishop of Canterbury had the right of ferry over the Thames at this spot, and the bishops used to go from their palaces in Southwark, the Strand, and Lambeth, to the House of Lords every night, in their state-barges, rowed by their protected watermen, in state liveries of blue and white. Archbishop Wake, in the reign of George II.

was the last prelate that retained the aquatic pageantry, and would not substitute a carriage for a barge. His grace's wig once blew off in a gale of wind, which created anxiety in the bench of bishops. Dr. Ratcliff begged him to give up" the cold barge;" but his grace declared that he would keep to the good old times, and so he did, to the day of his death.

TORBAY.

This celebrated bay, the Totonesium Littus of the Romans, has been the theatre of many great events in English history. Here it was, as we are told, Vespasian landed, when he invaded Britain in the reign of Claudius, A.D. 49. But the most celebrated is the landing of William, Prince of Orange, afterwards William III. at Brixham, on the 5th of Nov. 1688. On his accession to the throne, he created his Admiral, Arthur Herbert, Baron Torbay and Earĺ of Torrington; but the titles became extinct at the death of the earl.-Mr. Dunstanville, a merchant, who made a tour through the South-Hams about forty years ago, relates the following anecdote of William's landing, as told him by an aged native of Brixham, who was a child when this great event happened :-As it was low water, and the pier not being then in existence, the Prince was brought on shore on the shoulders of a sailor; but before he put foot on the landing-place (which was covered with spectators,) he exclaimed with a loud voice, “ Welcome or not?" He was immediately answered with the shouts of the multitude, and cries of "Welcome! welcome!"