ing upon himself, sprung forward and choked him off; after which, without uttering another syllable, he closed the gate, and with the terrible guardian of his dignity, departed. Here the matter ended for the present; but how awful and early a revenge the villain had upon Frederick Henderson, the reader will be informed in due time and place.

It was nearly dark when our adventurer arrived at his uncle Yeateley's, the Three Horse Shoes. The old remembered sound of the hammer striking on the anvil; the blazing handful of embers; the smoke issuing out of the blacksmith's shop, and the tall sign swinging over the orchard, were all welcome tokens to the wearied Henderson. He was heartily welcomed by his relatives, to whom he related his errand and adventures. His crouching uncle was dreadfully alarmed, on hearing the rencontre with Squire Rockton, lest he should lose his patronage and custom. But Frederick calmed his apprehensions by assuring him that he was unknown to the Squire; an explanation which was unfounded, as he was perfectly aware of Frederick's identity.

That night a goodly company assembled at the Three Horse Shoes. Among whom were, Thomas Walker, the mild advocate of the rights of humanity; Kit Briton, the red-hot democrat; Dr. Miraculous, a retailer of the marvellous; Dicky Smithson, a retired horsedealer, and the worthy host himself. Much of the time was occupied in advising Frederick how to proceed in his legacy affair, and all joined in execrating the unfeeling conduct of his rich uncle at Beechwood Park, (who had an extensive farm under Lord G―) and his aunt Barking of Dalling; during which conversation, his poorer relative, Will Yeateley, preserved his wonted silence, looking just as expressive and intelligent as (to use a simile applied to him by Kit Briton) "a poke o' tatoes." Dr. Miraculous entertained the assembly with the relation of a wonderful feat accomplished by one of his dogs, who had that day hunted down two hares at one time, the chace being for two miles; in the course of which the Doctor described every double and every turning which the hares and their pursuer took: he finished with describing how laughably they all three, hares and dog, tumbled into a gravel-pit, where the former was secured. But the interest of the story was spoiled by the facetious Briton, who

put to the Doctor the posing interrogatory, (he being a decrepid old man,) "Where were you, then, all the time of the chase, that you managed to see it?" which the Doctor answered by observing, that it was a rule with him, when his word was doubted, never to reply to impertinent questions, and which he should strictly follow on this occasion. The conversation was continued in good temper by Dicky Smithson, relating how he choused a cockney sharper, in one of his visits to the metropolis. Kit Briton harangued the company on the currency question; and Thomas Walker expatiated on the sin of taxing man for "the blessed light of heaven ;" giving afterwards his favourite song, "My friend is the man I would copy through life:"-lastly, the Squire was brought on the tapis,—a subject so intensely interesting, that Briton took upon himself to be chief spokesman, and delivered some enthusiastic animadversions upon the character of Rockton.

"Talk of the Squire," said he, "he is a dishonour to the work of God; for he declares that man, the supremest intelligence in creation, should be taught no more than his alphabet; that he should be held in bondage and subordination under his superiors in wealth; that he should prostrate himself before them, and be ready to perform the most revolting service at their bidding. Marriage he deprecates as a degrading tie, intended for fools onlya convenient doctrine for him; for he has passions which marriage would not gratify. He should have lived in the days of feudal domination and darkness, when the mandate of the lawless lord was executed even unto blood by his soldier vassals. He would thank the king to give him leave to convert his cellars into dungeons, erect gallowses in his fields, and allow him to hang on his own lands. He laughs at the bible, and yet supports the church, because he says it keeps the mob in awe. He has deprived one man of his character, and nearly of his existence, because his heedless son shot one of his hares; another he has injured in his trade, on the score of his omitting to bow to him; and a third he has turned out of his cottage for refusing to allow his daughter to become a mistress. In short, though the family marble may flatter him, his true monument is engraven on the hearts of just and injured men, and will survive his rotting. Neighbours, I am warm on

this theme; but you know me, and you know the facts on which I have unceremoniously dwelt."

"Hard words, hard words, Kit!" grumbled Will Yeateley.

"To you I know they are, in every sense of the word," retorted Briton; "but I challenge, I defy, any man to contradict one iota of my assertions.No, they are true, and truth I will speak to the last hour of my life; I hold no shop, or house, or field, or farm, under him; if I did, my opinions of him would still be uncompromising, and I should soon be bundled out."

A long silence followed this colloquy, which was broken by Frederick, who recommended to Briton moderation in his resentment; though, he observed, he was aware of the character of the

man.

Briton defended his censures, and added, that he had not gone to extremities in portraying the Squire. "It is given out," said he, "that his pregnant housekeeper has been sent to her friends to remain during her confinement; but she has, since that, been seen in his house, and I will wager my life, that her child will never

"Say nothing on that subject, Briton," interrupted Thomas Walker ; you may get yourself into trouble, and Squire Rockton is unworthy of such a risk."

The politician assented, and the topics of further discussion were miscellaneous, until the party dispersed; and Frederick Henderson retired, at a late hour, to rest, intending next day to call upon his uncle, George Yeateley, at Beechwood Park, to ascertain whether he would pay the legacy without further litigation; Frederick having been unfortuately persuaded by some of his uncle's emissaries, prior to leaving Yorkshire, to employ, in order to recover his legacy, the very attorney who had made the will: thus unadvisedly placing himself completely at the mercy of their joint caprice and pettifogging. (To be continued.)

THE LAST GUY FAWKES.

"Twas after supper yesternight,
In a vision wild and strange,

A mingled dream of fun and fright,
That, like an albatross in flight,
My spirit took its range.

And over the tops of a nation of shops*
My course it seem'd to wind,

Till it reach'd the home of every sect.
And they call'd it the City of Intellect,
The Metropolis of Mind!

"A nation of shopkeepers."-Buonaparte.

And through that city's streets a throng Of ragged roarers rush'd along,

A rabble that Cruikshank could not draw,
Though he painted the clients in courts of law!
Even Falstaff's troop had there look'd clean,
And Bardolph's self a Brummel had been.
High o'er the rest I caught the gleam
Of a more than human thing,
So fierce a phantom, that my dream
Had almost taken wing.

As the mob were marching before and 'ehind,
I deem'd it the "new Napoleon," Mind.
But as it approach'd, I saw its form :

Its barrel-like body with iron was stron?;
Its legs were faggots, that look'd full warin,
And its arms were torches ten feet long.
Its head had gone off, had it felt a rap,
For it seem'd to wear a percussion cap.
Then a nearer view I tried to catch,
But wonder made me pause,

For I found that his nose was tipp'd like a match,

And I saw his lantern-jaws;

And his eye betray'd, as it glared like a hawk's,

That prince of powder, Guido Fawkes!
I marvell'd much how the people flock'd
Like bees about a hive,

To worship that they once had mock'd,
While no man save myself seem'd shock'd,
To see the Dead alive.

And they raised the rare old Spaniard high,
Each swearing to remember,

How glorious Guy was caught like a spy,

On the fifth of a black November. They placed him with care in a tawdry chair, And I took him at first for the new Lord Mayor. Methinks 'twere a fine though a frightful thing, To have stood by those barrels of yore, When the train was laid-and surely a king

Ne'er had such a train before ! The fate of poor Guy seems too forlorn To need the addition of rags and scorn. But Liberal-feeling and Mind drew near, To welcome old Guido with chime and cheer, And the loyal people that used to burn His annual effigy, hail'd his return;

The very boys that begg'd "a penny," Grew grateful, and shouted as loud as any. And the chiefs of the land came forth to sing For they sought to bring a peace offering To him who was styled the Burnt-One. And first Lord Eldon brought a hat

A pæan, if e'er they had learnt one;

Though, having at Windsor toss'd it Under his feet, it was somewhat flat; But the donor said, in addition to that, He'd have given his wig-but he'd lost it. I saw my Lord Elephant bustling there, Though tame, by no means shy; And he offer'd his present-a head of hair, That was just the thing for a Guy. But this was declined: for Gay averred That the ringlets made him look too absurd! Then a Duke came there and presented a pair Of mustachios, white and thick; And he offer'd to bear before the chair (When he got it) a Golden Stick.

Then Charles the Tenth to the dust bow'd

down,

And took off his hat though it had no crown,
He placed upon Guy a fine hair-shirt,
And said it was warranted not to hurt.
Guy liked it not, for it pierced him through;
When Sir Francis Burdett, quite placid,
Presented a cordial-yet scarcely knew
If 'twas water or prussic-acid.

a feather." To be sure, a dense and thoroughly English fog, one "native and to the manner born," -one of unadulterated Essex home-manufacture, did, both on its going forth and on its return, make "darkness visible," obscured the glories of the day, and, accompanied with a sleety sort of drizzle, rendered the paths of honour as slippery as the sledge at Schaffhausen. But what to me, then, were these accidental drawbacks upon the great occasion! True, I had seen what I went out to see as "through a glass darkly;" but that which I saw not, my imagination exhibited-all the rest was "leather and prunella." The obscured glories of that day still" haunt me like a vision;" and I have assisted at no Lord Mayor's Show since, without an undefinable sense of something to be seen which I had somehow not seen.

I shall not soon forget that first illusion, which, if I had not studied the programme, I might now suspect I had not beheld with these eyes, but, in its stead, a gayer sort of funeral. Yet that foreknowing of the dram. pers. of that dullest of all the dolorous dramas represented on this stage, the world; that bitter fruit of knowledge, which I had intended as an olive of preparation to the wine of delight, did too well inform me that I had seen the veritable Lord Mayor's Show of November's sober seriousness, and not the Lord Mayor's pageant of my April imagination. It was an epoch in my life; for it was the first of its many deceits in which I was undeceived. The show of my preconceiving was indeed a sight to have seen; but I saw the real Simon Pure, and felt that all glory here is but " a naught, a thought, a pageant and a dream." First impressions are last impressions.

It was, of course, a dull, dirty November day. The rains which at that season usually drench one-half the world, leaving the other half parching with thirst, had first washed the city, and then left it one weltering kennel of mud. However, on the morning of the day big with the fate of Watson or of Staines (I forget which), the clouds contented themselves with a sleety sort of drizzle, a kind of confectionery rain, which, under pretence of powdering you all over with a sort of candy of ice, soaked your broadcloth through and through. At ten, the thick air, instead of melting into "thin air," grew "palpable to feeling as to sight :" it was sullenly stationary at eleven, and there was not the sixteenth of a hope that it

would clear off. The "clink of hammers accomplishing the knights" (who needed it), and "closing their rivets up," gave note of preparation. In a few minutes more a foggy, half-suffocated cry was heard, "a wandering voice," from one end of Milk-street to the other "They come! they come!" "Where? where?" was the response; and the glorious vision that I was to have seen passed unbeheld away, with all its banners, bannerets, bandy drummers, footmen, knights, coaches, carts, commoncouncilmen, tumbrels, and common stage-waggons, through an admiring mob, equally imperceptible. The darkness swallowed all.

Having by some mysterious instinct, with which nature, when she located that people of Britain called cockneys, on the northern shore of the Thames, must have abundantly gifted them, found their unseen way to Blackfriars, the Right Honourable and his retinue took water, and felt out their way by the piles standing along the shore, to Westminster, where landing "all well," the common-serjeant, with an instinct natural to a lawyer, made Westminster Hall, and led "the splendid annual" within its legal gates. Certain mummeries being gone through, as well as the official labours of a hearty refection, the "corporative capacity" of London paddled its way patiently from Westminster, clearing the small craft with a nautical skill never sufficiently to be wondered at and admired; and miraculously weathered Blackfriars-bridge, in total safety, thanks to the skill of the pilot at the helm of city-admiralty affairs, to whom the dark dangers of both shores were as familiar as posts and corners to a blind man.

Here the day, as if it relented in its spiteful intention of damping the general joy and the corporative glory, smiled a momentary smile; and the fog dissipating, within the circumference of fifty yards, it was perceived that the brave pageant was again marshalled; and Solomon, in all his glory, for some moments seemed something less than Staines. It was but in mockery of the hopes of man; for ere the word "forward!" could be given, the sun, who had been struggling in vain to get a glance into the city, all at once gave it up as hopeless, and retired to The'is' lap, in the afternoon, instead of the evening.

And now all was "dark as Erebus, and black as night." Genius, what a gift is thine! Some more enlightened