spicuous by their different cognisances, and the whole train moved on at a brisk pace towards the high bridges. Malvesyn Hall was a grand and gloomy pile of red stone, built round two cedarts, whose solemn and heavy appear ance consisted not so much in their extent, as in the extreme height of their structures, which was such as to render the approach of the sun in winter rarely admissable to their paved and turfy squares; and in summer, it was only such as one might be supposed to obtain at the bottom of a well. It was, however, a gorgeous pile, rich in all the ornaments of deep machicolations, sculptured parapets, nobly arched windows, and bold turrets. The most remarkable thing, however, was a magnificent elm-tree in the centre of the inner quadrangle, which soared above the sombre piles that encompassed it, and waved at liberty in the winds and sun. A gothic fountain played beneath it, and around this court rose two tiers of cloister galleries, the lower arches being open, the upper latticed with deeply coloured glass. These buildings have been thus minutely described, as the sequel of the story is connected with them.

Thus, then, the high-born North Trentsmen passed forth from Malvesyn to join the King; the massive towers of the wide gate-arch, the broad and sullen waters of the moat, were soon exchanged for the luxuriant meadows, the Trent flowing within a bow-shot of the mansion, and the broad oaks, beneath whose shade the old anchorites Saxe and Guthmund had often wandered from their cells at Blythburgh. Now no longer a forest, their great stems threw, at stately intervals, a spacious shadow over the thick grass, while, undisturbed by the glistening cavalcade, the swallow started hither and thither; the superb dragon-fly sailed in the sun, the butterfly fluttered his damask wings, and the tawny bee plodded from the pink lychnis to the golden iris, sucked deep the crimson tufts of the clover flower, or sank murmuring on the lilac-tinted petals of the spotless meadow-sweet. The eastern screen of starthy head and style copp, still rang to their bugles,-when the head and chief of the Hansacredom, joined by many of the South Trent houses, and among others, the Astons of Haunch, the Corbets of Bromley, the Agardes of the Hermitage, and the Biddulfs of Helmhurst, were soon departing from the hilly abode of Sir

William, their purpose of joining the ranks of Harry the Hotspur being well known.

The young William had persisted in refusing to accompany his father, alleging the double ties which held him inactive, his unransomed captivity to the Knight of Malvesyn, and the generosity which released him so freely; had he added a third reason, he might have done it, and with good chance of its being deemed the best. Some say, indeed, that like Aucassin in the old Lai, he refused to go unless his father previously consented to his union with Margaret of Malvesyn, but this we deem a malicious fabrication. Certain it is, that with the earliest dawn of that eventful morning, he had risen, and after a dutiful leaves-taking, which Sir William received with much coldness, set forth on horseback, attended by the Ostrager, towards the fair hills of Beaudesart. His favourite falcon, a beautiful Tartaret, clasped his wrist with her long talons and stretchers, every now and then unfolding her long wings, and showing the red plumage that lined them, while her silver bells tinkled in the still air, and her velvet hood shone glossy in the sun. They had reached one of those wild glades of Brandesart, where the heather and the fern were rarely shadowed over by a solitary birch, or aged hawthorn; when William stopped by the green brink of a clear pool, though without any appearance of game -and having rested himself, to the great surprise of the practised ostrager, on a sunny bank of fern, began leisurely to take off the hood from his bird, and stroking her feathers, held her in the sun; the hawk immediately testified her pleasure by pruning and prinking her plumage, while the young Hansacre seemed lost in thought: but when, at length, he set her down near the gravelly shallow of the tarn, old Edwin the Ostrager would no longer forbear.

"Now, by the Saints!" he muttered at first," he is surely distraught ;there was she up to her thighs in the basin of our mews yesterday, and the washed meat carefully kept from her, and lo ye here, when I myself know her to be fit for any flight, and when we have avoided both the rookeries and pryconries of Longdon and Brocton, and we come to the fairest haunts of the hern, the pheasant, and the hare-❞

Here the bird, dipping her sails and

singles with evident delight in the clear water, and intertwining her long wings over her back made the old Ostrager break forth aloud

"Why, Master William, you be not going to bathe her? Who ever heard of flying a hawk the same day she hath washed? And there she is, mantling and warbling as if we had come through all this sun to see the jade prune herself!"

William heeded him not, but sate playing with the silver varvels of the jesses on which his name was engraved.

"Poor bird!" he ejaculated, half aloud, at what game should I fly thee, unless thou wouldst seize the heart of hare couched in this bosom? Poor jade, thou bearest with pride thy master's badge, but couldst thou know the weak tamed nature of him whom thou obeyest, my softest voice would not lure thee back to my fist !—' William, the son of William de Hansacre!-yes, those are the characters, fairly graven. Oh, of what discord, of what degradation, are they the tokens! Shame on me! I should rather say, of what bliss would those idle words,' De Hansacre,' strive to rob me, and how blest am I, that they have hitherto interposed in vain! Yet my father left me in anger, and my mother wept at mine obduracy; alas, they knew not how my heart was pledged, and deemed only mine honour constrained! Still less can they tell my pangs, or how I feel my very soul torn between love and duty, or mine honour divided between gratitude to their foe De Malvesyn, and zeal for Henry Percy."

As William spoke, a horseman"Bloody with spurring, fiery hot with haste," turned an abrupt angle of one of those steep hills which diversify the beautiful domain of Beaudesart, and was close upon them before his approach was perceived. The Ostrager was interrupted in his moody murmurs, William started from his reverie, and, with vain attemps to reclaim her, saw his scared falcon soar far away till she was lost in the woody regions of Cannock wood. It was his father's Damoiseau, Thomas Agarde, whose foaming and panting steed, as well as his own bloodshot eyes and dust-soiled dress, spoke matter of fearful import. They were, indeed, the tidings of an earthquake that were brought to William amidst these sublime and beautiful

solitudes, where the sun had only seemed too bright, the turf too rich, the singing birds too happy, the deer too free, the woods too proud, and the waters too tranquil for his disturbed and imprisoned thoughts!

The rival families, with their respective companies, had met in the alders or brigg-meadow just above High-bridge. The mutual hatred of both parties had become ungovernable at the sight of banners which each had so often defied, and which, all knew, were destined soon to be more violently opposed. It was in vain the chieftains interfered; a dreadful slaughter ensued. Sir William Hansacre was slain outright; Sir Robert Malvesyn had passed on towards Shrewsbury; and the dying breath of his father had committed to William the charge of his pennon on the approaching scene of battle.

The principal part of this eventful day was passed by Margaret and her sister in the beautiful oratory that extended over the great gateway of Malvesyn. The broad groined ceiling was richly coloured, and where the sculptured arches intersected each other, huge sunflowers hung their thickly gilded disks. It was surrounded by stalls of exquisitely carved oak, the growth of the neighbouring woods-a colossal angel of the same material stood at each corner, and a deep oriel of stained glass, representing the Resurrection, and having images on brac kets on each side, mingled its gorgeous light with a wide arched window opposite, painted in all its flowery tracery with the family achievements. Here the Knight of Malvesyn, by special permission from Bishop Burghill, had service performed every day by his private chaplain, on condition that he repaired on the principal feastdays to the mother-church; and also appointed a fit confessor to give absolution from his sins, and enjoin penances.

The usual mass had been said, and prayers put up for the safety of Sir Robert; the priest had withdrawn, and the two ladies were deeply absorbed in private orisons, when a domestic entered, and announced that Master William of Hansacre had arrived in much disorder, and earnestly requested an interview with the Mistress Margaret. The sisters immediately arose, and summoning their women, descended to the great hall, where they found William of Hansacre, but

"So faint, so spiritless,

So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone," that Margaret, with a faint scream, sank into a chair, while Elizabeth, equally astonished, but more composed, enquired the cause of his coming, and his unwonted agitation.

"I come," he answered, in a hollow voice, "I come for the last time, and with tidings such as should either choke my voice in uttering, or make these halls shake in hearing them! I come," he pursued, with forced firmness, "to announce that my father is slain slain by the partisans of your house, -and that I part this very evening to join Lord Perey, to leave my poor mother a helpless widow in her hall, and," here his voice faltered, fight to the outrance against the Malvesyn and his bloody house!"

66

to

So great was the agitation of Elizabeth, that she did not perceive her sister had fainted, till William had caught her from her seat, and was hanging over her in all the desperation of conflicting feelings. Elizabeth immediately advanced, and with a stateliness of manner that ill accorded with her agitated tones, said,

"Somewhat more of caution, for the sake of a poor maiden, to whose disorder the House of Hansacre hath already too much contributed, might have induced its representative to be less abrupt in these shocking tidings:permit her sister, Master William, to relieve you from your present cares; the daughters of Malvesyn know how to bear the threats of a Hansacre, even when they proceed from him at whose hands harshness was the last thing they expected."

But William heeded her not, and continuing to support the lifeless girl in his arms, he muttered,-" Ay, thus it hath ever been with me; thus do I bring dismay and misery whenever I approach this dear, this fatal form! Ah, Margaret, the stroke my speech hath inflicted is mercy to the searing wounds which my love for thee hath planted in my honour and my heart. My slain father, my widowed mother, the bloody ghosts of the departed, and the mournful presence of those who remain in mine unhappy house, alike enjoin me to shun thee as I would a fanged adder; and yet how far dearer thou art than father or mother, let this agonised embrace, this pressure to a heart that, undone by thee, glories in being so undone, testify to all who claim thy kindred."

To this impassioned burst, Elizabeth had no answer, and her sister, slowly reviving, and seeing in whose arms she was clasped

"Oh, William, art thou here ?-sure some demon hath been with us, and made thy name a mask for all that is deadly to thy poor Margaret ?"

"Fie, sister," exclaimed Elizabeth, "thou art forgetful what is due to the honour of thy family, and it is fit that I remind thee. These old unhappy feuds have terminated in the death of the youth's father, and Master William, little thankful that his sire hath escaped the deadly guilt of warring on his sovereign liege, parts this night to join the rebel standard, choosing to be in his own person the herald both of grief to thee and shame to himself."

Margaret immediately left her lover's arms, who stood covering his face with his hands, his breast heaving, and unseen tears trickling down his glowing cheek, and exclaimed

"Shame! it would cease to be shame if its ensign were unfurled on William's brow? Sister, you are mine elder, you are prosperous in your love, but yet have mercy upon me ;think, that if this approaching fight should leave Roger Chetwynd a bloody corpse, thou mightst have need of comfort from Margaret, whom thou chidest so harshly; and think how hard thou wouldst deem it if she refused those tears and consolations to thy sorrows, which she sheds and requires so beseechingly now?" and then the poor girl, bursting into an agony of grief, flung herself on her sister's neck.

Elizabeth was now much affected. "What can I do?" she exclaimed, "or what would ye have me say? The young man hath told his fearful story

hath declared also his immediate purpose!-What are we two defenceless females to expect on either issue? If the rebels are defeated, our father will not listen to your sorrows, and if they win"

"William of Hansacre," interrupted the youth passionately," will be the first to plead his own cause in your's; will set free Sir Robert, unscathed in fortune or person, if living, and if dead, will assist in masses for his soul; and, if hereditary hatred find not a place in Margaret's breast, will unite in everlasting amity the hostile houses of Malvesyn and Hansacre."

Elizabeth shook her head, but Margaret, with revived colour and brightened eyes, cx-Lis cd,~ » #w toy

dearest Elizabeth; that tongue never. uttered falsehood!-my life for it, no ill will ensue, in spite of all these unhappy mischances, from the goodwill he bears our father and his house." “Ah, Margaret !" said her sister, "our father and our house were little indebted to his good-will, were it not for that traitor love, which hath compromised both !”

"Yet hear me, Mistress Elizabeth," said the young man," for I have but a plain tale to show. My purpose is fixed immediately to join, with what additional force I may, the allies and followers of my poor father, in support of Mortimer. Thou, Margaret, wilt believe me at least when I say, that, if we triumph, Sir Robert's safety shall be my first care; and, conquering or beaten, if I live, the only hope I shall cherish will be to call Margaret of Malvesyn my wife!"

The interview lasted but a short time after this, and William left Malvesyn with the most anxious blessings and prayers from Margaret, and no small degree of increased interest and complacency on the part of her sister. That evening he departed with about a dozen followers to join his adherents on the plains of Hartlefield.

Concluded in the Supplement.

A STAGE-COACH REVERIE.

THERE are few things that happen to us in life that affect as so strangely and so unaccountably as ams. We retire from the busy scenes of life, to rest our bodies, wearied with toil and labour; and we cherish the hope, that the mind, free for a time from the numerous cares and trials which flesh is heir to, will also take its rest. But how often does busy memory conjure up the scenes of other days!-How are we carried over hill and dale, transported over sea and land, from the frozen regions of the Pole to India's burning clime. In our moments of repose, we hold communion with those who have for years been exiled from our embraces, and even the dead become reanimated, and stand once more in our presence, Now are we riding triumphant on the boisterous wave, while we see many yielding to the spirit of the storm, and sinking amid the abyss of waters. Then we are plunged into a horror of great darkness, surrounded with dangers still greater than man ever yet encountered, and attacked by monsters whose similitade was never yet found on earth, nor

in the waters that are under the earth Sometimes we are dwelling with the prisoner in his dungeon, comforting him in the time of affliction, and cheering his drooping spirits with the prospect of a day of liberation. At other times the mind takes a bolder flight, and disdains to associate with creatures subject to such sad reverses: we enter the palace of the sovereign, participate in the luxuries attached to royalty, and receive homage and respect from the noble and the wise. These are but a few among the many subjects that agitate or excite the mind when it is withdrawn from the bustling pursuits of life. We all know that there are many individuals who attach great importance to dreams, and their countenance in the morning is either cheerful or sad as their dreams have been favourable or adverse.

Without stopping either to censure or to praise, I shall proceed by stating, that it is one of these strange wanderings of the mind that I purpose to make the subject of narration. I had been absent from home and the endearments of the domestic hearth, fulfilling the duties of my station at a distance, when on my return, in order to reach home with the utmost haste, I became a passenger in one of those stage coaches that are to be found in every part of England. The passengers travelling the same road with myself were but three-an elderly gentleman in the garb of the respected Society of Friends, and a lady and her daughter. We began our journey at the commencement of the day, which passed pleasantly enough, as the ladies were inclined to make themselves agreeable. At the close of the day, however, the lady and her interesting companion having reached the end of their journey, sounded a retreat, and left us to enjoy each other's society or not as suited ourselves.

I had not been long in this situation, when, tired of the monotony of the scene, and wearied with the labour I had previously performed, I fell fast asleep. How long I slept I do not recollect, but while entranced in the arms of Morpheus, my mind was carried forward to the home where I had left my chief treasure, and with whom I expected to enjoy sweet communion.Alas! how vain are the expectations of mortals! how delusive are our hopes! The anticipations of my waking moments were to be mocked and disappointed when nature was seeking refreshment in sleep. The scene that had