first wound, and was invalided for a couple of months. This bad beginning did not damp her ardour; on the contrary, she grew so attached to a military life that she forgot the purpose for which she embraced it, and never troubled herself to make any inquiries about her Richard. The following summer, while foraging, she was taken prisoner, but was soon exchanged and back with her regiment. While quartered at Gorcum, Christian had the impudence to make love to a burgher's daughter, actually fighting a duel with a rival, and wounding him dangerously. This rival was a sergeant, and but for the intercession of the girl's father the victorious Amazon would have paid dearly for her triumph; as it was, she was dismissed the regiment. She immediately entered Lord John Hayes's dragoons, serving with them at the capture of Namur. At the peace of Ryswick the regiment was disbanded, and the she-dragoon returned to England, but never went home-her mind was thoroughly unsexed, and she hated the idea of confessing her womanhood.

Upon the breaking out of the war of the Spanish succession, Christian went back to her old regiment, and did a man's part in most of the engagements of Marlborough's campaign of 1702-3. At the battle of Donavert, in 1704, a ball penetrated her hip. The doctors failed to extract the bullet, but nearly discovered her secret. At the battle of Hochstadt, she was one of a party detached to guard the prisoners; while performing this duty she came across her husband, whom she had not seen for twelve years, and discovered that he had consoled himself by taking a Dutch woman as her successor. The irate dame, making herself known to the astonished man, gave him a bit of her mind, but relieved his fears by declaring she had no intention of claiming her rights, but would be a brother to him so long as he did not betray her confidence. This curious bargain was faithfully kept, until a shell fractured Christian's skull at Ramillies, and the surgeon who trepanned her found out the long hidden truth, and his patient was of course dismissed the service. The officers saw her remarried to Welsh, and subscribed a handsome sum by way of dowry. No longer allowed to fight, the stout-hearted matron turned cook and sutler; the officers did not look very closely into her doings, and she, consequently, turned the change to profitable account. Her husband was killed at Taisnieres. weeks afterwards she married a grenadier,

Eleven

to become a widow again, before St. Venant; but she followed the fortunes of the army till the war came to an end, and her occupation with it.

Taking the advice of the Duke of Argyll, Christian Jones petitioned Queen Anne, setting forth that she had served her country as a soldier for twelve years, had received several wounds, and lost two husbands in her majesty's service. The petition, presented in person, was most graciously received. Perceiving that the petitioner would soon give her another subject, the queen ordered fifty pounds to be given her to defray expenses, promising that if the child proved a boy, he should receive a commission as soon as he was born. Great was Christian's chagrin when she became the mother of a girl. However, the queen did not forget her. A pension of a shilling a day was bestowed on her, and she again changed her name by marrying one Davis, a soldier, of course, settling down at Chelsea and laying the gentry and military under contribution whenever she needed any extra comforts. While engaged in nursing her husband, Christian caught cold; this brought on serious illness, and ended her adventurous life on the 7th of July, 1739. This extraordinary woman was interred with military honours in the burying-ground of the Soldiers' Hospital.

In 1761, a woman enlisted under the name of Paul Daniel, in the hope of being sent to Germany, where her husband was serving in the army, but was detected by a keen-eyed sergeant. In 1813, a farmer's daughter, hailing from Denbighshire, took his majesty's shilling, and entered the Fifty-third Regiment, in order to be near her lover. She had, however, made a slight mistake, and when she found her sweetheart had joined the Forty-third, the damsel's martial desires evaporated, and she obtained her discharge.

Amazons have not been unknown to the naval service. One Ann Mills served as a seaman on board the Maidstone frigate, and distinguished herself by her personal prowess in an action with a French ship. In 1761, Hannah Whitney, while disporting herself in male attire, was seized by a press-gang, and sent, with other victims, to Plymouth prison. Indignant at this treatment, the fair captive declared she was not what she seemed to be, at the same time letting the authorities know their harshness had lost them the services of a marine of five years' experience. The fact that a

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woman fought and died on board one of Nelson's ships, came to light in a curious way. In 1807, a young woman, calling herself Rebecca Ann Johnston, was brought before the lord mayor, having been found, in a sad condition, in the streets. She was dressed as a sailor, and said she came from Whitby, having deserted from a collier, after serving four out of the seven years' apprenticeship to which she had been bound by her step-father, who had likewise bound her mother to the sea, on which she met her death at the bombardment of Copenhagen. The last female warrior of whom we have anything to say, can scarcely be called a British Amazon, unless her having served under the British flag entitles her to the designation. All we know about her is contained in the following paragraph from the Annual Register of 1815: Amongst the crew of the Queen Charlotte, one hundred and ten guns, recently paid off, it is now discovered was a female African, who had served as seaman in the royal navy for upwards of eleven years, several of which she has been rated able on the books of the above ship, by the name of William Brown; and has served as the captain of the foretop, highly to the satisfaction of the officers. She is a smart figure, about five feet four inches in height, possessed of considerable strength and great activity; her features are rather handsome for a black, and she appears to be about twenty-six years of age. Her share of prize money is said to be considerable, respecting which she has been several times within the last few days at Somerset-place. In her manners she exhibits all the traits of a British tar, and takes her grog with her late shipmates with the greatest gaiety. She says she is a married woman, and went to sea in consequence of a quarrel with her husband, who, it is said, has entered a caveat against her receiving her prize-money. She declares her intention of again entering the service as a volunteer."

LELGARDE'S INHERITANCE.

IN TWELVE CHAPTERS. CHAPTER VII.

LELGARDE had forced me into an armchair, and flung herself down on a footstool at my feet, turning so that she could speak without my seeing her face. These preparations almost frightened me. What was she going to say? Her beginning took me by surprise.

"Joan, when we were talking about ghosts the other night, at the rectory, you only said something about it in joke. What do you think seriously?"

Seriously, my dear, I think there is no necessity to make up one's mind, as we are not at all likely to be troubled with such visitations."

"If you saw a ghost, what would you think? what would you do ?" "Have you seen a ghost ?" I asked, to bring matters to a point.

She looked up at me earnestly. "Joan, I declare to you solemnly that I believe I have: not once, nor twice, but many, many times. My life has been made wretched; my nights-oh! how can I have such nights, and keep my life and reason ?"

She was trembling violently. I felt that it must all be told now; stroking down her hair, I said, as quietly as possible: "Tell me all about it, child, as distinctly as you can; it will be all right, depend upon it."

"I will-I will tell you all. Hold me closer, Joan-how I love your dear old steady hand. You will hold mine when I am dying, won't you, Joany? You will take care of me to the last ?"

"Go on, my dear; you are not going to die just yet.'

"I don't know-sometimes I feel as if I could not bear much more of this; but I don't want to die, it is horrible to think of drifting out into the cold shadow-world, where-where they are-where she is. Oh! Joan, listen to the wind."

"Never mind the wind, my child," said I, "and as to death-though it is life you should be thinking about-what is death but going to our mother, to your father to the Great, Good Father of us all ?"

"But the valley of the shadow of death, || the king of terrors! Those words have meaning, Joan. Well, I am telling you nothing; be patient, and I will. You remember the day we examined the cabinet, and saw her picture? the day Mrs. Bracebridge told us that sad story?"

"Yes; and how you waked me up at an unearthly hour the next morning."

"You asked me if I had slept badly. Now, Joan, I am going to tell you the history of that night, solemnly and truly." "Go on, little woman, I am listening to you."

"I fell asleep-and how long I slept I do not know-I can hardly say I awoke:

that does not describe it--but I became conscious suddenly; and what roused me was the sound of weeping-such weeping, so despairing, so terrible, Joan, that it made my heart stand still."

"My poor little pet, it was Mrs. Bracebridge had been telling us about those terrible hysterical weepings-you were over-wrought by the story, that is all." "Let me go on: next I became conscious that I could see. There was some sort of light, but whether from window, fire, or candle, I cannot tell you, but I saw-yes, distinctly, a figure by my bedside; I never can remember the dress, I have only a vague impression of some loose wrapper, of a light colour; but the face! oh, Joan, believe me, I am not fancy ing things; it was the face of Miss Hilda's portrait, only older, far older, worn and white, and bathed in tears-such a face of despair, that if you really saw such a one, you would be wretched for days afterwards."

"But, fortunately, it was only seen in a dream, my pretty one: a dream very easily accounted for. Come, is that all ?"

"I wish it were. Now, Joan, all this does not seem to me like a dream in looking back upon it; but what came next, you will say must have been. I had a vague feeling of being carried-hurried along dark galleries, and down cold stairs. Oh, this I never can make you understand. I can't get at my own idea, or put it into words. It was I who endured all this, it was I who felt the cold, and the wretchedness, and the sickening, overwhelming terror; and yet it was not I, but another creature and I pitied that other creature —that other, that was I, and yet not I." "Nightmare.'

"Call it so if you will. I grew more conscious, but the scene was changed. I stood before that cabinet. Do you remember my saying I fancied it had a secret recess somewhere ?"

is distinct. The vision, or dream, if you like, fades away, and the next thing that happens is that it is morning."

"Then this has happened more than

once ?"

"More than once? Night after night! Joan"-she hesitated here-"you fancy that my liking for Mr. Seymour Kennedy is strange. Do you know the reason of it? He has power to lay the ghost."

"What can you mean?"

"I mean that the night after his visit, and sometimes the night before, I am never troubled. It is strange, is it not? I don't like him really; he is most unlike all that I have been used to make my type of excellence; but surely he must be destined in some way to rule my fate, or why has he this strange influence over the curse that pursues me ?"

"A curse-my dear, strong language! Those dreams show a bad state of health, and you ought to have mentioned them before."

Lelgarde rose and stood before me, looking like a ghost herself in her white

wrapper.

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Joan," she said, "I have allowed you to talk about dreams, but it will not do; it is no dream, no fancy. Something does really visit my room at night."

Her voice, her tone of conviction, the remembrance of the servants' gossip, all made my blood curdle. Unimaginative as I am, little as I believe in ghosts, I could hardly command my voice in asking Lelgarde to explain her reasons for what she said.

"Every night I lock my door, and I always find it locked in the morning; but my room is entered nevertheless. I always put my candle on this chair by the bed. I have repeatedly in the morning found the chair moved, the candle and match-box put on the table. You know," and she smiled a little," how you used to fidget me about putting my shoes side by side, and that I have got into the fixed habit of doing

So.

Well, I have found them separated, as if some foot, treading perhaps in doubtful light, had disarranged them."

"A substantial spirit then, Lelgarde, by your own showing.'

"You mean that you think some one is playing me a trick? Who could be so fiendishly cruel? Besides, how do you account for the cabinet, the secret recess, all those strange visions which, even in the daytime, haunt me? I vow to you, Joan, that I can never shake them off, except

when Mr. Kennedy is here. He is so amusing and clever, and I get sometimes so much entertained, and sometimes so angry with him, that just for that time I forget myself."

"And then you do not dream? Dearest, does not that show that it is an effect of imagination-the whole thing?"

it.

"I have told myself so; I almost believed And then I began to observe the disarrangements in my room. Joan, it is useless to fight against it. I am doomed to be hunted down-that is what I feel, that and nothing else. Tell me, why could I not live here as a child? What was it that scared me nearly to death or madness ?"

She was kneeling before me now, looking at me with her great woful eyes, full of a dark terror which I felt almost powerless to fight against.

"We will go away, Lelgarde," I cried; you are rich, my darling; you shall not stay here to be ill. Let us go to Italy: let us go to Rome, and look up your old friend Harry."

Things were come to a pass, indeed, when I was driven to this suggestion! I was glad to see her cheeks colour up, and a more natural look return to her eyes.

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Yes, I should like that," she said. "I should dearly like it—but I thought I ought to stay here; it is my home, and my duties lie here."

"Your first duty is to get well and strong, my pet."

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'Perhaps so; as it is, I am getting weaker every day. I cannot tire myself into sound sleeping, as I used to do; and oh! do you wonder that I dread death? To become myself one of that fearful, shadowy world!”

"Hush, Lelgarde, we will talk no more about it to-night. You shall sleep in my arms, as you did in your baby days. Come, let us say our prayers and go to bed; and let the ghosts think twice before they come and torment my child, now she has her old Joan to take care of her."

I succeeded in making Lelgarde smile, but I must confess that I was feeling very shaky, for all my bold speeches. Lelgarde, thoroughly exhausted, and safe in my arms, was soon sleeping heavily with her head pillowed on my shoulder; but I lay awake all night long, listening to the wind, trembling at the driving rain, and hearing in every slamming door and creaking window ghostly footsteps coming to haunt my darling.

CHAPTER VIII.

It was not till daylight was peeping in through the chinks in the closed shutters that Lelgarde opened her eyes with a freshened, invigorated look which did. my heart good.

'Yes,' she said, in answer to my anxious questions, "I have slept soundly indeed. It seems only a minute ago that I went to bed. Oh! dearest old Joan! what a blessing you are to me!"

"And this heavy-treading ghost has not been here to-night," I said, pointing to the little slippers; "everything is just as we left it; let us hope that it is exorcised for good and all."

Nevertheless, I was resolved to carry Lelgarde away for a little while. I must own that I felt almost as anxious as she could be to get away from Athelstanes, the servants' talk tallying so uncomfortably with what she herself had told me, had impressed on my mind a vague sense that everything was weird and uncanny, and I went about, feeling ready to jump and scream on the smallest provocation. But several days and nights passed, and nothing happened to frighten either of us. Determined not to let Lelgarde pass another solitary night as long as we were under that roof, I had a mattress carried into her room every night, and I had the satisfaction of seeing her look fresher and brighter at every awakening. She had ceased to hang restlessly about Miss Hilda's room, and I was quite sorry, when, one afternoon, only two or three days before that fixed for our departure, Mrs. Bracebridge requested her presence there to decide on question of new chintz or dimity, which might quite as well have waited till our

return.

some

But Mrs. Bracebridge's requests were not easy to refuse or shirk; and she was anxious to set all her handmaidens to their sewing while we were away; so she discoursed, pointing out the tattered state of the garniture in question, and Lelgarde assented, her eyes all the time roving about with the hunted look which I hoped had entirely left them. I cut short the good old lady's speech as much as I could, and when she was gone I tried to hurry my sister off at once to the drawing-room; but she lingered, and, as if drawn by some irresistible attraction to the ebony cabinet, opened it, and again began fingering it in every direction, with the perplexed look of a child over a puzzle.

"I cannot make it out," she murmured.