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per annum. In 1650, the minister was thousand one hundred and fifty pounds. paid fifteen pounds per annum.
There was a deficiency of twenty-one thouThomas Swadlin, D.D., minister of this sand pounds in the accounts, making an church, and also of St. Botolph's, Aldgate, error altogether of forty-seven thousand during the Civil Wars, was a most eloquent pounds. The parish was in debt nearly preacher, and in consequence was im- five hundred thousand pounds, when the prisoned, his living was sequestered, his bill to regulate the vestry went into parhouse plundered, and his wife and children liament; the expenses of one grand peramwere turned out of doors. The expelled bulatory dinner alone amounted to four minister lived by trading about the suburbs hundred and eighty-two pounds (the wine of London, till on the Restoration he was costing one hundred and twenty-one reinstated.
pounds, and the ribbons for cockades In 1723-4, Mr. Ford, curate of Maryle- twenty-three pounds sixteeen shillings and bone, is said on a certain Sunday to have sixpence). performed the following duty. He married In 1774, houses in High-street, Marylesix couples, performed two full services, bone, particularly on the west side, conchurched six women, christened thirty-two tinued to be inhabited by families who kept children, buried thirteen corpses, and read their coaches, and who considered themdistrict service over each. To crown all selves as living in the country. As late as other absurdities and paganisms in old the year 1728, the Daily Journal, October Marylebone Church, there was an arched the 15th, announces, first, that "many opening in the centre of the organ, which persons had arrived in London from their contained a canvas transparency, copied country house in Marylebone;" and, by Mr. West from one of his own windows secondly, " that the Right Honourable Sir in St. George's Chapel, Windsor, and for Robert Walpole comes to town this day which flimsy copy he had actually the re- from Chelsea.” In 1774, the sonth and markable self-confidence to charge eight east ends of Queen Anne and Marylebonehundred pounds. The parish historian streets were unbuilt, and the space condoes not forget to mention that, in this sisted only of green fields to the west corner picture of the Angels appearing to the of Tottenham Court-road, and thence to the Shepherds, one favoured angel was espe- extreme of High-street, Marylebone Garcially conspicuous for having the face of dens, Marylebone Basin, and another pond a child, and the thighs of a giant. On called Cockney Ladle. The Rose of Norboth sides of the remarkable organ there mandy, a public-house on the east side of were private boxes (called by courtesy the High-street of Marylebone, is supposed pews) which were fitted with chairs and to be two hundred years old. It was fireplaces. The pulpit and desk were vast formerly a detached house with a bowlingpompous piles of carved mahogany. The green at the back. In 1659, it is described church seats accommodated between three as surrounded with a brick wall and fruitand four thousand persons. The first parish trees, and being two hundred and four paces clerk was a poor knight of Windsor, ap- long. The bowling-green, one hundred and pointed by the Duke of Portland. There twelve paces one way, three hundred and is a tablet in the north wall, dated 1821, to eighty-eight another, was double set with Richard Cosway, the miniature-painter, fine quickset hedges, cut into battlements. who was originally an errand-boy at a The entrance to the house was by descenddrawing school in the Strand.
ing steps, as the street had been raised. The very close and select vestry of Mary- The house, till lately, preserved its original lebone was attacked by the Examiner in form; the staircase was old. Williams's 1828 and 1829. The chairman was Sir Farm stood about a quarter of a mile south. Thomas Baring, and one of the body was It boasted a room with some stained glass Colonel Graham, of the famous house of in the windows, and called "Queen ElizaFauntleroy and Company, Berners-street. beth's kitchen.” Returning and recrossIt was complained that they had paid three ing the New-road, after passing the back hundred pounds to Rossi for a bas-relief of Marylebone Gardens, you came to the for the pediment of the new church, which north side of Cavendish-square, then enwas never used. Also that they had re- closed by a dwarf brick wall and a heavy moved a gilt figure of an angel 'playing a wooden railing. Harley Fields was where lyre from the organ, and substituted a Whitfield preached. Kendall's Farm, where crown on a cushion. The upholsterer's bill Mr. J. T. Smith describes seeing eight or for dressing the church amounted to two ) ten immense hay-ricks in a row, stood on
BY THE AUTHOR OF "HESTER'S HISTORY."
the site of part of Osnaburgh-street, nearly suspicion of the intensity of her suffering, opposite the Green Man, originally called or of the havoc it had made. On every one the Farthing Pie House.
of these summer days her maid dressed her with infinite pains, arranging laces and
satins, flowers and jewellery, as carefully THE WICKED WOODS OF TOBEREEVIL. as if her mistress had been a young belle
going to court for the first time. On her
face there were the red and white that CHAPTER XXXVI. PAUL AT CAMLOUGH. simulated health, and her hair was not SUMMER was very lovely at Camlough; suffered to lose the raro blue-black for bowery foliage clothed the mountain-sides which the tresses of Lady Archbold had with softness, and in the hollow the swards been famed. She thought that when her were brilliant with flowers; the castle child returned she should not see the gleamed out of a mantle of flowering bloom, changes which grief and disease had and terraces girdled it with garlands as of wrought upon her mother. Every day the fire caught from the sun. The gardens poor lady sat in a chair filled with cushions, were hived with sweets, the trees heavy which was placed on the sward at a sunny with perfumes that crept up into their side of the terrace, a lap-dog on her knees boughs. The birds sang in chorus, the which she did not caress, by her side books sea made a delicate music, and the peaks which she never opened, fancy-work unof the upper mountains crowned the valley touched, and a heap of fresh roses which she with a sapphire crown.
crushed to an early death in her hot fingers. Sir John had ceased to be uneasy about Here she sat, watching for one who would his unruly daughter. His head was full of not come, and here she still sat when things more important. He knew she was Katherine at length appeared riding out safe, and that the best way to manage her of the distance with Paul by her side. The was to let her have her own way. But the mother could not bear the sight which she mother could not so easily content herself; had so passionately longed to see. She had grown more wretched every day that fainted in her chair, and had to be carried her child stayed away from her, could to her room. not sleep at night nor rest by day. Her Sir John was right glad to welcome daughter's indifference was eating away Paul. In his economic fit he had lately her life. There was no peace about Lady denied himself the pleasures of hospitality, Archbold; her dark hollow eyes still glowed being a man who could not choose to inwith restless passion ; but her haughtiness vite his friends to bear him company, unhad broken up into querulousness. She less he surprised them with the most costly was too feverish for occupation, and always entertainments.
But he was
now thoat odds with Time for not quickening his roughly tired of loneliness at Camlough, lagging steps. She did not care for read and pleased to see a man coming to share ing, for there was no story so interesting it. He had heard something of Paul, and or so pitiful to her as her own. She felt an interest in him; thought him a looked into her past life by that envious fine young fellow, who would be a pleaand fitful light which such minds will fling sant kind of neighbour, and likely to work backward upon joys from which they some changes which were needed in the scorned to draw much sweetness while country. they lived. Why bad the world failed For the first few hours after his arrival, her, having for so many years been her Paul was in high spirits, and won golden slave? Why had pride ceased to charm, opinions from Sir John. He was pleased and the only love she coveted been denied with all he saw, pleased to get rid of her ? Why had poverty threatened to Katherine, and to know that to-morrow he pinch her with unknown wants, while should return without her to Monasterlea. bitterness and reproach must be her only Above all else he was glad to find himself solace in the trial? These were the hard happy. Miss Archbold played hostess, as problems which Lady Archbold had got to her mother was not well enough to appear. solve.
Her father praised her looks, declaring that She walked with weakly steps about her the air of Monasterlea had done her good ; room, but nobody had any idea that her did not reproach her, or remark in any
life was nearly spent. Partly deceived by way upon the manner in which she had 'pride that would not complain, partly by chosen to leave her home. The only thing rouge and pearl-powder, Sir John had no that clouded Sir John's enjoyment was
Paul's determination to return the next not striven against the danger. His weak. day whence he had come. No persuasion ness in temporising with the miser at that would induce him to think of remaining last interview now appeared to him as a longer than this one night. The master of crime of the darkest hue. His cowardice Camlough was vexed at his obstinacy, but had wrought the evil, and the sin was on Katherine said carelessly to her father as his head. she left the dinner-table: “Oh, do not Not all Sir John's polite efforts, not all trouble about it; believe me he will stay!" Katherine's fascinating attentions, could
After dinner, Katherine, her father, and restore to Paul the good spirits which he Paul set out for a ride about the estate in had enjoyed only an hour ago. He said the long soft light of the early summer good-night to his entertainers while it was evening, so that Paul might make the most yet early, and retired to the chamber of the few hours at Camlough. The ex- which was prepared for him. When there, cursion was a pleasant one, till on their re- however, he did not go to rest, but walked turning homeward in the dusk, a wild- feverishly about the room, thinking on his looking man flung himself suddenly before own weakness and on the sad case of the Paul's horse, throwing up his arms and poor, and loading himself with the bitterest uttering curses upon the whole race of the reproaches. When at last he flung him. Finistons. Paul, always sensitive to the self on his bed he was ill in mind and feelings of the poor towards himself, body; and when morning came the guest started with a great shock, and urged on was found unable to leave his room. his horse past this evil-wisher, who seemed Thus began a fever which wasted Panl's to have started out of the furze-bushes to strength for two or three weeks. Katherine banish his contentment. Sir John lingered was in great dismay, so much so that her behind, and after some parleying with the father was surprised in a great degree, wayfarer, rode after his visitor, and re- never having seen her show feeling for joined him with a grave countenance. any one before. His concern as to the sick
“I am sorry to hear this,” he said; “I man was increased by this anxiety of his have learned from the man that Simon daughter. He agreed to all her arrange Finiston is evicting the people."
ments, sent for the country doctor who “ Is evicting ?” asked Paul, in amaze attended to his own gout, and who lived on ment.
the western side of the Golden Mountain, “Yes. This very day; the man says so. inviting this gentleman to spend a fortnight His own wife and children are among a at the castle. To the servants and oathundred who have been turned out, without door retainers it was merely said that the notice, upon the hills. He was working guest had got a cold. This was Katheelsewhere, and has been running all day on rine's wish, so Sir John made a point of it, his way to Tobereevil. This is bad in- though he could not understand it; and deed. I had hoped you might have had every care was taken to prevent a rumour influence to prevent such iniquities.” of serious illness getting abroad. Kathe
Now this was many weeks before the rine's old nurse sat by Paul's bedside night real evictions took place at Tobereevil; and day, and Katherine herself often stole but here was one of the many occasions on in and sat motionless behind the curtains, which rumour declares that a thing has with looks so pale and distracted that no actually occurred long before it is possible one could have any doubt but that the that it can have happened. A whisper of patient's life was at least as dear to her as Simon's intention had blown over the her own. And it was understood that Miss mountains, and taken the shape of the Archbold was engaged to Mr. Finiston. tragic story which Sir John now told to At last, after much suffering, Paul was Paul.
able to rise from his bed. He was very A dark flush overspread the young weak in body and mind, but this was to be man's face, and his head sunk on his expected for a time. Sir John gave him his breast. He seemed stunned by this news, arm as he walked up and down the lawn, the truth of which he never thought of and Katherine waited on him with dainties. doubting, and did not speak again until But as the invigorating days of early they arrived at the castle door. By that summer passed over his head, and his body time the stunned feeling had left him, and became strengthened, it was found very his mind was in a flame. This iniquity had strangely that his mind did not regain its been done under his very eyes, and he had natural balance. His memory was a blank, not seen it. He had been warned, and had his thoughts could not fix themselves on
anything for more than an instant. It was Paul Finiston is the heir- in a short time some time before Sir John could persuade will be master; and he seems quite untainted himself that this failure of mental powers by the besetting sin of his family. I prewas so complete and unvarying as it proved dict a noble career for him, and I cannot itself to be. There were moments when but think it happy that my fortunes should Paul seemed dimly conscious of an ex- be linked with his. I have not gone to traordinary change within himself, and seek him, nor forced my daughter's fancy. struggled to shake off the cloud which had She has had her own way, as I have settled on his brain, to remember whence always allowed her to have it. If the he had come, and how he bad brought him- result is satisfactory you are not to call self to Camlough. But as days went by me worldly.” even this slight
effort became too much for After this Lady Archbold no longer called him. The past dropped away from him Paul a simpleton, but became anxious to and left him at least in peace. He was see his virtues and to behold his mind placid and calm, sometimes silent for long restored to health ; the welfare of Katherine hours; sometimes talking with curious being, as usual, her only care. Neverthesimplicity of the things around him. ' He less Paul did not grow wiser nor less fanshrank from society, spending his time tastic in his ways. He would pass hour roving aimlessly through the hills and after hour picking pebbles from the rocks little glens, or losing himself among the and flinging them into the sea. He would high green walls of the beech alleys. Lady sit high up in the hills, and hold conArchhold, who had recovered from the verse with the sheep. The herds were half attack of illness which joy had brought afraid of him, though they liked him, for upon her, pronounced Paul a simpleton, besides his singing to the sheep they often and wondered why Katherine had brought heard him declaiming to the mountains; him to the place; but Sir John rebuked with head thrown back, and arms folded her for so rash a judgment.
on his breast, addressing the unconscious “You do not understand, my dear. He cliffs in lofty language. Whilst he rambled came here as intelligent a young man as about in this way Katherine was often seen could be found. This is only the effect hovering at a little distance. She followed of illness, and will pass away. For him about like a nurse trying to guard a Katherine's sake we must be patient with refractory child of whom she has some him."
dread. She scarcely ever lost sight of, but Lady Archbold refused to believe in the seldom ventured to approach him. Her engagement. She did not wonder that face had grown very white, and lost a great Katherine should have bewitched him deal of its beauty, and her eyes had got a away from May, but she looked on Paul as strangely timorous look. The people talked a beggar as well as a simpleton. Sir John quite openly about Miss Archbold's engageconsidered that it was time to change her ment to a fool. She had been over hard to mind, and took her to walk with him down please, and now her heart was set on an the terraces in the glow of the setting sun, idiot. It was wonderful to see her so meek, while two peacocks strutted behind them so absorbed in her care of one person, being with their magnificent tails spread. never angry now, except when she heard
“Do you not notice how Katherine is whispers about her fool. Then she would altered ?” said Sir John. “Her heart is fly into such a fury that every one fled engaged at last, and for that we must be from before her face. thankful. A worthy affection will make When many weeks had gone past, the her all that we can desire."
parents of Katherine consulted as to what “I had no idea you were so exceedingly steps ought to be taken in Paul's case. The unworldly," answered his wife.
doctor prescribed amusement and excite"I do not pretend to be altogether ment; so the heads of the people at Camanworldly. I could not afford it now. lough began to devise plans for the diverBut this thing is fortunate from a worldly sion of this demented young man. point of view."
Things were just in this state when Bid Fortunate!"
arrived at Camlough, with her basket on 'My love, do not publish our conver- her arm. She hoped to tempt the maids sation. I know a good deal of the history to buy of her wares ; at all events her of Tobereevil. owners have been merchandise was to be the excuse for hoarding treasure for over three hundred her appearance, and coming over the lower years. They have spent literally nothing. hills that sloped towards the castle it
chanced that she met Paul face to face. she knew that May was no better than She curtsied to him and nodded at him, when she had left her. So Bid crept but he never gave her a glance. The round to the back door as before, and change in his looks struck fear to the stepped noiselessly into the kitchen. This heart of his simple friend.
time Bridget had no need to put her finger “ Misther Paul !" said Bid, following on her lip, for Bid's spirits were so crushed him, don't
that she was as quiet as a ghost. Miss He stopped and gazed at her, and shook Martha came to her presently and sent her his head. “I never saw you before,” he into May's chamber. said, and walked on with his head drooped Poor Bid had little art to break her on his breast.
terrible news. She told it out bluntly, in “Oh, Heavens! what is this !” cried a burst of sympathetic sorrow. Bid.
“ Oh, my dear,” she said, “there's little “ Misther Paul!” she said, following him use in goin' to look for Paul. He's strayin' again, “ I seen Miss May yesterday. You about yon bills like a lamb that's lost its never forgot yer own Miss May ?”
mother. He doesn't know you norme, Paul turned and stared at her again, nor e'er a wan belongin' till him. They with the same blank look in his eyes. "I say he's promised in marriage to yon don't know what you mean,” he said. bould cruel hussy that took him away
wid “Oh mother o' God! have you forgot her out o' here, an' she walkin' about afther her!” cried Bid; but Paul noticed her no him like a cat afther a mouse. But a woman more, only walked on and left her, and the might as well marry hersel' till our poor old woman sat down on the heather and Con at home. God sees it's the black wept till her eyes were sore.
word to come out o' my mouth to yer ear, A milkmaid was coming over the hills but our cliver gintleman has no more sinse with her milk-pail on her head. She left nor a fool.' stopped and looked at Bid, and asked her May sat up in her bed, devouring every why she was crying. Poor Bid was too word that fell from Bid. The old woman sorrowful too think of anything but the glanced at her fearfully, as if she feared the truth.
news would kill her on the spot. “I met Mister Paul,” she said, “an' not “I knew it,” said May, quietly. "I a bit he knewn me.”
knew it was not his own will that did it. “Wirra whisht, ould woman, don't you Now, Bid, I'll get well. Open that window know that the man is mad ?"
wide, and bring me something to eat." Now, indeed, it was Bid's turn to Bid stared at her vacantly. question; but for May's sake she re- “Oh, Bid dear, don't loiter. Hurry, membered that she must be wise. She ac- and do what I tell you, for I have no time cepted the milkmaid's invitation to the to lose." castle, and sold a pair of blue glass ear-rings Bid did as she was told, putting her on the spot. She was brought into the wonder aside to wait for another time. She kitchen, and afterwards had an invitation opened the window wide, and the river to the housekeeper's private room, where and the flowers looked in at May. She she disposed of all her jewellery, and was trotted away to the kitchen and came back hospitably entertained. When she started with a basin of soup. Greatly amazed was to return homewards she had learned all Miss Martha to find May sitting up in her that could be learned as to Paul's unhappy bed, and Bid holding a basin of soup to her state.
mouth. As she came homeward over the mour Miss Martha was very busy at this tains her head was dizzy with grief. Paul time. It was the hay-making season, and Finiston mad! How could she carry such she had got to look after her labourers. So news to May. The hope of the country Bid stayed with May; she sat by her bedwas gone on the wind, but for the moment side during the long summer day, telling she thought May's the hardest share of the her stories of the pleasant summer world trouble.
out of doors. She talked, just as if she had “She'll break her bit o’a heart,” said Bid. got a sick child to nurse, of how the river “She'll turn to the wall an' die."
was laughing on the stones because the When the old woman came to the end of sun was trying to dry it up; but the source her weary journey, and walked up the in the mountains was too plentiful for garden path, she saw the blinds were still that. How the cock was scolding his down in the cottage at Monasterlea, and wives because the chickens were long about