And as he came to Nottingham, A tinker he did meet, And seeing him a lusty blade, When Robin found on what errand the tinker was engaged, they settled the matter with the quarter-staff; the result was, as usual, an addition to the members of the band. The Pindar, or pound-keeper, of Wakefield was another hero: "In Wakefield their lives a jolly pindar, There is neither knight nor squire," said the pindar, Robin Hood, Little John, and Will Scarlet, in some way contravened this rule; whereupon the pindar boldly grappled with all three : He lean'd his back fast unto a tree, Till their swords in their broad bucklers Robin so admired the pindar, that he induced him to join the band. One of the ballads declares that Robin Hood slew in an encounter fifteen men who had doubted his courage; and this, too, when he was only as many years old. It opens thus: Robin Hood was a tall young man, Of fifteen winters old, Derry ding dong! And Robin Hood was a proper young man, Of courage stout and bold, Hey derry ding dong! On one occasion he met a lady weeping. On inquiring into the cause, he found that three of her sons were to be executed at Nottingham for killing the king's deer. This was quite enough for him; he resolved to effect a rescue. Proceeding to the city he sought an interview with the sheriff, professed to be earnest in the king's cause, and asked to be permitted to fill the office of hangman, with the only further privilege of being allowed to make one blast on his horn. The sheriff assented, the arrangements were made, Robin blew his horn, whereupon a hundred and ten of his merry men suddenly appeared. The sheriff, thus knowing who was his formidable visitor, speedily consented to let the three prisoners escape : "Oh take them, oh take them," says great master sheriff, "Oh take them along with thee; For there's ne'er a man in all Nottingham, Can do the like of thee!" It is noteworthy that Robin, in the midst of his wild achievements, was credited with a reverence for the religious services of the church. That this reverence did not ex tend to the ecclesiastics is clear enough; his exploits show this, as does a couplet in one of the ballads : Theyse byshoppes and theyse archebyshoppes, Nevertheless, in his own queer way he had a kind of piety. A very ancient ballad contains four stanzas which notice this characteristic in a curious way: "This is a mery mornynge," said litulle Johne, A more merry man than I am one "Pluck up thy hert, my dere mayster," "And think it is a ful fayre time, In a mornynge of May." "Ze on thynge greves me," seid Robyne That I may not so solemn day To mas nor matyns goo. "Hit is a fourtnet and more," said hee, To-day will I to Notyngham, With the myght of mylde Marye." He went, but the seriousness of his errand did not prevent him from playing one of his pranks in the city. Among the persons with whom Robin, or some of his men, came in contact in various adventures, were the Abbot of St. Mary, the Potter, the Beggar, the Stranger, the Ranger, Sir Richard, and the King, all forming the subjects of distinct ballads. The king, we are told, was the means of bringing the outlaw back to a more regular course of life. Going to Sherwood Forest, with a view of seeing this redoubtable Robin Hood, and accompanied by a force sufficient to insure a capture, the king graciously offered pardon on conditions which Robin accepted. More than one of the ballads tell of the hero's death. He fell sick, and went to a religious house in Yorkshire, the abbess of which was a kinswoman of his. She bled him, and allowed him to bleed to a fatal degree-treacherously, as the songs assert. He longed to see the greenwood once again, and shoot one more arrow before he died. A paraphrase on the old rhymes has been prettily rendered by Bernard Barton : They rais'd him on his couch, and set With kindling glance and throbbing heart, Sank back, and breath'd his last. In reference to the music to which these singularly interesting old ballads were set, Mr. Chappell, the experienced author of the volumes on the Popular Music of the Olden Time, finds that it was very plain and simple, easy to sing-a necessary condition in such very lengthy compositions. Robin Hood and the Bishop of Hereford was in two-four time; Robin Hood and the Friar in six-eight time, and in the minor mode; and so was Robin Hood and the Pindar of Wakefield. On examining many of the ballads, in the second line of which there comes a "hey down-a-down down," or something of the kind, Mr. Chappell finds that they were all, or nearly all, set to the same tune. This was the case with Robin Hood and the Stranger, Robin Hood and the Beggar, Robin Hood and the Four Beggars, Robin Hood and the Bishop, Robin Hood's Chase, Robin Hood and the Tanner, Robin Hood and the Butcher, Robin Hood and the Ranger, and Robin Hood and Maid Marian. In many of the ballads the last line is repeated as a chorus. And now, what are we to think of all this? Did Robin Hood ever really live? Was he a reality, or only a myth? There are writers who refuse to give credence to his actual existence. It has been urged, by one or other of these critics, that the origin of the ballads may be accounted for on other grounds. It has been urged that Robin Hood was not a patronymic, but a purely descriptive name, applied to the ideal personification of a class-the outlaws of the olden time. Robin's fame extended to Scotland and France as well as throughout England. Eugène Sue, in one of his novels, gives the name of Robin de Bois to a mysterious character employed by French mothers to frighten their children. Grimm, in his German mythology, speaks of the hood or boodiken assigned in fairy tales to Robin Goodfellow and other elves; and it is inferred that Robin Hood may be simply Robin o' the Hood, not a veritable man, but a mischievous denizen of fairyland. Some settle down into the prosaic explanation that, as there were in the Middle Ages many Englishmen with the surname of Hood, and many with the Christian name of Robin, the chances are in favour of there having been some one man with both names; but that this need not involve a belief in the stories and ballads as being true narratives. A Gloucestershire writer states that, in that county, the peasants often pronounce W like H, converting Wood into Hood, and Robin's Wood Hill into Robin Hood's Hill. Hallam says that, in the Provençal pastoral poems of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, Robin Hood and Maid Marian often appear as the names of a shepherd and his rustic lover. There is, however, a greater concurrence of testimony to support a belief that a man named Robin Hood really lived some six centuries ago, and really disported himself as an outlaw in Sherwood Forest. The Reverend Joseph Hunter has found, in a household book of the court of Edward the Second, an entry to the effect that one Robyn Hode was among the vadlets, valets, varlets, or porters of the chamber in the king's palace. This is regarded as giving some support to the account which forms the burden of many of the tales and ballads, and which may be thus summarised: That Robin Hood was born at Locksley in the time of Henry the Second; that his real name was Robert Fitzoothes, some say Earl of Huntingdon; that he was a wild extravagant youth, who got into debt and difficulties; that he became an outlaw in Sherwood Forest, where he surrounded himself with the companions already named; that he enlisted all he could of those who were brave and bold, and good archers; that he and his bowmen, something like a hundred in number, made war against every one except the poor and the weak, and moved about from place to place when attacked; that the forest supplied them with venison and firewood, while the villagers were made to furnish other necessaries and comforts, either by purchase or by more summary means; that the king pardoned Robin, after an interview; that Robin was quietly in the royal service for a considerable time; and that he died at Kirtley Nunnery, Yorkshire, in the reign of Henry the Third. There is, it is true, an awkward chronological hitch here; because if Robin Hood died in the time of Henry the Third, he could not well have been the Robin who lived in the days of Edward the Second. Where the arrow fell resulting from poor Robin's last shot was on a spot not far from Wakefield; and antiquaries agree that some years ago there was really a grave at that spot, with sods beneath the head and feet ends, and a stone bearing the inscription or epitaph: Here undernead dis laitl stean One thing is pretty certain. Neither antiquary or etymologist will ever kill Robin Hood. He will live in popular belief as "King of outlaws, prince of good fellows," said Richard, who declared that the name was well known, even as far as Palestine; "be assured, brave outlaw, that no deed done in our absence, and in the turbulent times to which it has given rise, shall be remembered to thy disadvantage.' Meanwhile we have many local names to refresh the memory: such as Robin Hood's Well, near Locksley, or Loxley; the Robin Hood and Little John hostelry at Sheffield; Robin Hood's Spring, Robin Hood's Moss, Robin Hood's Wood, Robin Hood's Bow, at Fountains Abbey; Robin Hood's Cap and Slippers, at St. Anne's Well; Robin Hood's Bay, on the Yorkshire coast; Robin Hood's Hill, in Derbyshire; Robin Hood's Stride, in the same county; and Robin Hood's Wind, in Lancashire-where this name is given to a thaw wind, a wind blowing during the thawing of snow, which Robin is said to have declared was the only wind which he could not withstand. ALTHOUGH her mind was sufficiently made up as to the course which she would pursue, Madge thought it would be advisable to take counsel with Mr. Drage, and accordingly, early the next morning, she set off for the rectory. She intended to tell Mr. Drage that Philip Vane was coming to Wheatcroft on a matter of business, but did not think it necessary to explain what that business was, nor to acquaint the rector with the information which she had gleaned by unravelling the mysteries of the cipher telegram. It would be sufficient, she thought, to tell Mr. Drage that she intended to keep herself concealed during the time her husband was at Wheatcroft; and, by every means in her power, to prevent him having the slightest idea of her connexion with Sir Geoffry's establishment. She found the rector taking his morning walk round the garden, with little Bertha trotting by his side. Directly she caught sight of Madge, the child rushed towards her, putting up her face to be kissed, and clinging to Madge's gown with both hands. "We were talking about you just now, Mrs. Pickering," said the child. "I was asking papa why you did not come back and live here. We should like it so much, pa and I would, and it would be so much more cheerful for you than staying with that cross old gentleman at Wheatcroft." "My dear Bertha," said Madge, with a grave smile, "I should like to be with you very much, but I cannot come." "So papa said," cried the child, turning to Mr. Drage, who had just come up. "I suppose as papa cannot have you here, that is the reason he has bought a portrait of you?" "A portrait of me !" cried Madge, looking towards the rector with uplifted eye brows. 66 'Yes, and he has had it nailed up over the mantelpiece in his bedroom, Mrs. Pickering; and when I told him the other day that I thought it was like you, his face grew quite red. Didn't it, papa ?" "Now run away, darling, and don't talk nonsense," said the rector, whose cheeks were burning; then as the child darted off, he turned to his visitor and said, "Have you any news, Mrs. Pickering, as you are away from home so early ?" "I have indeed," she replied, "and strange news. Philip Vane is coming to Wheatcroft!" "Good Heavens!" cried the rector. "That woman has told him of your visit to her." "Oh, no," said Madge, with a smile, "she has not told him; she will not tell him. She has determined to play the game out in her own way, and to run the risk. No, Mr. Vane is coming with another gentleman from London to see Sir Geoffry on business." The rector gave a sudden start, and a bright eager look crossed his face, but died away immediately. "He will be at Wheatcroft, then, some little time?" he said. "He will pass one night there," replied Madge. "The distance from London is too great for them to return the same day. Besides, they have business to discuss with Sir Geoffry which will probably take some hours." "What do you intend to do ?" "I intend asking Sir Geoffry's permission to remain in my room. In the ordinary course of events, a person in my position would not be brought into contact with company remaining for so short a period in the house; and it is only through Sir Geoffry's courtesy and consideration that I take a more prominent place in the household. I shall retire to my room when they arrive, and remain there until after their departure. The name of Mrs. Pickering, the housekeeper, will doubtless be mentioned occasionally, but it is one which Mr. Vane has never heard of in connexion with me, and will convey to his mind no idea of me whatsoever. Do you approve of what I propose doing ?" "Perfectly," said Mr. Drage, with a nervous and excited air. "It is most important that your husband should not know of your presence in this place. You feel tolerably certain that Mrs. Bendixen has not acquainted him with your visit ?" "I feel quite certain of it," said Madge. "Her last words to me were convincing on that point." Then Mr. Vane will stay over the night at Wheatcroft. Who is the other gentleman who is coming down with him ?" "The chairman of the company of which Mr. Vane is the general manager." "The chairman! Oh, then it is through him that the business will principally be conducted; and Mr. Vane is probably only coming down to be referred to on points of detail. Is he a man likely to walk out much while he is here ?" quite foreign to his nature, and half put forth his hand, as though about to wish her good-bye. It was evident that he was anxious for her departure, so Madge, wondering much what could have so strangely moved her friend, took her leave. The rector accompanied her to the gate, and then, returning to his study, turned the key in the lock, and, falling upon his knees, prayed long and fervently. When Madge arrived at Wheatcroft she found Sir Geoffry in a state of great excitement. "I have received a letter from these gentlemen, Mrs. Pickering," he said, "and they will be here at mid-day to-morrow. Very luxurious fellows for men of business they seem to be too. Springside is too far distant from London for them to complete the journey in one day; they must sleep at Bircester forsooth. Deuced easy style this Mr. Delabole writes in too; says he has no doubt that, after I have perused the private papers which he intends bringing with him, and listened to all he has to say, I shall be convinced of the excellence of the undertaking, and that he shall carry away the deed duly inscribed with my name. He speaks so confidently that the investment which he proposes must be a very sound one, or else he must have but a poor opinion of my business qualifications. I dare say he thinks it will be easy enough, with specious words and cooked accounts, to get over an old soldier; however, that will remain to be proved. You will be quite ready for the reception of these gentlemen, Mrs. Pickering, and will make them comfortable, I am sure. "You may depend upon their being made perfectly comfortable, Sir Geoffry," said Madge. "There will, I presume, be no occasion for my being in attendance when they are here ?" "None in the world," said Sir Geoffry, promptly. "I mean that I shall not be called upon to see them, and that I may keep to my room during their stay ?" Certainly, if you wish it," said Sir Geoffry. "But you know, Mrs. Pickering, that I am rather proud of you, and "I am a little over-fatigued by my journey, and I dread any introduction to strangers, fearing I might absolutely break down. I "Don't say another word about it; you shall do exactly as you please, and no stress shall be laid upon you. Sensitive woman that," said the old general to himself, looking after Madge's retreating figure," highspirited, and all that kind of thing. Does not mind the people about here, but doesn't like strangers. Is afraid, I suppose, of meeting people who knew her in better days, and who would be ashamed of recognising her in her present position. Now I must once more look through the papers which Irving sent to me, and coach myself up in readiness to meet these gentlemen from the City." Punctual to its time, the train containing the two gentlemen arrived at the Springside station the following morning, and Mr. Delabole, hopping briskly out, called a fly, then turned back to assist his companion in extricating their luggage from the carriage. There were but few persons on the platform, for it was an early and unfashionable train; but amongst them was a tall, thin man, of stooping figure, dressed in a long clergyman's coat, who hovered round the two strangers, and seemed to take particular notice of them-such particular notice as to attract Mr. Vane's attention, and induce him to inquire jocularly of Mr. Delabole " Who was his friend?" Whereupon Mr. Delabole stared with easy assurance at the tall gentleman, and told Mr. Vane "that their friend was probably a parson who had got wind of the rich marriage Mr. Vane was about to make, and had come there to draw him of a little money for the local charities." They drove straight to Wheatcroft, and on their arrival were received with much formality and politeness by Sir Geoffry, who told them that luncheon was awaiting them. During the discussion of this meal, at which the three gentlemen alone were present, the conversation was entirely of a social character; Springside, its natural beauties and its mineral waters; the style of persons frequenting it; the differences between a town and country life-were all lightly touched upon. The talk then drifted into a discussion on the speculative mania which had recently laid such hold upon English society, then filtering off into a narrow channel of admiration for Mr. Irving and his Midas-like power, worked back into the broad stream of joint-stock companies and rapid fortune-making, and finally settled down upon the Terra del Fuegos mine. During this conversation, Sir Geoffry had given utterance to various caustic remarks, and what he imagined were unpleasant truths, all of which, though somewhat chafed at by Mr. Vane, were received by Mr. Delabole, who acted as spokesman for himself and his friend, with the greatest suavity, and were replied to with the utmost coolness and good temper. The promptitude which his com panion displayed in seizing upon every word uttered by their host as a personal matter was not without its effect upon Mr. Delabole. When Sir Geoffry pushed his chair back from the table and suggested that they should adjourn to the library. there to discuss the object of their visit. Mr. Delabole said: "If you have no objection, Sir Geoffry I think that this question will be more likely to be brought to a speedy conclusion if it is left to you and me. My friend Mr. Vane is invaluable in all matters of detail, and when we come to them we can request him to favour us with his presence; for the old saying of two being better company than three holds good in business discussions as well as in social life, and if you have no objection, I think the basis of any arguments which are to be made between our friend Irving, represented by you, and the company represented by me, would better be settled by us alone.' Sir Geoffry bowed stiffly enough. "What ever Mr. Delabole thought he should be happy to agree to. From the position which Mr. Delabole held in the City, it was quite evident that in such a talk as they proposed to have, he, by himself. would be more than a match for an old retired Indian officer." Mr. Delabole smiled at this speech. "There was, he hoped, no question of brains or ingenuity in it. If the stability and excellence of the investment did not by themselves persuade Sir Geoffry to advise his friend to embark in it-and he hoped to embark in it a little himself—no blandish ments of his should be brought forward to bring about that end. It was simply a question of confidence and figures, not of listening to compliments and blarney. He would willingly retire with the general into the library, while his good friend Mr. Vane would perhaps stroll about the grounds, taking care to be within call if his valuable services were required.” at His good friend, Mr. Vane, who during luncheon had been paying particular tention to some old and remarkable Madeira which was on the table, did not seem at all to relish this plan. At first, he seemed inclined to make some open remonstrance but a glance from underneath Mr. Dela bole's bushy eyebrows dissuaded him therefrom, and he contented himself by shrugging his shoulders and indulging i other mild signs of dissent and objection Previously to retiring with Mr. Delabole. Sir Geoffry, with punctilious courtesy, ՈՐ |