vyn who was advancing towards him. The frame of the bridegroom, although large and powerful, could not be surpassed in symmetrical proportion; with the strength of a Hercules it blended the beauty of the Apollo Belvidere. His large chest, sinewy arms, and muscular, yet graceful, neck, which the costume of that time left exposed to view, indicated his great bodily strength; while his well-turned legs attested his agility in sport and dance. The bride was such a one as "poets dream of," tall and stately, yet of such exquisite proportions, that the most critical eye might gaze and be content; her small feet occasionally peeping from beneath a richly wrought kirtle, shewed that she possessed in perfection that indispensable appendage to female beauty. Her round and exquisitely turned arm was entwined within that of him who was now her husband, and her large dark and lustrous eyes modestly cast downward, were almost concealed by the long lashes that fringed them; while the freckles scattered over that fair face, shewed that Phoebus himself had wooed the Grecian nose and short upper lip, which had robbed many a lusty Wiltshire youth of his wits. Ah! little wot they of the shock that was so soon to dash the cup of bliss from their lips. Onward they came, too much absorbed in their own reflections to heed the awful messenger who stood so near. Archibald felt not the pressure of the throng, nor heard aught save the accents of his bride, when he was suddenly aroused from his delightful dream by the voice of the pursuivant, who, laying his right hand on the shoulder of the bridegroom, thus addressed him:"Archibald Mervyn, I arrest thee as a traitor to our sovereign Lord, King Henry." It would be impossible to describe the effect which these words produced on those within whose hearing they were uttered; the bystanders looked aghast and crossed themselves, as though an evil spirit had suddenly appeared before them, and a whisper ran round, which was quickly caught up and extended to the belfry, where the ringers were prepared to send forth a merry peal. The lovely bride sunk senseless into Mervyn's arms; whilst he, his face flushed with the blush of indignation, hastily demanded the name of his false accuser. "You will know that, sir, when you reach London," was the officer's re ply; "my orders are to carry you thither with all haste." "That you shall not do, Master Pursuivant," said a short thickset man, stepping forward, and fingering as he spoke the handle of a large woodknife which hung at his girdle. "So back, and tell King Henry that we have no traitors here, and that we will fight for Master Archibald to the death;" then raising his voice, he cried out, "Why, Fluister, Engleton, Watkin, where be ye? will ye see our master hauled away without a blow ?" This appeal was not made in vain; several of those who had gathered round drew their swords, and about a dozen weapons flashed in the morning's sun. The men-at-arms, who remained at the gate, hearing the noise of the tumult, instantly drew their weapons, and spurring their horses, dashed towards the church door to aid the pursuivant. A desperate affray would have taken place, but for the interposition of the bridegroom, who sharply rebuked his attendants for offering violence to the king's messenger, and bade them instantly to sheath their weapons. "Peace, Adam," said he, addressing the sturdy figure who had endeavoured to effect his rescue, I have ever found thee a dutiful servant, and I would not speak thee harsh for thy mistaken zeal. It is not by a ruffle with these men that my innocency may be proved; this is a stab from some secret enemy, and must be met otherwise than by defiance and hard blows." Then turning to his bride, who was sobbing on the bosom of her mother, a venerable dame of sixty, he attempted to address to her a few words of consolation, but the anguish of his mind almost choked his utterance. He next begged of the pursuivant that he might, with his bride and her mother, be permitted to retire to his house, the tall chimnies of which might be seen amidst the foliage at the foot of the hill. This request was complied with, and the whole party proceeded thither. Archibald endeavoured to suppress the grief and alarm which he felt; while the Lady Avice and her mother, drawing their wimples round their heads, sought relief in tears. The servants of Mervyn followed, their eyes cast downward in sullen silence, and the deep scarlet of their tingling ears indicating an ill-suppressed indignation at this interruption of their master's happiness. It is not my purpose to dwell on the parting of Mervyn and his bride; the separation of true lovers is a scene which few can depict, and to those who have experienced such a separation, an imperfect description would be worse than none. Ere the sun had reached the meridian, Archibald Mervyn, mounted on his own horse, but deprived of his sword and dagger, and clad in a plain travelling dress, was on his way to London. He rode in the midst of the troop, and when the agony of his mind allowed him to speak, he addressed his guards, in the hope that he should elicit from them something which might enable him to fix upon his accuser; but their brief answers were provokingly disappointing, they were either unable or unwilling to satisfy his enquiries. The pursuivant appeared to be as ignorant as his assistants, and Archibald relinquished all hope of discovering his enemy until he should be summoned before the council. Alas! he knew not that, even then, he might remain ignorant of the name of his accuser. The vile instruments of the sordid king, Empson and Dudley, did not always produce the person, upon whose evidence men at that period were frequently impeached. It is not often that we find great bo dily strength combined with a proportionate vigour of mind, but Archibald was as celebrated for his wisdom and learning as for his courage and prowess; yet it required all the philosophy of which he was master, to overcome the grief and fear which weighed upon his soul as he thought on the probable result of his examination. They arrived at Reading on the afternoon of the following day, and the pursuivant, deeming it not prudent to rest for a night at a hostelry in the town, for fear of a rescue by some of the friends of his prisoner, took up his quarters in the Abbey, where an apartment was assigned to them by command of the abbot. The officer and his men having provided for their horses, entered the place with their prisoner, and doffing their burgonets, commenced a vigorous attack upon the various eatables which the good fathers had so liberally caused to be spread for them. Archibald's state of mind would not permit him to eat, but he swallowed a draught of wine to cool his parched lips and throat, and walked to the window, through the stained panes of which the sun blazed strongly, and cast a many-coloured glare on the stone floor. In the window-seat lay a book, from the press of Caxton, entitled, "The Morale Prouerbes of Cristyne," but the wisdom of the lady author had no charms for him; and after listlessly turning over the leaves he flung it down, and looked across the finely wooded country, in the hope of diverting his mind from the deep melancholy which preyed upon it. The opening of a door aroused him, and turning his head he beheld a monk enter, whom, to his great surprise, he recognised as his cousin, Thomas Mervyn. A few words sufficed to explain the cause of their meeting. It appeared that Archibald's cousin, who resided at the monastery at Wallingfood, had been the bearer of a communication of some importance from his superior to the abbot of Reading. The men-at-arms and the pursuivant were too busily engaged in dispatching the good things before them to notice the conversation of Archibald and the father; but even if they had, the distance was too great to allow of their overhearing the dialogue which passed between them. Drawing Archibald still further into the recess formed by the large window, the monk, after listening attentively to his cousin's relation, enquired if he had contemplated any plan of escape. This question completely staggered Archibald, who assured the father that he had determined, from the first, to meet his accuser face to face. The monk shrugged up his shoulders, and stroked his long auburn beard. "In other times and with another king, this course might be politic," said he; "but thou art ignorant of the temper of Henry; even should thy life be spared, (and thou knowest his conduct to the noble Stanley), thou wilt be fined so heavily that the poorest hind on thy estate might pity thee; but thy blood will make sure; he scrupled not to take the life of those who were his best friends, and will he hesitate to doom thee to the scaffold and the block? No, I counsel thee to flee." "Nay, nay, good kinsman, urge me not thus; I will to London, and if my enemy dare appear, I'll claim the combat." "You will rush to your ruin," said the monk, interrupting him; "to disgrace, and death; fly this night, or make thy bride a widow!" Archibald hung his head in silence, and pressed his throbbing temples. He weighed well the good monk's words, which, though strange, were not lost upon him; and after a pause, he enquired in what manner he might effect his escape from his guards. "Leave it to me," replied Thomas Mervyn, "and you shall be free before midnight; I have a powder which, if mixed with the wine sent to these fellows, will cast them into such a slumber that thou mayest be many miles away ere they awake; and now I'll leave thee, or our long conference may arouse their suspicion, but be assured of my assistance." Saying this the monk quitted the room, leaving Archibald to meditate on his advice, and his own miserable fortune. The day wore away, and as the evening advanced, the pursuivant and his fellows began to shew evident symptoms of fatigue and drowsiness, to which the wine, several flagons of which they had drained to the health of their entertainers, no doubt greatly contributed. At length the men-at-arms divested themselves of a portion of their armour, stretched their wearied limbs upon the large benches placed around the room, while the pursuivant, first looking carefully to the window which was guarded by massy iron bars, locked the door of the room, and thrust the key into his bosom. 66 "My duty," said he, to Archibald, in a more respectful tone than he had hitherto used, "obliges me to refuse you any other resting-place; give you good night, sir." So saying, he spread his cloak upon the floor, and stretching himself at his length, was soon wrapped in as sound a slumber as his prisoner could have desired. Archibald beheld the sleeping group with satisfaction, and although he did not then see how he could escape from their custody, he trusted to the shrewdness of his cousin to effect it. He was not deceived; in less than an hour after he was aroused by a gentle tap at the door, and the roice of the monk bade him lay his ear to the key-hole. He did so, and Father Thomas directed him to take the key from the bosom of the pursuivant, as there was no fear of alarming the officer or his sleeping companions. The command was quickly obeyed; the sleeping man was easily deprived of the key, and in another moment Archibald was on the outside of his prison. "Now," said the monk, locking the door after him, and placing a purse of money in his kinsman's hand, "follow me but be silent." He cautiously led the way through several vaulted passages; and, at length, arrived at a postern door which he opened with a pass key. The night wind sighed mournfully, and the moon was struggling through several dark clouds; but enough of her light was shewn to enable Mervyn to distinguish at some distance a large house, to which the monk pointed. "Haste to the grange yonder," said he, " and greet Gaffer Andrews from me; he will furnish thee with a fleet horse and proper arms for thy journey; ride hard and make for the coast; thou may'st earn fame and honour in a foreign land, though they be denied thee here; if thou art found in England, nought can save thee." Archibald wrung the hand of his cousin, and burst into tears. "God bless thee, Thomas," he muttered; "God bless thee for this kindness to a ruined kinsman-farewell." The monk watched the receding figure of his kinsman, until it was no longer discernible, and then retired to his cell to pray for his safe escape. To be continued. WINDSOR. WE arrived at Windsor, and proceedterrace, eighteen hundred feet in length. ed immediately to visit the celebrated extensive I ever beheld. The view from it is the richest and most 'Here in full light the russet plains extend.' But the sublimity of the spectacle it is said to present, has been much exaggerated. Descriptions generally lead one into error; and therefore I avoid them in my letters to you— merely a few sketches your brilliant fancy is more likely to complete the tableau. Now, this superb and boasted landscape is neither so majestic as the Alpine scenery of Switzerland; - neither so cheerful, nor so romantic, as the winding banks of the Thames ;-nor of such Arcadian loveliness, as the enchanting valley of Richmond. Too extensive a view is like unlimited power, it never can belong to any body; it fatigues the imagination without satisfying the mind. The castle itself is fine, only because it is vastly great, and venerably antique. You are aware that William the Conqueror laid the foundations of this mighty edifice, upon which you cannot fail to observe the marks of chi valry and feudality. In no part of Europe have so many feudal customs been retained as in this country; nor in any other where their forms have blended themselves with a system of liberty. It is from ancient decorations that the splendour and inajesty of the throne are composed. But this splendour, this majesty, which constitute the preservation and respect of public power, are always in favour of the laws, and never against them. The interior of the castle is far from being magnificent. The furniture is old, worn out, and in the very worst taste. But here are the seven celebrated Cartoons of Raphael. These sublime sketches, although merely painted in water-colours, upon paper, are in a high state of preservation. The conception of the painter appears in all its freshness, in all its energy, in all its purity. Were I a painter, it would be at the foot of such chefs-de'œuvres that my studies should commence. It is there that the imagination would best learn either to increase or moderate the fires of genius. There, too, talent will grasp all the mysteries, all the resources of art. The Cartoon representing Paul preaching to the Athenians, is that which struck me most forcibly. What a brilliant conception-what an ensemble-what a variety in its composition. There are not two figures alike, with regard to attitude, look, or manner: all are in perfect keeping; not one but possesses all that nature or dignity could bestow. 'A pittance that would scarce find food; To warm my mother?-no! They grudge, they grumble, they enjoin I curse them as I take their coin! Back, back a hundred fold they'll pay Need fear the pangs of want, PORTUGUESE ECCLESIASTICS. JACK PILLS contrived to scrape an acquaintance with the reverends of the house in which he lived - albeit their domestic economy could not be reduced to amalgamation. Indeed, though there were, perhaps, two thousand persons to be cooked and provided for daily by English means, I dare say the ecclesiastics knew no more about our method of procedure than we do about the real mode of lighting up the moon. Pills, however, from going oftener out and in than any body else, and from a jovial free-hearted disposition, made friends of all hands in the refectory. He was himself an Irishman; but I think he was not a Catholic. In all foreign countries, it is no secret, that if a man is known to be Irish, he is inscribed Catholic, as a matter of course; and my friend Jack was sufficiently aware of the advantage, not to have given such a notion any uncalled-for contradiction. that as it may, he asked the whole priesthood to a banquet one evening; and all the subordinates duly came.His lordship, the prior, or whatever he was, wisely staid away-sending an apology, which proved him to be a gentleman. Be Of course, I tell the story nearly as Jack Pills told it to me. He said that he had provided a considerable quantity of agoa ardente, which, by lemons, &c. he made into palatable-enough punch; and he had a bottle or two of rum, an article much in request among the higher orders, of both sexes, in Portugal. In the course of ten minutes, and long before the master of the feast had felt the taste of his mouth, all the guests were drunk. This is the case, if Portuguese sit down to punch. They do not drink it, they swallow it off at once. They know nothing of enjoying society by the aid of a cheering glass; it is with them a mere animal indulgence, they know nothing of the intellectual, moral, or intelligent feast. Moreover, they are of opinion, that if they do sit down in English company, drunk they must get; and, consequently, like cows, dogs, horses, and sheep, in certain circumstances, they are anxious "tentare extremum." Well-Jack was taken quite aback by this beginning; expecting, as elsewhere he might have found, that there would be a long evening. His commenced somewhere between six and seven; and was no sooner, or but little sooner, begun than ended. However, as drinking is iniquitous, or dangerous in the commencement only, he hoped to keep his company together by an assurance, that though all the liquor on the table was gone, he had abundance more at hand. This delighted their reverences; and, when, at eight o'clock, a request came from the su- PADDY FOOSHANE'S FRICASSEE. perior that they should perform their evening duty, they sent an impertinent message in return, desiring him to go to prayers himself- -or something to In the midst of these enjoyments, or rather about the time at which they had reached the ne plus ultra, the awful scowling visage of the clerical commandant appeared at the door of the bacchanalian temple. In a voice of thunder, he ordered his subordinates to attend their duty; and, in a voice of mockery, they, one and all, desired him to betake himself to a certain warm place. He threatened them with his high displeasure; they replied with torrents of the lowest obscenity. All this was bad enough, but so irresistibly ludicrous, that Pills burst into an ungovernable fit of laughter, which was deemed more offensive than all the scurrility the good padre had been assailed with. To this he was probably some what habituated, and probably with it he knew how to deal: but to be laughed at! However, Jack seeing things about to grow serious, hearing something about informing Lord Wellington, and being heartily tired of his company, he called in the servants of the hospital, who assisted the prior to get his refractory subjects down stairs. How it fared with them, we never exactly knew, but no friar of the Da Graca would speak to an Englishman afterwards. that effect. In a short time, another message came, of a somewhat more peremptory nature. Jack (seeing which way the wind was about to blow, and delighting in mischief) observed that he thought his guests were very ill used, and himself too. The result was, the expulsion of this messenger with ceremonials almost of a violent nature; their reverences declaring that they would not go to prayers for all the priors and Virgin Maries in the universe, till they liked. Jack Pills very much applauded this decision-hinted how unpolite it was of the prior not to have favoured him with his own company; and said, that if they would wait half an hour longer, and take more punch, as he himself had scarcely had any, he would not only go to prayers with them, but order all the convalescents to attend. This was prime; and more punch was swallowed, to the success of the projected congregation. Sketches of Society in Portugal. PADDY FOOSHANE kept a shebeen house at Barleymount cross, in which he sold whisky - from which his Majesty did not derive any large portion of his revenues-ale, and provisions. One evening a number of friends, returning from a funeral all neighbours toostopt at his house, " because they were in grief," to drink a drop. There was Andy Angar, a stout rattling fellow, the natural son of a gentleman residing near there; Jack Shea, who was afterwards transported for running away with Biddy Lawlor; Tim Cournane, who, by reason of being on his keeping, was privileged to carry a gun; Owen Connor, a march-of-intellect man, who wished to enlighten protectors by making them swallow their processes; and a number of other "good boys." The night began to "rain cats and dogs," and there was no stirring out; so the cards were called for, a roaring fire was made down, and the whisky and ale began to flow. After due observation, and several experiments, a space large enough for the big table, and free from the drop down, was |