Friendship's Offering.

[THE editorship of this volume has been confided to Mr. W. H. Harrison, author of Tales of a Physician. It has the usual modicum of unaffected pleasantry, checkered with natural pathos, appealing to the feelings and fancies of the reader. Thus, in prose, we find the pungent humour of the author of Truckleborough Hall and Douglas Jerrold; the neatly-wrought fiction of the author of Chartley; a clever parallel by the author of Sketches of Corfu; and a tale of ancient history, by W. C. Taylor, LL.D.; besides a few jaunty papers by the Editor: but one of the most striking stories is the Countess, by the Hon. Mrs. Erskine Norton. Our extract is without a name, but of untiring interest :]

A TALE OF THE NORTH ROAD.

"Le vrai n'est pas toujours vraisemblable." THE desolate range of chalk hills, just beyond Dunstable, seems, from a very early period, to have been a kind of " land-debateable," of honest men and rogues. From those days, when the toiling monk, seated at his desk, in the sunny oriel, set about inditing every particular which his wonder-loving contemporaries detailed to him, to those matter-of-fact times, when the "penny-per-liner," in his Grub-street attic, manufactured "horrid murders," and "highway robberies," for the delectation of the readers of the Flying Post and Daily Courant, was this warfare, in which, as generally happens, the rogues had the best of it, there carried on. But as might well be expected, the tales of the monkish chronicler far exceed, in picturesque interest, those of the Grab-street wonder-maker. The picture of the band of bold outlaws, issuing from their leafy coverts among the Bucking hamshire woods, and attacking the rear guard of the kings household, as, with their heavily laden wains, they journeyed along at the rate of three miles an hour, towards the palace of Dunstable, possesses far more of the romantic, than the account of "the fair complexioned young man, with brown Ramilies wig and suit of light chocolate, who, attended by six men, did, on the night of the 17th instant, set upon the York Dispatch, and did take from thence all the trunks, mails, and bag gage, shooting the coachman dead upon the spot, and grievously wounding two gentlemen, whose names we forbear at the present to mention."

Rather more than one hundred years ago, a singular occurrence on this "land-debate able" took place, the particulars of which we will now proceed to relate to our readers.

It was autumn, and evening was just closing in, when a horseman stopped at the small inn that stood at the extreme margin of this celebrated part of the Northern Road; and, ere the landlord was aware of the presence of

a guest, he had dismounted, and entered the bar.

"A cold and bad night coming on, your honour," said Boniface, with one of his lowest bows; for, partly by the fading light, and partly by the cheerful blaze of the large fire, he had already discovered, that the cloak in which the stranger was wrapt was of the finest scarlet cloth, and that the narrow gold lace that edged the three-cornered hat was no counterfeit, but the genuine manufacture of Little Britain. Satisfied, therefore, that the stranger must have "money in his purse," he proceeded to suggest the propriety of preparing a warm posset for the master, and a feed of corn for the horse.

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"No, no, master landlord," said the stranger, a draught of your best ale will do; I've some miles to ride to-night."

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Surely your honour can never think of crossing the hill," cried Boniface; " 'tis perilous, indeed, and night coming on."

"Alack, sir!" interposed the hostess," "tis indeed a sad night-it will rain, your honour, and perhaps snow. Farmer Gubbins' lad, this time last year, went out to seek some sheep, on just such a night, and he was found next morning, your honour, stiff, quite stiff."

"But, good dame," replied the stranger, laughing; " he had but two legs to help him, and I have four.

"Ay, sir, but the road is desperately bad;" persisted the landlady, determined to make a bold stroke for a guest.

“And truly, your honour," responded the landlord, taking up the cue, a gentleman's coach and six broke down, near the top of the hill, though three boys were scotching the wheels; there is a great pit-fall, too, out yonder."

"But, good man, you forget the moon that is to rise in half an hour;" said the stranger, and he drew from his pocket a huge, gold repeater, of almost the size and shape of a turnip.

"Your honour had better be cautious;" whispered the landlady, pointing to the adjoining kitchen, where several rustics were sitting.

The stranger laughed at her praiseworthy caution. "Nay, good woman, I have no fear of highwayman.'

"Heaven grant your honour may meet none !-but your honour had better stay."

"I cannot, my good woman,-I leave England to-morrow; so be quick."

"Then your honour will go on?" said the landlord, bringing the pewter tankard, and the long stemmed glass. "But I trust," he continued, lowering his voice, and looking oracular-" you carry but little about you."

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Naught but what I can well afford to lose," replied the traveller, with a careless laugh, and a slap on his waistcoat pocket.

A deep, but suppressed sigh seemed to

form an echo to these words; and the traveller looked toward the kitchen from whence it appeared to proceed; the rustics, however, who were discussing their ale, were in too merry a mood to allow a sigh to escape them; but in the farther corner, he perceived a well dressed young man sitting thoughtfully, with his arms folded on his breast.

"Please your honour, gie us summut to drink your honour's health;" said one of the rustics, coming forward, and making his very lowest bow.

"Well, my lad," replied the good-humoured stranger, "I don't care if I give you a Queen Anne's half-crown, to drink confusion to all Pretenders and Jacobite plots; for they do sore damage to our London trade-so here it is, and much good may it do you."

Not stopping to receive the vociferous thanks of the delighted rustics, the traveller threw down his reckoning, wrapt his scarlet rocquelaure closely round him, and proceeded to remount his good steed. Farewell, master landlord;" said he, "I have never yet met a highwayman, and 'twill be strange if I do to-night."

Onward rode our cavalier, scarcely heeding the coming darkness-perchance, because he was bent on some expidition of high emprize -perchance wrapt in sweet musings on his lady. Alas! romance-loving reader the age of chivalry had long passed away: it was the era of Dutch taste, and of Franch poetrythe prosing, matter-of-fact, earlier half of the 18th century-the year 1720. And well fitted for the age was our hero. He was no knight, pricking forth in search of adventures, but Mr. James Clementson, the "substantial" Hamburgh merchant of Mincing Lane: his thoughts most probably engaged upon his bales of merchandise, or, if a female name arose to his tender recollections, amid the softening influences of the twilight hour," it was that of" De vrow Johanna," the gallant barque which, on the morrow, was to convey him far beyond the pleasant chime of Bow-bells. Well, onward rode Mr. Clementson, looking and steering due southward. But what was that light echo, which followed each almost noiseless tread of Strawberry's hoofs on the soft chalky road? He looked back, and perceived a well-mounted horse-man making directly towards him. Flight was vain, for the middle of that disolate road had scarcely been reached, and his pursurer was gaining fast upon him. "A highwayman, truly!" said he: it is well I have pistols for him."

The well mounted pursuer soon drew up close beside him. “I have a request, sir, which you must not refuse;" said he, in a low and hurried tone.

Mr. Clementson recognised in his pursurer the young man whom he had just before seen seated in the inn kitchen; and struck with his bewildered air, and the irresolute tone in

which he addressed him, his curiosity now almost superseded anger. What is this the new method of saying 'stand and deliver?"" said he.

"I have a ring, sir," replied the other, endeavouring by a violent effort to suppress his agitation, and, extending a ring with the left hand, while the other grasped a pistol; "and for this ring I must have twenty guineas.”

"This is a bad trade," said Mr. Clementson, sternly; at the same time eying the highwayman with a feeling of interest he could not resist; "here's my purse: off with you, and seek a more honest livelihood."

The young man put back the proffered purse: "No, take the ring, I pray you, and give me twenty guineas; lend, lend it me, I pray-only twenty gnineas."

"A strange highwayman!" muttered Mr. Clementson, again surveying the supposed robber with a degree of interest for which he could not account. "Well, then," said he, counting out the twenty guineas," mayhap trouble may have brought you to this; but be warned by me, and seek out an honest calling: so give me the ring, and away.”

"Poor

The stranger eagerly snatched the gold, faintly articulating, "Heaven bless you!" and Mr. Clementson, not sorry to escape so easily from his first encounter with a highwayman, spurred Strawberry onward, first casting a look behind. There sat the young man, motionless on his horse, the hand which had been so eagerly stretched forth to secure the golden treasure still half held out, and his eyes, with a wild and sorrowful expression, fixed vacantly on the lowering sky fellow!" ejaculated the kind-hearted merchant, "I should greatly like to know what hath brought him to this." He now examined the ring for which he had paid so high a price: it was of plain gold, with a good sized mocha stone, evidently not worth much above a pound; but with no inscription, or crest, or initials, or anything that might lead to a discovery of its late owner. Although baffled and disappointed in this, he determined to keep the ring as a memorial of his first encounter with a highwayman; and, no other event befalling him on his journey, the next day saw Mr. Clementson set sail from the shores of England.

We must now request the kind reader to exert that plastic faculty which enables him to" put a girdle round the earth in full ten minutes," and to review the changeful events of a long and busy life in an hour; for we must overleap ten years, and take our stand. ing on Ludgate-hill, on a fine October morning, where we shall again meet our worthy friend Mr. Clementson. Just returned from his long sojourn abroad, he is taking a quiet stroll through London streets, marking the various changes that have taken place during his ten years' absence. And many, as may

be well supposed, were the changes he noted many an old name removed from beneath the well-remembered sign, and many a young tradesman, sprucely dressed with laced cravat and ruffles, occupying that post of honour, in the shop or in the counting-house, where "the old gentleman," in his flowered morning gown and velvet cap, erewhile stood, placidly summing-up his gains, and keeping a sharp look-out over his sons and apprentices. The ten o'clock bell, at length, warned Mr. Clementson of the time for his accustomed lunch, and he turned into the London Coffee-house. One minute, however, he stopped at the door, regardless of the bowing waiters, for the splendid show of plate that graced the windows of the opposite silversmith's shop absolutely dazzled him. He looked up to the sign:--a Mermaiden freshly gilt, upon whose bright mirror, which, according to old established belief, she held in her left hand, appeared the name of "Ellersby." "Ah! so it is:" ejaculated the merchant, musingly; "poor Master Hayward gone to his long home! But who is this Ellersby ?"

"What, my old friend Clementson!" cried a voice at his ear. He turned quickly round, and recognised one of" the old familiar faces" with which he had been long intimate before his sojourn abroad,-Mr. Cooper, the silkmercer of the Blackamoor's Head, in Cheapside. Friendly greetings passed between the pair, and they proceeded to the little private parlour to discuss their pint of Madeira.

"And so poor Hayward is gone!" said the merchant, "and yet he could not have been so very old."

"Master Hayward is alive and well: he has retired from business to his house at Shacklewell, for he leaves it in excellent hands. Ah! 'tis nine or ten years since you left England, else you would have heard of Henry Ellersby. A lucky young fellow is he, for the day after to-morrow he is to marry his master's daughter."

"Lucky indeed!" responded Mr. Clementson, "for Hayward hath doubtless made many a thousand, and there are only, I remember, his two daughters, Chloe and Betty, to share his fortune: then this Ellersby was his apprentice ?"

"He was," replied the mercer, "and such an apprentice! 'Tis said he is come of a good family too, though he never took upon him about it. It is Mistress Chloe that he is to marry-I sold her twelve yards of white ducape but last week for the wedding dress." Two or three other neighbouring tradesmen now came in, each, like the mercer, brim-full of the praises of the fortunate apprentice. Indeed, eulogies upon Henry Ellersby, and anticipations of his happiness, seemed to supersede every other topic. The never-failing subject of Jacobite plots, abuse or commendation of the Walpole administration, the me

nacing aspect of affairs in the Spanish Main, -even city politics, and city news, were forced to give place to details of the handsome furniture purchased for the young couple, to a bill of fare of the wedding dinner, and a sharp dispute between the mercer and his neighbour, a draper, whether Mistress Chloe would wear with her bridal attire of white ducape her Valenciennes lappets and ruffles, or her suit of Brussels lace.

"Well, I'll even go and take a peep at this lucky young fellow," said Mr. Clementson, resuming his three-cornered hat and gold-headed cane: "there must be somewhat very taking, methinks, about this Master Ellersby, since every body speaks so highly of him."

Mr. Clementson crossed the way, and placed himself before one of the windows, poring admiringly, as it seemed, on the tempting display of salvers, tankards, and chocolate pots, but keeping a close watch on the shop-door. His curiosity was not fated to remain long unsatisfied; for an interesting young man, extremely well dressed, came to the door, and having beckoned a carriage that stood a short distance off, handed two ladies into it, and then, with a gentlemanly bow, retired. "Is that Mr. Ellers by ?" cried the merchant, scarcely conscious to whom he addressed the question.

66 Ay, that it is,-Heaven's blessings on him!" said an old woman who stood just beside, with a basket of ground ivy: "Yes, 'tis good Mr. Ellersby, the charitablest, worthiest, most religiousest gentleman in London."

"The rascal!" muttered Mr. Clementson, with a tremendous thump of his gold-headed stick," the very rascal who cheated me out of my twenty guineas, and gave me that paltry ring! Here's a world for you! The poor rogue gets hanged, and the rich one laughs at him. Well, my fair sir, you shall have good cause to remember, ere long, the Dunstable road!" Thus saying, he paced onward, scarcely knowing which way he went, turning over in his mind twenty different plans by which he proposed to drag successful villany to light, and uttering splendid tirades against wealthy knaves, which might have thrown a political union into paroxysms of delight. The more violent the grief, it is said, the sooner it will come to an end; and the same may be said of anger. In a short time, wonder, and curiosity, and doubt succeeded. This young man must even at that very time have been an apprentice to Master Hayward; -what therefore more unlikely than that he should have been permitted to absent himself from his master's house for so long? and what, too, more unlikely than that a sober young man of good family should either have stood in need of comparatively so small a sum, or taken that course to obtain it? Many stories, well authenticated ones, had been told of personal resemblance being so strong,

that even intimate friends had been, for a moment, deceived. Might not this be the case here? Still, while allowing, and even willing to allow, the full weight of these doubts, the conviction that Henry Ellersby, the silversmith of Ludgate-hill, was the highwayman in the encounter on the Dunstable road, returned with overmastering force to Mr. Clementson's mind. But this conviction was now associated with many mitigating circumstances. Although proffered the full purse, the young man resolutely refused to take more than the twenty guineas, while even that he would not receive without the exchange of his ring; and then arose vividly to his recollection, the motionless attitude, the half-extended arm of the young man, when he last saw him on the darkening road, and that look of wild and fixed despair which he cast on the lowering sky.

Hours passed away ere Mr. Clementson could satisfy himself as to what course he should adopt, and the bells had now chimed four. The hitherto crowded streets were beginning to be deserted, both by belles in brocade, and thrifty housewives in calimanco, all homeward bound to refresh themselves with their early cup of bohea, when Mr. Clementson again found himself before the door of the Mermaid. He looked into the shop, now empty, and took a close view of its master, who was standing apparently looking over the ledger." It must be he," said the merchant, and entering, he asked for Mr. Ellersby.

The genteel, interesting young man came forward, and respectfully inquired the wishes of his new customer.

"I have been many years abroad, Mr. Ellersby," said the merchant," and I have some foreign money which I would wish to sell for old gold and silver." The young man bowed assent, and requested his customer to walk farther in. Mr. Clementson drew a Dutch ducat from his purse, and threw it on the counter. "I must have twenty guineas for this," said he.

"Twenty guineas!" cried the silversmith, in uncontrolable surprise.

"Yes, twenty guineas," said Mr. Clement

son, firmly.

"Good sir, what can you mean? it is scarcely worth ten shillings!"

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Very likely, Mr. Ellersby, very likely; but what say you to this ?" and he removed the glove from his hand; "Ten years since I paid twenty guineas for this very ring."

The young man clasped his hands in agony "You did sir, you did! and principal and interest both are at your service. But O, sir, spare me-no, not me, but the worthy family that know not of this my only crime !"

"This seems a strange affair;" said Mr. Clementson, much moved at the extreme agitation of the young man: "yet do not distress

yourself, but tell me how it came to pass that on that one evening, you came to lay aside an honest and respectable calling to enact the highwayman on the Dunstable road ?”

"I will tell you sir, for you have a right to know all," returned the young man, glancing a hurried look around him; "but,-but-Mr. Hayward is now in the counting-house: might I ask so great a favour, as that you would call on me any time in the evening? The money I have at hand, and I will instantly count it out to you.”

"I will call on you an hour or two hence," replied Mr. Clementson. "In the meantime be not cast down; your secret will be safe with me; and loath indeed should I be to disturb Master Hayward's good opinion of you; so farewell!"

The kind-hearted merchant returned to the opposite coffee-house, and sought to beguile the time by turning over a file of old newspapers, when the following advertisement struck his eye. "If the gentleman drest in a scarlet roquelaure, and mounted on a strawberry horse, who, on the night of the 14th of October, 1720, met a young man near Dunstable, and received from him a gold ring with a mocha stone, will call upon Dr. Calamy, in Charterhouse-square, his loan, with the interest thereon, will be repaid with many thanks." Surprised and delighted at this additional proof that the good opinion which he could not help forming of the young silversmith, was well founded, Mr. Clementson turned over the other papers, and found the same advertisement iterated, and re-iterated. "Poor fellow, poor fellow!" ejaculated he, "it must have been some strange chance indeed that forced him to this. Well, I know not how it is, but I feel greatly interested in him."

Punctual to his appointment, Mr. Clementson soon after knocked at the now closely barred door of the Mermaid, and was ushered into the counting-house; Mr. Ellersby soon after appeared, and casting a suspicious look around, as though he really believed the old proverb, "walls have ears," counted out the money, which he placed before his guest; while, in a low and agitated tone, he said, “ It appears, sir, that you have heard of my good fortune. Alas! had any of my kind neighbours known half the sorrow I have suffered on account of this my great crime, they would soon have retracted their opinion of my happiness."

"Do not distress yourself any longer on this account," said our merchant, kindly; "I have seen your advertisements, and reference to a worthy minister who, I am sure, would never give his countenance to any one undeserving of it; so proceed, I pray you: tell me what led to it, and then let it be dismissed for ever from your mind."

“ I will, sir.—Through the great kindness

of a friend,—indeed, the only friend of my late mother, when my apprenticeship was half completed, I was transferred from a very incompetent master, to the care of good Mr. Hayward. I had been with him not more than a year, when I received intelligence of the dangerous illness of my mother, and I requested permission to go and see her. Although he was on the eve of a journey, he kindly consented, and, as he was going by the Dispatch, he granted me the use of his horse. Would that that kindness had never been granted, for then I could not have followed you! I soon arrived at Dunstable, but it was only to see my mother reduced so low as to be unable to leave her poor cottage, from whence the landlord daily threatened to eject her, on account of arrears of rent. Almost beside myself, with barely more money than would serve to carry me back again, I went to the landlord, a proud and a wealthy man; but the only answer I received was, that she must remove on the morrow. Scarcely knowing what did, I entered the inn kitchen, where I first saw you, and sat down to think, -but no, I could not think,-to lament over, -O! to curse this hard fate. Twelve pounds were owing for rent alone; and where was I to raise them? My mother's friend was dead-Mr. Hayward was on a long journey. To whom could I look, and look for aid by the morrow? And then, when I revolved in my mind the scanty wardrobe, the wretched income of my poor mother, compared with her former condition, your merry laugh rung on my ear, and your well filled purse glittered to my frenzied imagination like the delusive well-spring that mocks the thirst of the eastern traveller; and then, more maddening than all, when I heard you boast, proud and heartless as it seemed to be, that all that glittering treasure you could well afford to lose, the temptation overcame me-I rushed to the stable, saddled my swift-footed grey, and galloped after you."

"And truly you were greatly tempted," said the kind hearted merchant, "but pro

ceed."

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Truly I was, sir; and yet let no man say that he is forced to do evil. Better thoughts arose in my mind, even while I was pursuing you; and once I had almost turned my horse's head and gone back ;—but distrust prevailed: Twenty guineas,' said I, will pay all, and leave my mother sufficient to carry her to London; yet how is it to be raised? I will not be the highwayman though I act his part, for I will give my ring as an acknowledgment that the money shall some day be paid.' Miserable subterfuge! it could not disguise from my conscience even then, that I was indeed a robber. But O! how bitterly did I feel that truth when the forbidden gold actually touched my hand, and this remembrance has haunted me through many an

anxious day, and many a restless night. At length, after nearly three years of anxiety, I opened my mind to Dr. Calamy, on whose ministry we attended, and told him my fatal secret; but still, although from that time to this, I have caused advertisements to be inserted in the papers, I never received any intelligence. O! sir, I thank Heaven that 1 have at last seen you, for you know not the load of trouble that is now removed from my mind."

"Think no more of it from henceforth, Mr. Ellersby," cried Mr. Clementson; "I only regret that you did not make me acquainted with your circumstances, for the purse and all its contents should have been at your service. So your mother was of a good family you say? What, did she marry contrary to their wishes? Alas! I have great reason to lament that such things are sometimes scarcely forgiven."

"It was so, sir; my mother so greatly offended my grandfather by her marriage, that even after my father's death, and when she was reduced to very great distress, he absolutely forbade her even to cross the threshold of Mickleham Hall."

"Of Mickleham Hall! her name then

was

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Mary Clementson," returned the young man with a sigh.

"O, my nephew!-my only nephew!" cried the merchant overjoyed; "Only three days since I returned to Old England, wealthy indeed! but sad at heart, for methought I had no relation in the wide world wherewith to share it. Thank Heaven! to-day I have found a relation, a son of my dear sister, Mary Clementson. This is the happiest day of my life, ay, the happiest, my own nephew; for old James Clementson has found a staff for his age, and an heir to his fortune, in his dear sister's son, Henry Ellersby."

H. L.

cumstances of the ring, and the ducat, for [The foregoing tale is no fiction; the cirwhich twenty guineas were asked, actually took place. The silversmith subsequently became one of the leading men in London, and his name was mentioned to the writer.

be sufficient to name L. E. L., T. K. Hervey, Among the poetical contributors, it will Delta, and Agnes Strickland, to guarantee the

reader a rich and varied treat. Our extracts are-]

ON MY GREY HAIRS.-BY W. JERDAN. TEN years agoue, ye monitors, How I abhorred your hue, And plucked you singly from your hold, As if I'd conquer you!

And so I did, like knight of old

Who hundreds overthrew ;

And fancied immortality

More sure, the more he slew!