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the door of which is locked upon him. It
may be amusing for the reader to compare his feelings upon these, and from thence form his opinion of the justness of my theory. The following fragment, in which both these manners are attempted to be in some degree united, is offered to entertain a solitary winter's evening.
--- AFTER this adventure, Sir Bertrand turned his steed towards the woulds, hoping to cross these dreary moors before the curfew. But ere he had proceeded half his journey, he was bewildered by the different tracks, and not being able, as far as the eye could reach, to espy any object but the brown heath surrounding him, he was at length quite uncertain
which way he should direct his course. Night overtook him in this situation. It was one of those nights when the moon gives a faint glimmering of light through the thick black clouds of a lowering sky. Now and then she suddenly emerged in full splendor from her veil; and then instantly retired behind it, having just served to give the forlorn Sir Bertrand a wide extended prospect over the desolate waste. Hope and native courage a while urged him to push forwards, but at length the increasing darkness and fatigue of body and mind overcame him; he dreaded moving from the ground he stood on, for fear of unknown pits and bogs, and alighting from his horse in despair, he threw himself on the ground. He had not long continued in that posture when the sullen toll of a distant bell struck his ears he started up, and turning towards the found discerned a dim twinkling light.
Instantly he seized his horse's bridle, and with cautious steps advanced towards it. After a painful march he was stopt by a moated ditch surrounding the place from whence the light proceeded; and by a momentary glimpse of moon-light he had a full view of a large antique mansion, with turrets at the corners, and an ample porch in the centre. The injuries of time were strongly marked on every thing about it. The roof in various places was fallen in, the battlements were half demolished, and the windows broken and difmantled. A draw-bridge, with a ruinous gate-way at each end, led to the court before the building-He entered, and inftantly the light, which proceeded from a window in one of the turrets, glided along and vanished ; at the same' moment the moon funk beneath a black cloud, and the night was darker than ever. All was filent-Sir Bertrand fastened his steed
under a shed, and approaching the house traversed its whole front with light and Now footsteps--All was still as death, He looked in at the lower windows, but could not distinguish a single object through the impenetrable gloom. After a short parley with himself, he entered the porch, and seizing a maffy iron knocker at the gate, lifted it up, and hefitating, at length struck a loud stroke. The noise resounded through the whole mansion with hollow echoes. still again-He repeated the strokes more boldly and louder-another interval of filence ensued-A third time he knocked, and a third time all was still. He then fall back to some distance that he might discern whether any light could be seen in the whole front-It again appeared in the same place and quickly glided away as before-at the same instant a deep ful
len toll founded from the turret. Sir Bertrand's heart made a fearful stopHe was a while motionless; then terror impelled him to make some hasty steps towards his steed—but shame stopt his Alight; and urged by honour, and a refistless desire of finishing the adventure, he returned to the porch; and working up his soul to a full steadiness of resolution, he drew forth his sword with one hand, and with the other lifted up the latch of the gate. The heavy door, creaking upon its hinges, reluctantly yielded to his hand-he applied his shoulder to it and forced it open-he quitted it and stept forward — the door instantly shut with a thundering clap. Sir Bertrand's blood was chilled-he turned back to find the door, and it was long ere his trembling hands could seize it—but his utmost ftrength could not open it again. After