had obtained his commission under the White Rose, and was a personal friend of Anthony Monkshaw, that, before evening had lengthened the shadows of the great elm, Master Caxton, with a sufficient comitatus, approached the dreaded precincts of the Templar's Monument; Luke himself acting as their guide through the formidable sepulchre into the souterrain.

The spectacle, which assailed their eyes in the vault, might well stretch to the utmost every feeling of horror and compassion-for there, dimly seen by the lamplight, stood Sir Baldwin, the image of unutterable woe, Floralice fainting in his arms, and at his feet the bloody, putrefying, and unshrouded remains of the murdered Monkshaw.

We would fain hasten over this scene, to which we feel our powers utterly incompetent; but there was one incident which claims to be recorded.

At the direction of Master Tyler, whose wishes were implicitly followed by the much shocked magistrate, Floralice, still insensible, had been conveyed, under the care of her summoned attendants, back to Heronswood; the sad remains of the once redoubtable Franklin were also removed to his Solitary Grange; and Sir Baldwin Hercey, disarmed and strongly guarded, was escorted to Warwick, there to await the result of the inquest.

Luke Tyler and the magistrate were the last to quit the souterrain; they had arrived at the bottom of the long flight of steps which led upwards into the bloody templar's tomb. The sul len swoofs of wind through the long passage behind them, sounded most appalling, and, on the damp steps, which they now began to ascend, the daylight fell in streams of silver and ebony a weltering, cold, and spectral lustre, like the moonbeam.

They continued the toilsome ascent, till the broken side of the supulchre disclosed its orifice, with the green thicket beyond; when, on a sudden, Luke grasped his companion's arm convulsively. Master Caxton turned, and saw his face working with spasms, and his hair erect on his dewy brow; while his eyes were strained upward through the opening by which the unwelcome daylight intruded; and his limbs so utterly failed him, that it required all the nerve of the worthy justice, to get him up the remaining steps into the open air. There Luke soon recovered; recent circumstances easily accounted for his indisposition; and he himself treated it lightly, but it

was neither light nor trifling; for, to his eyes, manifest as the daylight which it obstructed, a figure of giant stature and stalwart limb, arrayed in a tawny leathern jerkin, and a cloak of russet serge, with a fox fur tippet about his shoulders, a collar of blazing suns and roses upon his breast; a red morion, blackened with time stains, hovering over a livid, grisly haired, stony face, and, in his neck, the mortal gash, occupied the broken aperture of the templar's tomb.

They passed on through the wood, and over the very meadow, where Tyler had been so grossly insulted by Monkshaw. The towers of the solitary Grange stood in naked outline against the blue sky, their gaunt uncouth features mocking the ungenial umbrage of their decrepid pine trees.

At length Master Tyler and his companion reached the tower which defended the bridge of Heronswood Hall; when a similar epilepsy, the second time, seized upon the conscience-stricken Luke: and again those dead eyes, half veiled with grisly hair, glared from underneath that dark red cap; and again the fox fur tippet and the tawny and russet clothes, contributed their visionary attributes, so horribly mocked by the phantom glories of the Plantagenet collar, to that angry apparition, whose well known figure needed no herald to Tyler's blood-stained soul.

This time the wretched Luke was so far overcome, that he sank down under the archway, and was carried almost insensible to a bed chamber, followed by a degree of commiseration from those who witnessed his disorder, almost equal to that which they bestowed on their most miserable, but innocent mistress.

The well known circumstance of the factionary enmity, between Anthony Monkshaw, and Sir Baldwin Hercey, combined with the discovery of the latter in such an extraordinary situation, by the dead corse of his supposed victim, was backed by more than sufficient false witness on the part of Luke Tyler, to overwhelm an innocent man; even if that man had not been a distinguished object of suspicion to the government.

Luke, partly from covetousness, and partly with a view to that ulterior use, to which at length he applied it, had, on the very night of the murder, carefully secured old Anthony's sun and rose collar.

So far from his having been intrusted with it by Sir Baldwin, it is a question, whether that devoted being remembered

its existence. And, as to Floralice, Hercey had not indulged his lips even with her name, during his last interview with Tyler; and he had prepared himself for voluntary exile from all his affections and all his hopes, in calm uncomplaining heroism; strong in the panoply of innocence, and consoled by feeling that Floralice never would believe him guilty. But the unslumbering justice of heaven provided for him a happier fate.

If Sir Baldwin had any reason to apprehend that Floralice's confidence in him was staggered upon the first breaking out of this shocking affair; if in their most unexpected interview in the oubliette of the Solitary Grange, the agony of Floralice, at the first sight of her slaughtered parent, had extorted from her such bitter and vehement reproaches against her guiltless lover, as to send him in proud and despairing silence to his dungeon at Warwick; yet, to that very dungeon, did Consolation follow him with her balmy chalice, and Fortitude stood a championess sheathed in adamant at his side.

Generosity's martyr to the last, Baldwin resolved that the fatal truth should descend with him to his grave; not only from a rational conviction that any attempt to rebut the accusation, so welcome to the ruling party, and so reck lessly impledged by Luke Tyler, would be fruitless; but also, from a desire that the heart of Floralice, already so deeply lacerated, should not be further wounded by a late and unavailing proof of his innocence.

As for that unhappy lady herself,-no sooner had she rallied from the consequences of that heart-scathing scene in the Templar's Vault, than not only her love, but her judgment, pronounced it impossible that Baldwin Hercey should be the miscreant he was represented by Luke Tyler.

The die however was cast; the coroner's verdict had consigned Sir Baldwin to a public trial for murder: any attempt at an interview with her devoted lover was on all hands impossible; and Floralice, left to the only resource for the helpless, besieged heaven day and night with prayers that the guilty, and the guilty alone, might be punished.

Master Luke Tyler had, during this interval, greatly withdrawn himself from public; which was the less remarked, as he was the nearest male kinsman to the deceased, and the principal witness for the impending trial.

It was not generally known however,

that, although he resided at the Solitary Grange, Floralice had pertinaciously refused to see him, till the day preceding the trial of Sir Baldwin: and of that interview, extorted from the mourning orphan by his importunity, little was generally divulged, save that Master Luke came forth from the presence of Floralice, a stricken and blasted man, and that the leech who was hastily summoned to his assistance, had great difficulty in restoring him.

It did not transpire till afterwards, that Phyllis, who had entered the room upon a piercing bitter cry from her mistress, declared that in the tapestried parlour, manifested by such sombre light, as one high casement fretted with blazonries admitted, she beheld the apparition of her murdered master, with all his dreadful paraphernalia, the gory gash in his neck, the huge red cap, the fox furtippet, the tawny jerkin, the russet cloak, and the grand golden collar: he stood in the centre of the apartment; his clothes and face blood-bedabbled; his countenance frozen and livid; and his right arm extended towards Floralice, who lay fainting on the floor.

Whether this was, or was not, merely a spectral illusion, such as the harrowing and exciting character of the recent transactions might very naturally produce, we cannot tarry to discuss.

Certain it is, that the same power which took off the wheels from the chariots of the Egyptians, after he had permitted them to plunge undaunted into the abysm of the Red Sea, only to overwhelm them in more inevitable destruction, had now made bare his holy arm.

When Luke Tyler was called upon to give his evidence before the high court of justice, assembled to try this solemn cause,

all his acquaintance were astonished at his altered appearance. His demure and placid demeanour was gone; his eye roved to and fro round the vast hall of judgment, from the pavement of upturned human faces, to the ribbed and arched oak ceiling; from the gothic windows flaming with sun-purpled robes of prelates and princes, to the scarlet-mantled judge, and the gorgeous magnates of the county at his side, who had been attracted by the deeply pregnant interest of the cause.—

His suit of rich mourning habiliments, was singularly marred by the hasty disorder, in which it had been put on ;-a neglect most striking in one, who had hitherto been remarkable for the precision of his dress.

When, however, he was requested by

the judge to state what he knew of this dark affair, Luke seemed completely to have recovered his self-possession. He commenced in a low, clear, and not unmusical voice, by expressing his regret at being called upon to testify against one, whom, till lately, he had held most dear.

Some further glossing about duty to his kinsman, regard to public justice, and so forth, brought him at last to the commencement of his story; the beginning of the end, as it might well be termed.

66

Every inducement, both natural and moral, my lord! urged me to do my endeavour in hunting out the perpetrators of this foul deed, ere these last troubles shook the land, and public justice veiled her head before domestic war. When the peace, for which we are now blessing our prosperous, happy king, had given men leisure to think of their own affairs, my head and heart were sorely exercised by distracted musings upon my poor lost kinsman. At length, my lord! I had a dream

Luke had proceeded thus far, with his eyes obstinately bent upon the earth: here he raised, and directed them towards the judge, and in so doing, his voice was as suddenly arrested as if he had received a blow across his mouth; he stopped, trembled, and gazed earnestly at the judgment-seat; but he mustered effort to suppress his emotion, and, once more casting down his eyes, proceeded with his fictitious narrative; but now he became so confused, so winding, and so obscure, that the judge called upon him to be more concise and lucid in his statements.

Tyler's eye answered the judge's appeal; and again a violent shudder, as of some suppressed sensation, that shook his very life within him, pervaded his whole frame, and he said in hurried

tones:

My lord, it is impossible for me to proceed, while that old man in the red cap is glaring and mowing at me from yonder lattice!"

He pointed upward, to a feature of domestic architecture very common in those buildings, and which I have myself seen at old Haddon Hall, and the castles af Tamworth and Naworth; namely, a wide shallow lattice, of dusky greenish glass, high up in the lofty wall, and communicating either with a chamber, a closet, or a gallery, on the other side; by the means of which, persons from above had the privilege of observing

(themselves unseen) whatever was going on in the hall below.

Every eye now turned, in wondering expectation, to the lattice, which, dull and dark, from its interior situation, exhibited a singular contrast to the other windows, whose coloured and burnished glass neighboured nearer to the sun.

Nothing, however, was then discernible beyond the gloomy panes.

Still, many a hind there was who, when he talked over that day's events by his winter hearth, or among his companions at the sheepcote, used to affirm that a huge red morion, and grisly hair and beard, and dead staring eyes, and hollow, stony jaws, were to be traced on the other side of that umbered lattice.

The trial proceeded: matters, however, seemed to grow more hopelessly confounded with Master Tyler. He no longer pursued his story with downcast eyes, but darted them hither and thither, like lightning, as at first. Rambling, too, and incoherent was his talk.

Nothing but the vital importance of his evidence, and compassion for his emotion (which was only too charitably interpreted), would have induced the court to listen to him.

When the rose and sun collar, was produced, and Luke was asked if he knew it,

"Ay, well enough, well enough, I know it!"

"Had he seen Master Anthony Monkshaw wear it?"

"Have I seen him wear it? shame, shame, my lord! why do you ask me? do you not see he is wearing it now? What mockery is this, to bewilder a man's brains already crazed with sorrow? Ask himself all about it: he is at your side, and he can tell you!-nay! do not whisper with him!-beware your ermine, my lord judge! the Franklin's throat hath bloodied his old fox fur ;-faugh! -see now!-faugh!-how it has smirched your tippet!-ah, hah! the judge himself bloody! nay, then, good night to justice! she ought to be spotless, they say."

The presiding judge, together with the whole range of magnates on the bench, arose in the utmost consternation, but amidst a breathless hush in that appalled assembly, the frantic man proceeded.

"No! no! believe him not, he hath a favour to the prisoner! Sir Baldwin hath bought him off! he will say anythinghe will say,-hush! what does he say False, false, lord judge !—I did not strike

the blow-it was not murder,-it was in self defence-it was for my friend, it was not, not, not murder!"

Terrific was the energy with which Luke uttered the word murder; and it was on his lips, when he fell backward in strong convulsions.

What eye, that turned from this heaven-smitten wretch, to the fettered prisoner, could fail of admitting the conviction of his innocence into the inmost heart!

Baldwin's own sorrows, his own impending doom, were all lost in unfeigned commiseration for agonies himself could never experience.

Beauty is, in itself, a more powerful advocate with us than we often choose to acknowledge! when conbined with worth, it becomes truly powerful; but when exhibited in the person of a generous, uncomplaining, innocent sufferer, it is irresistible;-you would clasp it to your heart, you would lay your life at its feet.

Among the haughty magnates on the judgment seat, Sir Baldwin Hercey had distinguished many, the bitterest antagonists of his political opinions; but when, on the removal of the dying Luke,-Sir Baldwin's manly and modest narrative was heard, not even the judge himself was more forward in descending from his state, to congratulate the knight on his acquittal, than those noble champions of the White Rose, to clasp the right hand of a calumniated and high-minded adversary.

Why more words?

Luke Tyler expired in frantic outpourings of remorse. The outlaw was restored on many a rich manor did the golden coffers of the lady Floralice Hercey rebuild the ruined mansions with tenfold magnificence. Heronswood Hall was abandoned to ivy and jillyflowers, and thieves and gypsies; and to this day the peasantry affirm that the red cap of old Anthony Monkshaw, may be seen in twilight, glooming over his grey locks, and staring eyes, from the hollow and melancholy window frames of The Solitary Grange.

NOTICES OF NEW BOOKS.

ABBOTSFORD AND NEWSTEAD.

UNDER this very "catching title," Mr. Washington Irving gives us a good deal of gossip about Sir W. Scott and Lord Byron. There is a clap-trap in this which is quite unworthy a writer of Mr.

Irving's reputation; but it has no doubt served the purpose of both author and publisher, and as the book contains plenty of extractable matter, the reviewers have of course been lavish in their praises. By the bye, we wish to know why Abbotsford stands before Newstead: does Mr. Irving consider Sir Walter the greater genius? if so, we believe he will not find many Englishman, or foreigners, of the same opinion. There is more exquisite sentiment in a stanza of Don Juan, than in three volumes of Scott, (admirers as we are of nearly all that he has written); not that we commend Don Juan as a poem, or recommend it to the perusal of our children; we merely mention it because we consider it to contain passages far surpassing those which have been lauded in "Childe Harold." But to return to the work which has led us into these remarks: it contains many anecdotes of Scott and Byron, which will doubtless be read with interest; and as the book registers no friendly scandal, we hope to find that it has obtained a favourable reception from the lovers of this kind of gossip. The following passage is taken from the paper entitled "Lake Leman and its associations."

"The morning after my arrival at the inn, which is placed (a little distance from Geneva) on the margin of the lake, I crossed to the house which Byron inhabited, and which is almost exactly opposite. The day was calm but gloomy, the waters almost without a ripple. Arrived at the opposite shore, you ascend, by a somewhat rude and steep ascent, to a small village, winding round which, you come upon the gates of the house. On the right-hand side of the road, as you thus enter, is a vineyard, in which, at that time, the grapes hung ripe and clustering. Within the gates are some three or four trees, ranged in an avenue. Descending a few steps, you see in a small court before the door, a rude fountain; it was then dried up-the waters had ceased to play. On either side is a small garden branching from the court, and by the door are rough stone seats. You enter a small hall, and, thence, an apartment containing three rooms. The principal one is charming,-long, and of an oval shape, with carved wainscoting-the windows on three sides of the room command the most beautiful views of Geneva, the lake, and its opposite shores. They open upon a terrace paved with stone;

on that terrace how often he must have 'watched with wistful eyes the setting sun!' It was here that he was in ripest

maturity of his genius-in the most interesting epoch of his life. He had passed the bridge that severed him from his country, but the bridge was not yet broken down. He had not yet been enervated by the soft south. His luxuries were still of the intellect-his sensualism was yet of nature-his mind had not faded from its youthfulness and vigourhis was yet the season of hope rather than of performance, and the world dreamt more of what he would be than what he had been.

On

"His works (the Paris edition) were on the table. Himself was everywhere! Near to this room is a smaller cabinet, very simply and rudely furnished. one side, in a recess, is a bed,—on the other, a door communicates with a dressing-room. Here, I was told, he was chiefly accustomed to write. And what works? Manfred,' and the most beautiful stanzas of the third canto of 'Childe Harold,' rush at once upon our memory. You now ascend the stairs, and pass a passage, at the end of which is a window, commanding a superb view of the Lake. The passage is hung with some curious but wretched portraits. Francis I., Diana of Poitiers, and Julius Scaliger among the rest. You now enter his bed-room. Nothing can be more homely than the furniture; the bed is in a recess, and in one corner an old walnut-tree bureau, where you may still see written over some of the compartments, Letters of Lady B—.' His imaginary life vanishes before this simple label; and all the weariness, and all the disappointment of his real domestic life, come sadly upon you. You recal the nine executions in one year-the annoyance and the bickering, and the estrangement, and the gossip scandal of the world, and the Broken Household Gods.' Men may moralize as they will, but misfortunes cause error, and atone for it."

NOTES OF A READER.

AN INCIDENT AT SEA.

EACH day reduced, in rapid strides, the span of our voyage, and we began to think of other and different scenes. The Venus was putting on her holiday attire; her suit of sails were changed, her topmasts were scraped and fresh greased, her rigging set up and newly "rattled down," and her sides were in course of painting, while she pursued ber impetuous course, at the rate of eight miles in the hour, through the yielding waters.

Gracious heavens! what sound is

that! The ship heels to the wind, and the curling waters in her wake define, by a circuitous trail, a deviation from her course. The captain's voice is hurried and imperative, and the confusion on deck bespeaks an urgent and a desperate

cause.

We hastened from the cabin as soon as we could recover ourselves from the leeward part of it, where we had been suddenly conveyed by the heeling of the vessel. The crew were collected at the after part of the quarter-deck, hastily preparing one of the quarter-boats: every thing indicated consternation and alarm. "Cut away, my lads!-stand by to pump in," exclaimed Captain Dove.

A heavy, deep-drawn sigh called our attention in a different direction-it was Mrs. Ghumbs on her feet.

"Dear me! what a shocking thing!". she exclaimed, as we exchanged a hasty and inquiring look, and some big round drops started at the moment from her eyes; "I fear there's no chance!"

"Lower away handsomely," continued the captain; and the boat descended to the surface with six of the crew. "Now then, my lads, pull away!-starboard your helm-there, straight as you go;" and every eye was directed to one point, every heart throbbing responsive to the sound of the oars, and the rocking motion of the boatmen.

The ship had been brought round suddenly, and without preparation, the moment the cries of two men, who had suddenly fallen overboard, called attention to their situation; but so great was her velocity, with all sail set going before the wind, that by the time her progress was stopped, their heads were scarce to be seen at the opposite point of a semi-circle of dead water, which marked the course she had taken, and the intervening waves occasionally hid them from our view. The men in the boat, being so much nearer the surface, could not behold even the heads of their unfortunate shipmates: they pulled towards the spot by conjecture, or by the direction given to them by the captain at starting; and we continued to watch their progress with intense anxiety, and with apprehension that the objects of our solicitude would be exhausted before assistance could be afforded them.

There are times when all the faculties of the human soul seem to assume a coordinate rank, and to converge, to concentrate, and interfuse one with another, as if in unison of purpose to produce one great effort, one intense and indivisible