Original. HEREWARD, THE HUNTER. BY THE AUTHOR OF "CROMWELL," "THE BROTHERS," ETC. THE evening of a summer's day was rapidly approaching, and though the sun was still above the horizon, filling the heavens with a soft and rosy light, he had yet sank so low, that his long rays were intercepted by the gigantic trees, which, at the period of our tale, flourished in one unbroken tract of forest over the swampy plains, now bare and woodless, of Cambridge and the isle of Ely. Dreary and desolate as is the present aspect of those vast, open marshes, which have succeeded to the boundless woodlands, far gloomier and sterner was their character in the first century, reckoned from the Norman conquest. So wild, indeed, and savage was the nature of these solitudes, that, till the hapless day when England yielded to the fierce and tyrannous foreigner, no foot but of the roaming hunter ventured to tread their black and treacherous morasses; which, although bearing a thick growth of alder, and marsh willow, with here and there a group of mighty ashes towering above the stunted underwood and tall rank sedges, offered no sure foundation to the tread of man or beast, and held forth no inducement save in the myriads of aquatic fowl which had bred, almost undisturbed, for ages, in their sequestered pools and perilous quagmires. But when the insatiate victor had seized upon the fairest and fattest of the land, as lawful spoil of war-when it was found by the unhappy Saxons that neither the mail-shirt of the warrior, nor the grey cassock of the monk, was proof against the rage of Norman persecution-thousands of outlaws fled for safety to those impenetrable fastnesses, wherein they dwelt for many a year, defying the relentless enmity of the usurpers, fearless and free, and happier far than those of their own race who, seeking by submission, and on sufferance, to hold precarious tenure of the lands once their own, dragged out a wretched and degraded life, the serfs and bondsmen of their imperious conquerors. Into the depths of this stern wilderness, the boldest of the Norman barons had never even dreamed of venturing; and if, at times, necessity compelled them to traverse any one of the few roads which had been carried through its borders, they marched as in a hostile country, with scouts and prickers in advance, with vizors closed, in complete panoply, and even thus, in awe and apprehension, so daring and so dauntless were its dwellers, when in the limits of their own impregnable demesne. It was by one, the most frequented, of these roads leading through Huntingdon from the metropolis to the more northern districts, that at the hour we have just described, two men were lying in concealment, watching, as it would seem, for the approach of travellers. The spot was one, if their intent were violence or plunder, as something in their aspect seemed to indicate, most singularly adapted to their purpose. The narrow causeway, floored by rude logs, with the black loam forced up through their interstices at every step that pressed them, was skirted on the left by an extensive fen; the soil of which, half mud, half water, could evidently bear the weight of no more bulky visitor than the curlews or herons which flapped over its surface, or waded in its slimy waters. On the right hand, the earth was firmer, as might be judged from the dense thicket which embowered it, with many a timber-tree, of venerable age, and bulk proportionate, lifting its dark head, clearly defined, against the ruddy sky; but from this island of the marsh, the road was separated by a wide, sluggish stream, soaking its way through moss and mire, between deep banks of tremulous unstable bog. Beside this stream, concealed by the thick foliage of the alders, lurked the two men alluded to above-both Saxons by their aspects, for both were strong and muscular of limb, blue-eyed, and yellowhaired, with fair complexions, where their skin had been defended from the summer's sun and winter's storm, which had tanned all parts exposed to their inclemency into one general tint of ruddy brown. One of the two, and, as it would seem from the deference shown to him by his companion, the superior person, was, indeed, of size, almost gigantic; considerably above six feet in height, broadshouldered, and deep-chested, with muscular and brawny limbs, he yet gave promise of activity scarcely inferior to his strength-his features were decidedly, although not eminently, handsome, with a frank, open, and intelligent expression, and animated by a glance of bold and reckless daring. He wore above his close-curled auburn hair, an open morion or bacinet of steel, once brightly polished and adorned with curious carving, but now completely embrowned by the rust, which had been suffered to encroach upon its surface, partly, it might be, because its present dinginess of hue was more congenial to the habits of its wearer, than the ostentatious brilliancy with which it had once glanced to every wandering sunbeam. The remainder of his dress was a steel-shirt or hauberk of the antique and uncouth form peculiar to the Saxons, consisting of rude rings of iron, not linked into each other, but sewed upon a leather cassock edgewise, with hose and buskins of tanned deer-skin; about his neck was slung by a stout chain, the ponderous gisarme, or double-headed bill, which had been from the earliest times, the weapon of the Saxon race, a long, broad, twoedged wood-knife, thrust carelessly into his girdle, and two short, massive boar-spears in his hand, completed his equipment. His comrade was attired in garments similar in shape, though of materials even coarser, consisting chiefly of the skins of animals, dressed, for the most part, with the hair upon them-he, also, wore a headpiece and offensive weapons, like those of his superior, but no coat of mail or hauberk. The eyes of both were fixed intently on the farthest point at which the road was visible toward the south; and by their attitudes, and the expression of their anxious and excited countenances, it could be seen at once that they were listening anxiously for some expected sound. "Twas but the wind, again!" exclaimed the younger of the two-"'twas but the wind stirring the tree-tops, Hereward! The sun is sinking fast; we shall not have them here, I trow, this evening." "Tarry awhile-they will be here anon, good Elbert ; two of their horses would fall lame, I know full well, "'Tis but the chain that holds yon ash from falling. Ringan, let slip a link! but tell me, Hereward, what bride doth Americ lead with him? I knew not he was wedded." this morning-that would delay them somewhat. Americ || consisted of some ten or twelve armed men, well-mounted de Bottetourt is not the man to halt, or turn aside, till and accoutred in the complete panoply of the victorious he have reached his harbor for the night-especially with Normans, besides two waiting-women riding among the his bride, that should be of the company! He will not|| spear-men on mules or small-sized hackneys, and a horserest, I warrant thee, till he has lodged her safe with the litter, with close curtains, the usual conveyance, in that proud priests of Huntingdon. No! no! good Elbert, early age, for ladies of distinguished birth. Scarce had tarry and list, awhile, they will be here anon. Hist! he noted these particulars, before the outlaw saw that the hist what sound was that? Sure 'twas the clink of Normans once again had put themselves in motion. steel." Three men-whom his quick eye at once detected, by their less cumbersome accoutrements, and the long-bows they bore, already bent, with arrows on the string, to be the far-famed archers who had performed such fatal feats upon his countrymen at Hastings-led the advance at a pace as quick as the roughness of the unsafe causeway would permit; these were succeeded, at a short distance, by the same number of those light-armed horsemen, called hobblers, from the small, active animals which they bestrode, with their long lunces in the rest-the centre, which consisted of Sir Americ, mounted on his barbed war-horse, with his esquire, and two veteran men-atarms, all sheathed from head to heel in complete harness, rode close behind the hobblers, the females bringing up the rear under the escort of two more stout archers. It was, indeed, though small, a gallant and a formidable body; and on firm open ground, with enemies to meet them "manfully," as the phrase ran, "under shield," they would have cut their way, unscathed, through five times their own number of assailants, fighting on foot with bill and bow-spear. But he with whom they had to do, knew well the irresistible and fiery valor of the Norman onslaught-knew well the dogged hardihood of his own stubborn countrymen!-closely had he considered, and with accurate and wary calculation noted the disadvantages to which each mode of fighting was most Before he had well finished speaking, his follower left liable-and, with a full appreciation of the high courage his side, and instantly was lost to sight amid the tangled of his enemies, and of that practice in the use of arms branches of the thicket; at the same moment a loud and which rendered every Norman confident and secure of long-drawn cry was heard at a considerable distance || victory, he had so laid his plans, as, while exposing to southward, aud while its echoes were yet ringing through every possible risk and disadvantage the detested Nor the forest, a crash, as of a huge tree falling suddenly, || mans, to bring out the peculiarities of the Saxon characarose from the same quarter, and instantly a second and|| ter and their undisciplined but daring energies with the a third report of the same nature, were heard in quick most powerful effect. succession. "Nor is he," replied Hereward, in a deep voice, that actually quivered with the violence of his excitement "nor, by the soul of Hengist, shall be! but, an' he could, he would wed Edith, the bright daughter of old Lancelot Valletort-and she, they say, abhors him. A curse upon the base marauder! He knows no more of courtesy or gentleness toward dame or damsel, than of good faith, or truth, or mercy toward men! May his soul find no rest hereafter, for his vile carcass I will take || order with it, and that speedily! And lo, I hear the trampling of their horses!" and as he spoke, he laid his ear close to the margin of the sluggish stream. "I hear them now, distinctly; they have already passed our sta- || tion! Hist, Ringan, hist! be ready. Hie to our comrades, Elbert; when they shall hear me shout, let them cast loose the lashings, and cut clear the trees, as speedily as may be-but till I cry St. George, let no man quit his covert, and as ye love your lives, let no man harm the lady. I care not if by chance, or by design, but whoso harms one hair of her, dies ere he may crave mercy!" The party, which had been expected by the foresters, might now be seen threading the perilous and toilsome windings of the road, and as the distant yell rang on the summer air, and was succeeded by the echoes of the falling timber, Hereward-known far and wide through England, as the most free and fearless of his persecuted race, known to the Saxon as the boldest and most uncompromising friend of his unhappy kinsmen, and to the Norman, as the most dangerous and deadly foeman they had found, since first they landed on the white cliffs of Sussex-Hereward, surnamed the Hunter, looked forth with eager scrutiny to note what the effect should be of these unwonted sounds on his approaching victims. He might behold them pause, and halt irresolutely for a moment, moving up close together as if to hold brief council. Ere they moved on again, a horseman dashed up at hard gallop from the rear, and held some converse with the leader of the little party, which, as it seemed, "Mine! mine!" he muttered, as he saw them entering the toils, "they are all mine, already! Soul of my father, triumph! Mother, thou art avenged!-He, whose accursed hand quenched with your blood the embers of the hospitable hearth, that never warmed a villain till on that hapless night when he craved food and shelter-craved entrance only to betray-shall glut the raven and the fox, ruthlessly slaughtered by his weapon whom he made an orphan. Triumph! rejoice, I say. Souls of the murdered dead!-ye are avenged already!" Well was Sir Americ de Bottetourt known, and widely, and with good cause, was he dreaded through the green confines of that lovely but unhappy island, which he and his usurping comrades had watered with the best blood of its natural owners. In his first youth when the red field was fought which had consigned fair England to the Norman race for ever, he had yet ridden through the bloody fray side by side with the bravest; and, gifted forthwith by the Duke, with a rich fief torn from its right state of matters between the lady and her lover, if lover it be right to term him, who had no mood of gaiety or softness, even for a moment's space-who never offered any admiration, never showed any kindness, never feigned any courtesy, much less affection. Such, then, for months, had been the state of matters, when it was suddenly announced that on a near-appointed day, Alice would be surrendered by her father into the hands of Sir Americ; for the purpose, it was understood, of being under his protection conducted in all honor to a wellknown and celebrated nunnery of Yorkshire, the abbess of which was sister to the puissant Baron-there to remain till such time as she should submit herself with no more of reluctance or delay to the high destiny which waited her. The route by which they must proceed, lay, for a space, along the outskirts of the desolate and dreaded tract of fen and forest, which was in those days tenanted so wildly by the unconquered Saxons; and as Sir Americ's name was hated by these savage foresters with no small or unmerited degree of detestation, it had been deemed advisable to travel northward with a powerful and well-armed escort-more, perhaps, as a matter of precaution, than of necessity, for, although, since they had been led by Hereward, the Saxons had increased amazingly in boldness-although they had in many instances surprised, and pitilessly slaughtered those of their oppressors whom they found wandering alone, or with but slight attendance, in pursuit of the woodland game among their perilous fastnesses-they had not yet attained to such a pitch of absolute audacity as would have prompted them to attack men-at-arms, equipped in complete panoply of war, and on their guard no less against the hidden ambush, than the bold front of violence. possessor, he had, in fact, been trained up from his very || sible to gain. Such had been now, for many months, the boyhood to deeds of barbarous and unrelenting cruelty. He was, indeed, that rare occurrence among men, even partly civilized, a human monster. Though at this period, when the conquest was in fact but half accomplished, all Norman Barons were tyrannical and grasping, and, if not actually cruel, reckless, at least, of bloodshed, none equalled Americ de Bottetourt for dread intensity of evil. To him, a Saxon life was as that of the boar or deer, or even of less value. The slightest pretext was sufficient to justify the utmost violence to all of that degraded race-the temporary tenure of a few fertile acres, or the supposed possession of a few hoarded angels, was ample cause for the death-warrant of a Saxon Franklin; while beauty or accomplishment, or even youth itself, was held excuse for the worst injury to his defenceless family. Skilful, no less than brave, in fight, this savage Baron had continually risen in the estima- | tion of the successive monarchs who had held sway in England; had constantly received fresh fiefs, fresh appanages; but still the wealthier and the more powerful, the more ambitious he became of greatness, and the less scrupulous of means or measures. Licentious as he was avaricious-when he had passed already the midyears of manhood-when age, no less than fiery passions, and exposure to the scorching heat of summer, and the keen frosts of winter, had ploughed a thousand deep, deforming wrinkles on his harsh features, and sprinkled his || dark locks with snow-he had cast on the lovely Alice de Valletort an eye of fierce desire. What were the secret links, none knew, by which the fierce and overruling spirit of Sir Americ had tramelled the whole soul of this lady's father a man, who ever of a timid and avaricious, rather than bold or grasping spirit, now, in his age, had yielded himself up altogether to the direction of his sterner neighbor, whom, even while he tremblingly obey- || ed his slightest mandate, he did not even feign to honor, much less to esteem. Her absolute reluctance to the marriage, nay, more, her utter hatred of the man, had been, for months, the topic of almost universal conversation; for so widely had the fame of her unrivalled charms been circulated, that in that age of chivalry and generous adventure numerous were the young and gallant cavaliers who would have deemed it no slight privilege to be permitted to adopt the colors of the lovely Alice at tilt or tournament; and whom, not even the fierce jealousy and savage prowess of her avowed admirer, could deter from offering at the beauty's footstool, the tribute of their It was, then, in no placid mood that Americ de Botadmiration. All their endeavors were, however, vain; tetourt saw the sun gradually sinking behind the tall and when it was discovered that the bright damsel, trees, which now fringed on every side the darkening though she had eyes to glance, and lips to smile at times horizon; and little was his hope of making good his pasupon some favored gallant, had yet no heart to yield-sage without blows and bloodshed; for he was not unconor if she had, possessed not the poor option to bestow it || scious of the bold valor of the Saxon outlaw, nor of the where she pleased-when it was seen that if she caught deadly cause he had for waging war to the last extremity the dark eye of Sir Americ gazing on her unwonted against himself, especially, as the most hated individual mood of merriment, she broke off like a guilty thing of a detested race. detected in commission of some desperate offence, and voluntarily, as it would seem, submitted herself to his imperious will-men ceased to strive for that return of courtesy, at least, if not affection, which, while it could be sought for only at considerable risk, it seemed impos It had been Americ's intention to pass the dangerous morass, in which, if any where, he might expect to meet with interruption, at a much earlier hour of the day than that at which he reached it. Two of the horses of his train had fallen lame upon the route, and much time had elapsed before he had been able to replace them; still, he had hoped to cross the causeway before the sun should set, and therefore had pressed onward, having, in truth, no alternative but so to do; for after he had left Cambridge, which was already miles behind him, there was no hostelry or even cottage on the road, wherein it would have been advisable, or even possible, to pass the hours of darkness. Drawing up, therefore, his small band according to the method most approved in those days of incipient discipline, he clasped his vizor, felt that his ponderous sword was ready to his grasp, and advanced, not without something of unwonted trepidation, at a hard trot into the perilous defile. Already was above one half of its length || rough and broken causeway, driving at every stroke the safely passed; and already had Sir Americ begun to mud and slime high into air behind them. If they might deem the apprehensions, he had of late entertained, but succeed in passing, ere the large tree should fall, it causeless, and all unworthy of himself-when from his was most probable that the whole party would escape; rear, wildly re-echoed from the thick-set stems of a dim for, cutting on the causeway at right angles, not half an grove which he had just cleared, without hearing sound arrow-flight beyond the thicket, an open glade extended or seeing sight that could have led him to suspect the with firm soil and good footing quite to the rear of the presence of a living being, there rose a long loud yell, Saxons; so that, the angle gained, the volleys of the succeeded instantly by the quick clang of axes, and ere a Norman archery would have commanded their position, moment had elapsed by the tremendous crash of falling and rendered it impossible for them to carry their annoytimber. Scarce had Sir Americ paused to listen to the ance farther. On they went, gallantly and fast-scatterunusual and unwelcome sound, before the keen and craftying, however, as one horse outstripped the other—with veteran, whom, in consideration of those very qualities, he had appointed to bring up his rear, dashed up at a hard gallop to his side. "We shall be set upon, sir, instantly," he cried, the moment he was near enough to suffer his words to be audible. "There be a score or two of Saxon varlets down in the thicket yonder, and they have felled some three or four tall trees across the causeway. Retreat is hopeless!" "Retreat!" echoed the haughty Baron. "Who would retreat before a Saxon! forward, brave hearts, and if the dogs find heart to shew themselves, 'fore God and our Lady, but we will pin them to the earth with our good lances. On, archers, and look sharp-let not a villain show his head above these cursed bushes, but mark it with a cloth-yard arrow. Forward! Saint Genevive for Americ!" Such were the words with which the Norman, adopting the array which has been heretofore described, dashed onward—while from behind, nearer at every instant, and more near, rang the wild whoops and yells which || had in the first instance announced the presence of the enemy. "Damian, they be behind us yet," he said, addressing himself in a whisper to the veteran 'squire who rode beside his rein-"behind us all. Beshrew me, but I think we shall outstrip them!" "Look! look! Sir Americ," shouted the old 'squire, almost in the selfsame instant, pointing with his long lance toward the ash-trees of which Hereward had spoken. "Look! my good lord, a chain. Yon ash is half cut through-if it fall we are lost!" Even as he spoke, the chain which up to this time had sustained the mighty tree, swung free-the branches swayed and cracked, and the gigantic trunk groaned, as it reeled and tottered to and fro. "On, archers!" shouted Americ—“on, archers, for your lives; get past yon ash-tree into the open glade on for your lives-and shoot your deadliest, or we are but lost men!" their long-bows already bent, and arrows notched upon the string. Fearful, indeed-it was a fearful momentthe mighty ash-tree rocked and creaked audibly-one archer has already passed it-lo! he has halted-raised his bow to his eye-that twang has rung the knell of one of the assailants-St. Genevive, St. Genevive, for Americ!" The second reaches it-even now his charger-goaded to his full speed-is springing past the butt-he is safeand the third close behind!-No! no!-a louder, deeper groan of the huge tree! and down-down it came, thundering to the earth! Heaven, what a fearful sighteven as it fell, the hapless Norman who rode second, dashed into the dread space, and on the instant, horse and man were crushed by the resistless weight into one shapeless mass of quivering and gory carnage-the third man close to the ruin, had yet the time to note it, and with a desperate effort succeeded in arresting the speed of his fiery horse-and now he stood, the noble animal quivering in every limb with terror, its head curbed to its very chest by the strong rider, who, unmoved even by that fearful peril, watched with a steady eye for the appearance of a foeman. Not long did he wait, for, ere the echoes of that thundering shock had passed away— cheerily shouting to his comrades, Hereward sprang upon the fragment of the tree, which yet stood upright in the ground, as if to overlook the field. "Down with another tree, my men! One more," he shouted, "and they are ours, beyond hope of rescue!" The moment he appeared, the arrow whistled from the bowstring of the Norman, but whether it was that his nerves were shaken by the appalling sight he had that instant witnessed, or that the Saxon, as men said, of a truth, bore a charmed life, the shaft sung past his head, and, quivering, stood fixed in a tree hard behind him, buried there almost to the feather. "Saint George for merry England!" shouted the outlaw in return, and without pausing even to take aim hurled the short boar-spear which he held in his right hand, against the archer. Hurtling through the air, it smote him at the junction of the gorget with the breastplate, and driven with resistless force, pierced through and through the neck, and hurled him headlong from his saddle, a dead man ere he touched the earth. At the same Then from the thicket in the front rose, long and loud, the same portentous yell, which had alarmed them from the rear; while, nearer still and nearer, on every side it was repeated, showing that now they were entirely sur-point of time, the clatter of the hoofs of the third archer rounded; and fast and frequent might be heard the ringing clatter of the axes, and the stern voice of Hereward urging the outlaws to their toil. Instant, as Americ spoke, the archers dashed their spurs into their chargers' flanks, and sped at a pace actually fearful along the who had passed the tree, and in whom all their hopes of safety were now vested, might be heard, telling of his flight and their abandonment. They were entrapped almost beyond hope of redemption or resistance!-Before them and behind, the road miry ditch, but it was only for a moment-the ponderous axe of Hereward fell like a thunder-bolt upon his headpiece, and crushed the very skull beneath it. was barred by masses of felled timber, which hours of || his hind quarters were engulfed in the tenacious quaglabor would hardly suffice to remove-on their right hand || mire-the rider struggled up for a moment from the a deep and fordless rivulet, with its banks guarded by the ambushed Saxons, and on their left, a dark impassable morass. Yet, still in this extremity, Sir Americ displayed his wonted gallantry and conduct. "Down with your lances!" he exclaimed, “there be no use of them! Out axes, and dismount! You, Damian," he continued, " with Lancelot and Raoul, hew away at yon timber as you best may, to clear a path-we, with God's aid, will guard ye!" "St. George! St. George for merry England!" and planting one foot firmly on the back of the exhausted horse, Hereward sprang acoss the streamlet, followed by all his dauntless comrades, and was assailed immediately by Americ. The fray was ended in ten seconds between the vassals of the Norman and the impetuous outlaws, who, caring for neither wounds nor death, bore them down to the ground by the mere weight of num Down from their saddles sprang the men-at-arms, and in the face of dreadful odds, went steadily, and even cheerfully, about their work. The light-armed spear-bers, and unmercifully slew them to the last man. men clustered about the person of their leader, who, with his long two-handed sword unsheathed, sat perfectly unmoved on his tall war-horse. The two remaining archers had fallen back with the females to that side of the causeway nearest the morass, and therefore least exposed to instant peril. But the plot thickened-for the instant the first blow fell upon the timber, a dozen Saxons showed themselves on the farther side, and with their bills and boar-spears, commenced so violent an assault upon the men-at-arms, as checked entirely their progress. At the same instant, Hereward stepped forward-with a javelin in his right hand, and his huge gisarme in his left-beyond the bushes of the thicket directly in the face of Americ; while half a score, at least, of his rude-give him an axe, good Elbert!" followers, half-armed, and utterly undisciplined, but hardy, bold, and goaded into fury by unnumbered wrongs, appeared behind him. Not so, however, nor so rapidly, was the encounter ended between the Norman Baron and Hereward, the Hunter. Both men of power and muscular strength almost unrivalled, both animated by unusual fury, one fighting for his life, the other, dearer to him than life, for vengeance, they struggled long and desperately. Many and dangerous wounds were interchanged, before Sir Americ's two-handed sword was shivered to the hilt, and himself beaten to his knee by one blow of the Saxon gisarme. "Sir Americ de Bottetourt," exclaimed the Saxon, as he saw his foeman, using the lingua franca, then the sole medium of communication between the hostile races, "this day your hour is come! 'Twas this night, seven years-" "It was," replied the Norman, interrupting him, "this very night, seven years agone, that this hand slew each living dog of your accursed race, save thyself, only, who escaped me then, but to fill up my triumph now. Come forth! and meet thy death, dog, an' thou darest, in fair fight with a Norman noble !" "Heaven judge betwixt us," Hereward hissed between his teeth close-set, and launched his second javelin full at the speaker's body. This time, however, his aim was less true, than before, for grazing the thigh of his enemy, the boar-spear pierced through demipique and housing of the Norman's charger, bearing him earthward in the agonies of death. "Callest thou this fair fight?" shouted the now infuriated Baron, "callest thou this fair fight?-then will we drive ye from your 'vantage! Gilbert, thy light-armed hobbler hath cleared a broader trench than that before thee; over, and charge the dog-there is, I trow, good footing!" Without one word, the young and daring spearman spurred his horse at the fearful leap-the fiery charger faced it gallantly, but in the very act of springing, the treacherous footing failed, and, though he made a noble effort, his fore-feet barely reached the farther brink, while "Not so!" cried Hereward, "not so! with weapons in thy hand shalt thou die, Savage Norman! Thou shalt not boast in Hell that Hereward was cowardly avenged His orders were obeyed without dispute, though evidently with reluctance, and armed anew by his foe's mercy or contempt, Sir Americ renewed the combat. Not long, however, did it now last-for less accustomed to the bill than to the sword, Americ failed to parry the third blow, which, glancing from his head-piece, clove deep into his shoulder, and was immediately succeeded by a fourth, which crushed the helmet like a nutshell, and laid the tyrant at the feet of the avenger, a quivering and lifeless corpse. The last rays of the sun barely sufficed for the conclusion of the fierce encounter, but the pale moon was gleaming through the forest, before the outlaws, with the lady and her female followers, their honorable captives, and treated with due honor, turned to the shelter of their woodland fastness, leaving, as Hereward had boasted, to the raven and the fox, the bodies of their vanquished conquerors. H. A giant mind may be held in suspense; but that suspense must be brief, and the action which follows it will be more decided and energetic in consequence of that determination; just as a stream rushes with greater force for a temporary obstruction. HE who maintains the right, though countenanced by the few, and opposes the wrong, though sanctioned by the many, must forego all expectations of popularity till there shall be less to censure than applaud in human conduct. And when this is the case, the millenium will have dawned. |