Near thee the hours like moments fleet away;

Absent, they linger heavy on the view:

In life, in death, oh let me with thee stay,

Oh thou most beautiful, most good, most true!

The voice was rich and mellow, with all the cultivation which the art of Italy could at that time bestow. There was no effort, there was nothing forcedevery note seemed as much a part of the expression of the thought as the words in which it was clothed. But there was a fire, a warmth, an enthusiasm in the singer which gave full depth and power to the whole. It was impossible to see him and to hear him without forgetting that he was singing a song composed probably long before, and without believing that he was giving voice, in the only way his feelings would permit, to the sensations of the moment.

Annie Walton knew not why, but her heart beat quickly as she sat and listened, the long black eyelashes of her beautiful eyes remained sunk towards the ground, and her fair cheek became pale as marble. She would

fain have looked up when the song was done, she would fain have thanked the cavalier, and expressed her admiration of his music, but she could do neither, and remained perfectly silent, while her brother remarked the emotion which she felt, and turned his eyes with a smile from her countenance to that of his friend. But the earl too had fallen into thought, and with his hand leaning upon the mandolin, which he had suffered to drop by his knee till it reached the floor, seemed gazing upon the frets, as if the straight lines of ivory contained some matter of serious contemplation. Miss Walton coloured as she marked the silence, and looking suddenly up, said one or two commonplace words which at once betrayed an effort. They served, however, to renew the conversation again. Another and another song succeeded, and after about an hour spent in this manner, the party separated and retired to rest, while Annie Walton asked herself, with an agitated breast, what is the meaning of this? The sensations were new to her, and for more than an hour they banished sleep from her pillow.

We must now change the scene, and, without much consideration of the "pathos and bathos delightful to see," must remove the reader from the higher and more refined society of Lord Walton, his sister, and the Earl of Beverley, to the small sanded parlour of the little alehouse in the village. We must also advance in point of time for about three hours, and put the hour hand of the clock midway between the figures one and two, while the minute hand was quietly passing over the six. All was still in the place, the soldiery were taking their brief repose, except a sentinel who walked up and down, pistol in hand, at each entrance of the village; and the villagers themselves, having recovered from the excitement caused by the arrival of the party and the drinking and merriment which followed it, had taken possession of such beds as the troopers left them, and were enjoying the sweet but hardearned slumber of daily labour.

Two living creatures occupied the parlour of the alehouse, a large tabby cat, who-as if afraid that the mice upon which she waged such interminable and strategetic war might take advantage of her own slumbers to surprise her-had mounted upon a threelegged stool and was enjoying her dreams in peace, curled up in a comfortable ball; and Captain Barecolt who, seated in a wooden arm-chair with his long leg-bones still in their immemorial boots stretched upon another, kept watch, if such it could be called, with a large jug of ale beside him, from which he took every now and then deep draughts, as he mentally declared, "to keep himself awake."

The effect was not exactly such as he expected, for from time to time he fell into a doze, from which a sort of drowsy consciousness of the proximity of the ale roused him up every quarter of an hour, to make a new application to the tankard. At length, feeling

that these naps were becoming longer, he drew his legs off the chair, muttering

"This won't do! I shall have that dried herring, Randal, upon me; I must take a pipe and smoke it out."

And thereupon he moved hither and thither in the parlour, looking for the implements necessary in the operation to which he was about to apply himself. These were soon found, and a few whiffs soon enveloped him in a cloud as thick as that in which Homer's Jove was accustomed to enshrine himself on solemn occasions; and in the midst of this, the worthy captain continued ruminating upon the mighty deeds he had done and was to do. He thought over the past, and congratulated himself upon his vast renown, for Captain Barecolt was one of those happy men who have a facility of believing their own fictions. He was convinced that if he could but count them up, he had performed more feats of valour, and slaughtered more bloody enemies than Amadis de Gaul, Launcelot of the Lake, the Admiral de Coligni, or the Duke of Alva. It was true, he thought, such events soon passed from the minds of great men, being common occurrences with them, so that he could not remember one half of what he had done, which he only regretted for the sake of society; but he was quite sure that whenever opportunities served he should be found superior to any of the great captains of the age, and that merit and time must lead him to the highest distinction. This led him on to futurity, and he made up his mind, that the first thing he would do should be, to save the king's life when attacked on every side by fifteen or sixteen horsemen. For this, of course, he would be knighted on the spot, and receive the command of a regiment of horse, with which he proposed to march at once to London, depose the lord mayor, and proceeding to the parliamenthouse, dissolve the parliament, seize the speaker and twelve of the principal members, and hang Sir Harry Vane. This, he thought, would be work enough for one day; but the next morning he would march out with all the cavaliers he could collect, defeat the Earl of Essex on one side, rout Waller on the other, and then with

his prisoners proceed to head-quar ters, where of course he would be appointed general-in-chief, and in that capacity would bring the king to London.

What he would do next was a matter of serious consideration, for the war being at an end, Othello's occupation was gone, and as during all this time he had made sundry application to his friend the tankard, his imagination was becoming somewhat heavy on the wing, and in a minute or two after he fell sound asleep, while the pipe dropped unnoticed from his hand and fractured its collar-bone upon the floor.

He had scarcely been asleep ten minutes, when the door of the room slowly opened, and a round head covered with short curls was thrust in, with part of a burly pair of shoulders. The door was then pushed partly open, and in walked a tall stout man in a good brown coat, who, advancing quietly to the side of Captain Deciduous Barecolt, laid his hand upon his

arm.

Now what Captain Barecolt was dreaming of at that moment it is impossible for the author of these pages to tell; but his vision would appear to have been pugnacious, for the instant the intruder's grasp touched his left arm, he started up, and stretching out his right to a pistol which lay between the tankard and himself on the table, snatched it up, levelled it at the head of his visitor, and pulled the trigger.

Luckily for the brains, such as they were, of poor John Hurst, for he was the person who had entered, in the last unsteady potations of the bellicose captain a few drops of ale had been spilt upon the pan of the deadly weapon; and though the flint struck fire, no flash succeeded, much to the astonishment of Barecolt and the relief of his companion.

"D—n the man,” cried Hurst, reeling back in terror; "what art thou about? Dost thou go to shoot a man without asking with your leave or by your leave?"

"Never wake a sleeping tiger!" exclaimed Barecolt, with a graceful wave of his hand. "You may think yourself profoundly lucky, master yeoman, that you have got as much brains left in that round box of yours as will

serve to till your farm, for this hand never yet missed any thing within shot of a pistol or reach of a sword. I remember very well once, in the island of Sardinia, a Corsican thinking fit to compare his nose to mine, upon which I told him that the first time we met I would leave him no nose to boast of. He being a wise man, kept ever after out of reach of my hands; but one day, when he thought himself in secu-rity upon a high bank, he called out to me Ha! ha! capitane, I have got my nose still upon which, drawing out my pistol, I aimed at his face, and though the distance was full a hundred yards, with the first shot I cut off his proboscis at the root, so that it dropped down upon the road, and I picked it up and put it in my pocket."

"It must have been somewhat thin in the stalk," said Hurst; "no good stout English nose, I warrant you. But come, captain, you must take me up to my lord. The sentry passed me on to you, and I want help directly, for there is a nest of Roundheads not five miles from here, who have got that poor little girl in their hands, and are brewing mischief against us to-morrow. Half a dozen men may take them tonight, but we may have hard work of it if we wait till daylight."

Captain Barecolt paused and meditated; a glorious opportunity of buying distinction cheap seemed now before him, and the only difficulty was, how to keep it all in his own hands.

"I cannot disturb the commander," he said, in a solemn tone, after a few minutes' consideration; "that's quite impossible, my friend. Faith, if you want help you must be content with mine and half a dozen soldiers of my troop. I am a poor creature, it is true," he continued, in a tone of affected modesty, "and not able to do so much service as some men. I never killed above seventeen enemies in a day; and the best thing I have to boast of is, having blown up a fort containing three hundred men with my own unassisted hand. However, what poor aid I can give you, you may command. We will take six picked men with us, if that be enough, you and I will make eight, and if there be not more than a hundred and fifty of the enemy I think we could manage."

"A hundred and fifty," cried Hurst.

"Why, there's that Captain Batten, whom my lord took away prisoner, I hear," replied Hurst; "then there's a Doctor Bastwick, a parliamentary committee man; then there's old Dry of Longsoaken, who dragged away the girl while you were all fighting at the bridge; the other four are, I hear, common councilmen of Coventry, though they are all decked out in buff and bandolier, as if they were fire-eating soldiers just come from the wars. They were laying a plan before they went to bed for bringing troops from Coventry round about my lord and his men, while two regiments of Essex's, that are marching into the north, were to have warning, and cut off the retreat."

"Ha! ha! ha!" cried Captain Barecolt, "we will cut off theirs. Have you got a horse, master yeoman? I think yours was killed in the field?"

"Ay, that it was," answered Hurst, "to my loss and sorrow; as good a beast as was ever crossed, and cost me twenty pound."

"We will mount you, we will mount you," said the captain; "there are a dozen and more good horses which forgot their riders yesterday, and left them lying by the bridge. We may as well have half a dozen men with us, however, just to tie the prisoners, for that is not work for gentlemen; so you sit down and take a glass of ale, and I will get all things ready."

In the course of about a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes, Captain Barecolt had called to his aid eight men of the troop whom he could most depend upon; and after having brought down Major Randall's cornet to take. his post during his absence, and mounted good John Hurst on the horse of a trooper who had been killed the day before, he led the way out of the little town, and, guided by the yeoman across the country, advanced slowly towards another village situated in the plain about five or six miles from that in which they had taken up their quarters. The country was open, without woods or hedges,

the foe was also told correctly and received great commendation. He was sent down immediately, however, to call Major Randal to the council, and, in the meantime, the two young noblemen eagerly questioned Hurst as to what he had seen and heard amongst the adverse party. His tale was told briefly and simply, and showed the following facts. After his horse had been killed he had carried off his saddle and the other worldly goods which he possessed; and finding that, without being of any service to his party, he was in imminent danger of losing his own life from the stray shots that were flying about in different directions, he made the best of his way to the back of the little mound we have mentioned, and thence peeped out to see the progress of the fight. Perceiving at one time, as he imagined, the small force of Royalists wavering in their attack upon the musketeers, he judged it expedient, lest his friends should be defeated, to put a greater distance between himself and the enemy; and taking all that was most valuable to him out of the saddle, he left it behind him, and hurried on for about a mile farther, where he took up his position in a ditch. While thus ensconced, he saw the well-known form of Mr. Dry, of Longsoaken, together with that of another gentleman, whom he afterwards found to be Captain Batten. Between these two appeared poor Arrah Neil, of whose arm Dry retained a firm grasp, while he held a pistol in his right hand, under the authority of which he seemed to be hurrying her on unresistingly. In about a quarter of an hour more some fugitive musketeers ran by as fast as they could go, and shortly after, several of Major Randal's troopers appeared in pursuit ; but as Hurst was unacquainted with the soldiers he prudently resolved to lie concealed where he was till some of his lord's followers should come up, which he calculated would be shortly the case, fearing he might be taken for one of the enemy, or at all events that he might be plundered by a friend-an operation as common in those days as in the present, though then it was done with pistol and broadsword, and now, in general, with pen and ink.

Towards the end of the day some of Lord Walton's men did appear, and spoke a word to him in pass

ing, from which he gathered they were searching for Arrah Neil, but with the usual acuteness of persons sent upon a search, they rode on without waiting for any information he could give. Having marked the road which Dry and his companions had taken, Hurst then determined to follow them, and made his way to the village in which they halted for the night." His plan had proved successful," he said "he had found the two parliamentary committee-men, together with Mr. Dry of Longsoaken, lodged in a house in the village, and boldly seeking out Dry, he gave him to understand that he had been taken by Lord Walton to join the king against his will, and was now making the best of his way home. He affected some fear of being overtaken; and in order to re-assure him Dry and Dr. Bastwick communicated to him the intelligence they received in the course of the evening from the men of Coventry, in regard to the movement of parliamentary forces. This took place some hours subsequent, however, to the despatch of his note to Lord Walton, and he could not make his escape from the village, in order to carry more accu rate tidings to his young landlord, till Dry and the rest had retired to bed."

As soon as Major Randal arrived a hasty consultation was held, to ascer tain the course of proceedings which it would be expedient to follow. It was determined immediately to commence the march, and orders were given to that effect, which at once produced all the bustle and confusion of hasty departure. Miss Walton was called up, and, dressing herself hastily, was soon placed upon horseback once more, for it was determined to leave the carriages behind; and in about an hour the two noblemen and their followers, with Major Randal's troop, were marching on, in the gray of the dawn, and directing their steps towards Coventry. A small guard was left over the prisoners, with orders to remain behind about an hour, and then to leave them and follow with all speed, in order that the departure of the troop might be accomplished as secretly as possible. No trumpet was sounded; and if it had been possible to carry out King Lear's plan, and shoe a troop of horse with felt, it would have been done upon the present occasion.