"Hush!" said his master sternly, "hush! no such words in my hearing, Langan!"

"Then faith, my lord, I must speak them behind your back," murmured the man; but his master had taken a step forward, and was bending down his head to speak to the poor girl. "Come up to the house, Arrah,” he said, "you must not stay here alone, nor go back to the cottage either. Come up to the house, and my sister will comfort and be kind to you."

The girl gazed in his face for a moment, and then suddenly starting up, as if some remembrance flashed across her mind, she exclaimed, "No, no! do not go there, sir! Do not go there! Misfortune will happen to you if you go there-I am sure it will-I am quite sure it will."

"But why, Arrah ?" asked her companion, with an incredulous smile, "what makes you think that there is any danger? Have you seen any of the parliament people there?"

"There was Dry, of Longsoaken," replied Arrah Neil, "but he came down again; and it is not that. But I must not say what it is-yet do not go up-do not go up! kind, good Charles Walton, do not go up!" The young nobleman looked at her

with an expression of much commiseration for her sorrows, but no reliance on her words, "I must go, Arrah,” he said; "you know my sister is there; and even if there be danger I must go. Come up, Arrah, there's a good girl, and we will do the best we can for you in these sad times."

The poor girl shook her head sadly, and after a moment's pause, replied"Ah, you think me a fool, and so I am, perhaps, for things trouble me much here," and she laid her finger on her brow; "memories-memories that haunt me, but are like dreams that we try to recall distinctly after sleep is gone, and yet have but faint images of them, as of trees in a mist. But I am not a fool in this, sir; and I beseech you not to go."

"Stay with her, Langan," said Lord Walton, "and bring her up to the house. The fit is upon the poor girl, and her grandfather's death may make it worse. You loved him well, and will be kind to her. Stay with her, good fellow, and persuade her to come I must go, now, Arrah," he continued, "but come up with Langan, for Annie will be glad to see you again, and will try to comfort you." Thus saying, he remounted his horse, and rode onward up the hill.

up.

considerable original powers. He was dressed altogether in black, and though a tall steeple-crowned hat lay on a chair by his side, he wore, while sitting at meat, a small round cap of black cloth, in the shape of half a pumpkin, on the top of his head. He had also a good strong sword leaning on the chair beside him, habited like himself in black, with steel points and hilt.

The other was a younger man, very different in appearance; a good deal taller than his companion, and apparently more vigorous; his face decorated with an immense pair of moustachios, and a somewhat long-pointed beard, both of that indistinct hue, which may be called whey colour. His hair floated upon his shoulders in the styleof the cavaliers; but to say the truth, it seemed somewhat unconscious of the comb; and his dress, too, displayed that sort of dirty finery, which by no means prepossesses the wary usurer or

experienced tradesman with the idea of great funds at command on the part of the wearer. His doublet of soiled leather displayed a great number of ornamented buttons, and shreds of gold lace; his collar and handruffles were of lace, which had once been of high price, but had seen ser、 vice probably with more masters than one, and had borne away in the conflict with the world, many a hole and tear, more honourable in flag or standard than in human apparel. Hanging to his side, and ready for action, was an egregious rapier, with a small dagger placed beside it, as if to set off its length to the greater advantage. On his legs were a large pair of jackboots, which he seldom laid aside, and there is even reason to suppose that they covered several deficiencies; and hanging on a peg behind, was a broad beaver, very unlike the hats usually worn in England at the time, ornamented with a long red feather.

As to his countenance and its expression, they were very peculiar. The features in themselves were not badthe eyes large and somewhat prominent. The nose, which was by no means pre-eminent, though turned up at the point, was not altogether illshaped, and might have passed muster amongst the ordinary noses of the world, had it not been that, though tolerably white itself, it was set in the midst of a patch of red, which seemed to have transferred itself from the cheeks to unite in the centre of the face. The expression was bold, swaggering, and impudent, but a touch of shrewd cunning was there, diversified every now and then by a quick, furtive look around, which seemed to show that the worthy gentleman himself, like a careful sentinel, was always upon the watch.

Certainly, seldom were there ever seen companions more opposite than on the present occasion; and yet it not unfrequently happens, in this strange life of ours, that circumstances, inclination, or wayward fortune, make our comrade of the way, the man, of all others least like ourself; and of all the great general principles which are subject to exceptions, that which has the most, is the fact, of birds of a feather flying together.

"I have done," said the elder of the two, laying down his knife.

"Pooh, nonsense," cried the other, "you haven't eaten half a pound. I shan't have done this half hour. I am like a camel, Master Randal. Whenever I have an opportunity I lay in a store for the journey in my own sto mach."

"Or like an ass," replied the other gentleman, "who takes more upon his back than he can carry."

"No, not like an ass, either," replied the man with the great mousta chios, "for an ass bears the food for other people I for myself. How can you or I tell that we shall get another meal for the next three days? 'Tis always right to prepare for the worst; and therefore, so long as my stomach will hold, and the beef endure, I will go on.

"

"The man who never knows when he has enough," answered his companion, "is sure sooner or later either to want or have too much, and one is as bad as the other."

"Oh, your pardon, your pardon," cried the tall man, "give me the too much! I will always find means to dispose of it-I am of the too much faction. It's my battle-cry, my rallying word. Give me the too-much by all means! Did you ever see a carpenter cut out a door? Did you ever see a tailor cut out a coat? Did you ever see a blacksmith forge a horseshoe? They always take too much to begin with. There are plenty of bags in the world always wide open for superfluities; but, to say truth, I never found I had too much yet: that's an epoch in my history which is to come.'

"Because like other fools you never know when you have enough," replied the man called Randal; "and as for your future history, it will form but a short tale, easily told."

"I know what you would say—I know what you would say," replied the other; "that the last act will find me in the most elevated situation I have ever filled, though I may still be a dependent. But I can tell you, my good friend, that in my many dangerous expeditions and important occupations, I have escaped the cross piece of timber and the line perpendicular, so often, that I fear I am reserved for another fate, and am in great dread every time I go upon the water."

"You are quite safe," replied the other, with a grim smile: "I'll wager

a thousand pounds upon your life, in a worm-eaten boat, with a hole in the bottom. But hemp, hemp-I would have you beware of hemp! Odds life, to hear you talk of your dangerous expeditions and important occupa tions Cease, cease, I would sleep in peace to-night, and you will give me an indigestion.'

"Pshaw," cried the other, "you have no more stomach than a pipped hen; and as to my exploits, what land have I not visited-what scenes have I not seen? To whom, if not to me, was owing the defence of Rochelle? To whom

"Hush, hush," said his companion; "tell the tale to others. I would as soon drink vinegar, or eat stale cabbage, as hear lies four times repeatedeven with a variation."

"Lies!" cried the other; "thunder and lightning, sir—'

"There, there," cried his companion, quietly waving his hand: "that will do no more of it! Thunder and lightning will do nothing at your bidding; so the less you have to do with them the better, lest you burn your fingers. Try to be an honest man! leave off lying! don't swagger but when you are drunk! and perchance you may be permitted to hold the horses while other men fight."

"Well, there is no use in quarrelling with a maggot," replied his tall comrade; and, taking to his knife again, he commenced a new inroad on the beef, in assailing which, at least, he kept his word with a laudable degree of fidelity.

In the meanwhile the gentleman in black turned his shoulder to the table, and fell into deep thought. But after a moment or two he opened his lips, with an oracular shake of the head, not exactly addressing his speech to his companion, but more apparently to the hilt of his own sword, the point of which he had brought round between his feet, and the blade of which he twirled round and round with his hands while he was speaking.

"Nine out of ten of them," he said, "are either rank fools or cold-hearted knaves, presumptuous blockheads, who think they have a right to command, because they have not wit enough to obey; or cunning scoundrels, who aim alone at their own interests when they are affecting to serve only their coun

try, and yet are fools enough not to see that the good of the whole is the good of every part."

"Who, who, who? Who do you mean?" asked the other.

"English gentlemen," replied the man in black, "English gentlemen, I say."

"Complimentary, certainly," remarked his comrade; "and by no means too general or comprehensive. I dare say it's very true, though, so here's to your health, Master Randal."

"Let my health alone," said Randal, "and take care of your own, for if you drink much more of that old ale, your head, to-morrow morning, will be as heavy as the barrel from which it comes, and I shall have to pump upon you, to make you fit for any business whatsoever. Come, finish your supper, and take a walk with me upon the hill. But who have we here? One of the rebels, I take it. Now, mind your part, but do not lie more than your nature absolutely requires."

The last words of this speech were, as may be supposed, spoken in a low voice, as an addition was made to the party in the room where they were sitting.

The personage who entered was the same thin, self-denying-looking gentleman who had passed poor Arrah Neil, as she sat by the fountain in the morning, and had, in his own mind, charitably furnished her with a lodging in the stocks. That we may not have to refer to this gentleman's previous history hereafter, we may as well pause here for a moment to say the few words that are needed on the subject, especially as some reference may be made to his former life in another place. Master Dry, of Longsoaken, as he was now called, had risen from an humble origin, and though now a wealthy man, had commenced his career as the errand boy of a grocer, or rather general-dealer, in the village of Bishop's Merton. His master was a rigid man, a Puritan of the most severe cast, and his master's wife a buxom dame, given somewhat to the good things of life, especially of a fluid kind, which she employed the ingenuity of young Ezekiel Dry in obtaining for her, unknown to her more abstemious better half. He thus acquired some small skill in deceiving sharp eyes, and it was whispered that his worthy patron did not fail to give him further

improvement in this peculiar branch of science, by initiating him into the mystery of the difference between a yard measure and a yard of tape or ribbon; between a pound weight and a pound of sugar or butter; between which, as the learned reader is well aware, there is a great and important distinction. As worthy Ezekiel Dry grew up into a young man, his master settled down into an old one-and at length, death, who, like his neighbours in a country town, is compelled occasionally to go to the chandler's shop, called one morning at the door of Ezekiel's master, and would not be satisfied without his full measure. The usual course of events then took place-there was a widow, and a shopman-the widow was middle-aged and wealthy, the shopman young and poor, and Mr. Dry became a married man, and master of the shop. During a probation of twenty years, which his matrimony lasted, he did not altogether escape scandal; but in those times, as in others, very rigid piety (at least in appearance) was not always accompanied by very rigid morality-and those people who conceived that they might exist separately, looked upon the latter as of very little consequence where the former was preeminent. At length, after having resisted time and strong waters, (which her second husband never denied her in any quantity,) to the age of nearly seventy, Mrs. Dry slept with her ancestors; and Mr. Dry went on flourishing, till at length he sold his house and shop to another pillar of the conventicle, and bought a good estate in the near neighbourhood, called Longsoaken. He still kept up his connexion with his native town, however, became a person of the highest consideration therein, took part in all its councils, managed many of its affairs, was acquainted with all its news, and was the stay of the Puritans, the terror of the parson, and the scorn of the cavaliers.

It was his usual custom, as he still remained a widower, to look into the "Rose of Shaaron" every fine afternoon, less, as he said, to take even the needful refreshment of the body, than to pause and meditate for half an hour, before he retired to his own house; but it was remarked that, on these occasions, he invariably had a small measure of some kind of liquid put down beside him, and consulted

the host upon the affairs of every body in the place. In the present instance, Mr. Dry had received immediate information that two strangers had appeared at the Rose of Shaaron, between eight and nine, and he had hastened up from Longsoaken without loss of time; but he had spent nearly half an hour with the landlord in an inner chamber, inquiring into all the particulars of their appearance and demeanour. Now, the landlord had lost more than one good customer in consequence of the unpleasant interference of his respected neighbour, who had occasionally caused some of the most expensive visitors at his house to be committed as malignants; but as he dared not show any resistance, or make any remonstrance to a person so high in authority as Master Dry, of Longsoaken, his only course was to defend the characters of his guests as far as was safe. But the worthy host was a timid man, and did not ever venture to pronounce a decided opinion in the presence of his betters.

In answer, therefore, to the questions now addressed to him, he replied, "Oh dear no, worshipful sir! That is to say-for one cannot be certain of any thing in this ungodly world-they do not look like it at all. Malignants

your

are always gay in their apparel, and the gentleman is dressed just like self, all in black. He has got a Geneva scull-cap too. I should not wonder if he were a gifted man like your. self."

"That may be a mere disguise," said Mr. Dry.

"Then, malignants are always roystering blades," continued the landlord"calling for all manner of things, beginning with wine, and ending with strong waters. Now, these good people have had nought but beef and ale ; though, doubtless, as all godly men may do for the comfort of the inner man, they will take something more warming before they go-but as yet, one tankard of ale is all they have had."

"That looks well," said Mr. Dry, oracularly, "not that I would condemn any man for using creature com-. forts in moderation, according to his necessity. Some men's complexion, if of a cold and melancholic nature, does require such helps. I myself am driven to it but what more,my friend? Are they grave in their discourse?"

"As heart could wish," replied the landlord. "I should take them rather for the most pious and humble."

"I will see them myself," said Dry, who began to suspect the landlord. "It is not easy to deceive my eyes.”

But the worthy host contrived to detain his worshipful fellow-townsman for some minutes longer, in order that the guests might finish their meal in peace, by opening a conversation in regard to the return of "the poor silly girl, Arrah Neil," as he called her, in regard to whom, he had shrewd suspicions that Mr. Dry, of Longsoaken, entertained sentiments not quite so rigid as those which his words in morning might seem to imply.

On this part of their conversation, however, I shall not dwell, as it would be neither very instructive nor very amusing, but will return once more to the parlour of the inn which Mr. Dry of Longsoaken entered with a staid and stately step, with his two eyes bent upon the ground as if he were in deep meditation. The younger of the two guests in the parlour lolled in his chair and bit his lip, the elder considered Mr. Dry attentively but suffered him to enter the room and approach the table without saying a word. Neither did he make any movement of limb or feature, but remained cold, stiff, and dry, as if his limbs and his countenance were made of wood. Mr. Dry, however, always recollected that he was a man in authority; and great success in life, where there is any weakness of character, is sure to produce a confident self-importance very comfortable to the possessor thereof, though not particularly agreeable to his friends and companions.

As neither of the others uttered a word, then, he began the conversation himself without farther ado.

"I trust we are brethren, sir," he said, addressing the gentleman whom we have called Randal.

"I trust we are so," replied the other.

"Ahem!" said Mr. Dry, "my name is Dry, sir-Dry of Longsoaken."

"You may be soaked long enough," murmured the man at the table to himself, not loud enough to be heard"you may be soaked long enough before you be moistened, Mr. Dry."

But his companion, who saw his lips

move, gave him agrave look and replied to the intruder, "I am happy to hear it, sir. It is a godly name, which I have heard of before. Will you never have done with that beef, Master Barecolt?"

"But this mouthful, but this mouthful," replied the gentleman at the table, "and then I am with you."

"One word before you go," said Mr. Dry," you seem, sir, a godly and well-disposed man, and I doubt not have been led into the right way; but there is an air of prelatic malignancy about this person at the table.'

"You are altogether mistaken, wor thy Dry," said the good gentleman who had been paying such devoted attention to the beef, "there is nothing malignant about my nature, and the air you talk of is but a remnant of French manners caught while I was serving our Calvinistic brethren in that poor, benighted land. In me, sir, you behold him whom you may have heard of-who in the morning preached to the people in the beleaguered city of Rochelle, from the 2nd verse of the 24th chapter of the Book of Joshua, your fathers dwelt on the other side of the flood in the old times;' and who in the evening led them out to battle, and smote the Philistines hip and thigh. That is to say, broke through the stockade, and defeated two regiments of the guards."

"I have heard of the deed," replied Mr. Dry.

"Then you must have heard like wise," said the gentleman at the table, rising up at full length, and making the intruder a low bow, "of Master Deciduous Barecolt."

"I think I have, I think I have," said Mr. Dry.

"Then, again," cried Barecolt, "when I defended the pass in the Cevennes with only two godly compa nions against the Count de Suza and a hundred and fifty blood-thirsty papists, you must surely have heard of that exploit."

"I cannot say I have," replied Mr. Dry.

"Then, sir, you are ignorant of the history of Europe," answered the other with a look of high indignation; "for I trust that the name of Deciduous Barecolt is known from the mouth of the Elbe to the mouth of the Danube, and will descend to pos