and the Parliament, he was a moderate supporter of the King. He disapproved of the appeal to arms, and would not be, in any way, accessory to the shedding of English blood. In consequence, he suffered only in his property during the progress of hostilities, and remained unmolested during the rule of Cromwell. He was a member of the Parliament which voted the recall of the exiled Stuart. He fondly hoped that the restoration of the ancient forms would heal the disorders of the body politic. Notwithstanding the systematic mendacity of Charles the First, he trusted the declarations of Charles the Second. Serious and devout in his habits, he looked with pain upon the license which followed the return of the King, and was disappointed in his expectation that it would speedily pass away. Thoroughly Protestant in his religious views, he was alarmed at the gradual drifting of the nation from the moorings of the Reformation. As the designs of James became manifest, even his tried loyalty did not prevent him from raising the question, whether anything could be done to recover the securities for religion and liberty which had been recklessly thrown away. A visiter came from London-a man of serious and commanding aspect. Ostensibly his visit was one of friendship, and of relaxation from the pressure of public business; but there was little of cheerfulness in the conversation which passed between him and his host. The countenances of both betokened the presence of weighty and anxious thoughts. Much of their time was spent in a secluded grove appertaining to the Cariswell estate. There they discussed the prospects of England, and came to the unconfessed conclusion, that it were better that national honour and individual security should be preserved by Oliver, than that national disgrace and individual spoliation should be inflicted by James. The time had come when many a true churchman and loyalist began to call to mind some of the good deeds of the Puritan King. They had brought the conversation on the great subject which weighed upon their minds, to a close, just as they reached the extreme border of the grove. They were in the vicinity of a small cottage which stood in a retired nook. "What have we here?" said the visiter, with an evident desire to give a change to their thoughts, "one of your dependants?" "No," replied Pemberton, "an independent in matters civil and religious. The owner of that cottage is one of Oliver's old soldiers." "Indeed! from the residence he has chosen, I conclude he is disposed to live peaceably under the man James Stuart." "Perfectly so. He avoids society, and makes no allusions to the past. He is very devout, too, in his way." "A fanatic recluse?" "There is nothing exceptionable in his conduct, except his refusal to attend the parish church; but I have not allowed him to be disturbed for his nonconformity." At that moment the occupant of the cottage appeared at the door, and began to move slowly down the gravel-walk leading to his garden. "He appears to have a very feeble step," said the stranger; "is he sickly?" "His slow step is, I suspect, the result of habit, and not owing to a want of strength. Were his old master to appear, he would probably shoulder his musket (which, I am told, he still keeps bright) and fight as fiercely as at Naseby and Dunbar." He had "He must be ill; see! he is falling." The friends ran to his assistance. fainted. They bore him into the cottage, and placed him on his couch. While Pemberton went to a neighbouring spring for water, the stranger surveyed the apartment. The furniture was scanty but neat. Over the centre of the room, on hooks attached to the ceiling, hung his musket, as free from rust as on the morning on which the regiment was inspected by Colonel Cromwell. An open Bible lay upon the table. The application of cold water to the face of the invalid restored him to consciousness. He thanked the friends for their kindness, and offered a silent prayer for the divine blessing to rest upon them. "Have you been ill long?" said Mr. Pemberton. "For a few days," was the reply. Why did you not send to the Hall for aid?" "A friend has been staying with me; he left this morning. I am free from disease; but have less strength than I supposed. Sickness is new to me." "You have seen many years," said the stranger; "were you never ill before ?” "I have never been confined to my bed for a day, since I was a boy, except-" "After the battle of Naseby," said Mr. Pemberton, as the soldier hesitated, "when a bullet passed through him within an inch of his heart.” "That happened as he was valiantly fighting for his blessed Majesty," said the stranger, with grave irony. ton. A slight smile curled the lip of the invalid. "We will leave you now," said Mr. Pember"I will send some one to your aid." "It will not be necessary-I am obliged to you for your kind intentions." TALES OF THE PURITAN S. 79 large portion of the entertainments of her nursery. Still the inmate of the cottage was an object of curiosity, as well as of compassion. Di “He hardly knew how to understand our manner of speaking of Naseby," said Mr. Pemberton, as they left the cottage. "He seems to be an educated man," said recting John to see that he had an attendant his friend. during the night, she resolved to visit him herself in the morning. "From a remark I once heard him make, I infer that he was, for a time, a student at Oxford; but I have no knowledge of the particulars of his history. It is but recently that any intercourse has taken place between us." "It strikes me that he is a man of sagacity as well as courage, and may be made useful.” No reply was made to that remark. The friends proceeded in silence to the Hall. They there found letters which rendered it necessary for them to set out immediately for London. "Margaret, my dear," said Mr. Pemberton to his daughter, "the occupant of the cottage beyond the grove is ill; I must leave him to your care." “The old soldier?" said a fair girl of nine teen. THE benevolence of Margaret Pemberton was sufficient to cause her, at once, to comply with her father's directions, with respect to the inmate of the cottage. Had filial obedience and benevolence been the only principles concerned in the matter, those directions would have received a more literal interpretation than she was disposed to give them. The influence of another principle, said to be very powerful in 'maiden bosoms, led her to resolve to accompany John in his visit to the invalid. She had often, in her rambles through the grove, (for maidens then, as well as now, were romantic and lovers of nature,) seen the cottage, and noticed its occupant cultivating his garden, or sitting in the shade of an oak which stood near his door. She had a strong desire to speak to one so recluse and solitary. True, she had been told that he was one of those who had caused the death of the blessed martyr, and who revered the memory of the usurper-crimes, in the opinion of the loyalist, somewhat more heinous than direct communion with the source of evil. True, she had never seen him at the parish church, and she had no idea of the existence of religion apart from surplices and written forms. True, terrific tales of the cruelties of the rebel soldiery had formed a It was a morning in June. The foliage wore its softest green, and the birds sung their usual family songs. No cloud obscured the sun, and the nodding branches of the trees seemed to welcome his rays. With a light heart, Margaret hastened on her way, leaving her attendant far behind, and, with cheeks glowing with exercise, was soon at the door of the cottage. It was open to receive the sunlight, and the old man was sitting in his armchair. He smiled, and courteously inclined his head, as she entered and inquired respecting his health. "I am better this morning, but so weak that you will excuse me from attempting to rise: pray do me the honour to be seated." Margaret complied with his request. John entered, and having placed on the table certain articles designed for the benefit of the invalid, he waited without for his young mis tress. "I have seen you often, as I have been walking in the grove," said Margaret, with a smile which some of the visiters at the Hall would fain have purchased at almost any price, “and have wished to speak with you." his "I have had the same desire," said the old soldier, "especially when you were a child. I once had a daughter-" He paused, and closed eyes. His manner in uttering those words caused a bright tear to run down the cheeks of the maiden. "Do you remember, many long years ago, when I once spoke to you-it was near the spring,-your nurse drew you away?" "I do." "I had a daughter-she was of the years you were then, when I lost her." "She died in her youth?" said Margaret, after a long silence. "She did." The tears coursed down the old man's cheeks. Margaret gazed upon him with astonishment. To witness manifest proofs of tenderness on the part of one who had fought against the Lord's anointed, and who was never present in a consecrated place of prayer, was what she was not prepared to comprehend. This did not cause her to withhold the tear of sympathy. "For more than twenty years I have not met with one like you-since I have been blessed with a tear of sympathy from a youthful eye." "I am sorry that we have not met before; will you tell me more about your daughter?" "My Mary and her mother were my idols. It was fitting that they should be taken away from me: but that lessened not the guilt of those who did the deed. In a single hour I was written widow and childless!" A I the hearts of the soldiers to vengeance. small band of praying men went with me, and we buried them underneath a tree whose shade they had often enjoyed. Not long afterwards the house was set on fire and consumed. have never visited the place since. I was soon afterwards offered promotion. I felt that it was in consequence of my affliction, I could not accept it at the cost of the lifeblood of my wife and child. Promotion was "A musket-ball passed through her brain!" never my object. I strove to have a single "Was it an accident?" "Of what disease did she die?" said Margaret, not noticing the intimation that she met with a death of violence. "A band of Prince Rupert's troopers rode up to my house, and fired a volley through the window, and rode their ways amid cursing and laughter. Mary was sitting at the feet of her mother, reading the Bible. Here is the Bible she had in her hands when she died." He rose with difficulty and tottered to a chest, and took out the book, and unfolded the linen in which it was wrapped. A large portion of its leaves were red with the blood of the child. Margaret, shuddering, closed her eyes. The old man kissed the red leaves, and returned the volume to its place. eye, and I succeeded, after my idols were taken away. I was enabled to say even in reference to that bitter dispensation, He doeth all things well.'" "I do not understand you. You told me they were killed by Rupert's soldiers?" "I did; but Rupert's soldiers could go no further than they were permitted by the Ruler of all. It was among His purposes that my idols should be removed from me, and the troopers were permitted to follow the suggestions of Satan, and slay them with wicked hands. I was bound to cherish resignation to the dispensations of Providence, but I was not "I do not wonder that you joined the bound to look with complacency on the perperebels," said she. trators of the deed." "I was already in the army of the Parliament, having early cast in my lot with those who struck for liberty and truth." "Was your wife killed at the same time?" "She was, though she lingered long enough to bid me farewell. It was just at nightfall that I learned that a party of horse had taken the direction leading to my house. I obtained leave, and hastened thither. I heard the volley when about half a mile distant. When I reached the house, Mary had ceased to breathe, and the life's blood was fast oozing from the bosom of my wife. She had just strength enough to bid me farewell, and to charge me to persevere in the good cause." "Is it possible that amid such circumstances she could desire your continuance in arms?" "She thought no sacrifice too great for the cause of truth and righteousness. I held her in my arms till she breathed her last: I then composed their limbs, and with my garments saturated with the blood of my wife and child, I returned to the camp." "Oh! horrible!" said Margaret, placing her hands upon her eyes, as if to shut out the vision. "The King would never have permitted such a deed!" "Charles Stuart has gone to answer for his crimes at an impartial bar. I wish not to speak of him. I returned to the camp, and told my sorrows to my colonel, a good man and just, who wept and prayed with me. He would have ordered out the whole regiment to attend the burial, but he feared the sight would rouse "Did you continue in the army till the end of the war?" "I served till God broke the stay and staff of this kingdom, and gave the people over to suffer the consequence of their folly and wickedness." At this moment John appeared at the door, and respectfully reminded his mistress that it was necessary for him to return. "Must you go?" said the old soldier, attempting to rise: Margaret prevented him from so doing, and said, "I will see you again to-morrow." Thank you. I have spoken to you of events respecting which I have kept silence for more than a score of years." Farewell," said Margaret, extending her Heaven bless you!" said the soldier, with a fervour which led to the mental inquiry whether it were not worth more than the blessings of the well-fed dignitaries who sometimes partook of her father's hospitality. She returned to the Hall, and, retiring to her room, spent a thoughtful day. A new world was opened to view by her visit to the old soldier. That intelligence, feeling, and piety could be possessed by one belonging to a party which she had been taught to despise and abhor, was to her a discovery as great as that of a new planet would be to an astronomer. Her active imagination dwelt on the cruel scene she had heard described, and her tears flowed more freely in solitude than in the presence of the TALES OF THE PURITAN S. 81 sufferer. She pardoned all his subsequent acts her for whom I have mourned for so many of rebellion against the King. CHAPTER III. On the following morning, Margaret went alone to the cottage. She found the old soldier sitting under his tree, enjoying the morning breeze. His cheek wore a healthier hue, and he rose without difficulty as she approached. She seated herself near him on the green turf. "Your visit yesterday," said he, "has refreshed me greatly. The young do not know how much their sympathy can do for the aged. I can only thank you, but you will not lose your reward. Inasmuch as ye have done it to the least of these my brethren ye have done it unto me.' I would not be presumptuous, but I have an assurance that I am His." "You ascribe to me a merit," said she, "to which I have no claim. It was no religious motive which led me here yesterday." "That may be; still the act was one of kindness. You manifested a sympathy to which I have been for many years a stranger." "You have not been entirely without society? You have sometimes had visiters?" "I have had visiters-some of whom the world is not worthy, and whom it would be perilous to name. But no one but you has so reminded me of my daughter. A voice like yours I have not heard for many long years." "I shall rejoice if I can in any way add to your happiness. I am sorry that we have not met before." "It has doubtless been for the best. It has caused me to feel more deeply that this is not my rest." "Have you no relatives?" I "I have neither father nor mother, nor brethren nor sisters according to the flesh. have other relatives, but they became estranged from me when England's troubles came on. They have possessed themselves of my inheritance, and probably do not know that I am living." "If it be not unpleasant to you, I should like very much to hear the incidents of your early life." "It is never unpleasant to the aged to speak of the events of their early years. I have often wished for some one to whom I could recount the mercies I have received." "Why then have you not sought society?" "For a long time my safety depended upon my seclusion. Perhaps I am not wise in departing from the reserve that I have heretofore maintained." years, and for whom I shall continue to mourn till I am called to meet her in a better world." After a pause of some moments, during which he was either collecting his thoughts or engaged in mental prayer, he began. "I was an only child. My mother died when I was quite young. I have a dim recollection of a sweet countenance which smiled upon me, and of a silvery voice which called me her own dear boy-but perhaps these were dreams suggested by the wants of my young heart. My father was a prosperous merchant. His success had nearly satiated his desire for property, and a new ambition sprung up in his bosom. It was that his family should be ennobled, not in his own person, but in that of his son. Him he desired to see among the peers of the realm. He held that which could purchase rank-for the venal fountain of honour was open to the highest bidder. It was not merely a title that he wished me to wear. He desired that I should be fitted to an active part in the direction of public affairs. To this end he sent me to Oxford. "While I was pursuing my studies at Oxford, the whispers of discontent began to be heard. They gradually increased into that clear, full utterance which made Hampden the most popular man in England. My father was an earnest adherent of the King, and in his frequent letters, he urged me to make myself prominent in the same cause among my fellow-students. I had been a diligent student of the literature of Greece and Rome, and the spirit thence derived, prepared me to sympathize with Pym, Elliot, and Hampden, rather than with the advocates of arbitrary power. But the patriotism derived from heathen sources is not strong enough to withstand the suggestions of interest. As the cloud grew darker, and the perils of those who opposed the King increased, I was induced to refrain from expressions I had somewhat freely used, and to allow myself to be claimed, and recked as one of those who supported all the measures of the King. This gave great satisfaction to my father. He informed me that my name was well known to his majesty, and that the way was open for preferment in his service, as soon as my academical course was finished. "Soon after this, as I was strolling through the streets on the morning of the Sabbath, curiosity led me to look in at the door of a church, in which a noted Puritan was accustomed to preach. I had no intention of remaining during the service; my object was simply to see the preacher, and to listen to a "Do you think it possible that I could injure few sentences of his harangue. He rose to you?" "No, I do not. Your eye is like the eye of 6 VOL. VII. announce his text, just as I entered the door. There was something commanding in his ap believed my act saved her heart from breaking. "I went with her to the dilapidated and lonely tenement whence the dead had been borne. "May the Lord reward you!' said she, as we reached the door. She did not invite me to enter, nor did she by her manner repel me. I entered; she pointed to a seat. She then sat down in the chair which it was evident her mother had recently occupied, and covered her face with her hands. After a long silence, I succeeded in making proffers of service. 6 "I may not refuse your offer,' said she ; my trust is in God alone, and the aid which he furnishes, I will receive with thanksgiving. You are his servant, or you would not offer aid to the friendless.' pearance. His eye was piercing, and his coun- | who gave it. She told me afterwards, that she tenance marked with the lineaments of thought. He named his subject, which was the dignity of man, and entered upon it in a manner which at once riveted my attention. I forgot where I was; I forgot that he was a Puritan; I forgot everything but the subject; I never before felt my importance in the scale of being-never before had a view of the high objects for which alone I could worthily live. The preacher then proceeded to show how men came short of the dignity of their birth. By a course of reasoning confirmed by a constant appeal to facts, and set home by a fervid eloquence of expression, I saw my own character in a light never before revealed to me. When he closed his discourse, I found myself standing in the aisle. I hastened to withdraw and conceal the tears that were coursing down my cheeks. "The impression made upon my mind was abiding. I studied the Bible, and found that the preacher had given the Bible view of man. "A change took place in my demeanour, which attracted the notice of my companions: they were ignorant of the cause, and attempted by various means to dissipate what they were pleased to term my melancholy. Their efforts tended to increase the darkness that brooded over my soul. "I spent the ensuing vacation with my uncle. His house was the head-quarters of the sporting gentry, lay and clerical, of the neighbourhood. I avoided their society as much as possible. I abstained from the wine cup, save once, when, to dissipate my gloom, I drank to intoxication, and received the plaudits of those who were ready to fight for the Church and King. "You are mistaken,' I replied, 'I am not what you suppose me to be. O that I knew where I might find him!' "She looked at me with surprise, as I wept before her. "Can you not pray with me?' said she. 666 'Let us pray,' said she, falling upon her knees, and pouring forth a prayer indicative of her deep affliction and strong hope, and sublime in its intercession for one who had shown kindness to the orphan in the day of trouble. Even while she was yet speaking, I felt that her prayer would be answered. "The next day I learned her history. She was the daughter of a preacher recently de-, ceased in the western part of England. The widow, with her child, was on her way to her former home. She was taken ill. The disease was supposed to be contagious, and no one "One day I had stolen away from the revellers, would receive them. They were constrained and was taking a solitary walk. It was late in to turn aside to that untenanted cottage, November. The cold wind swept the dry leaves whence, after a few weeks of suffering, the along my pathway to the churchyard. Just as mother departed to join her husband in the I reached it, a funeral procession was moving better land, leaving her daughter in the midst toward an open grave: there were scarcely of strangers. The daughter had been obliged a dozen persons in the procession, and but to part with a portion of her wardrobe to proone mourner. It was the funeral of a widow, cure comforts for her mother. She was now and the mourner was her only daughter. Her alone and destitute; but she supported herself dress, though neat, was not sufficient to shield by the principles she had learned from her her fragile form from the piercing wind. She father's teachings and her father's Bible. wept aloud as the earth fell upon the coffin. The expression of woe that sat upon her countenance, as she looked her thanks to the attendants when the grave was filled up, was such as I never saw before, nor have ever seen since-no, not in all my witnessings of death in the field and upon the scaffold: even the hardened grave-digger wept at the sight. "As she turned to leave the graveyard, I saw that she could scarcely keep from falling. I instinctively stepped forward, and took hold of her arm, without speaking. She accepted the proffered support, without looking up to see "On the third day, I set out with her on her way to her friends. Ere she had reached her destination, we felt that our hearts were one for time and eternity. "I returned to my father's house, and made a frank declaration of my views and feelings on the subject of religion, and of the relation I sustained to Mary. He listened with calmness, and for a moment I hoped that He, in whose hand are the hearts of men, had interposed in my behalf; but my hope was soon disappointed. My father gave me one week, in which I must renounce my religion, and break my faith with |