RY C. B. BROWN.

My thoughts were called away from pursuing these inquiries by a rumour, which had gradually swelled to formidable dimensions; and which, at length, reached us in our quiet retreats. The city, we were told, was in volved in confusion and panic; for a pestilential disease had begun its destructive progress. Magistrates and eitizens were flying to the country. The numbers of the sick multiplied beyond all example; even in the pest-affected cities of the Levant. The malady was malignant and unsparing.

The usual occupations and amusements of life were at an end. Terror had exterminated all the sentiments of nature. Wives were deserted by husbands, and children by parents. Some had shut themselves in their houses, and debarred themselves from all communication with the rest of mankind. The consternation of others had destroyed their understanding, and their misguided steps hurried them into the midst of the danger which they had previously laboured to shun. Men were seized by this disease in the streets; passengers fled from them; entrance into their own dwellings was denied to them; they perished in the public ways. The chambers of disease were deserted, and the sick left to die of negligence. None could be found to remove the lifeless bodies. Their remains, suffered to decay by piecemeal, filled the air with deadly exhalations, and added tenfold to the devastation.

Such was the tale, distorted and diversified a thousand ways, by the credulity and exaggeration of the tellers. At first I listened to the story with indifference or mirth. Methought it was confuted by its own extrava gance. The enormity and variety of such an evil made it unworthy to be believed. I expected that every new day would detect the absurdity and fallacy of such representa tions. Every new day, however, added to the number of witnesses, and the consistency of the tale, till, at length, it was not possible to withhold my faith.

This rumour was of a nature to absorb and suspend the whole soul. A certain sublimity is connected with enormous dangers, that imparts to our consternation or our pity a tincture of the pleasing. This, at least, may be experienced by those who are beyond the verge of peril. My own person was ex posed to no hazard. I had leisure to eon. jure up terrific images, and to personate the witnesses and sufferers of this calamity. This employment was not enjoined upon me by necessity, but was ardently pursued, and must therefore have been recommended by some nameless charm.

Others were very differently affected. As often as the tale was embellished with new

incidents, or enforced by new testimony, the hearer grew pale, his breath was stifled by inquietudes, his blood was chilled, and his stomach was bereaved of its usual energies. A temporary indisposition was produced in many. Some were haunted by a melancholy bordering upon madness, and some, in consequence of sleepless panics, for which no cause could be assigned, and for which no opiates could be found, were attacked by lin gering or mortal diseases,

In proportion as I drew near the city, the tokens of its calamitous condition became more apparent. Every farm-house was filled with supernumerary tenants; fugitives from home, and haunting the skirts of the road, eager to detain every passenger with inquiries after news. The passengers were numerous; for the tide of emigration was by no means exhausted. Some were on foot, bearing in their countenances the tokens of their recent terror, aud filled with mournful reflections on the forlornness of their state. Few had secured to themselves an asylum; some were without the means of paying for victuals or lodging for the coming night; others, who were not thus destitute, yet knew not whither to apply for entertainment, every house being already overstocked with inhabitants, or barring its inhospitable doors at their approach.

Families of weeping mothers, and dismayed children, attended with a few pieces of indispensable furniture, were carried in vehicles of every form. The parent or husband had perished; and the price of some moveable, or the pittance handed forth by public charity, had been expended to purchase the means of retiring from this theatre of disasters; though uncertain and hopeless of accommodation in the neighbouring districts.

Between these and the fugitives whom curiosity had led to the road, dialogues frequently took place, to which I was suffered to listen. From every mouth the tale of sorrow was repeated with new aggravations. Pictures of their own distress, or of that of their neighbours, were exhibited in all the hues which imagination can annex to pestilence and poverty.

My preconceptions of the evil now appeared to have fallen short of the truth. The dangers into which I was rushing seemed more numerous and imminent than I had previously imagined. I wavered not in my purpose. A panic crept to my heart, which more vehement exertions were necessary to subdue or control; but I harboured not a momentary doubt that the course which I had taken was prescribed by duty. There was no difficulty or reluctance in proceeding. All for which my efforts were demanded was, to walk in this path without tumult ōr alarm.

Various circumstances had hindered me

from setting out upon this journey as early as was proper. My frequent pauses, to listen to the narratives of travellers, contributed likewise to procrastination. The sun had nearly set before I reached the precincts of the city. I pursued the track which I had formerly taken, and entered High Street after night-fall. Instead of equipages and a throng of passengers, the voice of levity and glee, which I had formerly observed, and which the mildness of the season would, at other times, have produced, I found nothing but a dreary solitude.

The market-place, and each side of this magnificent avenue, were illuminated, as before, by lamps; but between the verge of Schuylkill and the heart of the city, I met not more than a dozen figures; and these were ghost-like, wrapped in cloaks, from behind which they cast upon me glances of wonder and suspicion; and, as I approached, changed their course, to avoid touching me. Their clothes were sprinkled with vinegar; and their nostrils defended from contagion by some powerful perfume.

I cast a look upon the houses, which I recollected to have formerly been, at this hour, brilliant with lights, resounding with lively voices, and thronged with busy faces, Now, they were closed, above and below; dark, and without tokens of being inhabited. From the upper windows of some, a gleam sometimes fell upon the pavement I was traversing, and showed that their tenants had not fled, but were secluded or disabled.

These tokens were new, and awakened all my panics. Death seemed to hover over this scene, and I dreaded that the floating pestilence had already lighted on my frame. I had scarcely overcome these tremors, when I approached a house, the door of which was opened, and before which stood a vehicle, which I presently recognised to be a hearse.

The driver was seated on it. I stood still to mark his visage, and to observe the course which he proposed to take. Presently a coffin, borne by two men, issued from the house. The driver was a negro, but his companions were white. Their features were marked by ferocious indifference to danger or pity. One of them, as he assisted in thrusting the coffin into the cavity provided for it, said, "I'll be damned if I think the poor dog was quite dead. It wasn't the fever that ailed him, but the sight of the girl and her mother on the floor. I wonder how they all got into that room. What carried them there?

The other surlily muttered, "Their legs,

to be sure."

coffin before the breath was fairly gone. I thought the last look he gave me, told me to stay a few minutes."

"Pshaw! He could not live. The sooner dead the better for him, as well as for us. Did you mark how he eyed us, when we carried away his wife and daughter? I never cried in my life, since I was knee-high, but curse me if I ever felt in better tune for the business than just then. Hey!" continued he, looking up, and observing me standing a few paces distant, and listening to their discourse, "What's wanted? Any body dead?"

.

I stayed not to answer or parley, but hurried forward. My joints trembled, and cold drops stood on my forehead. I was ashamed of my own infirmity; and by vigorous efforts of my own reason regained some degree of composure. The evening had now advanced, and it behoved me to procure accommodation at some of the inns.

These were easily distinguished by their signs, but many were without inhabitants. At length I lighted upon one, the hall of which was open, and the windows lifted. After knocking for some time, a young girl appeared, with many marks of distress. In answer to my question she answered, that both her parents were sick, and that they could receive no one. I inquired in vain for any other tavern at which strangers might be accommodated. She knew of none such; and left me on some one's calling to her from above in the midst of my embarassment. After a moment's pause I returned, discomfited and perplexed, to the street.

I proceeded in a considerable degree at at random. At length I reached a spacious building in Fourth Street, which the signpost showed me to be an inn. I knocked loudly and often at the door. At length a female opened the window of the second story, and in a tone of peevishness demanded what I wanted. I told her that I wanted lodging.

"Go, hunt for it somewhere else," said she; "you'll find none here." I began to expostulate; but she shut the window with quickness, and left me to my own reflections. I began now to feel some regret at the journey I had taken. Never, in the depth of caverns and forests, was I equally conscious of loneliness. I was surrounded by the habitations of men: but I was destitute of associate or friend. I had money, but a horse shelter, or a morsel of food, could not be purchased. I came for the purpose of relieving others, but stood in the ut most need myself. Even in health my condition was helpless and forlorn; but what would become of me, should this fatal malady be contracted? To hope that an asylum would be afforded to a sick man, which was denied to one in health, was unreasonable.

THE SAXON OUTLAW.*

BY H. W. HERBFRT.

THE beautiful and placid light of a full summer's moon was bathing, with that misty and poetical illumination so peculiar to the loveliest of the planets, a vast expanse of low and marshy meadow-land, cut up by many a wide and sullen stream, meandering with endless windings through the dull level, here spreading out into broad stagnant sheets of water, hundreds of acres in extent-here soaking their way unseen and silent through quag mires and morasses, to be detected only by their more vivid green from the surrounding marsh. Here and there, through this dreary scene, long lines of stunted willows might be seen following the margin of some stream or river, while, often, beds of osiers, stretching into interminable distance, varied the aspect of the landscape, without, however, affording to the tired eye any relief, or point of prominence or interest whereon to dwell a moment, after its tedious wanderings over the melancholy fen. Through this unpromising and cheerless tract, and at the deadest time of night, a company of persons were

A sequel to Hereward the Hunter page 177, VOL. I,

taking their laborious way-a company, so singularly constituted, so ill-matched, or-to speak more correctly-so oddly contrasted, that, in any place, and at any hour, they would have excited curiosity if not astonishment, in the mind of any who should meet them.

There were, in all, from twenty-five to thirty persons; the greater part of whom, as might be discovered from the frequent flash and glitter of the moonbeams on their steel harness, were more or less completely armed; all were on foot-though several horses were among them, cautiously led and slowlywith much reluctance on their part, displayed in many a tremulous snort, as with expanded eye and nostril wide and quivering limbs, they eyed and snuffed the quaking surface of the bog, along the tortuous and narrow path which only could be trod in safety. Some three or four of these were evidently Norman 'chargers, not only from their size and breeding, but from the fashion of their steel-plated selles and barbings, while two were delicate and slight-limbed palfreys, with velvet housings and soft cushioned saddles, such as were used by women, The females,

2

to whom these probably belonged, were now borne, more securely, if less proudly, each seated on a rude hand-chair, carried by two sturdy yeomen; while, to complete the singularity of the whole group, a large and splendid litter, intended evidently to be suspended from two hackneys, was now conveyed by twice that number of armed soldiers, and from the style and character of its adorn ments, it could scarce be doubted that it contained the person of some noble Norman lady. This was the more remarkable, as it was plain, on the first sight, that the men who led the steeds, as well as those who were employed in carrying the litter and the women, and the more numerous group which led the way, were not of the vietorious, but of the vanquished race. Nor, in truth, would the best Norman knight, that ever buckled spur or belted brand, have been found at that hour in the district through which those travellers were journeying, to have been made the owner of the richest fief in England: for it was in the fens of Ely, the dangerous and pathless bogs which lie between the Ouse and Nene, that they were toiling on their nightly road-the only district yet remaining in the power of the persecuted Saxons, who had fled thither from the cruelty of the oppressors, and thence marauded ceaselessly upon the neighbouring counties.

Onward they went, right onward, with the direct, unhesitating march of men acquainted perfectly with the direction and the difficulties of their route, and at that steady, though not rapid pace, which the most surely brings the traveller to his goal. The blind track, for such it was to eyes less practised than those of the experienced foresters who were now crossing it, wound sinuously through the marshes, oftentimes floored with trunks of trees, where the soil would not otherwise have supported half the weight of the lightest human being-and, always, when any stream or lake encountered it, carried directly through it on an artificial causeway, solid and firrnly laid, yet, in all cases, lower by one or two feet than the surface of the waters which concealed it from the observation of all but those who were acquainted with its mystery. Many of these they passed, with more or less of difficulty and of peril, for it was scarcely possible to force the horses to proceed along them, the sagacious animals knowing, apparently, that the slightest false step or stumble would plunge them into certain and inevitable destruction.

The moon was gradually sinking toward the horizon, and many of the stars had already set, when, having traversed several miles of that marsh-land, they reached the brink of a broad and powerful river, running, or rather wheeling on, with a strong, though net rapid current, full of dark wheels and

eddies, between banks elevated, by its own deposits, considerably higher than the level of the country they had been hitherto engaged in crossing. Beyond this river, the land rose very steeply, and was completely covered by a thick growth of alders, birch, and hazel, with many a forest tree, oak, ash, and elm, towering in shadowy pomp above them, and casting a dark mass of solid shadow over the bosom of the waters. When they had reached the verge, they halted, and the commander of the party, a tall and powerful figure, clad in a habergeon of steel, with a skull-cap of the same metal on his head, and a huge double-bill, or gisarme, in his hand, recently stained with blood, raising a bugle, which hnng at his girdle, to his lips, blew a peculiar note, three times repeated, with such a pause as might have been sufficient to count ten between each call. Scarce had the last call sounded, before a small skiff, pulled by two vigorous rowers, shot out from under covert of the opposite bank.

"Hereward," cried a low and suppressed voice-"Hereward, is it thou?”

"For England!" answered the deep sonorous tones of the great Saxon outlaw. "Engelrich, it is I! Bestir thee, man; I have a fair charge with me!"

While he was speaking yet, the skiff struck the bank at his feet, and fastening it by a chain to some projecting roots, the rowers leaped ashore.

"Hail, Hereward!-all hail!" exclaimed the youth he had called Engelrich-grasping his hand with warm affection as he spoke. "Again, I trow, victorious?"

"Victorious and avenged!" replied the Saxon. "This trusty blade"-tapping with his fore-finger the ensanguined head of his gisarme-"hath at last drunk the life-blood of the murtherous Americ! But, haste thee

have these two damsels over the Ouse, as soon as may be; I will induce their mistress to descend from yon gay litter. We must dismantle it, I trow; for to transport it were beyond our means!"

He spoke and, turning instantly toward the litter by which, throughout the toilsome march, he had continually walked, endea vouring, by soothing words and kind encou ragemeut, to calm the terrors of its lovely occupant-"Lady," he said, in tones unusually mild and winning, "our toilsome journey is at length concluded-we have but now to cross the river, and you shall find such shelter, not as your rank or tenderness requires, but as my poverty may lend you. A stout boat waits you, and bold rowers; your damsels have passed over, even now, in safety. May it please you to descend?" And with a gentleness and delicacy of attention, such as that lovely lady thought she had never once received from those who deemed themselves the mirrors of true courtesy-her

princely countrymen, he aided her to quit the litter, supported her down the steep bank, and casting a rich coverlet of velvet, deepfurred with minever, which he had snatched from her litter, over the rugged benches, seated her carefully in the stern, and pushing the boat gently out, "Give way, my men!" he cried, "steady, and strong! Fear nothing, gentle lady-all care and honour wait you! Now, Elbert," he continued, 66 strip all the tapestry and velvets from yon couch; she will have need of them, I trow, in our rude dwellings; get them, with all the spoils and armour we have taken, into the skiff when next she crosses-break up the wood-work of the litter, and sink it in the nearest well-head; that done, follow me, with our comrades. Ye, Sexwald, Alfric, and Itel, mount ye these Norman chargers, and lead the palfreys by the rein! Soh!" he continued, "Soh! brave horse" as he sprang to the side of the noblest of the prizes" thou canst swim like a swan, I warrant thee!" and pressing his heels to his side, armed as he was, he plunged into the deep and sullen river. Bravely, however, did the good steed breast it-dashing the ripples vigorously off from his broad breast, and stemming the current with such strong controversy that the skiff which bore the lady had scarcely reached the shore ere Hereward, too, gained it; and taking land with a quick, scrambling effort, the charger bounded up the steep acclivity, and stood upon the summit, panting and snorting between fear and eagerness, before she had surmounted half the ascent. Dismounting, instantly, Hereward joined the beauteous being with whom he was so singularly placed in contact.

"

Lean on my arm," he whispered, in accents which appeared to blend the deepest feeling with the most perfect veneration. Lean on my arm, I pray you, gentle one; it is an honest and a stout, although a rough arm, lady! and, above all, fear nothing, nor doubt! Hereward would not, for all earth holds most rare and coveted, harm one hair of those raven locks, or call up one chaste blush upon those cheeks of snow. Lean on me, for the way is rugged, and you have suffered much of fear and of fatigue this weary day; and deeds, not meet for gentle eyes, have been done in your sight; and sounds of agony and horror have, it must be, appalled your gentle ears. Yet, may the time come, when you shall remember this day and its terrible events-I do not say with pleasure; for that, I know, so warm a heart and kind could never feel, even at its worst foe's slaughter-but, without sorrow, at the least, and with contented acquiescence in the effects they shall produce hereafter !"

"Oh, no!" she answered, "I fear you not, indeed, and I accept your courtesy, frankly, as it is offered. The brave are, for

the most part-should be, ever-generous and gentle! Weary I am, and in some sort disturbed of mind, and shaken, by what I have this day gone through; but I will not dissemble, nor feign any grief for that bold bad man, from whose oppression your hand hath deliverod me. Not less than yours, was he my foe; and in avenging your own private griefs, you have delivered me, and I can thank you for it even now, as I shall thank for ever that great Being, by whose mysterious Will you have been made the instrument to work this double purpose. You have, too, promised to restore me to my friends and father, and I can do no less in honour than rely on your word, whom I know brave and generous and gentle, and whom, till I know otherwise, I will believe right true and honourable!"

During this conversation they had, after threading a dark belt of shrubbery and coppice, reached a wide level space, of several acres in extent, surrounded by a solid wall, as it were, of dark and massive foliage, and carpeted by soft and mossy greensward. A bright and flickering watch-fire was blazing in the centre of this area, casting its changeable and fitful light over the waving verdure of the trees, and on the rude walls and reedthatched roofs of six or eight long, lowbrowed cottages, simply, but not unpicturesquely, built of unbarked timber, with rustic porticoes and latticed casements. A large herd of horned cattle, under the charge of several sentinels and a score or two of huge and wakeful mastiffs, of the true English breed, were lying scattered here and there, in groups of various numbers, chewing the cud or dozing on the dewy grass; while a large party was collected round the fire, some cocking the flesh of several deer and boars, the fruit of that day's chasesome quaffing deep draughts of the potent ale or rich metheglin, which were the favourite beverages of the Saxon race-some furbishing their implements of hunting or warweapons, and some out-stretched beside the glowing pile, in calm and profound slumber.

66

we

"You must brook rude attendance for so long as you tarry here," continued Hereward, pointing toward the busy group; have no women here-no female foot save thine, fair Alice, and those of thine handmaidens, hath ever printed this sequestered island; yet, true hearts shall watch over you, and strong hands guard you ;-nor could you rest more free from wrong, more safe from violence or insult, within the tower of London, amid your lordly country men, than here, in the last rustic fastness despair has sought out for itself, as its sole earthly refuge against tyrannic persecution. This, lady, is your dwelling," leading her to one, the smallest, but most neatly finished, of the cottages; this is your dwelling, so