attire? and will you be happier if I leave you to follow the dictates of your own heart and feelings, without the direction of masters or of books? Mar. Yes! yes I will try my hardest to be as you would wish me, if you but let me try in my own way; and I am sure, in time, you will not be ashamed of me. When you want me to learn, teach me yourself-a loving word and gentle patience, and all from you, will make us both happy, and me I hope sincere.-John B. Buckstone. A DARK NIGHT'S WORK. Much NIGEL became more interested in the volume at the second than at the first attempt which he made to peruse it. The narratives, strange and shocking as they were to human feeling, possessed yet the interest of sorcery or of fascination which rivets the attention by its awakening horrors. was told of the strange and horrible acts of blood by which men, setting nature and humanity alike at defiance, had, for the thirst of revenge, the lust of gold, or the cravings of irregular ambition, broken into the tabernacle of life. Yet more surprising and mysterious tales were recounted of the mode in which such deeds of blood had came to be discovered and revenged. Animals, irrational animals, had told the secret, and birds of the air had carried the matter. The elements had seemed to betray the deed which had polluted them— earth had ceased to support the murderer's steps, fire to warm his frozen limbs, water to refresh his parched lips, air to relieve his gasping lungs. All, in short, bore evidence to the homicide's guilt. In other circumstances, the criminal's own awakened conscience pursued and brought him to justice; and in some narratives the grave was said to have yawned, that the ghost of the sufferer might call for revenge. It was now wearing late in the night, and the book was still in Nigel's hands, when the tapestry which hung behind him flapped against the wall, and the wind produced by its motion waved the flame of the candles by which he was reading. Nigel started and turned round, in that excited and irritated state of mind which arose from the nature of his studies, especially at a period when a certain degree of superstition was inculcated as a point of religious faith. It was not without emotion that he saw the bloodless countenance, meagre form, and ghastly aspect of old Trapbois, once more in the very act of extending his withered hand towards the table which supported his arms. Convinced by this untimely apparition that something evil was meditated towards him, Nigel sprung up, seized his sword, drew it, and, placing it at the old man's breast, demanded of him what he did in his apartment at so untimely an hour. Trapbois shewed neither fear nor surprise, and only answered by some imperfect expressions, intimating he would part with his life rather than with his property; and Lord Glenvarloch, strangely embarrassed, knew not what to think of the intruder's motives, and still less how to get rid of him. As he again tried the means of intimidation, he was surprised by a second apparition from behind the tapestry, in the person of the daughter of Trapbois, bearing a lamp in her hand, She also seemed to possess her father's insensibility to danger, for, coming close to Nigel, she pushed aside impetuously his naked sword, and even attempted to take it out of his hand. "For shame," she said; 66 your sword on a man of eighty years and more!—this the honour of a Scottish gentleman!— give it to me to make a spindle of!" "Stand back," said Nigel; "I mean your father no injurybut I will know what has caused him to prowl this whole day, and even at this late hour, around my arms.' "Your arms!" repeated she; "alas, young man, the whole arms in the Tower of London are of little value to him, in comparison of this miserable piece of gold which I left this morning on the table of a young spendthrift, too careless to put what belonged to him into his own purse." So saying she shewed the piece of gold, which, still remaining on the table where she had left it, had been the bait that attracted old Trapbois so frequently to the spot; and which, even in the silence of the night, had so dwelt on his imagination, that he had made use of a private passage long disused to enter his guest's apartment, in order to possess himself of the treasure during his slumbers. He now exclaimed, at the highest tones of his cracked and feeble voice "It is mine—it is mine!—he gave it to me for a consideration—I will die ere I part with my property!" "It is indeed his own, mistress," said Nigel, "and I do entreat you will restore it to the person on whom I have bestowed it, and let me have my apartment in quiet. "I will account with you for it, then," said the maiden, reluctantly giving to her father the morsel of Mammon, on which he darted as if his bony fingers had been the talons of a hawk seizing its prey; and then making a contented muttering and mumbling, like an old dog after he has been fed, and just when he is wheeling himself thrice round for the purpose of lying down, he followed his daughter behind the tapestry, through a little sliding door, which was perceived when the hangings were drawn apart. "This shall be properly fastened to-morrow," said the daughter to Nigel, speaking in such a tone that her father, deaf, and engrossed by his acquisition, could not hear her; to-night I will continue to watch him closely-I wish you good repose." 66 These few words, pronounced in a tone of more civility than she had yet made use of towards her lodger, contained a wish which was not to be accomplished, although her guest, presently after her departure, retired to bed. There was a slight fever in Nigel's blood, occasioned by the various events of the evening, which put him, as the phrase is, beside his rest. Perplexing and painful thoughts rolled on his mind like a troubled stream, and the more he laboured to lull himself to slumber, the further he seemed from attaining his object. He tried all the resources common in such cases; kept counting from one to a thousand, until his head was giddy-he watched the embers of the wood fire till his eyes were dazzled-he listened to the dull moaning of the wind, the swinging and creaking of signs which projected from the houses, and the baying of here and there a homeless dog, till his very ear was weary. Suddenly, however, amid this monotony, came a sound which startled him at once. It was a female shriek. He sat up in his bed to listen, then remembered he was in Alsatia, where brawls of every sort were current among the unruly inhabitants. But another scream, and another, and another, succeeded so close, that he was certain, though the noise was remote and sounded stifled, it must be in the same house with himself. Nigel jumped up hastily, put on a part of his clothes, seized his sword and pistols, and ran to the door of his chamber. Here he plainly heard the screams redoubled, and, as he thought, the sounds came from the usurer's apartment. All access to the gallery was effectually excluded by the intermediate door, which the brave young lord shook with eager but vain impatience. But the secret passage occurred suddenly to his recollection. He hastened back to his room, and suc ceeded with some difficulty in lighting a candle, powerfully agitated by hearing the cries repeated, yet still more afraid lest they should sink into silence. He rushed along the narrow and winding entrance, guided by the noise, which now burst more wildly on his ear; and, while he descended a narrow staircase which terminated the passage, he heard the stifled voices of men, encouraging, as it seemed, each other.-"Strike her down-silence her -beat her brains out!"-while the voice of his hostess, though now almost exhausted, was repeating the cry of "Murder," and "Help." At the bottom of the staircase was a small door, which gave way before Nigel as he precipitated himself upon the scene of action,-a cocked pistol in one hand, a candle in the other, and his naked sword under his arm. Two ruffians had, with great difficulty, overpowered, or rather, were on the point of overpowering, the daughter of Trapbois, whose resistance appeared to have been most desperate, for the floor was covered with fragments of her clothes and handfuls of her hair. It appeared that her life was about to be the price of her defence, for one villain had drawn a long clasp knife, when they were surprised by the entrance of Nigel, who, as they turned towards him, shot the fellow with the knife, dead on the spot; and, when the other advanced to him, hurled the candlestick at his head, and then attacked him with his sword. It was dark, save some pale moonlight from the window; and the ruffian, after firing a pistol without effect, and fighting a traverse or two with his sword, lost heart, made for the window, leaped over it, and escaped. Nigel fired his remaining pistol after him at a venture, and then called for light. "There is light in the kitchen," answered Martha Trapbois, with more presence of mind than could have been expected. Stay, you know not the way; I will fetch it myself.—Oh! my father-my poor father!-I knew it would come to this— and all along of the accursed gold!-They have MURDERED him!"-Sir Walter Scott. PARODY ON THE CHARGE AT BALACLAVA. PARODY ON THE CHARGE AT BALACLAVA. THE PERTH JUNCTION. [From The Hornet, by kind permission of the Publishers.] Up the steps, down the steps, All pushing forward, Every one out of breath, Rushed the Six Hundred. "ALL CHANGE," the porters cry, Theirs not to make reply, The gallant Six Hundred. Flashed all the signals bare, Startling the people there, While upon every stair, Swift footsteps thundered. Plunging through steam and smoke Watching each engine stroke, Goods trains to right of them, Excursions to left of them, Cattle behind them bellowed and thundered. Stormed at with bell and yell, Thinking it quite a sell, Losing their only train, Taunting their fate in vain, 183 |