by the magical influence of the water-demons who were the cause of all this hubbub in the sea. Water-kelpies had, indeed, occasionally been seen riding a-straddle on the white foaming crests of the waves, combing their long hair, or singing melancholy ballads in the pale moonlight, for they were rarely or never seen in the daytime.

Although these magical storms generally occurred near the same spots, some of these places were farther out at sea, while others were close to the shore. In short, the sailing round the island appeared to be a perilous adventure, which it would be folly to attempt without the strongest necessity.

"Ah!" said the jester, "we should be like gudgeons, who, after catching a nice prey for themselves, get eaten up by the larger fishes. Just think now, uncle, of being boiled down into soup to make a dinner for the water-kelpies."

"But, if we go straight back," said De Maleone, "our retreat will be known to the burghers, and we shall be attacked in the morning by superior numbers, and your Grace will run imminent risk of being discovered, if a worse chance does not befal you; for the rebel Barons are in high favour at this moment with all classes, and your Grace's death would be a sure road to preferment."

"What think you, Sir Templar," asked the King, "of the voyage round the island? Is there any credit to be given to these strange stories of enchanted waves and water-kelpies."

"I should be deceiving your Grace if I was to say that I doubt them altogether. I have myself seen mariners, who have told me of the sights and sounds that they have witnessed as they sailed by night round the south coast of the Isle of Wight. Different coloured lights would be seen hovering along the shore, sometimes over the land, and sometimes over the sea. At one time a dismal moaning would be heard; at another the sound of beautiful music. Among the high cliffs I have also heard that there are deep caverns in which the sea enters, in one of which was once seen coiled up a sea-serpent of enormous length. For my own part, however, I think little of these things. I have seen much of life, and been in perils by land and sea ; and I have ever found that supernatural terrors shrink into little or nothing upon a close inspection. My opinion is, that we should sail round the island, and so return to our former quarters. I think I might safely stake my honour as a knight that we shall meet with neither magical storms, Kelpies, nor sea-serpents."

"It's all very well, Sir Knight Priest," said the jester, who saw how the land lay with his royal master," it's all very well for you to talk in this manner, who can exorcise a kelpy with one hand, and cut his throat with another. Yet methinks your counsel is rather of the rashest; like the advice that the fish gave to his companions in the fryingpan, that they should all jump out of it into the fire."

"What thinks your Grace," said De Maleone, "of standing out to sea for a few hours, as if we were sailing to a foreign country, and slip back again to our old quarters in the dusk of the evening?

"We have nothing else to choose," said the King, "that gives us any hope of safety."

The three ships, in consequence, stood out to sea, as if for the purpose of crossing the channel. There was very little wind, but a long rolling swell came from the eastward, which in the course of a little

time began to produce unpleasant effects upon those on board, who had not been accustomed to the sea.

"Look at Sir Gigo there," said the jester; "his face is becoming the colour of parchment. How he opens and shuts his mouth like a dying oyster! It strikes me, uncle, that he must be a man of infinite wit." "Why so?"

"I mean, judging from the good things that come out of his mouth." "Foh!" said the King, "you have quite given my stomach a turn. I didn't feel unwell before."

"In that case," replied the jester, "I will take myself off to the farthest end of the ship. I would sooner pull a lion by the whiskers than jest with a King who feels sea-sick; and, as for holding my tongue, it is a thing that I have never been accustomed to."

After rolling about upon the long swell of the sea, with a hot sun over their heads, for the rest of the day, as evening began to close in they turned their vessels' heads towards the shore again; and about midnight they found themselves again in their old quarters. Here they found a messenger, who had been sent to the King from the Bishop of Worcester, the Lord Chancellor, and Hugh de Boves, who were still abroad, collecting troops for the invasion of England. Their letters stated that these foreign allies of King John were on the point of sailing for England: and the King was recommended to come to Dover without delay, to put himself at their head. The next day there was a strong east wind, which rendered the King's sailing from the Isle of Wight impracticable; and the King, to while away the time, was sauntering through the glades of the forest that fringes the creek of Whippingham, attended by his jester, the Templar, De Maleone, and Gigo, habited as usual in the dress of common sailors.

On turning a corner they came unawares upon a lady, who was sitting upon a fallen tree, caressing a large deer greyhound. She was tall, and delicately formed, and her dark tresses hung down in long ringlets upon her bosom. The King was much struck with her beauty and noble bearing; and, emboldened by the success that usually attends royal gallantries, at once familiarly placed himself by her side, and began a long string of idle and courtly compliments.

"Fairest lady, what a felicity it is for my admiring eyes to discover such a beautiful form inhabiting so savage a forest. How would all the beauties of the court shrink into comparative ugliness by the side of this lily of the island!"

The lady shrunk back, and tried to separate herself from him, but in vain; for the King still continued to intrude himself upon her. "Who are you?" she said, "that thus unmannerly force yourself upon my society. If you are what your dress represents you to be, you will, perhaps, show some respect to my rank, although you do not to Know that I am the daughter of a knight, and I seek not companions among those that are servile born."

my sex.

"Gentle lady," he replied, you would do me wrong were you to judge me by the dress that I now wear. I am not what I appear to be. My rank is as superior to that of a simple knight, as your station is to that of the meanest serf. Lady, I am the King." He watched her eye to see the effect that this sudden announcement of his royal station would have upon the mind of a country-bred girl. Great was his surprise to find that, instead of his disclosure working a change in

his favour, she shrunk from him more than before, and uttered an exclamation of horror.

"No, no, no," she exclaimed, "I will never believe that. The King I know to be profligate, wicked, and cruel; but he never, never would have hung a poor, innocent, honest, industrious man, for a mere jest. Thank Heaven, however, he still lives. He was brought like a dead man to our house. I was his physician; and he lives to bless me. Oh, what an unfortunate being I am; after all this to fall myself into the power of such a"

Speak the word out, lady, fear not."

"Villain was the word, then," she replied, the colour mounting to her cheeks. "Isabel de Bosco fears you not. Let me pass on my way."

Not so, sweet lady," said the King, taking hold of her gently by the arm. No sooner, however, had he touched her than the deerhound by her side gave a loud bark, and flew straight at the King's throat. The King let go her arm, and started back. The dog also checked his spring, and contented himself by warning the King of danger with a low threatening growl.

Presently a number of armed persons were seen advancing through the openings between the high oaks. The maiden clapped her hands to draw their attention, and then turning to the King, she added, "Now I am beyond your power; and, know further, it only rests with me to hang you on yon tree, as you hung poor honest Gurton. But, go your ways now, and mend your manners."

The King, who by no means liked the look of the tree that she pointed to, was not slack in following her advice. But, as he turned away with his companions, he muttered between his teeth, " By God's feet she shall not escape me thus. Am I to be made a laughing-stock of by a country maiden? Before we hoist our sails this night, she shall be my prize."

The supper was over in the old hall of Wotton. Sir Reginald de Bosco, its venerable proprietor, with his fair daughter, Isabel, had just received the lamp from their page, and were retiring to their private apartments. The retainers and visiters that crowded the lower part of the hall rose out of respect to the knight; but, before they had time to leave the hall a loud knocking was heard at the outer door. The seneschal went down with the porter to the entrance, and questioned the strangers through the wicket.

"Who knocks so loud, and disturbs the knight's family at so late an hour?"

"Messengers to Sir Reginald de Bosco from the Earl of the Isle of Wight," was the reply.

The bolts were immediately withdrawn, and the door thrown open. The old seneschal was thrown down, and trampled on by the crowd that rushed in, and the hall was filled with armed men.

Isabel gave a loud shriek. "That is he that called himself the King." She ran out by a side-door, and drew the bolts behind her. "Give chase!" cried the chief of the intruders.

A number of men instantly ran up the hall, oversetting the stools and forms, passed the dais, and burst open with an axe the side-door by which Isabelle had retired.

The lady was presently dragged out again into the hall by Gigo and

the Templar, and forced by them away from her father's house, followed by the remainder of the King's attendants. They had not, however, gone far from the building, when, as they passed through the wood, Gigo, who was holding one of the lady's arms, fell, pierced through by an arrow.

"That was a bold marksman," said the Templar, "who ventured to send his shaft so near the lady."

"I only did it for a joke," shouted a voice from behind a tree not many yards off; and, before this sentence was concluded another arrow had scored the skin from off one of the ribs of the King. An inch difference in the aim, and it had reached his heart.

"Treason!" shouted the King. "Let go the maiden, and scour the wood. A purse of gold to whoever secures the villain."

The maiden was released, and made her escape; and the archer turned his knowledge of the ground to such advantage that they heard no more of him.

The next morning saw King John and his followers depart to attempt a scheme of higher import, and deeper villainy, in the prosecution of which he perished, and the curses of his subjects were heaped upon his grave.

MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.

BY JAMES ALDRICH.

IN beauty lingers on the hills

The death-smile of the dying day;
And twilight in my heart instils

The softness of its rosy ray.

I watch the river's peaceful flow,
Here, standing by my mother's grave,

And feel my dreams of glory go,

Like weeds upon its sluggish wave.

God gives us ministers of love,

Which we regard not, being near;
Death takes them from us, then we feel
That angels have been with us here!
As mother, sister, friend, or wife,

They guide us, cheer us, soothe our pain;
And, when the grave has closed between

Our hearts and theirs, we love-in vain!
Would, MOTHER! thou couldst hear me tell
How oft, amid my brief career,
For sins and follies loved too well,
Hath fall'n the free repentant tear!
And, in the waywardness of youth,
How better thoughts have given to me
Contempt for error, love for truth,
'Mid sweet remembrances of thee!

The harvest of my youth is done,

And manhood, come with all its cares,
Finds, garner'd up within my heart,

For every flower a thousand tares.

Dear MOTHER! couldst thou know my thoughts
Whilst bending o'er this holy shrine,

The depth of feeling in my breast,

Thou wouldst not blush to call me thine!

AN EPISTLE FROM MISS SELINA SPRIGGINS TO MISS HENRIETTA TIMS.

MA CHERE HENRIETTE,

Spriggins' Folly, April 1, 1835.

IN the umbrageous solitude of Spriggins Folly, a letter from you breaks in like a ray of summer sunshine! How happy am I to learn that your interesting affaire de cœur progresses with all the felicity your dear affectionate soul deserves.

You ask me if I am yet unalterably fixed? No! my dear Henrietta. The truth is, there is such a swarm of (not bees but) would be's, that I am really (like a child in a pastry-cook's) puzzled which of the sweethearts (sweet tarts?) to select. As at a full Archery meeting, here's a display of beaux of all sorts. First in the rank of my admirers is Sir Plimly Supple. He professes the most ardent affection, and exhibits certainly a great inclination; for he is all bows. He has little conversation; but manages to fill up his part in the dialogue with ducking, cringing, bowing in such admirable pantomime, that you almost forget he has said nothing. Describe his eyes or teeth I cannot; for it is a rare thing to see anything but the crown of his head! Alas for him! his bows will all prove barren, if the affections of your loving friend are expected to be the fruits of them. In his presence I cannot help applying Æsop's maxim, that "the beau should not be always bent!" A dear good-natured friend (who has a son of her own, by the by) whispered my father the other day, "That, notwithstanding his appearance, Sir Plimly Supple was very much straitened!"

I am glad to hear it," answered my father, to the dame's evident surprise; "for really I thought the man was born crooked.”

The lady recovered a little at this turn, and added, "That although he assumed so much humility, he carried his head very high elsewhere."

"Indeed!" said my father. "Why, I have heard that he has a sort of pride of pedigree, boasts of his Norman descent. For my part, I should guess he was an Angle; for that is the form his slender and plastic body most usually assumes."

Of my suitors the next in rank is Albert Anyside, Esq. the eldest son of Squire Anyside, a man of some property, and great consequence in the county,-having a great command of votes. His son, however, has not mine, and will never be my election. He has been educated for the bar; but he is so full of technicals, and so wary in his speech, that he will never commit himself. He would be a very desirable ally for any power going to war, for he deals in generals! Although his declaration (as he would technically term it) sets forth the most ardent affection, I am afraid his love would turn out a "little brief!"

Young Conway, his cousin, is worth twenty of him,—a smart, impudent, careless, rattling youth of five-and-twenty, but no fortune. As he says, however, he has so much of the milk of human kindness, that he may reasonably be expected to make his own way (whey?) in the world!

Upon a late change in the politics of his cousin, he gravely re