debouched from behind a small wood, extending from the left centre of the Queen's forces to the middle of the valley, and fell upon the Carlist flank, throwing the horse and foot into confusion.

The English reader would find but scanty interest in a minute account of one of the innumerable engagements, sanguinary in detail, though unimportant in result, which were of constant occurrence during the recent civil war in the Peninsula. The squadron to which Verneuil and Matias belonged was one of those which had been brought down to co-operate in the manoeuvre by which it had been hoped to draw on a general action. As they charged the Carlists, and not twenty yards before they got up to them, Matias, struck by a ball, fell from his horse, and the squadron passed over him. In the din and excitement of the moment such an incident drew little attention. The quick eye of Verneuil alone, who was riding in the interval between his own squadron and the next one, had seen the smoke issue from the front rank of his troop, had detected the young Carlist deserter's sabre dangling from his wrist by the sword knot, whilst its owner replaced a pistol in his holster. It was nearly evening before he had leisure to give a second thought to this circumstance, and then he was reminded of it by his squadron passing within a few yards of the place where the first charge had occurred. Cantering to the spot, and dismounting, he disinterred the body of Matias from under a pile of slain. The bullet which had killed him had entered at the back, and cut the spine in two.

His suspicions fully confirmed, Verneuil rode musingly after his squadron, which was preparing to pass the night on the field of battle. He inquired for the Carlist deserter, but the latter was not to be found, and by a splendid moonlight Verneuil strolled a short distance from the bivouac. As he passed along the side of a thick and tangled hedge, he heard the sound of a human voice lifted up in prayer, and, looking through a gap in the wild vines, he beheld the very man he was in quest of kneeling bareheaded before one of those wooden crosses which peasants in Roman Catholic countries frequently erect as a protection to their fields. The thanksgiving for a thanksgiving it was-appeared extemporaneous, and was uttered in terms of fervent and gushing eloquence. The eyes of the young man were lighted up with an unnatural lustre, and his pale haggard face flushed with a hectic glow as he thanked the Deity for having permitted the accomplishment of his revenge. As he rose from his knees with a more tranquil aspect, the evening breeze blew aside the bosom of his shirt, which, as well as his uniform jacket, was loose and unbuttoned, and by the bright light of the moon, Verneuil saw on his left breast the figure of a cross, which appeared to have been burnt or seared in the flesh. In an instant all flashed across him the horrible fate of Donna Beatrix, the despair of her brother, the vow he had apparently made beside her yet palpitating corpse, and the cross he had traced over his heart in her blood. He cast a glance upon the receding figure of the deserter, now nearly lost to view among the trees, and returning to the bivouac, wrapt his cloak around him, and threw himself on the turf. But the startling incident to which he had just obtained the key, occupied his thoughts too much to allow him to sleep. He lay revolving in his mind the chain of circumstances of which accident had made him a witness, and although as a brave and honourable man he could not but abhor the assassin-like mode of revenge adopted by Valdez, yet he made due allowance for the habits of his country, and for the peculiar circumstances in

which the youth had been placed. Writhing under the most horrible of injuries, lacking the physical strength and habit of arms necessary to give him a chance of success in open combat with his formidable enemy,-far more willing to risk his own life than to lose his revenge, which would have been perilled by over-precipitation or rashness,—he had bided his time, with the patient and untiring vindictiveness of a true Andalusian, and, after dogging his foe from province to province, and from camp to camp, the rewarding hour of retribution had at length struck for the brother of the murdered Donna Beatrix.

Engrossed with these and similar reflections, in spite of his fatigues, it was not till an hour or two before daylight that the drowsy morning air produced Verneuil a slumber, of which he stood much in need. He awoke as the diana was sounding, and the roll of his squadron about to be called. When the name by which the Carlist deserter was known was shouted out by the sergeant, there was no reply. A second summons was equally ineffectual. The horse and arms were there, but the man had disappeared; nor was he ever afterwards heard of in the ranks either of Carlists or Christinos.

WAT SANNELL'S RIDE TO HIGHWORTH.

A WILTSHIRE LEGEND.

BY PAUL PINDAR.

THEN ye dwon't believe in witches, naybour?' queried old George Pinnock, of his friend and gossip, Samuel Hornblow, as they sat enjoying a jug of ale at the door of the former, in the quiet village of Blunsdon.

Noa, George, I dwon't,' was the reply. I dwon't beleeve in nothin' o' th' zort. It's only a passel o' old wives' stories, and may do very well to vrighten children.'

Now, there you're wrong, Maester Sam'ell,-quite wrong, I do azhure ye. It's very plain there be such people. What was that woman as Saul went to zee? And ain't our King his self writ a book about witches and hobgoblins, and all them there zort o' things. I heard 'em talking about it at Highworth last Vriday as ever was.'

Ay, ay, naybour, that's all very well,' replied the incredulous Master Hornblow, 'kings can zee and zay many things that we poor volk can't.'

Eez, zart'inly,' rejoined Pinnock; but 'tain't the King only; our curate, Zur Rafe, zays a man as dwon't beleeve in ghosts and witches is worse nor a haythen. Now, I tell ye what, Maester Hornblow,' here his voice subsided to a whisper, 'it's my belief we've got a witch pretty nigh us.' He pointed as he spoke to a dilapidated cottage at a short distance from the spot. Master Hornblow, looking furtively over his shoulder, set down the jug which he was about to raise to his lips, and with open mouth and starting eyes gave evidence that his unbelief was not very deeply rooted.

'Ah!' continued the village demonologist, 'there's a witch there, naybour, as zure as my name 's George. Young Tom Strange says the devil often goes to zupper wi' Moll Phillips, and one night when a was goin' whome a heard a strainge noise, and looked in at the winder.'

Well, what did a zee?' interrupted Hornblow, whose curiosity was excited, staring with all his eyes, what did a zee?'

Why, a mortal odd zight. Moll Phillips was a zittin' at a table, wi' her two cats, and a strainge un as big as a calf was a zittin' opposite to um.'

The Lard zave us! ye dwon't zay zo!' ejaculated Master Hornblow, screwing round his seat, and bringing his back to the wall.

Eez, they was all a making a strange mowing and chattering; but Tom cou'dn't make out a word on't, and while a was a peering into the place summut made the boy sneeze, when, whew! all was dark in a minnit, and somebody took Tom by the scruff o' the neck, and pitched 'un over the wall! I warrand he'll never go near thuck place agen.'

Very strainge,' naybour, ver-y strainge,' observed Master Hornblow, looking aghast. If the justice comes to hear on't Moll will be burnt zome day in Highworth market-place for a zart'inty.'

Whist! naybour,' said Pinnock, placing his finger on his nose and winking significantly. These sort o' volk have long ears, and are nation spiteful. Ye wou'dn't like Moll and her cats to pay ye a visit to-night, vould ye?'

VOL. VIII.

34

'Oh Lard! noa! noa!' cried the convert, 'dwon't ye talk on't, naybour, they zay, talk o' the old 'un, and he's zure to zhow harns!'

At that moment the shadow of something passing before the sun was thrown on the white wall of the cottage. It was caused by the transit of the old raven who built in the huge elms at the entrance of the village; but Master Hornblow's terror was already excited to the utmost pitch, and never doubting but that it was the shadow of the foul fiend himself, he bellowed like a bull-calf, and overthrowing the table in his fright, clung to his friend for protection.

Od drattle the stupid body!' cried Pinnock, on seeing the damage that had been done, thee hast broken my best jug, and spilt a pint o' good liquor.'

Never mind, naybour,' said Master Samuel, recovering himself, 'thee shalst have a quart for it when thee com'st to my house'

Why what was vrightened of, man?' continued Pinnock, lifting up the table; 'not of a shadow, surely, for Sir Rafe says the old 'un has no shadow, nor have they as sell theirselves; so, when a witch sails by in the air on a moonlight night, you only see the shadow of her besom.' What's that you're talking about, Master Pinnock?' cried a young man who came up at the moment on a bay gelding.

It was Wat Sannell, a servant of the Ernley family, then residing at Bury Blunsdon, a harum-scarum, dare-devil young fellow, whose good looks and activity were his sole recommendations.

'What's that you say, Gaffers!' cried he, addressing the pair. 'We're talking about witches,' replied Pinnock.

Then you're a couple of old gawnies,' said the servitor, laughing. 'What! dwon't ye beleeve in 'em?' cried Master Pinnock. 'Beleeve in 'em!' echoed Wat. No; and he's a fool who does. Such things are out o' fashion now, Gaffer Pinnock.'

That's as you think, Maester Wat, but we kneow better,' said Pinnock. Who zets up that great thistle in the close, there? and who daanzes round 'un every night? Cut 'un down as often as 'e wull, and a grows dree times thicker and stronger the next marnin'!'

Ha ha ha!' laughed Wat. If that's the case, it ought to be as big as an elmen tree by this time, for I've cut it down a dozen times, and last night I pulled it up by the roots (for I had on my hawking-glove), and threw it in at Moll Phillips' window. If she be a witch, 't will serve for a salad when her master, the devil, comes to sup with her.'

'I wou'd'nt a done it for a purse o' Jacobuses,' said Pinnock, in a subdued tone. Moll's uncommon spiteful, and 'll pay ye off vor it, for a zart'inty.'

'Pish!' exclaimed Wat. We intend to duck her to-morrow. I don't care for witches; yet, beshrew me, if I couldn't believe Moll was one. I don't know how I came to be tempted; but this morning, as I brought home my master's birding-piece, I saw one of her ugly black cats sitting on the wall, when I thought I would have a shot. Well, I let fly, and up sprung the brute as high as the cottage chimney! It fell down against the door, and brought out her mistress. By St. Christopher! how the jade swore when she saw her favourite riddled like a colander !'

Then thee bist a very cruel fellow,' observed Master Samuel Hornblow, who, no longer a sceptic, for some moments had been shuddering in silence, and Moll will pay thee off vor't.'

Wat made no reply, but laughed loudly at the recollection of his feat, and Pinnock asked him where he was going.

I am going to Highworth, Gaffer, for a pair of hawk-bells for Mistress Dorothea, if you must know my business,' said the serving man; and, giving his horse the spur, he turned the corner, and was quickly out of sight.

Those young maids, though they be high born, like a smart sarvin' man,' remarked old Pinnock to his friend.

'Ay, ay, George,' said Master Hornblow, trying to wink and look knowing in my young days I loved to look on a fair face, though 't was my master's daughter's.'

In the mean while, Wat held on his way to Highworth, where he soon arrived, and having obtained the hawk-bells from the silversmith of whom they had been ordered, he took a review of the contents of his leathern purse, and found that he was master of some two or three shillings,-a sum in those days amply sufficient for a man to procure wherewithal to fuddle himself effectually; so, swaggering across the market-place, he entered the common room of the inn, and called for a pottle of double beer, which he had just discussed, when an old acquaintance entered. Good liquor vanishes apace when friends meet, and in about an hour Wat was just drunk enough to care for nobody. While these boon companions were hobbing and nobbing, the day was wearing away, and the gathering clouds foretold a thunderstorm; but our serving man determined to get rid of all his money before he left, and it was within half an hour of sunset when he quitted the inn, with an empty purse, an unsteady hand, and a flushed face, the hawk-bells being carefully bestowed in his leathern purse. The town was soon left behind him, and the evening breeze cooled his heated brow. The heavens looked lowering, and distant thunder rumbled among the hills. As he held on his way, he espied at some distance before him a female figure seated on a large stone by the road-side.

.

'Some love-sick lass come to hold tryst with her swain!' muttered Wat to himself; rather a threatening evening for lovers' meeting.' He soon came up with the damsel, and not having the fear of her lover before his eyes, he threw himself from his horse, and walked towards her.

My pretty maid,' said he, putting on one of his most insinuating looks, and imitating the language which he had heard employed by his betters, you must be lonely here without your lover.'

The maiden averted her head, and drew her wimple closer to her face, as if abashed by his bold address.

'Ah,' continued Wat, 'alone and yet so coy; then I must just take a peep at my fair one's face. By your leave, sweet mistress.' With these words, he stooped to remove the damsel's wimple, when, oh Cupid! an unseen hand gave him a buffet which knocked his hat over his eyes, and he received at the same moment such a violent kick behind that it fairly sent him head over heels on to the greensward by the road side.

Swearing a bitter oath, Wat scrambled on his legs, and prepared to take vengeance on the person who had assaulted him, very naturally supposing it was the lady's lover; but, to his great surprise, not a soul was to be seen; even the damsel herself was clean gone; Wat, aghast, looked around him: there was not a bush, tree, or